ffirSBLF 
 
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 41 
 
 
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BERKElir 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVBf«MTY OF 
 QALWOUHlk 
 
 y 
 
 
MODERN SOCIETY; 
 
 OR 
 
 THE MARCH OF INTELLECT, 
 
 THE CONCLUSION 
 
 OF 
 
 .# 
 
 MODERN ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 
 
 BY 
 
 CATHERINE SINCLAIR, 
 
 DAUGHTKR OF THB LATE RIGHT HONOURABLE SIR JOHN SINCLAIR, BAKT. 
 
 Thus happiness depends, as Nature shows. 
 Less on exterior things than most suppose. 
 
 FIFTH THOUSAND. 
 
 EDINBURGH: 
 WILLIAM WHYTE AND CO. 
 
 BOOKSELLERS TO THE QUEEN DOWAGER ; 
 
 LONGMAN, 0R3IE AND CO.; HAMILTON, ADAMS AND CO.; J. DUNCAN; 
 
 SIMPKIN, MARSHALL AND CO ; AVHITTAKEIl AND CO. LONDON ; 
 
 W. CURRY, JUN. AND CO. DUBLIN ; WILLIAM COLLINS, GLASGOW ; 
 
 AND ROBERT CARTER, NEW YORK. 
 
 MDCCCXXXYIII. 
 
EDINBURGH: 
 
 Printed by Balfour and Jack, Niddry Street. 
 

 PREFACE. ' ' ' 
 
 In the course of a very short period 4,000 copies of 
 this volume having been disposed of, the authoress 
 gratefully acknowledges the pleasure with which she 
 feels thus encouraged to publish a new edition, which 
 has been carefully revised and corrected. 
 
 An attempt is made in this narrative to contrast the 
 happiness offered to us by our !Maker with the hap- 
 piness which we invent for ourselves — to exemplify a 
 wide difference between the " living fountain and the 
 broken cistern.''"' In our own experience, we fhid 
 that the one resembles the purity and clearness of 
 the early dawn, which grows brighter and brighter 
 till the perfect day, while the other may be compared 
 to an evening twilight, beginning in still gaudier 
 hues, but growing gradually darker, till it settles into 
 the gloom of night. 
 
 While thus representing two opposite states of 
 enjoyment, which might justly be called a parallel, 
 since they are lines which can never be made, to 
 meet, no hesitation has been felt in representing 
 worldly as well as spiritual enjoyments in the bright- 
 est colours, because the superiority of the latter are 
 more conspicuous in proportion to the accuracy with 
 which both can be depicted. Those, indeed, who 
 
 810 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 have experienced the blessedness of Christian peace, 
 require no demonstration of its unrivalled excellence ; 
 but the case is otherwise with those who are ignorant 
 of the Gospel, and have never felt that joy «' which 
 no man knoweth, saving he that receiveth it.'' 
 Many, also, who would close at once the page of 
 formal instruction or grave rebuke, may be induced 
 to bestow attention on a familiar narrative, exhibiting 
 the development of taste and feeling in the genuine 
 Christian character, and to acknowledge that the 
 highest achievement of fashionable education is to 
 make us appear amiable, and appear happy, while 
 it is the peculiar province of Christian principle 
 to turn these appearances into reality. Works of 
 imagination have this additional advantage, that 
 they may take cognizance of faults in temper or 
 conduct too trivial for the notice of treatises or 
 essays, yet so frequent in their recurrence as to 
 form the chief moral peculiarities of the indivi- 
 dual. Life, as Dr. Johnson observes, is not a 
 series of great events and illustrious actions ; it is 
 from minute particulars and casual indications of 
 feeling that we form our estimate of those around 
 us. Mere moralists too readily coincide in opi- 
 nion with the mistaken poet, that " his creed 
 can't be wrong whose life is in the right ;'' while 
 we have equal reason to deprecate a new reading, 
 which would seem to say, " His life can't be 
 wrong whose creed is in the right." It is not the 
 handles of a clock which constitute its actual value ; 
 but still, if they do not point aright, during every 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 moment of the day. and every day of the year, we 
 know that something is amiss within ; and though 
 it may continue gravely and solemnly ticking the 
 hours, no one will take heed to its admonitions. The 
 superstructure of Christian conduct cannot be justly 
 appreciated without exhibiting the inward machi- 
 nery of the mind by which external actions are di- 
 rected or controlled, and therefore the authoress 
 has, with reverence, attempted to portray those 
 thoughts and principles which render the plea- 
 sures, the hopes, and the emotions of Christians 
 entirely different from others whose apparent cir- 
 cumstances are exactly similar, and with whom they 
 may be unavoidably thrown into habits of continual 
 association. 
 
 That fictitious narrative is a proper mode of in- 
 struction, is demonstrated to every Christian by the 
 highest of all examples. Some excellent persons, 
 however, who admit the usefulness of little tracts 
 and histories representing in proper colours vice, in- 
 fidelity, and superstition, among the lower orders, 
 inconsistently object to similar delineations as re- 
 spects the higher ; yet the success of such writings 
 in the one department seems to encourage the hope 
 of usefulness by corresponding exertions in the 
 other. 
 
 Mrs. Hannah More remarks, in her novel of 
 Coelebs, " how little justice has been done to the 
 clerical character in those popular works of imagi- 
 nation which are intended to exhibit a picture of 
 living manners. So many fair opportunities have 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 thus been lost of advancing the interests of reli- 
 gion, by personifying her amiable graces in the 
 character of her ministers." The authoress feels 
 encouraged to attempt this interesting task, from 
 a grateful consciousness that she has enjoyed more 
 than ordinary occasions for appreciating the en- 
 lightened devotion, the active benevolence, the dis- 
 interested labours, the learning, the consistency, and 
 the zeal of those who are in heart, as well as by pro- 
 fession, the servants of God. At the same time, on 
 no one occasion, in any of her past or present pages, 
 has she drawn the portrait of an individual, and no 
 circumstances can ever induce her to do so. Every 
 reader of a fiction would cast the characters different- 
 ly; and it is to be hoped that all have known some 
 whom Lady Olivia Neville^s imaginary virtues might 
 fairly represent. Three originals for this sketch have 
 been confidently named, any of whom do honour to 
 the success with which female excellence has been 
 represented, though the fancied resemblance in every 
 case is only such as all Christians must exhibit to 
 each other. There are many lively girls like Ele- 
 anor, without her faults, and many gentlemen as pros- 
 ing as Sir Colin, to whom, while the authoress has 
 never seen them, some resemblance may easily be 
 imagined '' to give the airy nothings place and 
 name." It is requested that every young lady will 
 believe she was intended for Matilda, — that every 
 gentleman will discover that he is portrayed in Sir 
 Alfred, or Mr. Grant, and that each will feel assured, 
 in whatever quarter of the United Kingdom he re- 
 
PREFACE. Vll 
 
 sides, that Dr. Murray is certainly intended for the 
 clergyman of his own parish — 
 
 " This is a likeness may all men declare, 
 And I have seen him, but I know not where." 
 
 With respect to the white poodle, Blanco, he is 
 not meant for any poodle in particular, but as a fair 
 representation of drawing-room dogs in general, with 
 all their faults and good qualities, seeing that they 
 occupy a place of distinction in society now, which 
 entitles them to prominent notice in any work pro- 
 fessing to take cognizance of the more important 
 actors in fashionable life. 
 
 Having formerly delineated the progress of educa- 
 tion, it is now proposed to trace its results on the 
 character, temper, and morals ; but each volume may 
 be read, either in connection, or as a separate story. 
 The original intention was, not to carry the same 
 narrative on, but many readers objected to the want 
 of a regular denouement in the previous work, where, 
 according to established etiquette, virtue ought to be 
 rewarded, and vice brought to condign punishment. 
 This is very appropriately termed " poetical justice,'* 
 because we observe no such results in actual life. It 
 may be well, however, to exhibit the triumph of vir- 
 tue in scenes of fancy, where the characters cease to 
 exist with the closing page ; but it should be remem- 
 bered, that while the universal desire for final equity 
 seems to be implanted in the human breast by Him 
 who now promises, and will one day execute it, — 
 this world is not the place of retribution. Temporal 
 
Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 happiness is granted irrespectively of merit, and fre- 
 quently those who seem most deserving of success, 
 receive the smallest share of worldly prosperity from 
 the hands of that Great Benefactor, who knows its 
 real worthlessness. The favoured children of our 
 Merciful Father are not the most pampered and 
 indulged now ; but that in which they differ from 
 others is the inward feeling with which the inevitable 
 afflictions of life are borne. — As we frequently see 
 the more precious exotics in a garden first planted 
 and cherished in darkness, that they may attain a 
 higher and a nobler growth ; so the Christian is often 
 reared in the gloom of adversity, and watered with 
 tears, while we likewise see that winter's stormy blast 
 is necessary to the stability of the oak. 
 
MODERN SOCIETY: 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Sorrows like show'rs descend, and as the heart 
 For them prepares, they good or ill impart. 
 Some on the mind, as on the ocean rain. 
 Fall and disturb, but soon are lost again — 
 Some, as to fertile lands, a boon bestow. 
 And seeds that else had perish'd live and grow. 
 Some fall on barren soil, and thence proceed 
 The idle blossom and the noxious weed. 
 
 Crabbe. 
 
 It has been mentioned as an ancient Jewish tradition, 
 though not recorded in Scripture, that, among other 
 tests, to which the Queen of Sheba put the wisdom of 
 Solomon during her visit at Jerusalem, she held up, at 
 some distance, two large groups of flowers, the one real 
 and the other artificial, desiring him to discriminate 
 between them. Unable at once to do so, and resolved 
 nevertheless not to be baffled, the monarch instantly 
 commanded a window to be opened, at which a multi- 
 tude of bees flew in, and settled on the natural flowers, 
 after which there could no longer be any difficulty in 
 pronouncing a correct judgment. It cannot be doubted 
 
"^ MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 that the loveliest blossoms of spring may be so imitated 
 by art that in form and colour they shall seem equalled, 
 or perhaps excelled, and the eye transiently glancing at 
 both, may be most attracted by greater brilliancy in the 
 one, though the freshness and fragrance of nature must, 
 on nearer acquaintance, prove their own superiority, and 
 add a charm to the creation of an Almighty hand which 
 all the ingenuity of man could never confer. Equally 
 similar in external appearance were the two heroines of 
 our story, Eleanor Fitz-Patrick and Matilda Howard. 
 In all that could give grace and beauty to^their earliest 
 girlhood they were alike ; but, while Eleanor was em- 
 bellished with every outward attraction which art or 
 ingenuity can add to the gifts of nature, she wanted 
 that inward spirit which can be only supplied by Al- 
 mighty power, and which gives life and permanence to 
 all that is precious in the heart. Both the cousins were 
 fitted to bloom amidst the sunshine of life's gay morn- 
 ing, enlivening every scene on which they entered ; but 
 the brightness and beauty of merely human excellence, 
 like Eleanor's, must fade amidst the storms of earthly 
 sorrow and temptation, while the grace and the sweet- 
 ness derived, like Matilda's, from an eternal source, may 
 indeed be bowed down and blighted for a time, but can- 
 not long remain obscured, and are never entirely lost, 
 being of that " nature" which ^' dies and lives again/' 
 and which, whether in sunshine or shadow, is under a 
 wise unerring cultivation for an endless and glorious 
 existence. 
 
 On the death of Ljidy Olivia Neville, to whom they 
 w^ere both alike indebted for that tender affection which 
 had constituted the happiness of their childhood, and for 
 that judicious kindness which had watched over them 
 in subsequent years, the two cousins mourned over the 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. O 
 
 abject of their earliest attachment, who had shown them 
 all the endearing and devoted interest of a mother, and 
 each in her separate home wept bitter tears for the days 
 that were past, when every thought of their hearts had 
 been dear to her who could now hear them no more. 
 Few had ever occasion to weep for a friend more de- 
 servedly beloved; and so essential had her friendship 
 become to both her nieces, that it seemed to their young 
 minds scarcely possible that death could indeed cause a 
 final separation. That voice, now silent in the grave, 
 had been the first to impress on their thoughts the 
 fleeting nature of every earthly tie, and taught them to 
 reflect, that, as soon might we anticipate day without 
 night, or an ocean of perpetual calm, as, that this chang- 
 ing scene shall continue to smile on us as brightly as it 
 beams on the early dawn of existence ; but no reverse 
 had yet brought them so acutely to feel that mournful 
 truth until the last solemn event which set its seal to 
 all that they had been taught. 
 
 "When the melancholy news reached Barnard Castle, 
 Eleanor was overpowered with amazement and grief. 
 She delivered herself up to a tempest of uncontrollable 
 emotion, which soon exhausted itself, and she conjured 
 up the remembrance of every tiling that could add 
 bitterness to sorrow. Her feelings were on most oc- 
 casions like the ripple of a summer breeze on the sur- 
 face of the stream, or like breath on a miiTor, which flits 
 rapidly away, leaving it as cold and as bright as before. 
 But Eleanor now mourned, for a time, with almost 
 frantic grief — she admired in herself every excess of 
 sensibility, and amidst tears and hysterics, she spoke as 
 if the very sunshine of life was set for ever, and the 
 only remaining comfort that could cheer her would be 
 
4 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 to live all her remaining days as if Lady Olivia Neville 
 vs^ere the witness of every thought and action. 
 
 Sir Richard Fitz-Patrick proposed that they should 
 hasten immediately to Edinburgh as he wished to show 
 the last mark of respect and attachment to the memory 
 of one, whom he, along with every one who had known 
 her, felt desirous to consecrate in their most sacred and 
 respectful remembrance; and to this suggestion the 
 young heiress readily acceded, glad to find any refuge 
 from her own depressing thoughts, and from the mourn- 
 ful inactivity of grief. 
 
 To a casual observer, this earliest burst of heart-break- 
 ing sorrow on the part of Eleanor Fitz-Patrick would 
 have appeared to call for greater sympathy and more 
 anxious solicitude than the deep unobtrusive grief of 
 Matilda Howard, who wept silently and profoundly, 
 though she fortified her mind against the inroads of im- 
 moderate afiliction, by incessant, fervent prayer, and 
 struggled against the excess of that grief which she felt 
 conscious could only end with her life. Some minds 
 have a wider grasp of sorrow than others, and hers was 
 one which felt intensely and suflfered long. There are 
 depths in our thoughts and in our feelings, which we 
 ourselves can only fathom when trying events lay open 
 the inner recesses of our own hearts ; and in this day 
 of anguish and distress, Matilda seemed as if she had 
 never known before what it was to think or to suf- 
 fer : but still she could now place all her happiness im- 
 plicitly in the hands of that Gracious Being whom she 
 supremely loved, in humble trust that hereafter His un- 
 erring designs would be revealed ; and thus she felt that 
 to a Christian, in the utmost sorrows of life, one comfort 
 inalienably belongs. 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. O 
 
 Amidst the intensity and anguish of her feelings, 
 Matilda shrunk from the notice of every one except her 
 parents, to whom she revealed without reserve all the 
 passing emotions of her heart, and in return she received 
 such consolation and sjnnpathy as they could for the time 
 suggest; though long before her grief was alleviated, 
 they each thought that it might have been almost en- 
 tirely subdued; and Lady Howard, whose heart had 
 become, by constant intercourse with the world, as hard 
 as a well-beaten highway, having one day surprised her 
 daughter in tears, thought it necessary to remonstrate. 
 
 " My dear girl," said she, "we have all suffered a great 
 misfortune, which it would be most unnatural not to de- 
 plore ; but if the sorrows of life are felt so very acutely, 
 your spirits will be depressed beyond all remedy, at the 
 very commencement of existence. Our bodily health 
 may be restored after severe injury, but our spirits once 
 thoroughly broken, can never be revived ; therefore you 
 must really save up some cheerfulness to stand the wear 
 and tear of future years, and for my sake and your 
 father's let me entreat that you will exert some forti- 
 tude." 
 
 " There can be no use in cherishing and cultivating 
 grief," observed Sir Francis. " I would have willingly cut 
 off my right hand to preserve Lady Olivia's life, and no one 
 can lament her death more sincerely; but still it is vain to 
 think of it, and we must learn to turn our minds away 
 from inevitable misfortunes. My receipt for banishing 
 melancholy thoughts is, to take a good hard gallop on 
 horseback, or to smoke a double portion of cigars — but 
 any thing is better than to sit down and make sorrow 
 a welcome companion." 
 
 Matilda ventured to reply, that she found it a better 
 restorative to encourage reflection than to stifle it, but 
 
6 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 she promised that nothing should be wanting on her own 
 part to attain peaceful and Christian resignation, while 
 she looked forward with ardent hope to the arrival of 
 Eleanor Fitz-Patrick, when she might have the addi- 
 tional comfort of finding sympathy from one who 
 mourned like herself. Her frank and affectionate heart 
 was incapable of reserve with those she loved, and in 
 her present hour of sorrow she would rather have spoken 
 to a statue than smothered her grief within her own 
 breast, — what then could exceed the longing desire with 
 which she anticipated that moment when, with the com- 
 panion and friend of her childhood, they should mingle 
 their tears together, and wear out their sorrow by talk- 
 ing of it. 
 
 Before the stunning effect of surprise and grief had 
 been sufficiently alleviated on Matilda's mind to admit 
 of her shedding any tears, those of Eleanor had been en- 
 tirely dried up. The long journey from Inverness -shire, 
 — the daily change of air and scene — the exhilarating 
 effect of rapid motion — and the thousand future plans 
 and prospects which flitted gaily through the magic- 
 lantern of her fertile imagination, prevented the young 
 heiress from dwelling very intently on the past, and 
 when she reached her destination, she felt but tran- 
 siently affected by the solemn event which had brought 
 her there. 
 
 Matilda flew into the arms of her cousin when they 
 met, and burst into a flood of tears. Confident that she 
 was at last with one who could enter into the utmost 
 excess of her feelings, and who would look back with her 
 on every endearing remembrance of the past, she now 
 wept unrestrainedly in all the intensity of natural emo- 
 tion. Heedless of all but the sacredness of her own sor- 
 row, and forgetful of every thing relating to Eleanor, 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 7 
 
 except the unbounded confidence of their once happy- 
 childhood, she felt soothed by the undoubted certainty of 
 mutual sympathy and affection, while she struggled 
 to regain her composure, and to say all that the first 
 impulse of her feelings directed. A tear glistened in 
 the eye of Miss Fitz-Patrick, at the sight of her cou- 
 sin's speechless distress, and she returned her embrace 
 with considerable warmth. Their first interview might 
 have almost satisfied the feelings of Matilda, for it was 
 short and affectionate ; but, when longer and more fre- 
 quent intercourse occurred, she became sensible that 
 a degree of restraint and embarrassment was but too 
 obvious in the manner of Eleanor, and she could not 
 remain blind to the coldness of her expressions, and to 
 her absence of mind, which recalled to unavoidable re- 
 membrance, that she was now with the brilliantly en- 
 dowed heiress of Barnard Castle. 
 
 "^ I am excessively nervous of late, and might have 
 been sure that our meeting would be too much for 
 me," said Eleanor one day, assuming a melancholy tone, 
 in answer to some of Matilda's reminiscences. *' I won- 
 der that you are able to speak of our affliction at all, as, 
 for my own part, the most distant allusion to it over- 
 powers me, and I must entreat that, till we have some- 
 what recovered this dreadful event, you will never say 
 any thing at all about it to agitate me." 
 
 *^ But, Eleanor, we have such consolations, that it 
 seems ungrateful not to reflect on the goodness of Provi- 
 dence in sending them, for truly in the midst of judg- 
 ment He remembered mercy ; and our beloved aunt's 
 death, in peace of mind and body, seemed almost like a 
 translation into glory. Surely you would like to hear 
 the message she left for you, dear Eleanor, and all she 
 
8 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 said on that day, for it was so like herself, kind and 
 consoling." 
 
 " Not now ! — I have told you already that it must be 
 at some future time^ when I can bear agitation better," 
 replied the young heiress, hastily. " Miss Marabout 
 very truly remarked, that I am prodigiously altered 
 within the last ten days since we have been here, and 
 she earnestly entreats me to avoid all emotion ; for she 
 observes, what every one must see, that I have only too 
 much sensibility. We should endeavour, Matilda, not 
 to water the road of life with our tears more than can be 
 helped, for there is both sunshine and shadow to be found 
 there, and my object shall be to linger always in the first, 
 and to avoid the other entirely when I can ; but you 
 will probably do exactly the reverse ?" 
 
 " No I indeed I shall not," replied Matilda ; " it is 
 my desire to receive every event of life precisely as it is 
 intended. We have instructions, both how to be merry 
 and how to be sad ; so the time may come when I shall 
 be cheerful again, but not now, Eleanor, not yet." 
 
 " We are very differently circumstanced," observed 
 the heiress, in a tone of importance. " Many affairs 
 must necessarily occupy my thoughts during the short 
 time we remain in town, which take me off from dwell- 
 ing incessantly on the subject of our regret. You have 
 no conception what a multitude of things have to be 
 settled before we leave Edinburgh. I must bespeak a 
 new poney carriage, as my present one is an ugly colour, 
 and hung too low ; — then every nursery-garden in the 
 neighbourhood has to be ransacked for new plants to 
 decorate my American garden, which was in a blaze of 
 glory this summer. After that, I must select a waggon 
 load of new books to replenish the library, for at present 
 
THE MARCH OF INIELLECT. 9 
 
 it is all so ancient, that one might suppose it to be the 
 ghost of the one at Alexandria. You have no idea what 
 ruin is brought upon me by all my friends having be- 
 come authors now ; and I find it quite an effort of me- 
 mory to send for their books, and to lay them on the 
 table conspicuously, whenever the ' accomplished writer' 
 comes to Barnard Castle. I pointed out yesterday to 
 papa, as a great natural curiosity, a gentleman who is 
 supposed never to have published ! and he would scarce- 
 ly believe it possible. My most difficult task, however, 
 has been to find an Italian confectioner, as our French 
 cook, newly imported from Paris, is quite a cordon bleu, 
 and expects to have an artiste under him." 
 
 Matilda felt amazed at the grave look of dignity with 
 which all this was uttered ; and she could not but re- 
 member a time, not long past, when her lively cousin 
 would have been the first to ridicule, and even to bur- 
 lesque, such an outbreak of ostentation from any one 
 else. Her immediate impulse was, forgetful of every 
 restraint, to speak with the frank, good-humoured gaiety 
 of former days, and to rally Eleanor on her sudden 
 assumption of magnificence ; but an indefinable barrier 
 was arising between herself and the companion of her 
 childhood, which she could scarcely comprehend. That 
 mere wealth should cause such a disparity as to forbid 
 the unrestrained exercise of all their former confidence, 
 was what her young and ardent mind had never antici- 
 pated. Matilda felt herself free and unfettered by obli- 
 gation — she had no object to gain from her cousin, nor 
 would she have hesitated to show such deference as was 
 due to Miss Fitz-Patrick's superiority of station ; but to 
 find herself, as she now did on many occasions, unac- 
 countably treated like an humble friend — a sort oisouffre- 
 douleur, who must study her cousin's humours, and im- 
 
10 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 plicitly follow her lead in conversation, filled her with 
 surprise, and with a degree of indignation, which was 
 foreign to the natural gentleness of her disposition. 
 Matilda Howard's spirit was not proud, but it was in- 
 dependent ; and the longer she associated with Eleanor, 
 the more difficult she felt it to preserve herself from 
 subservience, and at the same time to maintain that 
 Christian meekness which was her duty in the sight of 
 God. If Eleanor asked her to drive out, or to visit a 
 shop, her tone was that of a superior dictating to a pro- 
 tegee ; and every day she seemed more hurried for time, 
 and more anxious to escape all confidential intercourse, 
 which Matilda could scarcely regret, as not only was 
 Eleanor's extraordinary vivacity unsuitable to her own 
 feelings, but she was hurt on account of Lady Olivia, to 
 see how soon and how entirely the sacred remembrance 
 of her virtues and affection was extinguished from the 
 memory of one who owed so much to both ; and her 
 good taste, as well as her partiality for Eleanor, were 
 irresistibly hurt by the vulgar-minded ostentation and 
 glaring selfishness of her whole conversation and con- 
 duct. 
 
 " Matilda, why do you never wear rings ?" asked 
 Eleanor one day, looking at her beautifully formed 
 hands, while she plied the needle with busy activity. 
 " I should require some additional fingers to wear all 
 mine upon ; and this turquoise hoop cost me as much 
 yesterday as would be the whole annual income of some 
 young ladies. It appears quite undressed to be without 
 any ; and really, Matilda, with that industrious, pains- 
 taking look, you might pass for a sempstress who does 
 plain work at eighteenpence a-day." 
 
 ^' It would be necessary for me to turn an honest 
 penny, in some way or other, before I become curious 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. H 
 
 in rings and bijouterie/' replied Matilda, smiling. 
 " You know perfectly, Eleanor, that I can scarcely 
 keep myself in shoe-strings and hair pins ; so if ever I 
 put on a ring it must be taken down from the bed- 
 curtains." 
 
 '' Very true. Now, I do think, that old quiz, Lady 
 Barnard, treated you shockingly !" replied Eleanor ; " it 
 is, in my opinion, a complete case of swindling, when 
 rich old people receive very excessive attentions from 
 any one, and slip out of the world leaving them nothing. 
 I protest it ought to be actionable I" 
 
 " But my dear Eleanor, you quite mistake me" 
 
 *' Yes I yes I I know all that you expect me to be- 
 lieve ; disinterested kindness, pure charity, and so forth ; 
 but, Matilda, I know the world. What pleasure could 
 there be to you in reading several hours a- day to that 
 peevish old woman, and giving up every sort of engage- 
 ment to sit with her in the evenings ? People may act 
 as they please ; but I must think and speak as I please ; 
 for the motive to exertion is always as plain to me as if 
 it were inscribed in legible characters on the face of it, 
 and nothing diverts me more than to see how people can 
 deceive themselves and others." 
 
 " You might as easily suspect right intentions as 
 wrong ones, Eleanor, and it would be a much more 
 agreeable occupation. I often think of a man mentioned 
 in the Spectator, who had a deformed and a handsome 
 leg, so he always judged whether people were inclined 
 to take the favourable view of others or not, by watching 
 which their eye most readily fixed upon ; and we should 
 endeavour to be among those who contemplate the pre- 
 sentable leg." 
 
 ^' A propos, Lady Susan Danvers dined with us yes- 
 terday ; and her frightful large red arms were so covered 
 
12 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 with glittering bracelets, that they reminded me of the 
 raw flesh which Sinbad the Sailor threw into the Yalley 
 of Diamonds. I could look at nothing else." 
 
 '* You will allow, then^ that it is better to be deficient 
 in ornaments than to be overloaded with them. Some 
 of our nouveaux riches exhibit so much jewellery now, 
 that they look like Queens of the Sandwich Islands, or 
 Roman Catholic images from abroad." 
 
 '' ' Do you mean any thing personal !' as one gentle- 
 man said to another, who was kicking him down stairs," 
 exclaimed Eleanor, laughing. " That hard hit was evi- 
 dently levelled at my splendid gold ear-rings." 
 
 ^' No, indeed ! you know me better than to suppose 
 it possible ; but I had entirely overlooked them, and 
 you used to coincide in my antipathy to much carving 
 and gilding in our dress and decoration, Eleanor, in 
 which, perhaps, we still agree ; but, however that may 
 be, I shall not feel entitled to animadvert very severely 
 on you, unless your hair is curled with bank notes, or I 
 see you hung in chains of gold all day, like the city 
 magistrates.*' 
 
 " Matilda ! I never observe you dressed for dinner 
 without a smile, for you still wear the same perpetual 
 necklace that we had in the schoolroom. Do you live 
 and sleep with it on ?" 
 
 " I like every thing that reminds me of old times, 
 and of the friend who gave it," replied Matilda, fixing 
 her large, deep, speaking eyes on Eleanor. " She never 
 leaves my thoughts, and every thing connected with her 
 is dear to my heart. The very ground she trod on 
 has an additional charm for me ; and I walked all over 
 the garden at Ashgrove yesterday, Eleanor, tracing im- 
 pressions of the stick with which she supported herself, 
 last time we walked there together. I sat in her favour- 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 13 
 
 ite seat. I recalled how she looked, and what she said, 
 and I tried to realize the idea of that blessed country 
 where she now is eternally happy. Oh, how sweet and 
 how sad our lovely garden looked. It seemed as if the 
 rose-trees should not have bloomed so gaily, and as if 
 the bright carnations were ungrateful, to be sending up 
 their fragrance, when the hand that had reared them 
 was no more ; and the laughing, joyous sunshine which 
 sparkled and glittered on all around, showed no sym- 
 pathy with my own mournful feelings. I remembered 
 that the last words of comfort and affection have been 
 spoken from those lips which are now closed for ever, 
 and I seemed yet to watch the last glance of tender in- 
 terest which gleamed upon me from her dying eyes. 
 The truest friend we have ever known, Eleanor, em- 
 ployed her latest hour in praying for us." 
 
 Matilda paused a moment in profound emotion. Her 
 voice was harmony itself, and it deepened into a tone of 
 intense sensibility while she spoke. The rich full notes 
 of a flute could not have died away more softly on the 
 ear. She faltered, and became silent ; but after pausing 
 a moment, and watching in vain for a look of answering 
 sympathy in the bright cold eye of her cousin, she 
 gently endeavoured to vary the subject, though she 
 could not at once dismiss it. 
 
 " Aunt Barbara is at Ashgrove still, but so altered, 
 you scarcely could have recognised her. I burst into 
 tears when we met, more affected by the change on her 
 than even by the sorrow that afflicts myself. May her 
 consolation be from above, for no earthly friend can 
 afford her any, and she says, that in the whole range of 
 future events, there is not a single circumstance which 
 could give her one gleam of pleasure. That must cer- 
 tainly be wrong, because a true Christian cannot know 
 
1 4 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 such a word as despair ; but I could not leave her for 
 several hours, nor get the remembrance of her miserable 
 countenance a moment out of my head since." 
 
 " Pshaw, Matilda !" said Eleanor contemptuously ; 
 *' Barbara's very sorrows formerly were always absurd 
 and frivolous. I remember, as a child, seeing her often 
 in tears ; and, being then young and tender hearted, I 
 used to watch her with commiseration, summing up, in 
 my own mind, all the causes of grief that she probably 
 endured — her solitary existence; her brother's sudden 
 death ; the evident indifference of every one towards her- 
 self; the approach of old age and infirmity; the scanty 
 pittance she had to subsist upon, and the awful considera- 
 tion of a future state. These were all grand, legitimate 
 subjects of agitation ; but whenever I wasted any good 
 sympathy upon her, and investigated beyond my own 
 imagination into the origin of her distress, it turned 
 out to be some petty affront which she had fancied. 
 Mamma had given another person the precedence of her 
 to dinner, or I had occupied the chair she usually sat 
 in, or had picked up the book she was reading, or papa 
 did not take wine with her. In short, it was never a 
 real, impressive distress that touched her feelings." 
 
 " But we must spare her now, Eleanor, for she is 
 sadly humbled. Did you hear that Aunt Barbara has 
 insisted on accepting in earnest the offer which papa 
 lately made her in jest, of permission to occupy Ptar- 
 migan Cottage, in Argyleshire, where she means, with 
 the income recently bequeathed, to devote herself to 
 doing good in that neighbourhood ? Mamma and papa 
 did their utmost to detain her with ourselves, but her 
 melancholy reply was, with tears in her eyes, ' Ah I now 
 that Olivia is no more, who could bear with me !' " 
 
 " Who indeed !" exclaimed Eleanor superciliously. 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 15 
 
 " But now, do let us call another subject, for I hate 
 people to be, like Paganini, always harping on one string, 
 especially if it be a melancholy one. Do you know, 
 Matilda, I am going to have all the Barnard diamonds 
 newly arranged, in the form of an enormous butterfly, 
 and the ear-rings are to be set transparent. I must be 
 off now, to order some additional plate and furniture 
 for the country, so adieu ! au retoir ! I shall try to 
 call again, before we go to Barnard Castle next week ; 
 but you can have no idea what it is to be torn in pieces 
 with engagements as I am. You may think yourself a 
 very lucky person, Matilda, to enjoy the privilege of 
 moping all day over a fire, without any one asking or 
 caring where you are : but if 1 disappear for half an 
 hour, there are shoals of visitors crowding into the 
 drawingroom, or else the butler, and housekeeper, and 
 all my people waiting, as if they had no business on 
 earth but to torment me. I shall probably find a whole 
 host of company at home — notes waiting to be answered 
 — and shopkeepers with things upon sight : so you should 
 be properly grateful for my bestowing so much precious 
 time upon you already. Come and see me sometimes. 
 I am always glad to have you with me, Matilda, when 
 I have nothing else to do." 
 
 " Eleanor ! I sometimes scarcely know whether to 
 laugh or to cry, you are so ridiculous !" said her cousin, 
 colouring, and endeavouring to smile. "Let me now 
 exercise, probably for the last time, my old privilege of 
 being allowed to speak out my whole mind. There is a 
 change in you, Eleanor, which cannot but be obvious to 
 us both ; and if a short time has already produced so 
 great an alteration in the tone you assume towards me, 
 I cannot but anticipate the hour when there may be that 
 in your manner which I should feel scarcely entitled to 
 
16 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 overlook. Our affection was such as, I believed, neither 
 time nor circumstances could alter ; and I thought you 
 had known the worth of that which no wealth can ever 
 purchase ; but we have gradually become estranged from 
 each other's confidence, I scarcely know how, or why ! 
 I almost feel as if it would be less painful not to see you 
 at all, than to see you so changed. I may be hasty, — 
 wrong, — imprudent to say this ; but if we do not come 
 to a right understanding at first, I shall never know 
 when to speak. The evil increases every time we meet, 
 while my courage to notice it will diminish ; for our 
 former equality in affection is already almost obsolete 
 and forgotten. Dear Eleanor I my spirits are already 
 weighed down by the sense of our irreparable misfortune ; 
 do not add to it the grief and mortification of mourning 
 for your loss, as well as hers, and in a way so very 
 comfortless and unexpected. You know how often we 
 were taught to pray that our hearts might be preserved 
 from inordinate anxiety about earthly happiness ; but 
 if any thing could infallibly subdue and chasten my 
 worldly affections, it would be the deep disappointment 
 that your alienation would occasion to me. Let us con- 
 tinue, then, as we once were, dearest Eleanor ; let us 
 remember the time when we were friends, before either 
 of us knew what worldly honours meant ; and oh I let 
 us remain so, until all earthly distinctions are at an 
 end." 
 
 " Certainly !" replied Eleanor, hastily tying on her 
 bonnet, and gathering her splendid cachmere into grace- 
 ful folds round her sylph-like figure. *^ You know very 
 well Matilda, that I prefer you to any one else, and it 
 would be very wrong and ungrateful to do otherwise ; 
 but pray make due allowances, considering that I have 
 ao leisure either to look back upon former times, or for- 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 17 
 
 ward to the future, there is such a perfect scramble for 
 my immediate attention among country neighbours, vic- 
 tims, would-be lovers, and Scotch cousins to the remotest 
 generation." 
 
 " Yes, Eleanor, you really are the ' Hare with many 
 friends,' and I must not be captious about trifles. Ex- 
 cuse me, then, if I have been hasty and unreasonable. 
 Your regard is necessarily scattered among the many 
 claimants who court it, while mine may be reserved for 
 the few who will seek and value it. I shall try, there- 
 fore, to think you unchanged ; and, happen what will, 
 it shall be noticed no more ; for, perhaps, in the solitude 
 of my heart, where an aching void must long remain, I 
 may have looked with too keen an eye on the only friend 
 to whom my whole feelings could have been unreserved- 
 ly opened. The fewer friends we cultivate, the more 
 precious they must become ; and in our case, Eleanor, I 
 might apply that beautiful Persian proverb, ' The moon 
 looks on many flowers — the flowers see but one moon." 
 
18 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 I fondly thought 
 In thee I'd found the friend my heart had sought •, 
 I fondly thought, ere Time's last days were gone, 
 Thy heart and mine had mingled into one ! 
 
 KiRKE White. 
 
 About ten days after the preceding conversation, Sir 
 Francis Howard had concluded a long philippic against 
 luncheons, in the way in which gentlemen usually end 
 them, by sociably drawing his chair towards the table, 
 and becoming the greatest beef-eater of the party him- 
 self, when Sir Richard Fitz-Patrick entered, accompanied 
 by Eleanor and Miss Marabout, who were now insepa- 
 rable companions, for the young heiress would have felt 
 as great a privation without her ci-devant governess as 
 the unfortunate man did who in a rash moment parted 
 with his shadow. 
 
 " Howard ! when are you coming to beat up our 
 quarters in the North ?" asked Sir Richard, while 
 scientifically employed in selecting the trouffles from a 
 pate Perigord. *' You shall be up to the chin in turtle 
 and venison every day at our chateau." 
 
 " Captain Ross has promised me a passage next time 
 he goes your way, and Captain Back is to pick me up, 
 if he ever returns." 
 
 " But seriously, my good friend, we have admirable 
 sport, if that will be any inducement — you may shoot 
 partridges at the door, and catch salmon out of the 
 window, besides having a shot at the red deer, which 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 19 
 
 abound in our forests. I saw a prodigious herd the day 
 before we left Barnard Castle, and my neighbour Alder- 
 by persevered in stalking one for fifteen miles. The 
 sport is so unrivalled in its way, that when once a man 
 is thoroughly initiated in deer-stalking he cannot enjoy 
 any thing else." 
 
 " Then never attempt to ' initiate me,' for depend upon 
 it, that all my happiness in life would be ended, if ever 
 I became disgusted with hunting. Let me be put in my 
 coffin as soon as the huntsman's bugle loses its attrac- 
 tion." 
 
 " Bring two or three of your hunters, then, next 
 month, for we are going to try the experiment of start- 
 ing a pack in my neighbourhood. De Mainbury is to 
 hunt our country for the first time this year, and we 
 expect capital sport." 
 
 " Rather a hilly country to ride across," cried Sir 
 Francis. " I shall certainly have a steeple chase over 
 Ben Nevis." 
 
 " We are plentifully peopled with foxes," continued 
 Sir Richard eagerly ; " the only danger is that three at 
 least will be starting in different directions, and we 
 have only one pack of hounds ; but a most numerous 
 field is likely to turn out. Colonel Pendarvis, Major 
 Foley, Alderby, Fletcher, unnumbered Mackenzies, and 
 countless Grants. Apropos, Tom Grant has returned 
 from picture -gazing abroad, and writes me that his pre- 
 sent intention is to aid and abet Sir Alfred Douglas in 
 canvassing our neighbouring boroughs, vAih. which 
 laudable intention they are to set out some weeks hence, 
 for that strange, old, ivy- covered castle of the young 
 candidate's, which looks almost as grand and frowning 
 as himself — but my reply to their announcement of to- 
 day was, that unless they both make Baniard Castle 
 
20 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 their headquarters I shall vote on the other side. They 
 must positively use a little bribery and undue influence 
 with me ; and my stipulations were peremptory." 
 
 At this moment^ Eleanor inadvertently upset a basin 
 of sugar, and Matilda started forward to assist her ; 
 while Sir Francis laughingly observed, that it was the 
 first time he had ever seen her commit an actual gau- 
 ckerie; but he hoped that, as it was considered unlucky 
 to throw down salt, it must be the very reverse to over- 
 turn sugar. '^ But, my poor Matilda I what a fright 
 you must have got ! I have not seen such a brilliant 
 carnation exhibited on your cheek for months. It is 
 lucky that none of my hunters are so easily startled, for 
 you shy at every thing of late ; and really, Maria, 
 we ought to do something for that poor girl, she is 
 becoming thinner every day, and quite out of condition 
 now ; we must have change of scene, for she is positive- 
 ly vanishing into thin air altogether, and I would lame 
 my best hunter to set her on her legs again. Perhaps 
 a trip to Leamington might be of some use, as no one 
 can be in health now without consulting the magician 
 there ; and it would suit me quite as well to hunt for a 
 season with the Warwickshire hounds." 
 
 " Pshaw I nonsense ! — Let Matilda go with us to 
 Barnard Castle," exclaimed Sir Richard, earnestly. 
 '' Eleanor is flapping her wings to take flight thither 
 next Monday, and will be enchanted to have her cousin 
 of the party." 
 
 There was no suitable look of enchantment at these 
 words, however, in the heiress's countenance, who seemed 
 intent upon her occupation of paring an apple, which 
 to judge from her expression, might have been the apple 
 of discord. 
 
 ^* What do you say, Matilda ? continued the hospi- 
 
THE MARCH OF IxNTELLECT. 21 
 
 table baronet, who never read looks, and always sup- 
 posed his daughter's mind to be a duodecimo edition of 
 his own. " We have a spare comer in the britschka, 
 for I shall ride all the way, so Eleanor and Miss Mara- 
 bout only want you to complete their agreeable trio. 
 You might sing catches and glees along the road, eh ! 
 Matilda — ' All's well' — or, ' When shall we three meet 
 again,* eh I " 
 
 There was both thunder and lightning in Eleanor's 
 glance at this unexpected proposition of her father's ; but 
 she hummed broken snatches of the last new opera, and 
 tried to seem unconscious of what was passing, until an 
 opportunity occurred, when, having caught his eye, she 
 attempted to stop the current of his eloquence with one 
 of those family frowns which are, like freemasons' sig- 
 nals, perceptible only to the initiated. 
 
 " I know your drift, Eleanor," continued Sir Richard, 
 who was never very easily dismounted from his hobby ; 
 " but I am not reckoning without my hostess. The 
 seat in our carriage is really vacant, for Charlotte Clif- 
 ford has accepted the Chiltern Hundreds, and cannot 
 leave home till nearer Christmas, when she is to follow, 
 instead of accompanying us. I thought you had known 
 this already. But now, Matilda, can you have all the 
 necessaries of life ready by Monday morning, or must 
 we linger till Tuesday ? You are well worth waiting 
 for ; and if I think so, what must Eleanor feel ?" 
 
 " Thank you a thousand times," replied Matilda, 
 colouring deeply ; " you are very kind, but" 
 
 '^ I never like a sentence ending with a * but,' and 
 beginning with a multitude of thanks — it always be- 
 tokens evil," interrupted Sir Richard, hastily ; " but 
 you shall not get off very easily, for I mean to be as 
 pertinacious as the Scotchman who told Mr. Pitt that 
 
22 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 he considered every refusal a step ; so tell me now, 
 what little whimsical reason you are going to give for 
 disappointing us ? This is the only compensation we 
 can make to Eleanor for being jilted by Charlotte Clif- 
 ford ; and, indeed, now that I think of it, you ought 
 certainly to have had the precedence of her; and I 
 wonder it was not all arranged sooner, for there is no- 
 thing I enjoy so much as to have a circle of cheerful, 
 merry young faces round me." 
 
 At the mention of cheerfulness, Eleanor stole one of 
 her own peculiar glances at Miss Marabout, satirically 
 directing her attention towards the downcast expression 
 of Matilda's countenance, who was painfully embarrass- 
 ed, because, little as she washed to accept the unex- 
 pected offer of this excursion, and nothing could be 
 farther from her intention, yet she felt wounded and 
 surprised at the marked coldness of Eleanor's manner, 
 who had not said, nor looked, the most transient expres- 
 sion of common civility on this occasion. The preference 
 given to Miss Clifford had also astonished and mortified 
 her. Matilda never imagined, that with the confident 
 tone of superiority constantly assumed by Eleanor in 
 their intercourse, there was mingled a rankling sentiment 
 of jealousy towards herself, and yet nothing had been 
 more carefully instilled into the mind of her pupil by 
 Miss Marabout than a spirit of angry and contemptuous 
 competition against Miss Howard. It was, indeed^ sur- 
 prising how much Eleanor had succeeded in blinding 
 herself to her cousin's beauty and good qualities. She had 
 fully persuaded herself that neither could be discernible 
 in her own presence — that Matilda's eyes, so " deeply, 
 darkly, beautifully blue," were not comparable to the 
 lustre of hazel, — and that the more subdued vivacity of 
 Matilda's conversation could never be preferred to the 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 23 
 
 sparkling brilliancy of her own. Nevertheless, she had 
 on a few occasions found herself unaccountably eclipsed, 
 and without being led by that circumstance into any 
 diffidence of herself, it merely produced a determination 
 to keep her cousin as much as possible in the back- 
 ground, as she would rather have seen any one on earth 
 promoted to an equality with herself, than the compa- 
 nion of her childhood, for it had been one chief pleasure 
 of her own advancement, to see how completely she had 
 left Matilda behind. 
 
 Meantime, Sir Richard was far on in his negotiation, 
 without any doubt of bringing it to an equitable adjust- 
 ment, telling Lady Howard that he must keep Matilda 
 as a hostage for Sir Francis coming at Christmas ; and 
 that Eleanor would shew her cousin all the projected 
 improvements at Barnard Castle, and introduce her to a 
 numerous flock of beaux who were soon to emigrate 
 northwards. Nothing could well exceed the surprise 
 of the whole assembled party, only excepting the hospi- 
 table baronet himself, when Lady Howard at length 
 remarked, that she saw only one objection to the invi- 
 tation. 
 
 " You know. Sir Richard," she observed, looking at 
 Eleanor, " no motion can be carried until it is seconded." 
 
 " Indeed, Aunt Howard," cried Eleanor, seeing that 
 she must speak, " papa leaves nothing to be said when 
 once he begins making speeches for any one, and espe- 
 cially for me. I feel like the strolling player who for- 
 got his part, and another advanced as his substitute, 
 saying, ' This gentleman's name is Norval I on the 
 Grampian hills his father feeds his flocks,' &c. &c. I 
 shall, of course, be, as papa says, ' enchanted' to take 
 Matilda north, and 'delighted' to act as show- woman 
 of the lions at Barnard Castle : but she vdll find it odi- 
 
24 MODERN SOCIETY ; OB, 
 
 ously dull, Avith only Miss Marabout and me for two 
 months. I quite dread the thing myself, though, if my 
 cousin will endeavour to endure it, we must do our best 
 to render ourselves tolerable." 
 
 Matilda's refusals now became more earnest and decid- 
 ed than ever ; but all her ostensible objections were 
 good-humouredly combated by her uncle. The skirmish 
 continued for some time with great spirit on both sides ; 
 but her defensive operations were suddenly and finally 
 defeated by Lady Howard, who interposed again, with 
 a peremptory acceptance of the " very considerate and 
 kind invitation which Sir Richard and Eleanor had 
 been good enough to volunteer so opportunely." 
 
 " Pray feel no scruple about leaving me," continued 
 she, determined not to see her daughter's beseeching 
 looks. " I know you are scrupulous about that, and it 
 makes me only the more desirous to indulge you, my 
 dear Matilda. It will be of the greatest benefit to your 
 health, and we little thought you would so soon enjoy 
 an opportunity of lionizing Barnard Castle." 
 
 '^ No more did I !" exclaimed Eleanor, pertly ; " Ma- 
 tilda may say when she arrives there, like the Pope at 
 Paris, ' Of all the wonders in this place, the greatest is 
 to see me here.' But, papa, you do every thing now in 
 such a hurried extempore way, that one never knows 
 what to anticipate." 
 
 " Ah I" said Lady Howard, delighted to teaze and 
 draw out her niece, " that is so pleasant ; for when a 
 surprise is agreeable, the more unexpected the better." 
 
 " Yes," replied the heiress dryly, '^ when it is agree- 
 able !" 
 
 " How very kind, Eleanor ! I was sure you would be 
 overjoyed to have Matilda ; and she seems quite as pleased 
 about the arrangement as you are," said Lady Howard, 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 25 
 
 stealing a satirical look at the heightened colour and 
 distressed countenance of her daughter ; " what you say- 
 about the want of company will be an additional induce- 
 ment to your cousin, who is only too fond of being alone, 
 and would prefer your quiet fireside to all the ' dignity 
 dinners* and county balls you could offer her. She will 
 explore the beauties of Inverness-shire with untiring de- 
 light, and copy all its ' birks and braes' into her sketch- 
 book." 
 
 " Yes ; if it had been summer !" cried Eleanor, eager- 
 ly ; " I am sure Matilda would like the place best in 
 June or July." 
 
 " What a good kind creature you are, Eleanor ! — If 
 you make such a point of her returning there in sum- 
 mer, we may perhaps consider of it then ; but I could 
 not think of allowing Matilda to remain much beyond 
 Christmas now, though we are equally obliged by your 
 importunity on the sul)ject. Sir Richard, my niece has 
 quite inherited your hospitality of disposition." 
 
 " But virtues in excess amount at last to vices," 
 added the young heiress, peevishly. *' Papa knows how 
 I always teaze him about his pressing five gentlemen to 
 stay all night with us, in Cumberland, knowing, as he 
 did, that we had only one spare bed in the house — and 
 when Sir Colin Fletcher called last week, the butler 
 said papa was not at home, but had left orders to inquire 
 if he could dine with him that day. The poor baronet 
 thought we had picked up in the Highlands a little se- 
 cond-sight, to know for certain that he would come ; but 
 it turned out that Martin had a general order to invite 
 every gentleman who called to make up a party. But, 
 papa, may I tell the story about your asking Lady Mon- 
 tague's ci-devant butler to dinner? IMy father knew his 
 face perfectly, but forgot every thing else^ and supposing 
 
26 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 him some old friend whom he had known long ago, he 
 asked him to fill up a spare corner at our dinner party, 
 and take his mutton with us at six. The poor man nearly 
 died on the spot with astonishment, and said, according 
 to the usual phrase, that he would be most happy to 
 WAIT UPON us, which he certainly did, in one sense, for 
 it was with a napkin in his hand, behind my chair. We 
 shall soon be quite a revival of 
 
 ' The worshipful old gentleman who had a great estate. 
 And kept a brave old house at a hospitable rate.' " 
 
 Matilda made one more vigorous attempt to evade her 
 impending fate ; but, though she ran some risk of irri- 
 tating and mortifying Sir Eichard by the pertinacity of 
 her refusal, and her eagerness to escape his invitation, it 
 was all in vain, for she was allowed to have no more 
 influence on her own destiny than a trout on a fishing 
 hook ; and Lady Howard having settled all the prelimi- 
 naries to her own entire satisfaction, took a cordial leave 
 of her visitors, and then throwing herself on the sofa, 
 she indulged in a hearty fit of laughing. 
 
 " My dearest mother, let me hope you have been in 
 jest all along, and that I am not really going to be 
 banished from you ?" said Matilda, anxiously. '' Pray 
 relieve me by saying so." 
 
 " On the contrary, I never was half so serious about 
 any thing in my life," replied Lady Howard, decidedly ; 
 *' and let me request that not another word may be said 
 on the subject. I h^ve a particular reason for wishing 
 that you should spend this Christmas at Barnard Castle, 
 and it is from the very same cause, in all probability, that 
 Eleanor would avoid it ; but I can always manage good 
 worthy Sir Richard, who is all liberality and kindness, 
 without the soupgon of a manoeuvre. How I enjoy teas- 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 27 
 
 ing Eleanor now and then ! But, Matilda, I do pity 
 you certainly, for you feel all her absurdities too acute- 
 ly ; and why do you, who are ten times cleverer than 
 Eleanor, not give her a hit now and then, to show what 
 you can do ?" 
 
 " Impossible in her own house — if I am to go," ob- 
 served Matilda, dejectedly, " I shall even lose the com- 
 fort of independence there." 
 
 " Matilda !" said Lady Howard, with a certain slow- 
 ness of speech and compression of the upper lip which 
 was meant to be unanswerable ; " when did you ever 
 gain a point with me by importunity — cest une affaire 
 finiel — You ought to be seen in the world now, and 
 there cannot be a better opportunity than this to ' come 
 out.' 
 
 ' Where none admire, 'tis useless to excel. 
 Where none are beaux, 'tis vain to be. a belle.' 
 
 You will see a number of eligibles at Barnard Castle ; 
 and considering, as I do, that marriage is a woman's 
 profession, it is as much my duty to place you in the 
 way of advancement in that line, as it is incumbent on 
 me to send your brother Frank to India, or Tom to 
 Sierra Leone, if that be likely to facilitate their promo- 
 tion ; therefore, I lay a positive command upon you 
 to remain in the Highlands until it is my pleasure to 
 come there myself." 
 
 Matilda was stunned and silenced by this unexpected 
 address ; but, finding that she had done all in her power 
 to avert the long penance forced upon her, she felt that 
 it was now her duty to bear with submission what could 
 not be avoided ; and in her well-exercised mind there 
 was no room for a repining thought. Much that seemed 
 painful to nature she anticipated during her intercourse 
 
28 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 with Eleanor, but nothing that she could not endure 
 with cheerfulness, if it became really inevitable ; for 
 however trying to a sensitive mind are the slights or 
 the caprices of altered friends, and few things can be 
 more painful, yet she knew that they might be necessary 
 to check the excess of that affection and confidence with 
 which she would have given her whole heart to her 
 cousin, and expected an unbounded and unchangeable 
 return. Matilda had often heard it remarked that our 
 hopes of happiness rest successively on worldly objects, 
 like a bird on the branches of a tree. If he be driven 
 from perch to perch he wings his way at last towards 
 Heaven ; and thus, while mourning the earliest changes 
 which had afflicted her own heart, she felt that if the 
 cords were cut which bound her most strongly on earth, 
 her hopes and desires might perhaps thus be elevated to 
 a better world. 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 29 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Ou allons nous, Madame ? 
 Nous ennuyer k la campagne. 
 
 There is a luxury in being waited for, which seems 
 universally understood by great people, though to the 
 subordinate actors in life it is a pleasure quite incom- 
 prehensible and unknown. On the morning of their 
 setting out for Inyemess- shire, Eleanor Fitz-Patrick 
 detained her cousin in momentary expectation of her 
 arrival fully as long as personages enjoying a certain 
 degree of self-importance think it usually necessary for 
 those who are considered their inferiors ; but at length 
 an open britschska with four horses swept up to the 
 door about half-past one, to claim the very unwilling and 
 unwelcome inside passenger who had been booked for 
 the journey. 
 
 " These are good travelling hours, Eleanor !" observ- 
 ed Sir Francis, handing Matilda into the carriage, and 
 bidding her an affectionate farewell. 
 
 " Yes I" replied the heiress ; " papa is already a stage 
 in advance, but I am no admirer of sunrise, when, as 
 some poet beautifully observes — 
 
 * Like a lobster boil'd, the morn 
 From black to red begins to turn.' 
 
 The only advantage of travelling in my own carriage is 
 to choose the hours that suit me best." 
 
30 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 '' True — it is only irrational animals that keep what 
 are vulgarly called rational hours. A young lady of 
 fashion must be distinguished from the common herd 
 who travel in coaches and steam-boats, which all start 
 before the peep of day." 
 
 '' Yes," replied Eleanor, glancing with visible alarm 
 at Matilda's baggage, " and in another respect I differ 
 from those public conveyances, in a total incapacity to 
 accommodate many packages besides my own, for the 
 carriage will certainly burst, if we add much more to the 
 load it already carries." 
 
 *' Shall I order a post-chaise to follow with Matilda's 
 dressing-box ?" asked Sir Francis, dryly. " You fill up 
 more room in the world now, Eleanor, than in the days 
 when I took Matilda and you, three in a gig, to Argyle- 
 shire ; and your baggage might then have been tied up, 
 like Mr. Dowlas's, in a pocket-handkerchief." 
 
 The young heiress made no reply. She always felt a 
 mixture of fear and respect for Sir Francis Howard, 
 whose rallying manner and ready humour had acquired 
 a sort of influence over her which no one else could have 
 possibly preserved. His quick sense of the ridiculous, 
 and unrivalled turn for mimicry, often enabled him to 
 shew her uj) in a way that made Eleanor conscious how 
 absurdly she had acted or spoken ; and frequently, when 
 she could have braved Lady Olivia's affectionate remon- 
 strances, the keen shaft of Sir Francis's eye, and the 
 cutting sharpness of his ready wat, kept her in awe ; and 
 yet she liked him as well as her blunted feelings could 
 enable her to like any one, and enjoyed a frequent w^ar 
 of wit with him, in which species of mental gladiatorship 
 it was difficult to say w^hose weapons were the brightest, 
 or which came off victorious. 
 
 " Have you heard that Barbara set out this morning 
 
THE MARCH OP INTELLECT. 31 
 
 for Argyleshire ?" inquired Sir Francis. *' Poor soul ! 
 she is sadly altered. I declare it is melancholy to see 
 how amiable she has become now I I have lent her 
 Ptarmigan Cottage during pleasure, and we hope she 
 will soon become quite herself again !" 
 
 " I hope not, for any body else would be better," 
 replied Eleanor, laughing; " you should change the 
 name to Termigant Cottage, till she abdicates it." 
 
 " I shall postpone that alteration till you are settled 
 there," answered Sir Francis gravely. " You are as 
 pungent as a vinaigrette this morning, Eleanor I" 
 
 " There is nothing more dangerous than a bad ex- 
 ample." 
 
 '^ Well, adieu I You are longing to be off, I suppose, 
 and to reach the rural plains of Inverness-shire. ' Oh ! 
 for a lodge in some vast wilderness — some boundless 
 contiguity of shade !' Eh Eleanor ! Long life to you, 
 then ! and take care of my precious Matilda. I grudge 
 you every hour of her society that we lose, for she is 
 the very light of my eyes now ; but, my dear girl, write 
 constantly : keep a pen behind your ear, and as long as 
 you are absent I trust we shall hear that Time has had 
 his wings * parfurnees de bonheur' " 
 
 When the carriage stopped in Maitland Street for 
 Miss Marabout, Eleanor turned to her cousin, saying — 
 ^' By the way, Matilda, have you any objection to sit 
 backwards ? it would be such a charity ! for Miss Mara- 
 bout is subject to headaches, and it kills me outright, 
 the seat is so narrow, and the back so perpendicular. I 
 have less scruple in venturing this proposal, because you 
 are such a good creature ; and we young ladies are sel- 
 dom promoted to any other side." 
 
 '^ No more are governesses in general ; but I shall 
 willingly give up this place, in memory of old times, 
 
32 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 ■vvlien neither you nor I, Eleanor^ could dare hardly to 
 sit down in her presence at all/' replied Matilda, with 
 her wonted vivacity of look and manner, for she could 
 not help feeling diverted at Eleanor's extreme absur- 
 dity. 
 
 The heiress gave her cousin a good-humoured, hut a 
 rather patronizing nod when she vacated her seat ; and 
 for some time after the carriage had driven on, Matilda 
 was occupied in realizing to her own mind that the 
 proud, consequential-looking personage opposite, wrap- 
 ped up in ermine fur and Chantily lace, with a grave, 
 dignified aspect, and pompous commanding voice, 
 could actually be the lively, frolicsome companion of her 
 own juvenile days, with whom she had once lived in the 
 free interchange of every thought, and in the happy 
 confidence of unbounded, and, as she then believed, un- 
 alterable affection. " Cease ye from man," thought 
 Matilda ; " alas ! how early am I taught the frailty of 
 human friendship ! By the changeableness of one, and 
 by the death of another, I have equally lost the two who 
 were dearest to me on earth. Oh I may the sorrow of 
 this hour only serve to confirm the more gratefully my 
 dependence on that eternal Friend who will never either 
 disappoint or forsake me !" 
 
 Meantime Eleanor and Miss Marabout had thrown 
 themselves gracefully back into opposite corners of the 
 britschska, almost buried alive in cloaks and cushions, 
 while they became deeply engaged in an animated dis- 
 cussion of all that every body had said or done for the 
 last few months, during which nothing could exceed the 
 skill and perseverance with which Miss JVIarabout flat- 
 tered her ci-devant pupil, unless it were the readiness 
 with which her douceurs were accepted, for frequent 
 practice had taught her to suit the bait to those she 
 
IHJE MARCH OF INTELLECT. S3 
 
 wished to catch, and Eleanor was becoming every day- 
 less fastidious in respect to the quantity or the quality 
 of adulation which she could believe to be sincere as it 
 was well merited. 
 
 " That was so like you I" Miss Marabout was in the 
 act of saying, when Matilda first aroused her attention. 
 " As soon as I hear of any thing generous or amiable, 
 it instantly reminds me of Miss Fitz-Patrick, for we so 
 rarely see the heart expand in proportion to the fortune ; 
 but yours were formed to suit each other. 
 
 ' Large was her bounty, and — and — and' "— — 
 
 Miss Marabout was apt to run aground in her quo- 
 tations, to which Eleanor had long been accustomed, so 
 she did not supply the cue, but continued the train of 
 her own thoughts and plans. *' I always wished, as you 
 know, to transplant the Muckleraith family from Ash- 
 grove, but Lady Olivia entertained some odd notions on 
 the subject. The old man is dead now, so I have taken, 
 that rustic beauty, Nanny, whom we have so long raved 
 about, into my service, and she looks like a perfect fairy. 
 The plain elder sister may blush unseen, and remain 
 with her mother, who will be a picturesque-looking old 
 woman for attending to my fancy dairy and poultry- 
 yard." 
 
 " How very kind and judicious !" exclaimed Miss 
 Marabout ; " but I always foretold that you would be a 
 model for the rich as well as a friend to the poor, and 
 few people combine so much power and inclination to be 
 both." 
 
 " That silly girl Nanny imagined herself attached 
 or engaged to the under -gardener, William Gray, though. 
 I hope she will learn better taste in my service than to 
 fency such a clownish-looking youth ; but, with my usual 
 good-nature, I have engaged him to work for me in the 
 
34 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 Highlands — and my greatest achievement of all remains 
 to be told. Poor old Millar is already at Barnard Castle. 
 She can make herself of no earthly use ; but in every 
 large country-house there must inevitably be an old 
 nurse, or superannuated housekeeper, who is a pet in the 
 establishment, with nothing to do but drink oceans of tea 
 and grumble at the other servants. So I have taken 
 Millar as a necessary grievance, and shall let her be at 
 grass while she lives." 
 
 Matilda felt surprised at the contemptuous tone 
 in which Lady Olivia's faithful, attached servant was 
 noticed, and she was hurt that none of these interesting 
 communications were addressed to herself; but anxious 
 not to be '' overcome of evil/' she listened with animated 
 attention, and tried to appear as if the oversight was en- 
 tirely unnoticed^ by joining in the conversation with a 
 degree of cheerfulness suited to the tone of her compa- 
 nions, though they were so agreeably occupied with each 
 other that neither seemed conscious of the remarks which 
 Matilda occasionally intruded upon them. 
 
 " With respect to your old victim. Sir Alfred Dou- 
 glas," continued Miss Marabout, complaisantly, " I have 
 it from undoubted authority that he admired no young 
 lady abroad." 
 
 "" Of course not, for you know he had seen me," re- 
 plied Eleanor. 
 
 " Ah, very true ! He is said to have become hand- 
 somer and more repulsive than ever, if that be possible; 
 for Lady Montague says that all Florence was in an up- 
 roar about him, and the most diverting anecdotes were 
 in circulation of the hauteur and indifference with which 
 he kept every body at a distance last winter ; but the 
 more he tried to repress people's attentions, the more 
 they were obtruded upon him." 
 
THE MARCH OP INTELLECT. 35 
 
 ^' Of course ! that is the way always ! — wherever you 
 wish to get on in society, begin by cutting three or four 
 perfectly respectable people." 
 
 " Lady Montague mentioned a curious circumstance 
 about Sir Alfred/' continued Miss Marabout, evidently 
 wishing and expecting to be asked for the sequel ; " but 
 she told it me under the seal of the strictest secrecy." 
 
 " Oh ! delightful !" exclaimed Eleanor eagerly ; " it 
 gives such zest to a story when people have promised 
 not to tell it — now go on !" 
 
 " But" said Miss Marabout with a hesitating 
 
 look at Miss Howard. 
 
 " Nonsense," cried Eleanor, impatiently, ** you know 
 very well that if Matilda had been Blue Beard's wife, 
 she might have been alive yet, for any danger of her pry- 
 ing into secrets or repeating them — so now for your 
 story." 
 
 " It was very much whispered that, a few days before 
 Lady Amelia's death, she sent for her son, and extracted 
 a promise from him that he would neither marry nor 
 engage himself for a certain length of time, which she 
 specified ; and it appears, from what Lady Montague 
 can learn, that his mother had some very eligible match 
 in ^dew, but that he prefers another, whom she does not 
 think desirable. I cannot understand the business, ha- 
 ing always been certain that he was devoted to you, and 
 Lady Amelia would have felt too thankful for the slight- 
 est prospect of making that out, which would have ren- 
 dered her son the most envied man in existence." 
 
 " I hate ' dying requests,' because they are sure to be 
 
 always something so disagreeable or inconvenient that 
 
 no living person could expect them to be granted ! We 
 
 must have an act of Parliament to annul all such 
 
 5 
 
36 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 extorted promises !" exclaimed Eleanor, indignantly. 
 " I can now explain the whole enigma of Sir Alfred's 
 conduct, for there need surely be no doubt that he was 
 an admirer, in his dry, distant, odd way ; but some 
 ' good-natured friend' has certainly shown lady Amelia 
 the caricature I drew of her, as a bear-leader, taking 
 about the young baronet with a rein round his neck. 
 The sketch was thought so inimitable that it circulated 
 more than was prudent, and very probably fell into 
 Lady Amelia's hand^ who would certainly be angry, be- 
 cause her own portrait was dreadfully like ; so it becomes 
 evident that she wished to prevent his proposing to me 
 in a spirit of very laudable vengeance. As long as there 
 are old people in the world the course of true love 
 never will run smooth." 
 
 " But your conjecture can scarcely be correct," in- 
 terposed Matilda, trying to speak with the same indif- 
 ference as if she had been dissenting from Eleanor's 
 verdict on the weather, or setting her right about the 
 day of the month, though a rebellious blush rose on her 
 cheek and dyed it with crimson. '^ You must have 
 mistaken Lady Amelia's opinions, because I heard her 
 admiring you in terms that would satisfy even Miss 
 Marabout. You used to say that she puffed off her 
 favourites as if they were quack medicines, and that 
 Lady Amelia should be poet-laureate to the japan 
 blacking, so on this occasion your opinion would have 
 been quite confirmed, for she was all in superlatives." 
 
 " Then what took Sir Alfred abroad, unless she had 
 doubts of his being accepted, which would be quite 
 reasonable and proper, for I am not at all sure upon that 
 score myself; but one would, at any rate, like to be asked, 
 if it were only for the good it would do Sir Alfred to be 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 37 
 
 surprised with a refusal. I shall set about it as soon as 
 he comes to lionise Barnard Castle at Christmas, when 
 he will of course renew his attentions." 
 
 "Attentions !" exclaimed Matilda in undisguised 
 astonishment. " I thought, Eleanor, you complained 
 that he never spoke to you ! I have heard you call him 
 Harpocrates, the walking gentleman, and twenty other 
 names, to indicate his perpetual silence." 
 
 " Yes — hut every man in the world has a different 
 way of being in love, and Sir Alfred's is not loquacious. 
 True love seldom is talkative ; and gentlemen often speak 
 least to those they think most about. For instance. Sir 
 Alfred addressed more of his conversation to you than 
 to me — but the manner is every thing on these occa- 
 sions, and I would have been quite mortified if he had 
 seemed as much at ease with me as he was with you. 
 Charlotte Clifford carried on a flirtation all last winter 
 with a gentleman who never even ventured on being in- 
 troduced to her. She remarked him frequently watch- 
 ing her when she danced — he always contrived to be 
 opposite to her at dinner parties, and very constantly 
 passed by her windows ii;i the forenoon." 
 
 " You cannot be serious, Eleanor ! for I never heard 
 a case worse argued in my life ! As long as the gentle- 
 man looked in health he was probably thriving on hope, 
 and if he had died it would have been of despair." 
 
 " Poor Charlotte certainly has a slight hallucination 
 of intellect upon that subject; for she is so continually 
 expecting to be fallen in love with," replied Eleanor, 
 laughing. " She is, as your mother used to say, ' a 
 silly flirt, who is good for nothing but to be married.' I 
 have always observed that it makes a girl intolerably 
 conceited to be, as she is, the best looking of three plain 
 sisters, for parmi les aveugles un borgne est roi, and if 
 
38 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 there is but one eye in a family there must be always a 
 beauty amongst them. Do you believe, Miss Marabout, 
 that Charlotte has really refused Sir Colin Fletcher ?" 
 
 " It is difficult to say ; but no man could be worse 
 spared in society than poor Sir Colin, for he has such a 
 philandering way that every young lady of his acquaint- 
 ance gives out annually she has refused him ; and I make 
 a principle of believing them all." 
 
 '' Charlotte Clifford is never acquainted with any 
 young lady for an hour without asking to be her coyi- 
 ^fidante^ and on these confidential occasions there must 
 be something to tell ; but she has scarcely her equal in 
 the world for getting up a romantic story impromptu. 
 She gave me a splendid edition of Sir Colin's disappoint- 
 ment, and then asked me to return a Rowland for an 
 Oliver by serving up poor Lord Alderby." 
 
 '' Those who confess a petty theft to their friends 
 expect to be told of a murder in return," said Miss 
 Marabout, complaisantly, ^^ and you have already a 
 multitude to answer for. I understand that we are to 
 have a visit from ' that diverting vagabond, Mr. Grant,' 
 as Lady Susan Danvers calls him." 
 
 *' Yes," replied Eleanor, slightly colouring ; "■ we 
 could not be off asking him, because he acts as Sir 
 Alfred's second m canvassing the neighbouring county, 
 and they are quite inseparable. Mr. Grant's little pro- 
 perty ' marches' with mine, though we do not march 
 long together, as his whole estate is scarcely so exten- 
 sive as one of my largest farms- Yet you would be 
 astonished what influence he has acquired in the neigh- 
 bourhood, as well as on his uncle Sir Evan Grant's 
 extensive property near mine. All my people talk of his 
 old descent, and his high principles and extensive bene- 
 volence, as if he were really a man of consequence." 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. S9 
 
 " Mr. Grant may say, like Sir Lucius O'Trigger, 
 though the mansion-house and dirty acres have slipped 
 away, our honour and the family pictures remain as 
 fresh as ever," observed Miss Marabout, with a con- 
 temptuous laugh. 
 
 "I shall not be sorry to see him back, however/' 
 added Eleanor ; '* he amuses me beyond measure ; and 
 besides, when Sir Alfred Douglas and Mr. Grant started 
 off with one accord to the continent, it really seemed as 
 if all my hangers-on had stmck work at once." 
 
 " You really do task them very hard, and hold out 
 but little hope of future reward," replied Miss Marabout, 
 in her usual fawning tone. " Positively Lord Alder- 
 by's attentions to your white poodle are quite beyond 
 praise." 
 
 '^ Poor dear Blanco ! it will be my greatest joy in 
 returning home to meet him again," exclaimed Eleanor, 
 affectedly. '* He sent me a wag of his tail by the last 
 letter I had from the housekeeper, and Lord Alderby 
 has certainly been an admirable tutor. Blanco sits at 
 the piano and makes sounds not much more discordant 
 than Lady Susan Danvers, when she sings her only 
 song, ' Di tanti Palpiti ;' and I am told, when you ask 
 the dear dog what he w ould do for papa, he barks like a 
 fury ; but if he is asked to show what he would do for 
 me, he falls down dead. That was really no bad idea of 
 gallantry for an elderly gentleman like Lord Alderby to 
 teach him." 
 
 " If you could only grind his lordship young again, 
 and get a carpenter's plane to diminish his enormous 
 physiognomy," said Miss Marabout, '^ he might be, with 
 the earl's coronet, a very endurable person. What a 
 pity it is that such a man should ever grow old ; but I 
 remember our hearing, last time he dined at Barnard 
 
40 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 Castle, that the only tooth in his head was aching ; and 
 he is accused of being rheumatic^, which shows him to 
 be very much broke. In short, it seems like summer 
 and winter when you and^he are together." 
 
 '^ Did you ever hear the fable," asked Matilda, 
 " that once upon a time Cupid and Death having fallen 
 asleep, Mercury very mischievously mingled their ar- 
 rows, which accounts for young people sometimes dying, 
 and for very old people falling in love ?" 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 41 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The yew-tree lent its shadows dark, 
 And many an old oak, worn and bare. 
 With all its shiverM boughs was there. 
 
 During the progress of their journey, in that sin- 
 gularly bleak and desolate stage between Dalnacardoch 
 and Dal whinny, the evening had nearly closed in, when 
 Matilda was surprised to observe a well-mounted eques- 
 trian, in a long horseman's cloak and very much muf- 
 fled up, who rode alongside of the britschska, and stared 
 incessantly at the whole party, as if he were resolved to 
 identify them ; but the instant that Eleanor perceived 
 the stranger, she let down her veil, put up her parasol, 
 and looked at Miss Marabout, who immediately did the 
 same, while they began to exchange a few whispering 
 exclamations of surprise and annoyance. Matilda ra- 
 pidly ran up quite a little romance in her own mind, as 
 to who this mysterious incognito might possibly be, and 
 she thought his appearance fitted him admirably to act 
 the villain of the piece. He had a dark, Schedoni- 
 looking countenance, and his large eyes were so ex- 
 tremely prominent, that, whenever he winked, it seemed 
 an equal chance whether his eyeballs were shut in, or 
 shut out ; he w^as apparently about fifty years of age, 
 but still in the vigour of his strength, and rode extremely 
 wtIL It is astonishing when people are travelling, 
 how intense is their curiosity to know the name of every 
 
42 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 individual who may happen to lodge at the same inn, 
 or to pass on the road. Matilda had wearied herself 
 wdth conjectures about the probable rank of their fellow- 
 traveller, when, next morning, Sir Richard mentioned, 
 in a tone of apprehension to Eleanor, as if he anticipa- 
 ted an explosion of indignant surprise, that he had 
 " accidentally met Armstrong, who offered to breakfast 
 with them at the next stage." This intelligence was 
 received in angry silence, and Matilda then remembered 
 to have heard very frequent complaints from her cousin, 
 that an old friend of Sir Philip's had almost forced him- 
 self into Barnard Castle during the previous summer, 
 and steadily kept his position there in defiance of every 
 stratagem which Eleanor's ingenuity could suggest to 
 dislodge him. Matilda had laughed often at the stories 
 she heard of the heiress's contrivances to affront him out 
 of the house, and of the dogged unconsciousness with 
 which her hints and sarcasms were all received by the 
 object of them ; and she could scarcely help smiling, 
 when at length Mr. Armstrong entered their sitting- 
 room, w itli the sort of awkward swagger which is usually 
 assumed by those who are doubtful of their welcome, 
 and determined to brave the worst. Eleanor gave him 
 a look of tall contempt, and scarcely bent her head in 
 return for a bow of almost exaggerated respect with 
 which the intruder saluted her. Not a word passed 
 between them ; yet Matilda could not but observe an 
 expression of fierce malignity which glittered for a mo- 
 ment in the large prominent eye of Mr. Armstrong while 
 he bent it on Eleanor's haughty countenance, and then 
 turned to Sir Richard, who received his guest with that 
 air of easy, good-natured hospitality which nothing could 
 alter. 
 
 Few words passed between them, however, as both 
 
THE MARCH OP INTELLECT. 43 
 
 gentlemen had good travelling appetites; and now 
 began " the war of waiters, the wreck of butter, and 
 the crash of egg-shells," while Mr. Armstrong " trou- 
 bled" Eleanor for as many cups of tea as if he had been 
 Dr. Johnson. Towards the close of breakfast, when Miss 
 Marabout accidentally addressed Miss Howard by name, 
 Mr. Armstrong suddenly started round, with an expres- 
 sion of surprise, and held his tea-cup suspended in his 
 hand, while his large eyes became fixed upon Matilda, 
 and he repeated the surname again, as if to assure him- 
 self of her identity, while she looked at him in return 
 with astonishment to perceive the sensation which had 
 been so unaccountably occasioned ; and Eleanor whis- 
 pered to Miss Marabout, in a tone of satirical wonder — 
 *' Quite a dramatic start ! It was really equal to Kean 
 in Macbeth !" 
 
 Mr. Armstrong instantly made an effort to recover 
 himself on hearing this remark ; but Matilda observed, 
 with perplexity, that frequently during the progress of 
 breakfast he stole an examining glance towards the 
 place where she sat, and still the " wonder grew " why 
 her name should be an object of such peculiar interest 
 to a person whom she was never conscious of having 
 met before. 
 
 When the travellers were about to resume their jour- 
 ney, Matilda was unexpectedly accosted by Mr. Arm- 
 strong, who remarked, in an under-tone which seemed 
 intended to be confidential, and with a very peculiar 
 look to which she vainly endeavoured to assign a mean- 
 ing, that " he was delighted to see her on the road to 
 Barnard Castle, as no one on earth had a better right to 
 enter that house." 
 
 " We both derive our right from the same origin, Mr. 
 
44 
 
 MODERN society; OR, 
 
 Armstrong," replied slie_, smiling. " Sir Richard's kind 
 invitation is our best passport. 
 
 " Perhaps I could show you a still surer one/' mut- 
 tered he in a mysterious tone. " It would be worth a 
 trifle to me were mine half as good ; but if Sir Philip's 
 old friends are not better treated, your satirical cousin 
 may yet have cause to remember a certain fable about 
 the cow who stuck herself with her own horn. What 
 would you give me, Miss Howard, to solve that riddle 
 for you ? Perhaps I may, if you promise to make it 
 worth my while." 
 
 "It is worth every man's while, Mr. Armstrong, to 
 do what is right, and nothing can ever make it worth 
 your while to do wrong, therefore I can only leave you 
 to judge for yourself, whatever the case may be," said 
 Matilda, turning away with unconquerable dislike from 
 the sinister expression of his countenance. '* All I ven- 
 ture to recommend is, that you should neither act nor 
 speak upon an angry impulse." 
 
 " You are the last person on earth who should have 
 given me that advice," replied Mr. Armstrong, with a 
 loud laugh which grated harshly on the gentle ear of 
 Matilda, and she hastily sprung into the carriage, where 
 Eleanor wasted a number of witticisms on her cousin 
 about the impression she had so suddenly made ; but the 
 career of her humour was changed into a burst of indig- 
 nation when she heard Mr. Armstrong call out, in an 
 apologetic tone, to Sir Richard, who looked little less 
 astonished than his daughter, that " he should scarcely 
 be able to reach Barnard Castle before Christmas, as he 
 was torn to pieces with engagements, but would cer- 
 tainly reserve a week or two for their hospitalities at 
 that time." 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 
 
 45 
 
 Before any one could frame an answer, and before the 
 angry flash of Eleanor's eye could be followed by the 
 sharp word that was ready, the incorrigible offender had 
 finished a civil speech with which he expressed his con- 
 sciousness of being " always sa kindly welcomed ;" and 
 waving his hat with a look which showed how fully he 
 understood the real state of the case, Mr. Armstrong 
 spurred his horse and galloped down the hill. 
 
 Matilda Howard's youthful spirits rose with the 
 buoyancy of health and natural cheerfulness — her cheek 
 was restored to its wonted bloom, and the light of joy 
 and good-humour shone in her bright blue eyes, for she 
 encouraged in herself that continual expectation of plea- 
 sure which is in itself a pleasure — yet she had many 
 difficulties and discouragements to encounter from Elea- 
 nor, which, if she had allowed herself to dwell upon 
 them, might well have checked and repelled a mind so 
 sensitive as hers. If she was silent, her cousin sneered 
 at " people" who thought nobody good enough to con- 
 verse with — when she remarked on the weather, Eleanor 
 seemed to think her commonplace — if she spoke of books, 
 it was pedantic — if she broke forth into admiration of 
 the landscape, she was ridiculed as being sentimental ; 
 and the most cautious approach to religion was received 
 by both her companions with marked disapprobation. As 
 long as the talk was of Eleanor's lovers, her estates, her 
 jewels, or her horses, conversation flowed smoothly on 
 with unabating animation — even the outrageous mis- 
 takes of her footman, or the follies of her French maid, 
 were subjects of legitimate attention, and her very lap- 
 dog was promoted into an object of excessive interest ; 
 for it may be observed, that when people are exceed- 
 ingly self-important, a part of their system is to raise the 
 dignity of every creature belonging to them. At the 
 
46 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 inns where they stopped to dine, Eleanor instantly sent 
 the waiter to order '' a chop for Fancy, done without 
 pepper, and to be served up immediately, as she did 
 not agree with irregular hours ;" and it was the whim 
 of the young heiress to make her dog of more conse- 
 quence than any one except herself. 
 
 As Eleanor persevered in an aristocratic time of 
 setting out late in the forenoon, Matilda gained many 
 hours every morning, during which she enjoyed a soli- 
 tary ramble amidst those glens and mountains which are 
 scattered along the Highland road. By the peep of 
 day, while the heiress and Miss Marabout were buried 
 in deep repose, her early steps were brushing the 
 spangled dew from the grass, while the clear, cool 
 breeze played among her hair, and brightened the bloom 
 on her transparent cheek. Matilda's sylph-like figure 
 had lost nothing of its juvenile grace, and she looked 
 like a blossom of spring, while she glided along the shady 
 paths, or stood beside the stream, listening with rapture 
 to the morning-song of the skylark soaring rapidly aloft, 
 or to the brilliant chorus of blackbirds and thrushes, 
 which seemed in gay emulation to drown each other's 
 notes. Matilda's voice was sometimes raised in the deep 
 solitude of nature, and tuned to a hymn of praise, while 
 her thoughts arose in ardent gratitude to Him who 
 formed those glorious scenes, and had placed her there 
 to appreciate and enjoy them. " Can any artificial 
 pleasure of life be compared," thought she, '' to that 
 which the God of Nature provides in such a world of 
 beauty as this ! 
 
 ' Surrounded by his power we stand, 
 On every side we feel his hand, 
 Oh ! skill for human reach too high, 
 Too dazzling bright for mortal eye !' " 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 47 
 
 Nature may well be said to reward all her lovers 
 without disappointing any ; and never had she a more 
 ardent admirer than in the pure mind of Matilda How- 
 ard, who gazed in unwearied delight on the last bright 
 smiles of autumn, already clothed in her fancy dress of 
 many colours. She watched the rising sun struggling 
 through the morning clouds, and observed, with almost 
 poetical interest, the various and singular effects of mist 
 upon the distant hills and moorland solitudes. At times, 
 the fog seemed like a boundless ocean, waving beneath 
 her feet, while here and there a mountain top appeared, 
 like a distant island on the sea, and frequently the hills 
 were only screened from her sight by a thin coquettish 
 veil of mist, which hung in graceful draperies on the 
 height, or stretched in ^Nvreaths along the mountain 
 top, till at length, floating off in transparent clouds, it 
 displayed their massy outlines and Alpine forms, broken 
 into a rich variety of light and shadow. 
 
 Matilda wandered for hours enjoying the unrivalled 
 loveliness of Kinrara, where nature has been extrava- 
 gant in her gifts of splendour and beauty. There the 
 broad sweep of the majestic Spey flows on between its 
 rugged banks, glittering with gay and dazzling bright- 
 ness, or else cast into shadows of inky blackness, by the 
 majestic forests of natural wood which wave over its 
 deep and silent waters, — while the drooping tresses of 
 the birch-tree floated over gigantic rocks and Ossianic 
 heights, around which were festooned wreaths of ivy 
 and periwinkle. In the distance arose the lofty peak of 
 Craigellachie, where tradition tells that the last wild 
 boar was slain, though Eleanor remarked that boars 
 enough were still remaining as long as Sir Colin 
 Fletcher survived. 
 
 Much as Matilda enjoyed those lonely rambles, she 
 
48 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 yet felt the want of one who would say to her that " so- 
 litude is sweet/' and with whom she could live in the 
 interchange of thought and feehng. Her disposition 
 was peculiarly social, and she had long felt conscious 
 that, even in religion, it is almost essential to have some 
 one with whom we can exchange the communication of 
 those joys and sorrows which can only be imparted in 
 the most perfect confidence^, and in which she had once 
 enjoyed a degree of entire sympathy which could never 
 he looked for again. The thoughts . of her departed 
 friend brought a tear of tender and mournful remem- 
 brance to her eye, as she glided on with no sound to 
 accompany reflection but that of her own light elastic 
 step upon the path. 
 
 There was one forbidden hope that forcibly obtruded 
 itself on her mind, and which seemed to recur the 
 oftener the more carefully it was banished. Who does not 
 know that Vouloir oiihlier quelque chose cest y 'penscr ? 
 and our heroine could not entirely forget the more cul- 
 tivated scenes of Douglas Priory, where conversations 
 which had lasted but a few moments had fixed them- 
 selves on her memory for ever. Sir Alfred Douglas was 
 the only person Matilda had ever met with who seemed 
 thoroughly to understand her sentiments, and to whom 
 she scarcely found a necessity for expressing them, so 
 entirely did his thoughts sympathize with her own. He 
 had shewn so much pleasure in consulting her taste 
 upon all his projected improvements at the Priory, 
 and she was conscious of his having adopted so many of 
 her suggestions, of his intense delight in her music and 
 conversation, and of his frequent manoeuvres to be near 
 her, that nothing but his unexpected departure for the 
 Continent had occurred to check her increasing belief in 
 his attachment to herself, which his conduct in several 
 
THE MARCH OF INIELLECT. 49 
 
 respects had partly served to confirm. On one occa- 
 sion, when he had requested her to gather a houquet 
 of wildflowers, and she presented him with a group of 
 heart's- ease and forget-me-not, Matilda could not cease 
 to remember the look of sensibility with which he had 
 remarked that it was impossible for him to keep both, 
 upon which he threw away the heart's-ease, and insisted 
 on dividing the forget-me-not with herself. Time, which 
 had obliterated many subsequent scenes and events from 
 her memory, had. left that hour as vividly present to 
 her mind as ever ; but always anxious to place a pro- 
 per control on her natural susceptibility of disposition, 
 and conscious that, in every circumstance of life, there 
 is a duty to be done, Matilda felt that she ought cer- 
 tainly to consign into oblivion any idle imagination 
 which interfered with the serenity and peace that are 
 the best accompaniments of true devotion, and which 
 were never in so much danger of being disturbed as 
 when some of those words or actions occurred to her 
 memory, which had once led her young mind to believe 
 that she was an object of secret preference to Sir 
 Alfred. 
 
 To Eleanor, her cousin's unaffected delight in the 
 wonders and the beauties of creation was a subject of 
 ridicule and incredulity. ** Why, Matilda, you are 
 quite in a fine frenzy," exclaimed she, sipping her 
 cofi'ee, and looking sleepily at her cousin's glowing, 
 animated countenance. '' You remind me of the tour- 
 ist's guide-books, which not only describe what we are 
 to see, but how we ought to feel. * Here the spectator 
 will be enraptured.' But I never follow any one's lead, 
 and would not have spared a single exclamation, nor a 
 line of poetry, for your cascade. It is the sort of thing 
 I always detested, lionizing waterfalls : and indeed upon 
 
50 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 that score I am sadly like Madame du Deffand, who 
 complained that she tired to death of ' innocent plea- 
 sures.' How often I have been obliged from complais- 
 ance to set out on what is cruelly nicknamed a party of 
 pleasure, to scramble up a steep, slippery^ ill-kept path, 
 with occasional chasms of several feet to leap over. A 
 canopy of dripping trees over-head, and a deep abyss 
 of green leaves below, through which you occasionally 
 catch a peep of some stones and gravel, said to be the 
 channel of a river. Then comes the cascade, not much 
 fuller than my shower-bath, streaming and trickling 
 down like a squirt. I am certain we might drink up 
 all the water you have seen to-day ; and that if a re- 
 gister were kept of wet feet and torn petticoats, it would 
 be carried nem. con., that ' le jeu ne vaut pas la chan- 
 delle: " 
 
 *' No, no, Eleanor, you must have admired it. The 
 birds were all crazy this fine morning, they sung so 
 beautifully, and the deep bass of the waterfall made a 
 splendid accompaniment of natural music." 
 
 " I always think, in such a scene, of the comparison 
 that a cascade is like a scolding woman, beautiful to look 
 at, but in a perpetual brawl." 
 
 " Yes, it is indeed perpetual, and makes me feel Hke 
 one of the summer flies that skim along the surface of 
 the stream, when I hear the voice of its waters, and see 
 the tumult that has been raging there, with so much 
 life and animation, ever since the world began, and 
 which will continue in all its vivacity for ages after we 
 are swept away and forgotten." 
 
 " Matilda, one woilld imagine you had visited the 
 Falls of Niagara, at least to-day; but I have no turn for 
 rhapsodizing about frowning mountains, and murmur- 
 ing streams, and fleecy-hosiery clouds. Perhaps one 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 51 
 
 may do so occasionally in society for effect; but to 
 come blazing in, as you have done this morning, in a 
 real fit of genuine ecstasy about nothing, is quite out of 
 my line. "With a wide domain of one's own to admire, 
 where, like Robinson Crusoe, * I am monarch of all I 
 survey,' the country is endurable ; but otherwise give 
 me any town on earth, Berwick, or Muttonhole in pre- 
 ference." 
 
 " I always feel like Cowper, that God made the coun- 
 try, and man made the town ; and mine is like the sen- 
 sation of a bird escaping from its cage, when first we 
 emerge into green fields and gay shrubberies again. I 
 could have embraced the first tree on our road, for it 
 seemed like a long absent friend restored to me again." 
 
 " ' Chacun a son gout ;' — but if you want mountains, 
 Arthur's Seat is quite sublime enough to satisfy me. 
 For varied scenery, take a circuit of the Calton Hill ; 
 for umbrageous shades give me a parasol; and for a 
 romantic loverizing promenade, scramble up the steep 
 side of the Castle rocks. Then for moonlight, you may 
 indulge in a stretch along Princes Street, watching the 
 splendid shops, glittering like Aladdin's palace with gas- 
 lamps, shining picturesquely through a long perspective 
 of gauses, feathers, and artificial flowers ; the apothe- 
 caries' shops sending forth a stream of green and rose- 
 coloured light; the pedestrians lounging about with 
 cigars in their mouths; and the New Club, which 
 blazes for an instant, like lightning, as you pass, show- 
 ing a momentary glimpse of its members, picturesquely 
 grouped on the sofas and chairs. How I wish the whole 
 building, with its contents, could be transported to my 
 gate, for Barnard Castle will be as dull as a hen-coop 
 during the next two months ! There is no resource 
 in the house except Blanco, and not a single victim to 
 
52 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 be captivated but Lord Alderby, whom I shall be almost 
 tempted to accept, for something to do." 
 
 " Many girls marry for no better reason/' said 
 Matilda. 
 
 " True enough ! — I verily believe that if trousseaux^ 
 favours, white satin, feathers, blonde, and marriage- 
 jaunts were abolished, and that no paragraph in the 
 newspapers was allowed to commemorate the event, and 
 no happy couple permitted to set off in a more splendid 
 cavalcade than they are daily accustomed to, half the 
 young ladies who fancy themselves desperately in love 
 would remain very rationally at home. That newly in- 
 vented word ' excitement,' is the pleasure which we are 
 all in pursuit of; and, whether it be dancing or matri- 
 mony, the revolution of kingdoms, or the death of 
 acquaintances, all contribute their quota to that degree 
 of excitement which is become an actual necessary of 
 life." 
 
 '' So much stimulus to the mind is like drinking 
 brandy; it may produce temporary exhilaration, but 
 leads to a painful reaction afterwards. How different 
 it is, Eleanor, from that mental composure and peace 
 which the Scriptures point out as our natural state of 
 enjoyment, and which alone can be permanent and 
 wholesome. This life has been truly called a change- 
 able scene— a procession of trifles — the chief interest of 
 which is not derived from the incidents themselves, but 
 from the use we make of them in correcting our own 
 dispositions and habits of thinking." 
 
 *' Matilda, you shall be fined for preaching without a 
 license I I am always afraid to articulate three syllables 
 now, because a sermon is so sure to explode in my face. 
 Pray talk occasionally without attempting my reforma- 
 tion, or considering yourself a home missionary appoint- 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 53 
 
 ed to convert me ; for really, my good friend, if Mrs. 
 Stevens at Knaresborougli ever wants an assistant and 
 successor, I shall make a point of recommending you." 
 
 " I have perhaps been unguarded, Eleanor, but the 
 time was once when I might have thought aloud with- 
 out the danger of being misconstrued ; and you know 
 perfectly that I never talk at any one, but often make 
 these commonplace reflections more to school my own 
 mind than others, for even the frequency with which 
 they have already been made proves their importance : 
 and I am anxious to forget nothing that may strengthen 
 the clue with which we shall be safely guided through 
 the labyrinth of life." 
 
 Advancing towards Inverness, the features of the 
 country became more majestic, and Matilda's heart ex- 
 panded with astonishment and delight when their car- 
 riage swept round the projecting elbow of a hill, and her 
 eyes first dwelt upon the unrivalled splendour of Cro- 
 marty bay. Its broad expanse shone like a sapphire, 
 amidst an amphitheatre of rugged mountains, clothed to 
 their summits with patches of natural wood, tinged in 
 all the richest hues of autumn, while here and there a 
 brilliant sunshine glittered through the branches, and 
 painted every leaf upon the ground beneath. No painter 
 could have ventured to mix such bright and varied tints 
 on his pallet, as were glowing in gaudy splendour be- 
 neath a setting sun, on the sparkling waters, the glit- 
 tering sails, and the waving forests of Cromarty. A 
 light '^ skiff" of rain which fell in the sunshine as they 
 passed, looked like a shower of diamonds, and the glo- 
 rious arch of a rainbow, which stretched across the sky, 
 was reflected like a magic circle in the mirror beneath. 
 
 Tears of admiration sprung into Matilda's eyes when 
 she looked upon this profusion of beauty ; but she dared 
 
54 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 not give vent to a single thought that filled her heart at 
 the moment, when it overflowed with devout and holy 
 joy. No answering look was elicited when she turned 
 to Eleanor and Miss Marabout for sympathy, but giv- 
 ing a cold glance of indifference at the brilliant panora- 
 ma, accompanied by an impatient conjecture whether 
 Sir Richard had yet reached Dingwall to order dinner, 
 they resumed an interesting discussion relating to the 
 intolerable stupidity of PauHne, and her extreme dis- 
 like to her deputy, Nanny Muckleraith, many strong 
 evidences of which were related by Eleanor with un- 
 bounded zest and only slight disapprobation. 
 
 " I never see that poor girl now; for Pauline is 
 outrageously jealous of her being so excessively admired, 
 and I scarcely dare mention her name. You know one 
 must keep on good terms with an abigail, couie qui coute, 
 and mademoiselle never does my hair tolerably unless 
 she is in good humour." 
 
 " Then Pauline may be considered as a viceroy over 
 you," observed Matilda ; " and poor Nanny, when ex- 
 posed to all the whim and caprice you describe, must 
 often look back with regret on the garden at Ashgrove, 
 and wish she had still to sow turnips instead of hand- 
 kerchiefs." 
 
 ^' Pray send for her sometimes then, and be melan- 
 choly together," replied Eleanor, laughing. " She has 
 almost broken her heart lately, I am told, about some 
 foolish attachment to William Grey, the under-gardener, 
 and it really provokes one to hear of such intolerable 
 stupidity. I told her once that nature had made a mis- 
 take in giving her such a name and station, but that, if 
 she pleased me, I would rectify the blunder." 
 
 " Most generous indeed," said Miss Marabout. 
 
 " She was very grateful at the time, but Nanny is 
 
THE MARCH OP INTELLECT. 55 
 
 never two hours of the same mind, and has become so 
 flighty and odd of late, that I sometimes think she is 
 scarcely in her right senses. You know her father was 
 once in confinement for a year, and there is a glare in 
 her brilliant eyes that sometimes almost alarms me, es- 
 pecially since this affair of William Grey, and all her 
 brouilleries with Pauline. Luckily they have not a lan- 
 guage in common, to quarrel in," added Eleanor, laugh- 
 ing, '' as each is obliged, for indispensable reasons, to 
 prefer her o^vn ; and it is fortunate in another respect, as 
 Pauline is quite a Frenchwoman in her principles, if she 
 can be imagined to have any principles at all — she flirts 
 prodigiously, and is not supposed to be of very immacu- 
 late reputation ; but I must turn a deaf ear to all gossip 
 on that score, seeing that I could not exist, or at least 
 dress without her." 
 
 " Is there likely to be a change of Ministry soon? 
 asked Matilda ; " you seem to find great faults in the 
 present Administration." 
 
 " No, no ! as Charles the Second observed, there may 
 be oppression and injustice against my subjects, but I 
 see nothing against myself," replied Eleanor, in a tone 
 of great complacency ; for it is a favourite piece of self- 
 importance with vain people to set themselves above 
 general rules, and to boast of doing what no other per- 
 son could venture — so that when Eleanor talked of keep- 
 ing a maid whose character appeared questionable, it was 
 to show with what impunity she might brave Matilda's 
 opinion, or that of any one else who was tied down to 
 ordinary customs in their actions and thoughts. 
 
MODERN SOCIJETY ; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER y. 
 
 This castle hath a pleasant seat ? 
 
 Macbeth, 
 
 Matilda had not imagined it possible that any acces- 
 sion of dignity could take place in the demeanour which 
 Eleanor assumed throughout their journey ; but when 
 her carriage at length reached the princely domain of 
 Barnard Castle, she seemed to swell out with fresh im- 
 portance, while, assuming a studied air of indifference, 
 she pointed out all that might enhance the estimate of her 
 extensive possessions, saying, in the careless, accidental 
 tone usual among landed proprietors, " All the grounds 
 on each side of the road now are mine. I am IMarquis 
 of Carrabas, whichever way you turn." 
 
 A fat, unwieldy, consequential-looking old woman 
 swung open an enormous iron-gate, surmounted by 
 armorial shields bearing the Barnard arms, and flanked 
 by two ivy- covered lodges, which were so handsome as 
 to give promise of future magnificence ; and the approach 
 was entered by a dense wilderness of trees, like an 
 Indian jungle, through which the road cut its winding 
 way, till it emerged upon the noble and extensive park, 
 stretching, with its verdant glades and lofty woods, to 
 the utmost verge of the horizon. Large groups of 
 ancient trees bowed their majestic heads on every side ; 
 while Eleanor, in the exuberance of her spirits, bowed 
 to them in return ; and the graceful fallow-deer might 
 
THfi MARCH OP INTELLECT. 57 
 
 be seen pasturing in distant herds, or occasionally toss- 
 ing their branching horns, and bounding across the vel- 
 vet sward. A broad river, which flowed impetuously 
 through the park, swept almost round the house, and 
 was lost in a lake of such crystal clearness, that the 
 variegated tints of every tree were reflected on its bosom ; 
 and the whole was closed in by a distant range of craggy 
 mountains, crested by dark thickets of pine, which were 
 seen in bold relief on the evening sky. Matilda stood 
 up in the carriage, partly to indulge, but chiefly to con- 
 ceal the emotion with which she was filled by such a 
 scene, and her heart whispered, in a tone of devout ad- 
 miration and praise, 
 
 " 'Twas great to speak this world from nouglit, 
 'Twas greater to redeem." 
 
 " Miss Marabout," said Eleanor, gazing with proud 
 exultation at some wide spreading oaks which skirted the 
 terrace, '^ I should not like to be as old as the very 
 youngest of those trees ; but it would certainly be desi- 
 rable to resemble them in one respect — becoming always 
 more beautiful the older they grow. What changes I 
 shall have to make here," added she, glancing a magnifi- 
 cent look around. " No alteration has been attempted 
 for centuries ; and if my great-grandfather Sir Hilde- 
 brand himself, could come back for a day or two, he 
 would scarcely discover any innovations ; but I shall 
 cut and carve in all directions, to show what the finger 
 of taste can do." 
 
 '' Those mountains, hills, and valleys will not be easi- 
 ly altered," thought Matilda. " It is in such scenes as 
 these that men have doubted whether the natural beauty 
 of the world was not allowed to continue unimpaired, 
 while its moral beauty has been defaced. I often meet in 
 
58 MODERN SOCIETY ; OS, 
 
 society the most pleasing natural characters, and I look at 
 such scenes of natural beauty as these till I imagine them 
 fragments and specimens, as it were, of what has been 
 once, and of what will be again. We shall yet see a 
 new heaven and a new earth of unimaginable beauty, 
 inhabited by a people of inconceivable holiness, whose 
 enjoyments will remain undisturbed by those longings 
 after a ' better country,' and after a more heavenly 
 frame of mind, which we now experience, and which it 
 is the business of our present lives to encourage." 
 
 " I mean to prove myself a model of taste, as well as 
 of all the other virtues and graces," continued Eleanor. 
 " You know, Matilda, the genius of most ladies is con- 
 fined to planning improvements on a cap, or to mean- 
 dering over mazes of muslin and tulle ; but mine shall 
 be immortalized on vistas, flower-beds, clumps, and 
 plantations, which will astonish your weak mind. And 
 now let me introduce you to my chateau." 
 
 Miss Howard turned her eager eyes, and beheld, on 
 the declivity of a neighbouring hill, the noble, com- 
 manding site of Barnard Castle, which was a striking 
 specimen of feudal magnificence, with its lofty circular 
 towers, and venerable, time-worn battlements, shooting 
 upwards amidst a veteran battalion of aged fir-trees, 
 which seemed to protect the walls, and bid stern defi- 
 ance to the gayer and more modern tenants of the park. 
 A flight of noisy rooks expressed their terror and annoy- 
 ance at any symptoms of human habitation by cawing 
 and croaking vociferously ; while every thing around 
 testified to that neglect and indifference in which the 
 place had remained during the period when Sir Philip 
 wasted his years in an Italian villa, and allowed '' spiders 
 to hang their tapestry " on the walls of that splendid 
 home which Providence had assigned him. 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 59 
 
 The interior of Barnard Castle corresponded with. 
 Matilda's expectations, though the floors were all so 
 polished, and the roofs so elaborately decorated, that 
 she nearly lost her equilibrium in looking upwards, and 
 would have entered the house with a series of prostra- 
 tions, like the Hindoo devotees, had it not been for Sir 
 Richard's hospitable alacrity, who met her at the door, 
 and handed her in with a truly gratifying degree of 
 empressement and kindness. 
 
 " It would require a twenty horse-power to move this 
 chair," said he, placing her safely in one which stood 
 beside a blazing fire. " Probably some of your progeni- 
 tresses wore out a pair of eyes in embroidering those 
 beautiful designs." 
 
 "• I hate designs, and designing people too ; but there 
 are some of my relations still left who are of that class," 
 exclaimed Eleanor, in a peevish tone, which was loud 
 enough to reach Matilda's wondering ears, while the 
 heiress stood at a full length mirror arranging her 
 shining curls, and catching the reflection of her aerial 
 figure in the numerous antique looking-glasses which 
 hung around the walls, in massy frames of oak. *' How 
 frightful I look, after our long cold drive to-day !" 
 
 " So you do !" replied Sir Richard, archly. '^ Only 
 think, Eleanor, what successive generations of beauties 
 have admired themselves in that ancient minor." 
 
 " But the last is not the least," intermpted Miss 
 Marabout with flattering emphasis. 
 
 '' Dear Eleanor, what head could stand all this I" 
 thought Matilda, listening with aflectionate regret to 
 the fawning adulation which followed, while she also 
 contemplated, in silent admiration, the gorgeous splen- 
 dour of her cousin's newly acquired possessions. Once 
 more, while she rose up and strolled, neglected and 
 
60 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 alone, into the quaint old library, Matilda revived Iier 
 resolution to view Eleanor's conduct towards herself 
 with partiality and complaisance ; to bear all things, to 
 believe all things, to hope all things, and, far from 
 bringing on estrangement by that captiousness in anti- 
 cipating affronts which is too common on the part of old 
 friends towards those who are suddenly elevated, she 
 resolved, in all the firmness of Christian principle, not 
 even to " harbour a suspicious thought ;" and she turn- 
 ed speedily back to participate in the joyful meeting 
 which took place between Eleanor and her professed 
 idol, Blanco, on whom the heiress lavished every term 
 of rapturous endearment, speaking all the time in that 
 peculiar tone of nonsense which ladies reserve for the 
 entertainment of lap-dogs and babies. At length, this 
 scene having been prolonged to the utmost possible 
 duration, and Eleanor having afterwards given to Pau- 
 line a million of orders and counter- orders, she felt at 
 leisure to take Matilda a tour of the sitting-rooms, 
 which she displayed with all the gay delight of a child 
 exhibiting its last new toy, turning frequently round to 
 her cousin, and exclaiming, " Now ! don't you envy me, 
 Matilda ?" 
 
 " Certainly," replied she, with that good-humoured 
 sympathy which was as ready for the joys as the sor- 
 rows of her friends. " What you have shown me to-day 
 reminds one of Hafiz, in the Arabian Nights, who bor- 
 rowed an ointment which enabled him to behold all the 
 treasures of the world ; but when he wished inordi- 
 dinately to possess them, you know, Eleanor, he tried a 
 second application, and lost his eyesight entirely ; so let 
 me beware of deserving such a fate. My business is to 
 learn how to be abased, while you must study how to 
 abound, because both situations are appointed to us ; and 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 61 
 
 I feel such implicit confidence in the unerring wisdom 
 which directs our different circumstances^, that I could 
 almost say as Fenelon did, who once observed that he 
 would not be at the trouble of lifting up a straw to 
 make anything in life different from what he found it." 
 
 Sir Richard, who only lived from meal to meal, had 
 dropped several emphatic hints on the propriety of being 
 rigidly punctual at dinner, before Eleanor condescended 
 to appear conscious of their import, till at length she 
 started up, and proposed to shew Matilda her room. 
 " But, in the first place, like all ladies doing the 
 honours of a country house, let me deliver a set speech, 
 hoping you will be perfectly comfortable, make yourself 
 quite at home, ring for tea nine times a-day, if you 
 choose, and for every other necessary of life that may l)e 
 requisite, &c. Pauline is such a fine lady, that I dare 
 not ask her to attend on all the stray misses who wan- 
 der here without abigails, therefore Nanny has orders 
 to be in every corner of the house at once, to arrange all 
 the dresses that require to be put on for breakfast and 
 dinner. As for hair dressing, those who cannot manage 
 to do their own must wear bonnets, for Nanny is scarcely 
 fit to comb Blanco's, and Pauline, who learned from the 
 first friseur at Paris, finds it quite troublesome enough 
 to please me." 
 
 " If you are superstitious, Matilda, we can soon Jaire 
 dresser les cheveux a la iete" said Sir Richard. " You 
 are aware that an old castle in the Highlands would 
 scarcely be considered respectable without its own par- 
 ticular ghost, and we have a * murder-room ' here, in 
 which some ' Mystery of Udolpho ' was transacted long 
 ago. It must be passed on the way to your apartment, 
 so look well about you, though nothing very supernatu- 
 ral has occurred in my time, except that the window- 
 
62 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 sashes are supposed to open and shut of themselves 
 occasionally, and a terrified kitchen-maid once protested 
 she had seen the ghost of a leg walking past there in the 
 evening." 
 
 '' Probably a leg of mutton," observed Matilda, 
 smiling. 
 
 " You forget, papa, that a noise of steps may be heard 
 at midnight, running up and down stairs, often ; and 
 do you not remember, one evening, when Miss Mara- 
 bout and I watched, she at the top landing-place, and 
 myself at the bottom, with an arrangement that we 
 were to fly to each other whenever the noise began. 
 The agreement had not been made above ten minutes 
 before we both heard footsteps, and flew to meet ; but 
 though she came down, and I ran up, we saw no living 
 creature on the way." 
 
 " You were probably both much excited, and mistook 
 each other's steps for something supernatural," observed 
 Sir Richard ; " but I remember long ago a Ghost Club at 
 Bath, for which you might both have been eligible candi- 
 dates, as no one could be admitted without telling a per- 
 fectly new and well- authenticated story of an apparition. 
 The 'murder-room' in this house is certainly very sin- 
 gular, as it had been shut up for ages and completely 
 forgotten, till, in moving an old picture, the door was 
 discovered by Sir Philip, who told me that nothing 
 could be more strange than the first coup d'oeil. Who- 
 ever had been the last inhabitant, every article remained 
 precisely as he had left it a hundred years before. The 
 bed was turned down, ready to be slept in, — towels 
 were lying about the room" 
 
 " His very boot-jack and slippers, I suppose," added 
 Matilda, laughing. " It reminds one, in a small way, 
 of Herculaneum, and I feel quite delighted to hear that 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 63 
 
 we pass near it in going to my lodging, that I may drop 
 in, for a moment, — only for one moment, Sir Richard, 
 to lionize." 
 
 The baronet looked at his watch, and shook his head ; 
 but Eleanor beckoned to her cousin with an air of more 
 easy familiarity than she had condescended to assume 
 lately, and they both hurried up a narrow perpendicular 
 back- stair, near the summit of which were two opposite 
 doors, one leading into Matilda's room, and the other, 
 which Eleanor opened first, ushered them into an apart- 
 ment more singular in its aspect than her guest had been 
 at all prepared to see. It was a large, low- roofed, dark- 
 looking gallery, filled with lumber, and the extent was 
 so rast, that in a dingy twilight, which penetrated 
 through one or too narrow-pointed casements, the dis- 
 tance was lost in obscurity, though enough was re- 
 yealed at one glance to afford the ready eye of Matilda 
 a field of unbounded diversion and curiosity. Close to 
 the wall were ranged a double, and in some places a 
 triple pile of foreign pictures, many in frames, and others 
 only stretched upon wood. A few of the subjects were 
 laughably grotesque, and others appeared to be splendid 
 specimens of art, which Sir Philip had probably meant 
 to suspend in the drawing-rooms when he returned home. 
 Packing boxes on every side had been recently opened, 
 and the floor was strewed with mutilated statues, Her- 
 culaneum vases, casts from the antique, models of Rome, 
 P^re la Chaise, and the Alps ; cabinets, gems, marble 
 tables, grotesque jars, and Roman enamels. High above 
 all, as if contemplating this scene of devastation and dis- 
 order, stood a full-length portrait of Sir Philip Barnard, 
 in all the bloom of youth, and of that handsome exterior 
 for which he had once been celebrated. Matilda paused 
 a moment to contemplate it, and she felt as if a whole 
 
64 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY : OR, 
 
 lifetime were comprised in that single glance. He seemed 
 theti just entering into manhood, full of buoyant anima- 
 tion, and rich in the gifts of nature and fortune. All 
 had now passed away — and what had been the result ? 
 No domestic affection had brightened his enjoyments 
 — no grateful tenantry had blessed his liberality — not a 
 tear had been shed over his grave — not a human being 
 had been benefited by his existence — but a multitude of 
 statues and pictures were transplanted from Rome and 
 Florence at his command, which now surrounded him in 
 apparent mockery of his wasted years and scattered in- 
 come. 
 
 " It will divert me some wet morning to arrange the 
 best of these portraits in the entrance-hall," said Elea- 
 nor ; " my grim-looking ancestors have literally re- 
 turned to the dust, they are so encrusted with it. Most 
 of them were collateral relations, old maiden aunts, or 
 admirals and generals, who performed the part of uncles 
 in their time, but I am about to dignify them all with 
 new names. The family pedigree has furnished me with 
 a list of innumerable peers and ladies of quality, Avho 
 connected themselves with us ages ago, and I shall have 
 their style and titles engraved in gilt letters on tliese 
 frames." 
 
 " But, my dear Eleanor ! what a want of historical 
 veracity ? — you cannot seriously intend turning those 
 worthy, respectable ladies and gentlemen into arrant 
 impostors ! Though this house has been so long shut 
 up, visitors might come who could detect the alteration, 
 and you may then perhaps feel, like the valet in the play, 
 that it is easy to tell falsehoods, but it hurts one's con - 
 science to be found out." 
 
 " I see no harm in the joke at all ! — every body's an- 
 cestors look precisely the same. For instance, that lady 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. Qo 
 
 ^vith the large nosegay in one hand, and a hawk resting 
 on the other ; or the smiling sylph, with coral lips and 
 an invisible waist, is extant in all the galleries I ever 
 entered ; and ditto, the gentleman in pink cheeks, full- 
 bottomed wig, and steel armour, with a cannon just go- 
 ing off at his back. Their duplicates may be found in 
 every old house you visit, with different names, so why 
 should not I indulge my whim, seeing that it is the only 
 plan which will enable me with any advantage to dis- 
 play them ? The collection is so large and miscella- 
 neous, that I shall be obliged to decorate the outside 
 wall of the house with pictures at last, and as for the 
 statues, I wish many of them could be broken into stones 
 for the road, they are such mere lumber." 
 
 " I cannot really stay to hear you quizzing these ve- 
 nerable antiquities to their faces, and making me too late 
 for dinner," said Matilda, leading the way to her own 
 room. " You know, Eleanor, that the only subject on 
 earth in which the whole civilized world has agreed, is 
 in admiring such ancient specimens of art as these, and 
 I shall take many opportunities here of improving my 
 acquaintance with them." 
 
 Miss Fitz-Patrick proceeded to stir up her cousin's fire, 
 which was already like a furnace, and after indulging in 
 a critical examination of her simple unadorned dressing- 
 box, she carelessly expressed a hope that Matilda would be 
 comfortable, and lounged towards the door, humming an 
 opera tune, as was her continual custom, for wherever 
 she went Eleanor might be heard, like a linnet, all over 
 the house. " I shall send up Nanny to unpack your 
 valuables," said she, satirically ; '^ but really, Matilda, 
 that plain, uncut crystal in the di-essing-case looks so 
 like a gentleman's paraphamalia, that I consider it quite 
 improper." 
 
66 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR. 
 
 Matilda was disturbed from an interesting reverie in- 
 to which she had fallen after Eleanor's departure, by a 
 gentle tap at the door, and immediately afterwards a 
 smart little figure entered, most fantastically dressed as 
 a French soubrette, with her face shaded beneath a tor- 
 rent of ringlets, and a light soufflet of a cap put on in 
 the last extreme of affectation. Haying looked at the 
 intruder for some moments in silent perplexity, she 
 suddenly exclaimed, with unfeigned astonishment, — 
 ^' Nanny ! — can it be possible ! — you are so altered that 
 I really did not recognise you !" 
 
 " Probably not, Miss Howard," replied she, dropping 
 a very rustic courtesy, and looking exceedingly conceit- 
 ed ; " Miss Fitz-Patrick said, when she sent me here, 
 ma'am, that I was so improved you would scarcely 
 know me." 
 
 '^ I did not say you were improved, Nanny, but altered, 
 and not, I fear, as far as can yet be seen, for the better ; 
 you know well how much I am interested in your wel- 
 fare, and that since the time when we both were child- 
 ren my feelings have been the same, therefore it gives 
 me real regret to see that you have become thin and 
 pale. Ribbons and millinery cannot conceal the real fact 
 from an old friend like me, Nanny, and I am perfectly 
 convinced you are unhappy, though I will say no more 
 on the subject now, unless you want advice, or wish to 
 intrust me with the cause of your uneasiness." 
 
 The kindness of Matilda's manner, and the gentle, 
 though sorrowful tone of her voice, recalled old feelings 
 and associations to Nanny's mind — her newly acquired 
 affectation vanished at once, and she hung down her 
 head in silence, while her colour went and came with 
 alarming rapidity. Matilda proceeded with her toilette 
 in silence ; but at length, before she left the room, 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT;. 67 
 
 Nanny had recovered her voice and seemed anxious to 
 tell the whole history of her distresses, from which 
 Matilda plainly gathered how deeply she was attached 
 to William Grey, her former lover, though Eleanor's 
 advice, and the ridicule which had been thrown upon his 
 rustic manners and appearance among her own new as- 
 sociates, had induced her hastily to break off an engage- 
 ment which had long subsisted between them, and the 
 struggle of love and ambition that became obvious when 
 she spoke would have caused Matilda to smile had the 
 subject been less serious in its consequences than ap- 
 peared probable. Nanny spoke with a husky voice and 
 a quivering lip, while she hastily plaited up her apron 
 into every possible shape, and occasionally stole a glance 
 at the mirror, which generally altered the current of 
 her expressions from the sincerity of nature to an arti- 
 ficial tone of rather comical conceit. 
 
 " I often think, Miss Howard, of the time when 
 "William was such a good scholar at your Sunday-school 
 — what a clever workman he is, too! — and then such 
 beautiful flowers as he brought to church for me ! Many 
 an evening he twisted garlands of roses and honey- 
 suckles in my bonnet while we sat by the river singing 
 our hymns together — but that is over now. We can 
 never be friends again as we were, and often I can 
 neither rest nor sleep for soitow to think how all is 
 ended. Every one says it is for my good, and that I 
 shall do much better, because William is too poor to 
 marry," added Nanny, catching a glimpse of the looking- 
 glass. ^' I should have had no comfort with him, but 
 hard work continually and coarse food. Indeed, Miss 
 Howard, it is impossible to do without my tea twice a- 
 day, now that I am used to it, and we have every thing 
 so grand at the second table that I can never get accus- 
 
68 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 tomed to any discomfort again. How astonished Wil- 
 liam Grey would be ! But he never comes to the house, 
 nowj for he can only be admitted to the kitchen, and I 
 could not help laughing the last time he went there at 
 the way he was ridiculed and taken off by Sir Richard's 
 gentleman, who can speak as like him as possible, and 
 answered all he said in a vulgar voice, the same as his 
 own, but rather worse." 
 
 " This is sad indeed, Nanny ! I am sorry for what you 
 tell me about William. He was an honest-hearted, 
 well-principled young man, who would probably have 
 made you happy, and the trifling reasons that have 
 caused a change cannot long satisfy your own mind ; 
 but it is well when people alter before marriage rather 
 than after their engagement is irrevocable." 
 
 '^ Yes, ma'am," said Nanny in a very doubtful tone 
 and with tears in her eyes. 
 
 '^ I trust you will now find all for the best and never 
 repent of your decision. But, Nanny, you are in new 
 and trying circumstances here, which make me feel 
 most anxious on your account. Think for an instant of 
 your kind benefactress who is now no more, and reflect 
 what would have been her feelings if she could see you 
 at this moment. The change is great already since you 
 first learned to repeat at school such texts as these, — ' Be 
 ye clothed with humility — be not high-minded — let not 
 the prince of this Avorld gain dominion over you.' Alas, 
 Nanny ! the friend who would have advised and warned 
 you is now no more, and who shall supply her place to 
 either of us ? She dreaded your being placed in a situa- 
 tion of such difiiculty alid temptation as this ; but once 
 having entered it, you may find strength sufficient for 
 every trial, if you seek it aright. Do not destroy the 
 simplicity of mind and manners that you once had, for 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 69 
 
 be assured nothing can be gained that will compensate 
 for the loss, and you may become ridiculous even to those 
 who appear most friendly. You move about the room 
 now with as many contortions as an eel, and none of the 
 faces you make in speaking are better than the face you 
 have by nature. Let me hope, then, that when you 
 attend on me I may see the Nanny of former days to 
 remind me of Ashgrove, and be assured that I shall feel 
 the warmest interest in your welfare as long as you con- 
 tinue to deserve it. I little thought at one time that 
 such a doubt could be possible ; but the true test of 
 principle is consistency in small matters as well as in the 
 greatest, and before long I hope to see your dress and 
 appearance more in accordance with the sober and 
 rational mind you once had, and with the self-denying 
 doctrines which we have both been taught. 
 
BIODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 That weariness of all 
 We meet, or feel, or hear, or see. 
 
 Coleridge. 
 
 It is difficult to realize in our own conceptions that 
 the noiseless foot of Time invariably advances at the 
 same pace, neither accelerated during our seasons of joy, 
 nor lingering in the days of our weariness. Months passed 
 on at Barnard Castle in the tranquil uniformity so 
 agreeable to those who have mental resources, but most 
 tedious and intolerable to the many who, like Sir Richard 
 Fitz-Patrick and his daughter, depend for happiness on 
 external amusement. Eleanor, " stretched on the rack 
 of a too easy chair," fretted and complained for ever, 
 protesting that Time had certainly put a drag on his 
 chariot wheels on purpose to tease her, and Miss Mara- 
 bout laboriously tried to beguile the weight of present 
 ennui by holding out the promise of future amusement 
 when Christmas festivities and an approaching election 
 might be anticipated as the certain harbingers of gaiety 
 — every night she remarked, in a tone of satisfaction, 
 that one day was over, and on Sunday mornings her re- 
 gular salutation to Eleanor was, that another week had 
 passed, and that Christmas must be at hand. 
 
 " Yes," replied she, in a tone of peevish resignation, 
 " as the tenant said who wanted a lease of his farm for 
 several centuries, ' a thousand years soon passes away,' 
 and it must be almost as long since we came here — 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 7^ 
 
 even the post-bag is empty to-day, which always happens 
 on a rainy morning." 
 
 " It would be an excellent expedient/' observed Sir 
 Richard, " to hire a few gossiping correspondents, who 
 shall write regularly, and be paid like a magazine, at so 
 much a line, and double price if the letter comes on a 
 bad day. I would deduct, however, all paragraphs of 
 apology for not writing longer, or sooner, or oftener — all 
 professions of friendship, and every thing in the slightest 
 degree sentimental." 
 
 " What havoc you would make at the post-office, if 
 these were all expunged," said Matilda ; " many of our 
 letters would reach their destination as blank sheets of 
 paper." 
 
 " I wonder that no quack advertisement ever proposes 
 an infallible cure for ennui I" exclaimed Eleanor, lan- 
 guidly. 
 
 " Fling but a stone, the giant dies," replied Matilda ; 
 " nothing can rid us of it entirely but exertion." 
 
 Meantime Eleanor never seemed to think of planning 
 any excursions to lionize her guest over the beautiful 
 scenery around ; but she cantered off on horseback alone, 
 leaving Matilda to explore, in solitude, the romantic 
 glens, and almost inaccessible hills in the neighbourhood ; 
 while her sketch-book became filled with views of the 
 wild deep ravines, the ivy-covered bridges, the tangled 
 thickets, the foaming torrent, and the green retreats, to 
 which she wandered in silent, but exquisite enjoyment. 
 Like all amiable minds, Matilda's never fully enjoyed 
 any pleasure till it was communicated ; and often did 
 the words of Solomon recur to her meditations — " "Woe 
 to him that is alone !" she continually found the want of 
 a friend whose feelings might be an echo to her own, as 
 even in religious enjoyment the mind seeks communion 
 
72 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 with a kindred spirit, that " as face answereth to face, so 
 may the heart of man to man." Frequently she stood on 
 a lofty bank that overhung the village green, watching 
 with animated sympathy the joyful groups which as- 
 sembled there ; and on all occasions, in witnessing the 
 amusements of others, those pleasures that seemed most 
 natural were those in which she felt most ready to par- 
 ticipate. The group of laughing girls in a hay field, — 
 an old woman basking in the sunshine at her cottage 
 door, or a child carefully cultivating its flaring wall- 
 flower in a broken tea-pot, all in succession caused her 
 to stop and contemplate them with benevolent interest, 
 while she seldom forgot in an evening to station herself 
 at the library window, whence might be observed the 
 moment when old Janet Muckleraith retired, after her 
 daily labour. She could discern a clear blue column 
 of peat smoke, which curled upon the distant hill-top, 
 showing that the cottage fire was lighted, and then Ma- 
 tilda knew that the mother and daughter were sitting 
 down, with thankfulness and praise, to their evening 
 meal. 
 
 Few recreations were so delightful to her as visiting 
 the poor people around, for amongst them she discovered 
 an infinite variety of character and circumstances, while 
 the strongly marked features which may be traced in 
 unpolished minds, form a subject of interest even to those 
 whose motives are unsanctified by religion. Many there 
 were whose genuine worth rendered them objects of real 
 esteem, others whose eccentricity was so broadly exhi- 
 bited, that she could not be otherwise than amused; 
 but, wherever she went, her first aim was, to difiiise 
 consolation amidst the sorrows of those who were 
 depressed or afflicted. Her most frequent visits, how- 
 ever, were paid to the cottage of old Janet, whose busy 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 73 
 
 wheel was laid aside during the short period of Miss How- 
 ard's visit;, with a look of such honest, heartfelt grati- 
 tude for her attention in calling, that Matilda scarcely 
 required her repeated thanks to prove how cordially she 
 was welcome ; and Martha's tidy appearance, and still 
 tidier house, seldom needed the apology, which was 
 nevertheless invariahly made for its supposed disorder. 
 
 Nothing could he more pleasing to Matilda's young 
 and buoyant mind than to observe the devout and thank- 
 ful spirit which both mother and daughter continually 
 maintained. Their lives consisted not in the abundance 
 of the things they possessed, but, amidst hard labour 
 and many privations, they spoke of countless blessings. 
 Old Janet once remarked, that it was not sufficient for 
 Christians to speak in general terms of the mercy they 
 received, but that each individual should be able to 
 recount some advantages peculiar to himself, for which 
 he ought to be especially grateful, and hers was a cata- 
 logue of considerable length. Matilda observed with 
 regret, that, latterly, when her children were named in 
 the number of her comforts, the old woman paused in 
 the recapitulation, while a tear struggled in her eye, and 
 a look of anxious care clouded her usually cheerful 
 countenance. 
 
 " These are changed times with Nanny," said she, 
 giving a furtive, agitated glance at her visitor ; '^ and 
 oh ! Miss Howard ! I wish it may all be well, for when 
 Satan wrestles with poor weak sinners like us, he often 
 lifts them up, that they may be more easily cast down, 
 and that the fall may be greater. She looks ill ; and 
 has a strange wild way of talking sometimes that 
 frightens me. I am sure her quarrel with "William preys 
 on Nanny's mind, but she will not speak to me about it, 
 
 £ 
 
74 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 and seldom comes here at all. There are plenty of good 
 excuses ; but where the will is, we soon find the way, 
 I wish she would settle at home once more ; but Nanny 
 is sadly spoiled for that now." 
 
 Matilda had little reason to doubt the truth of this 
 last assertion^ and would have seen still less could she 
 have been present sometimes when the young beauty 
 visited her mother at Gowanbank cottage, where her 
 tone of conscious superiority, and fine-lady airs, formed 
 a striking contrast to the blithe and happy looks of her 
 elder sister. William Grey still occasionally met Nan- 
 ny there, though not apparently with any intention of 
 doing so ; but all his leisure hours were spent at old 
 Janet's, while he assisted her more active daughter in 
 the garden, the dairy, and the poultry-yard. No em- 
 ployment came amiss to him, when Martha required his 
 aid. He nailed up clustering jessamines and honey- 
 suckle on the rustic porch ; he cut down the hay for her 
 cows in the neighbouring paddock, and planted out with 
 a group of lilacs the view of some rather ruinous pig- 
 styes, which Nanny complained of as tormenting her 
 eyes whenever she crossed the garden. 
 
 " William," said Martha, one day, in the exuberance 
 of her gratitude, "I must once more get you and 
 Nanny reconciled, though both very troublesome peo- 
 ple ; I have nothing to do now but keep peace between 
 you." 
 
 " It passes the power of any one to do that now," re- 
 plied he, gloomily ; '^ she has set me an example which 
 I am very glad to follow, and I no more think her a fit 
 wife for me than she does herself." 
 
 " I am grieved to hear this, William; for Nanny loves 
 you still; and, though she is a little spoiled now, it can- 
 not last. I am sure when the novelty of her fine situa- 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 75 
 
 tion wears off, she will be the same as ever, and you may 
 both be reconciled." 
 
 " No, Martha ! I never should have thought of her, 
 and I never shall again ; it has been a mistake all along, 
 a boyish fancy, — but now I know my own mind, and 
 prefer some one else." 
 
 '^ You ! oh, William it is impossible I — Nanny would 
 break her heart ; but you are not in earnest ! You are 
 angry now ; but remember old times, William, and do 
 not quarrel with us for a trifle. Think of the days 
 when we went to school together, and you helped us 
 across the burn, and gathered daisies in the fields, and 
 berries on the hedges ; we had no quarrels then, Wil- 
 liam, and why should we have them now ?" 
 
 " Not with you, Martha," said William, colouring 
 and speaking rapidly ; " you must have seen long ago — 
 you — you surely know that every day has shown me 
 how miserable I should be with Nanny, and how happy 
 I might be with — with yourself." 
 
 Martha started and turned pale at this unexpected 
 declaration ; but, after a momentary struggle, she 
 answered, with perfect decision of voice and manner — 
 
 " No, William, I cannot listen to this ; you mistake 
 a little anger against Nanny for a preference of me ; 
 but it must not be thought of or ever mentioned again. 
 She loves you, William — indeed she docs. I know 
 Nanny's whole heart, and her sister must not be the 
 person to break it." 
 
 With all the eloquence of natural feeling and true 
 affection, Martha entreated William's forbearance, and 
 spoke in defence of her absent sister, while he listened 
 in silence, and turned away to hide his emotion. 
 
 " I seem changeable, Martha, and do not deserve that 
 you should trust me at once," said he earnestly ; '' but 
 
76 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 time may bring all things round. If you are convinced 
 of Nanny's indifference, and of my constancy to yourself, 
 shall we then be happy? I used to think, Martha, 
 before I ever spoke to Nanny on the subject, that you 
 liked me ; and I sometimes thought even then that I 
 preferred her more on account of what other people said, 
 than because I loved her myself." 
 
 Martha turned away but could not reply — her cheek 
 became pale and her step uncertain ; but she hurried to 
 the house and closed the door. 
 
 Many days elapsed before William saw her again, and 
 it became evident that she was resolutely bent on giving 
 him no opportunity to renew the agitating discussion 
 which had taken place between them ; for it was only 
 in her mother's presence that they had at last any inter- 
 course. For some time Martha's countenance seemed 
 paler than usual, and there was an unconquerable tre- 
 mulousness in her voice when she spoke ; but these emo- 
 tions were speedily and resolutely subdued, so that no 
 traces remained of her remembering what had passed. 
 
 Martha usually possessed, in an eminent degree, that 
 " joy of countenance " which is produced by a " glad 
 heart," and the beauty of holiness might be seen in 
 all she said or did; for like the salt that seasoned 
 her food, was the prevailing zest given to every action 
 of her life by the unseen presence of religious principle, 
 and her life might be considered as a continual prayer, 
 from the consciousness under which she lived of an all- 
 seeing eye being upon her. William Grey continued 
 his attendance at Gowanbank, notwithstanding the con- 
 scientious discouragement with which she persevered 
 in avoiding him ; and could he have known how great 
 was the effort which it caused her to do so, his estima- 
 tion of her heart, as well as her principles, must have 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 7? 
 
 been greatly enhanced ; for it was no common gene- 
 rosity which caused her to conceal every emotion, 
 while she continued doing all in her power to bring 
 on a reconciliation with her sister. Nothing could have 
 served more strongly to exhibit the superiority of what 
 is genuine over all that is false, than to see the two sis- 
 ters together. Martha, in her printed cotton gown, 
 checked apron, and mob-cap — active, neat, and cheerful, 
 with a clean house, a bright fire, and a contented mind, 
 seemed every way suited to be the wife of a hard-work- 
 ing labourer like William Grey, who felt completely at 
 ease and at home when he was with her ; while her 
 more elegantly attired and far more beautiful sister, 
 assumed a listless air of conscious greatness, addressed 
 him with the tone of a superior, and wore such a look 
 of condescension in her manner, that his usually blithe 
 and merry countenance became clouded with displea- 
 sure whenever she spoke. Far from being apprehensive 
 of any change in his sentiments, Nanny attributed his 
 silence and restraint to diffidence, and became only the 
 more delighted with herself, and the more capricious 
 and consequential in her manner to others ; so that even 
 the gentle Martha, whose whole pride and affection 
 had once been centred in her sister, felt hurt at the 
 oblivion to which she had apparently consigned all for- 
 mer times, and sometimes even thought it necessary to 
 drop a good-humoured hint on the subject. 
 
 " How strange it feels," observed Nanny one day, 
 with a contemptuous toss of the head, " when one walks 
 on this floor, to feel the sand gritting under one's feet 
 like a gravel-walk." 
 
 " Yes," replied Martha, smiling, " we have been all 
 our lives so accustomed to Turkey carpets that it does 
 
78 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 seem odd ; but Miss Howard never complains when she 
 comes here." 
 
 " And those oatcakes you are baking will taste as if 
 they were made of sand also," added Nanny, pertly ; 
 " I cannot manage to eat them at all, they are so like 
 a mouthful of dust." 
 
 " Nanny," said old Janet, shocked at her daughter's 
 supercilious looks, " always enter your mother's house 
 Avith a proper feeling of respect, or do not enter it at all. 
 I can bear any distress more easily than to see a child 
 of my own look as you do now. It is a Christian duty 
 to govern my own family with decorum, and to preserve 
 the authority that God gives me in it ; therefore let me 
 desire you will be dutiful both in your thoughts and 
 speech while I am present." 
 
 There was a look of maternal command in the old 
 woman's expression and manner which was very impres- 
 sive ; but yet her lip quivered and her voice faltered. 
 William Grey fixed his eyes upon Nanny for a moment 
 with grave anxiety ; but no external symptom of com- 
 punction appeared on that beautiful face, for her eyes 
 were fixed on the ground, an angry frown had gathered 
 on her forehead, and she seemed completely occupied in 
 tying the ribbons of her bonnet. He looked indignantly 
 away, and tried to direct the attention of Martha to 
 what passed; but she was apparently too busy with 
 household afiiiirs to notice him, and he might have sup- 
 posed her entirely unconscious, but for the flushed cheek 
 and the tearful eye caused by her mother's agitation, 
 which she vainly tried to hide. 
 
 When William Grey got up soon after to go away, 
 Nanny also took leave, apparently expecting that he 
 would offer, as had been his custom formerly, to accom- 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 79 
 
 pany ter across the fields towards Barnard Castle ; but 
 not seeming conscious of her movements, he whistled a 
 tune, and hurried off in another direction. The young 
 beauty glanced after him with angry contempt, and then 
 turned to bid her sister farewell ; but Martha slipped 
 her arm affectionately into Nanny's, and looking at her, 
 with an expression of almost maternal affection, she 
 suddenly burst into tears. " Nanny ! dear Nanny !" 
 said she, sobbing with grief, " why are you so changed ? 
 Why do you distress our poor mother, and quarrel mth 
 William ? Who will ever love you as we do ? Oh, 
 come back, before you are lost entirely. I see it all I 
 you will learn to despise us, and be miserable your- 
 self. What will fine people or fine clothes do for you 
 without peace of mind ? William will be lost for ever, 
 and" 
 
 " No great loss either," interrupted Nanny, angrily. 
 ♦' There are some as good as he, and many better, to be 
 met with any day. But I am sorry to have distressed 
 you, ]\Iartha. Never was a kinder sister in this world, 
 and I must be very wrong indeed before you think me so. 
 It was not right to speak as I did when our mother 
 was by ; and I cannot go home without telling her how 
 sorry I am for all that passed." 
 
 Before Martha could reply, her sister had darted has- 
 tily back to the cottage, and entered it with flushed 
 cheeks and in breathless agitation. The old woman's 
 head was sorrowfully leaning on a table when her 
 daughter returned unobserved. A deep sigh escaped 
 from her breast, and she did not look up, supposing it 
 to be Martha. Nanny gently took her hand, and tried 
 to speak ; but her voice was inarticulate for some mo- 
 ments, and she looked at her aged parent's solitary grief 
 with feelings of severe self-reproach. 
 
80 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 " Mother," said she in a faltering tone, " you are 
 to be pitied for having such a daughter. I have been 
 foolish and ungrateful to-day, but I was always a poor 
 silly creature, easily led away. You must take me home 
 again, or I shall soon forget myself altogether. That 
 grand house is not a place for me." 
 
 The old woman rose up and threw herself into Nan- 
 ny's arms. *' Come back ! my child ! It is a blessing to 
 know that you are still willing. I never wished you to 
 leave us, and thankful shall I be for the hour when you 
 are once more safe with Martha and me. We can easily 
 get you work about the garden and fields ; for William 
 Grey says" 
 
 " I do not care what "William says," interrupted 
 Nanny, as her sister came into the room ; " he is 
 nothing to me now, and we are best asunder. The 
 only objection I have to leave the Castle next term is, 
 that it would seem done to please William, who is the 
 very last person in the world that I care about. Sir 
 Richard's gentleman says he mistook him one day for 
 a cherry in the garden, his face is so round and so 
 red." 
 
 The splendid monotony of Eleanor's life grew more 
 wearisome the longer it continued. Every luxury of 
 existence had become as essential to her comfort, and 
 nearly as imperceptible to her senses, as the air she 
 breathed, while the exaggerated view she took of petty 
 annoyances caused her to be fully convinced that she 
 actually endured that large share of trial and vexation 
 which falls, sooner or later, to the lot of every created 
 being. While she wished to be envied by all the world, 
 and by her cousin in particular, Matilda, on the con- 
 trary, frequently thought with pity and regret how 
 little an undisciplined mi»d can enjoy even the bright- 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 
 
 81 
 
 est portion of earthly felicity, and how singularly un- 
 prepared Eleanor was for the inevitable ricissitudes of 
 Hfe. 
 
 "What a bore!" exclaimed Miss Fitz -Patrick one 
 day, about the beginning of December, throwing a note 
 peevishly down on the breakfast-table after a hasty perusal. 
 ** I have never been to church but once since we came 
 here, the distance is so great for a carriage, and the foot- 
 path so impassable for any one except a bog-trotter like 
 you, Matilda, and here is a formal intimation from your 
 paragon. Dr. Murray, the parish clergyman, saying that 
 he proposes coming here to-morrow, according to his 
 usual custom of giving prayers and instruction once a- 
 year in every house to the assembled family : He hopes 
 if that time is inconvenient, that I will name any other 
 day which would suit me better." 
 
 ** What an excellent and venerable custom that is !" 
 observed Matilda, brightening with anticipated pleasure. 
 " I like in all the great old English houses to see how 
 universally they contain a little private chapel conse- 
 crated to family worship ; but that admirable practice is 
 so nearly obsolete now, that I am told almost the only 
 infallible proof of a mansion being really ancient is 
 when you find in it an altar to the living God." 
 
 " What shall we do. Miss Marabout ?" said Eleanor, 
 twisting the note into a variety of contortions, and 
 finally throwing it into the fire. " You know I have 
 an appointment to meet some of Mr. Burn's people at 
 Grassfield about the new dairy, which must not be post- 
 poned, and, as Sir Lucius O'Trigger says, one cannot 
 possibly be two gentlemen at once. It would be useless 
 to name any other day for Dr. Murray to come, because 
 I never in my life made an assignation that it was 
 convenient to keep, and the whole ceremony will be 
 
82 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 SO formidable that I am glad of a good pretext to evade 
 it. Matilda, you should personate me I — we have never 
 met, and it would be a pleasure for you to be in my place 
 a single hour. Pray receive Dr. Murray, and say every 
 thing proper as Dame du Chateau." 
 
 " Masquerades never take place in the morning, 
 Eleanor, and you woutd not wish to pass a jest upon 
 that good old man when his errand here is so solemn and 
 important. But if you positively cannot, or at least will 
 not, postpone this architectural excursion, I shall be 
 very glad, with your leave, to meet Dr. Murray, though 
 on account of the servants as well as for your own sake, 
 I still hope your decision may be revised." 
 
 " He is a man of extraordinary character^ but quite 
 out of my line," observed Sir Richard, carefully stirring 
 his coffee. " A few such people in the neighbourhood 
 are very advantageous in keeping up a good under- 
 standing between rich and poor, besides that one likes 
 to see a clergyman act as he preaches, and Dr. Murray's 
 whole life is a perfect sermon. The only thing in the 
 world that he seems to be proud of is his profession, for 
 no one can be ten minutes in his society without becom- 
 ing aware of it. There is a great deal of dignity in his 
 manner too, and his eloquence and talents are so highly 
 spoken of, that several vacant churches in Edinburgh 
 have successively been offered to him lately; but he 
 declares that it is his intention to finish his labours 
 where he began them. His remark is true enough, that 
 clergymen, like forest trees, should not be transplanted 
 after they are old." 
 
 " Matilda," said Eleanor, with a transient look of se- 
 riousness, " it is no small compliment to say that you 
 will suit such a visitor better than I shall, though the 
 time was but no matter. He might perhaps bring 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 83 
 
 back some of my old Ashgrove feelings, and I do some- 
 times remember those days with a kind of sorrow that 
 you never can know." 
 
 Matilda took her cousin's hand in silence, and a 
 pause of emotion, on both sides, succeeded. Before 
 either of them could speak, however, Miss Marabout 
 hastily interposed her word — "" If you once see Dr. 
 Murray, Miss Fitz-Patrick, there will probably be 
 no end to his demands on your benevolence ; for a 
 person's purse is no more his own, in the hands of a 
 philanthropist, than of a highwayman. Dr. Murray 
 and his sister are the most indefatigable pair I ever 
 heard of, and establish all sorts of institutions ; each of 
 which you must subscribe to instantly. Sewing-schools, 
 knitting and spinning clubs, cottage readings, Bible 
 societies, dispensaries, blind asylums, hospitals for incu- 
 rables, catechising visits, and Sunday classes for the old, 
 and for the young, and for the middle-aged. I really 
 wonder if it all does any good." 
 
 Miss Marabout knew that it was easier to get blood 
 out of a stone than money from Eleanor Fitz-Patrick 
 for any purpose unconnected mth ostentation or per- 
 sonal enjoyment, and the effect of her exaggerated re- 
 presentation was, as she expected, instantaneous, though 
 Matilda made a vain attempt to oppose its pernicious 
 tendency. 
 
 " You have built more hospitals and asylums in a 
 minute, Miss Marabout, than Dr. Murray has done in a 
 lifetime," said she dryly. '^ There is nothing of the kind at 
 Gaelfield. He seems, from all I hear, to be so intent on 
 the good of others, that one would suppose neither he nor 
 his sister had any affairs of their own to occupy them ; 
 but all plans of benevolence are carried on at their 
 
M MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 individual cost. Be assured^ Eleanor, that Dr. Murray 
 in liis ministrations, ' seeks not yours, but you.' " 
 
 " Ah ! when people set a good example, they are 
 very apt to expect it shall he followed, and I really can- 
 not afford to do that." 
 
 " In one respect Dr. Murray is an exception to 
 general rule," observed Sir Richard rising to leave the 
 room. " He has on all occasions shown remarkable 
 attachment and good feeling towards this family, on 
 account of Sir Philip having presented him to the 
 living. 
 
 " It has been observed," said Matilda, ^' that clergy- 
 men often look so directly to the first Great Cause 
 of all events, that they forget the gratitude due to- 
 wards him who is made instrumental to their promo- 
 tion. But so great a moral deficiency is one instance, 
 among many, that the best feelings of religion may be 
 perverted. It is almost using the words of Scripture to 
 say, ' If ye love not the benefactor whom you have seen, 
 how can you love Him whom you have not seen V " 
 
 Eleanor would have laughed in good earnest had she 
 read, in the mind of Matilda, with what lively interest 
 and expectation she watched for the arrival of her vene- 
 rable visitor. No individual, in the range of that widely 
 extended neighbourhood, could have excited the same 
 feeling of pleasurable anticipation from the prospect of 
 his coming to Barnard Castle ; for, with the grace and 
 dignity of a refined and highly cultivated mind, Matilda 
 yet retained much original simplicity of character ; and 
 it was with a palpitating heart, and a feeling of awe 
 nearly amounting to apprehension that she heard the 
 library-door opened next day while sitting there alone, 
 and Dr. Murray entered. He was an active- looking. 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 85 
 
 middle-aged man, about fifty years of age, with rather 
 homely features;* and plain but dignified exterior. His 
 high commanding forehead and clear intelligent eye 
 gave promise of the bright intellect which reigned 
 within; and as he approached, his benevolent aspect 
 showed at once that his was a countenance and manner 
 to attract entire confidence, for they appeared to be 
 external indexes of that universal charity and kindness 
 which are the outward badge of his high profession. 
 
 " Miss Fitz-Patrick, I presume/' said he, extending 
 his hand with a cordial smile and a look of penetrating 
 interest. 
 
 " Only her cousin," was the reply, with some embar- 
 rassment. " My name is Matilda Howard." 
 
 '* Miss Howard I" exclaimed Dr. Murray, with a start 
 of surprise and an increased expression of curiosity. 
 " I have already heard of you frequently. During the 
 last month of Sir Philip's life, business obliged me to be 
 in Edinburgh, and most of my time was passed in his 
 society. He spoke much of you, and I felt surprised 
 afterwards to hear — but no matter. ^ It is not in man 
 that walketh to direct his steps.' I have frequently ob- 
 served you at church, and took for granted that it was 
 Miss Fitz-Patrick. Shall I have the pleasure of seeing 
 her this morning ?" 
 
 " I greatly fear not," replied Matilda, colouring with 
 distress, as if she had been herself guilty of the over- 
 sight towards Dr. Murray which her cousin had shown ; 
 and with great embarrassment, but all her usual sweet- 
 ness of tone and manner, she then briefly gave a candid 
 explanation of the reason why Eleanor was absent. 
 
 " I sent previous notice of this visit, trusting if an 
 engagement intervened, Miss Fitz-Patrick would af- 
 ford me timely intimation, that any other day might 
 
86 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 be appointed wHcli suited her better/' said Dr. Murray, 
 with a look of surprise and of grave regret. " Let me 
 hope it need not be attributed to entire indifference. 
 Miss Howard, that on this occasion any other arrange- 
 ment should have been considered paramount to the 
 important mission on which I come. You may imagine 
 how frequently it has been the subject of regret to 
 see those splendid halls deserted ; but how much more 
 painful shall I consider it, if, throughout the whole 
 extent of my parish, there should hereafter be spread 
 the baleful influence of an example tending to weaken 
 the power of Gospel truth among the many whom it 
 will affect. I hoped much from Miss Fitz-Patrick. 
 The careful instruction she is said to have enjoyed 
 from one so recently departed, and the freshness of her 
 feelings, which have scarcely yet had time to be hard- 
 ened by this world's deceitful prosperities, had caused 
 me to be sanguine. I did hope that this house might 
 early become sanctified to the service of God, and that 
 here there might at last be the long desired opportunity 
 to deliver a message of mercy from Him in whose name 
 I come. ' We are ambassadors for Christ.' " 
 
 Dr. Murray's manner was in the highest degree im- 
 pressive, and his thoughtful eye rested on Matilda with 
 a look of anxious inquiry ; but her head was averted, 
 and her colour rose, for she could not give one word of 
 encouragement to his earnest desire and expectation, 
 that the house of Eleanor Fitz-Patrick might ever be 
 called on by its mistress to " serve the living God." 
 
 "■ There are many here who will thankfully accept 
 the benefit of your instructions and prayers," said she, 
 hastily rising to ring for the servants ; " at some future 
 period^ let us hope that we may all learn rightly to ap- 
 preciate their inestimable value." 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 87 
 
 Dr. Murray's language, in the pulpit and at all times, 
 was classically elegant ; yet in a moment lie could adapt 
 it to the most ignorant and illiterate. He never for an 
 instant degenerated into vulgarity, nor darkened coun- 
 sel by words without knowledge ; but his address to the 
 assembled domestics abounded in illustrations suited to 
 their various capacities, and was delivered with such 
 fluency and cleatness, that any child might have under- 
 stood his whole remarks. Yet, though the language was 
 simple, the truths he enforced were deep, mysterious, 
 and comprehensive. He indulged in no fanciful expla- 
 nation of texts, nor critical corrections of our English 
 translation, by which learned men too often make plain 
 people distrustful of their Bibles ; but his discom-se con- 
 tained a perfect compendium of Christian doctrine, so 
 that no one who heard Dr. Murray with attention could 
 remain ignorant of a single point essential to salva- 
 tion ; while the whole was enforced with so much 
 ardour, and addressed with such earnestness to the 
 affections and to the fears of those around, that he really 
 seemed to 
 
 " Preach, as though he ne'er should preach again. 
 To preach as dying unto dying men." 
 
 Dr. Murray observed, that in religion there are three 
 essential parts which require incessant attention : Our 
 duty to God, to our neighbour, and to ourselves, which 
 must all be continually exercised by faith, charity, and 
 temperance. Instead of resting in any one of these 
 things, as too many do, he strongly enforced the indis- 
 pensable necessity laid down in Scripture for seeking to 
 excel in them all ; and he proved in the most unanswer- 
 able manner, that each must be actively pursued in order 
 to our being acceptable servants of that all -seeing God, 
 who is the only master worth serving, because He alone 
 
88 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 can reward all, without disappointing any. When Dr. 
 Murray spoke of sin, and represented its wide devasta- 
 tions among men, his tone was not that of a superior, 
 who had oLserved in others what was foreign to his own 
 nature, but it was that of a father lamenting to his chil- 
 dren a deep misfortune, in which he, as well as they, 
 were all partakers ; while he showed that, for his own 
 pardon, as well as theirs, he entertained the profoundest 
 solicitude and the most grateful hope. " The ruin of a 
 soul is so great a catastrophe," he observed, " that all 
 nature trembles at the thought, and Christ himself died 
 to avert it. Who could know so well as He did the 
 infinite and inconceivable importance of eternity ? for His 
 own nature was eternal, while we cannot so much as 
 imagine its endless duration ; yet surely our minds might 
 be impressed with a holy awe to think what our future 
 misery would inevitably have been, if the Son of God 
 saw so much to pity, that he left the glories of heaven 
 to avert it. Shall we then dare to brave such a fate, and 
 to reject our last hope of deliverance and of pardon while 
 yet it may be found ? That was an awful moment when 
 Christ shed tears over the lost sinners of Jerusalem ; for 
 it seemed as if he would say to them — and may the lan- 
 guage never be applicable to any one here — ' My blood 
 ye have rejected — my tears ye shall have — that would 
 have saved you — these can only mourn over your hope- 
 less desolation.' " 
 
 Anxiously and intently as Matilda listened on her 
 own account, to all that was said, she nevertheless be- 
 came aware of a gradual change which took place on 
 the countenances of those around. Many had entered 
 with a look of careless curiosity, several with an ex- 
 pression of stubborn indifference, and some with an 
 aspect of ignorant stupidity. Nanny tripped into 
 
THE MARCH OP INTELLECT. GV 
 
 the room with all her newly acquired airs of conscious 
 beauty, and old Mrs. Gordon seemed to have no object 
 in coming but to watch her with looks of angry contempt. 
 Yet when Dr. Murray began his address, with some kind 
 and conciliatory remarks on the relation in which his 
 professional duty placed him towards each individual 
 present — on the deep responsibility with which he must 
 one day answer to his and to their eternal God for the 
 care he exercised over their consciences, and declared 
 the interest with which^ at every future period, he would 
 be ready to hear of their sorrows, to advise them in diffi- 
 culty, or to attend them in hours of sickness and extrem- 
 ity, the most callous heart was touched, every wander- 
 ing eye became fixed, and all were ready, with heartfelt 
 seriousness, to join in a solemn act of devotion ; while 
 Dr. Murray at length concluded his visit with a prayer, 
 which proceeded from his divinely instructed mind with 
 all the eloquence of fervent hope and reverential awe. 
 Tears started into Matilda's eyes when she heard the 
 warmth of language, and the profound emotion with 
 which he prayed for absent members of the family, and 
 especially for the head of that house ; while new confi- 
 dence and hope seemed now to arise in her mind re- 
 specting Eleanor, when she joined her prayers to his, 
 and thought of that promise, so unspeakably precious to 
 the heart of all who mourn for the souls of others — "The 
 prayer of the righteous man availeth much." 
 
90 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 Where'er a tear is dried, a wounded heart 
 
 Bound up, a bruised spirit with the deW 
 
 Of sympathy anointed, or a pang 
 
 Of honest suffering sooth'd, or injury 
 
 Repeated oft, as oft by love forgiven : 
 
 Where'er an evil passion is subdued. 
 
 Or virtue's feeble embers fann'd, where'er 
 
 A sin is heartily abjured and left — 
 
 There is a high and holy place, a spot ^-^ 
 
 Of sacred light, a most religious fane, . pr 
 
 Where happiness descending sits and smiles. {^ 
 
 POLLOK. 
 
 From this period a new era commenced in the life of 
 Matilda Howard. Dr. Murray's discriminating eye had 
 marked the animated interest with which she listened to 
 all he said, and in the few words which she spoke, he 
 traced her deep but unobtrusive knowledge of divine 
 truth. Before taking leave, therefore, he expressed a 
 hope that she would occasionally visit his sister, Miss 
 Murray, and co-operate with her, as far as it might be 
 convenient, in some plans of usefulness among the chil- 
 dren of his parish which had but lately been formed. 
 
 Matilda's welcome, on her first visit to Gaelfield, 
 Avas so extremely cordial, that she did not long delay 
 returning thither ; and it soon became her almost daily 
 walk to hasten through a shady green lane which led 
 that way, where, under sanction of Dr. Murray, she 
 visited with his sister the village schools, and the 
 lowly habitations of the rural hamlet. In every house 
 Matilda discovered traces of his active benevolence. 
 
THE MARCH OP INTELLECT. 91 
 
 There the desponding had heen encouraged^ the doubt- 
 ing were confirmed, the sick received the comfort of 
 his conversation, the poor enjoyed the benefit of his 
 purse, and the dying found the support of his prayers. 
 Dr. Murray frequently inculcated a favourite opinion 
 on all over whom he had any influence, that every 
 earthly blessing is to be preserved only by active and 
 vigorous exertion. Health, knowledge, usefulness, re- 
 putation, power, and wealth, must generally be earned 
 throughout an incessant course of unswerving self-denial, 
 or they can seldom be permanently enioyed ; and his own 
 mind seemed in a continual state of energetic exercise. 
 He possessed invincible courage, resolution, and persever- 
 ance, which were never allowed to be dormant, for in- 
 dolence was, in his estimation, next to actual sin, the 
 greatest of all enemies to human happiness. Whether 
 in reading, in conversing, or in solitary meditation. Dr. 
 Murray held it a sacred duty to redeem the time, by 
 keeping his intellect at the full stretch of its powers ; 
 and even his sleep was not the slumber of indolence, but 
 the deep repose of a mind and frame exhausted by active 
 labour and intense application. On all occasions he 
 remembered the words of Scripture, — " If any would 
 not work, neither should he eat/' and the example of 
 Christ, who toiled in the vocation of Joseph, and thus 
 taught to others the duty of working according to their 
 own station and ability. His personal exertions, how- 
 ever, were limited to Gaelfield parish, for Dr. Murray 
 never itinerated throughout the country at the expense 
 of charitable institutions for which a subscription was to 
 be collected. He feared lest the language of Scripture 
 should ever become applicable to himself, — " Mine own 
 vineyard have I not kept !" and knowing that his ut- 
 most efforts could not adequately fulfil the sphere of 
 
92 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 professional duty, while every hour passed elsewhere 
 must leave it neglected, he confined his eloquence en- 
 tirely to the platform of his own pulpit. 
 
 Dr. Murray did not keep a diary " for the benefit of 
 his family," or for any other pretext on which those 
 secret things which belong only to the Lord are laid 
 open to public view. He considered that it was in- 
 troducing a snare into his own most private hours of 
 devotion if a loop-hole were thus to be opened, through 
 which the whole world might hereafter witness, as it 
 were, the trials, the sorrows, and the joys of his Chris- 
 tian course. These were abundantly obvious in the 
 deep experience with which he represented to his own 
 people the struggles, the fears, and the hopes which 
 are peculiar to every man who would estrange his 
 affections from a present world, and fix them unreserv- 
 edly on Him for whom we must be ready to sacrifice 
 every earthly tie. Dr. Murray registered no wondering 
 exclamation at the crowds who attended his preaching ; 
 the multitude of converts who were made by one so un - 
 worthy as himself; the extraordinary usefulness of books 
 which he had written without a hope of their ever being 
 read ; the meekness with which he had borne the " ma- 
 lignity, baseness, and outrageous violence" of clergymen 
 whose opinions differed from his own ; and the surprising 
 respect and veneration with which he was occasionally 
 treated. 
 
 Others might speak of his virtues or his faults, but on 
 these subjects Dr. Murray's own pen was silent. There 
 are hours between man and his Creator which the dearest 
 friend must not witness, for they are " hid with Christ in 
 God." There are secret recesses in every heart which none 
 but an omniscient God can know, for, like the visions re- 
 vealed to the Apostle, they are not for earthly utterance. 
 
THE MAUCH OF INTELLECT. 93 
 
 There is a separated existence led by Christians in their 
 own closets which should only be registered in heaven, 
 and only known on that day when all hearts shall be 
 laid open. Self-love glimmers through many a printed 
 confession of extreme sinfulness; but Dr. Murray's heart- 
 felt sorrow for his own offences daily spoke in the lan- 
 guage of prayer and humiliation to his God. The duty 
 of self-examination was so faithfully and impartially 
 performed, that he became conscious of many sins and 
 many professional deficiencies ; but not upon paper 
 were they acknowledged or lamented, because he knew 
 what it was for Christians to be vain of their humi- 
 lity, and had observed the perverted love of cele- 
 brity in men who would rather write of their faults 
 than not write of themselves at all. It was by a crn- 
 stant, careful study of his own heart that Dr. Murray 
 acquired a facility in reading the inmost depths of other 
 minds. He became aware that no man writes down 
 his thoughts and actions for himself alone. He saw, 
 in various instances, how they became tinged with a 
 colouring of exaggeration or partiality, when recorded 
 for the benefit of friends or strangers, and he felt that 
 his sacred duty to his own soul would be best per- 
 formed by living from day to day in the exercise of 
 faith, repentance, and obedience. To his Great Master 
 he frequently and solemnly committed the hope and the 
 desire of his heart, that while his own mind was purified 
 and taught by the Holy Spirit, he might also gain an 
 increasing influence over those among whom he was ap- 
 pointed to minister ; and in Dr. Murray's sympathy and 
 commiseration for others, it frequently happened that 
 the feeling which he showed for their sins and tempta- 
 tions was the first thing that made them feel for them-' 
 selves. 
 
94 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 To Matilda it soon appeared as if every step wliicli 
 carried her away from Barnard Castle served to lighten 
 her of a care or a vexation, and her spirits rose with the 
 buoyancy of former days whenever she lost sight of its 
 gloomy magnificence, and found shelter in the cheerful 
 parlour of Miss Murray, where she was sure that her 
 society would be prized and that her welcome would be 
 cordial and sincere ; for there never existed a heart more 
 open and more perfectly unsophisticated than that of 
 her newly acquired friend, who treated her with almost 
 motherly kindness from the first hour of their acquaint- 
 ance. Miss Murray appeared some years older than her 
 brother ; but increasing age had not yet diminished her 
 activity in doing good, nor the cheerfulness of her dispo- 
 sition, while she steadily pursued the even tenor of her 
 course, knowing nothing of the politics, the fashions, or 
 the ways of a present world. She was far from clever, 
 and it was a frequent evidence of Dr. Murray's Christian 
 kindness to observe the patient attention with which he 
 listened to all she said ; the forbearance he exercised in 
 enduring her very flagrant mistakes, and the unwearied 
 pains he took to enlighten her understanding with those 
 profound doctrines of our holy faith which were ever 
 nearest to his own heart. 
 
 Miss Murray's creed was simple in the extreme, yet 
 it influenced her whole conduct, and directed all she said. 
 Though unable, like many more showy Christians, to 
 talk fluently, she acted on all occasions with invari- 
 able consistency. She could not give a theoretical sum- 
 mary of religious duty, but she was a living model of its 
 practice. She would have failed in sketching a syste- 
 matic outline of doctrine, but she existed in the exercise 
 of prayer, and of that charity which thinketh no evil, 
 while, with the Scriptures almost constantly in her 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 95 
 
 hand, she continually either studied its pages, or medi- 
 tated in her own simple way on its contents. Miss 
 Mun*ay had, from the very first, deliberately and cheer- 
 fully made up her mind to incur the odium of remaining 
 an old maid ; for though her manners, which were simple 
 and pleasing, attracted an unusual portion of good-will 
 in society, her appearance was unprepossessing, and 
 she anticipated no probability of exciting a permanent 
 interest in any one to whom her happiness could have 
 been safely confided. 
 
 The conclusions of her own good sense had been 
 hastened, however, by a family circumstance, so tragical 
 in itself, that the lesson of experience and caution which 
 it gave seemed to have been burned into her mind with 
 indelible characters. She had once possessed an elder 
 sister, in whom her heart delighted, and who was 
 adorned with every attractive quality in which she felt 
 conscious of being herself deficient. Returning home 
 one day, after an absence of several weeks, she flew, as 
 was her custom, to Jane's room, and entered it un- 
 noticed. There she was startled and shocked to ob- 
 serve her usually gay and animated companion immove- 
 ably seated in the corner of a distant sofa, with pallid 
 cheek and quivering lip, while her eyes were fastened 
 on a visiting card in her hand, which she seemed unable 
 to cease contemplating. It might have appeared to a 
 mere observer as if, in that small object, there could be 
 little to raise intense emotion, for it contained no more 
 than the woi*ds — " Mr. Andrew Falconer, P.P.C. ;" yet 
 these few solitary letters were the source of deep and 
 keart-breaking sorrow. They spoke of years which had 
 been passed in deceitful hope. They told of confidence 
 misplaced, and they were a memorial of former pleasures, 
 
96 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 never more to be remembered mthout tbe anguish of 
 blighted affection. Among many admirers Jane distin- 
 guished only one, whose incessant attentions and devoted 
 anxiety to please seemed to her young and confiding heart 
 a sufficient proof of sincerity, though no explicit decla- 
 ration of attachment had pledged his honour. His pro- 
 fessional emoluments were scarcely sufficient for compe- 
 tence, and he depended for wealth on the whim of a rich 
 and aged aunt, whose tyranny and caprice sufficiently ac- 
 counted, in Jane's estimation, for delay. Meantime every 
 hour and every day bore witness to Mr. Falconer's assi- 
 duities — he was the companion of her walks — her escort 
 at every party — he listened with intense interest to her 
 conversation — turned over the leaves of music when she 
 played, and sent her bouquets of flowers from his garden 
 — whatever she read he read himself — and when she 
 visited their mutual friends in the country, he followed 
 her there with undiminished attention. Many years had 
 thus passed away — the whole lifetime of her youth — 
 and not a doubt ever occurred to Jane's mind of his 
 attachment ; when, on the previous week, he care- 
 lessly and accidentally mentioned to her brother that in 
 a few days he was to be married. The card w^hich he 
 left that morning remained for hours in her hand. 
 It was all that now remained to her of one who had 
 occupied so long a period of her thoughts and affections. 
 Could she have read there all that she desired to know, 
 Jane would have asked whether any sentiment of shame, 
 remorse, or regret visited his heart when he left it. 
 Could she have ascertained whether he ever loved her as 
 she had so much reason to believe, she might have been 
 soothed by the assurance ; or if on the contrary, her 
 existence had been wasted for one who desired only self- 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 97 
 
 ish gratification^, then she might have been supported by 
 indignation; but what had led him to prefer another 
 she never now could know, for, without warning or ex- 
 planation^ the stroke had come silently and suddenly as 
 death itself. 
 
 Jane Murray had what is called spirit. She speedily 
 roused herself up to meet the occasion ; called on Mr. 
 Falconar's mother when the wedding was over, congra- 
 tulated his sisters, talked of the event with her usual 
 vivacity in every company, and apparently smiled and 
 laughed as she had done before ; but the Inverness 
 Journal, which " advertised " the " marriage in high 
 life" of Mr. Andrew Falconar, contained, not many 
 months afterwards, an announcement which few would 
 have supposed to bear any connexion with so brilliant an 
 event — the death of Jane Murray. From this time her 
 deeply afflicted sister, being anxious at once to establish 
 her own mind in a state of peaceful tranquillity, grate- 
 fully acknowledged the advantage of having a brother 
 remaining to whom all her confidence and affection 
 might be devoted, and carefully extinguished from her 
 mind, at the early age when this occurred, all that 
 anxiety and uncertainty which must ever attend on 
 those who long continue to contemplate the probability 
 of changing their situation in the world. Miss Murray 
 considered that the game of life was played for a higher 
 stake by those who married, than by those who did not, 
 as the capability of happiness, or of misery, is unspeak- 
 ably increased by entering on such near and sacred ties ; 
 but she looked upon it as almost impossible to pre- 
 serve, in that situation, the calm tone of feeling pecu- 
 liar to a single life, and which is so favourable to the 
 cultivation of piety, though it requires a more than com- 
 mon share of good sense and good feeling to render it 
 
 p 
 
98 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 either happy or respected. The longer Matilda knew 
 Miss Murray, the more she esteemed her amiable quali- 
 ties, though the deficiency of her mental powers became 
 perceptible in proportion as their intercourse increased ; 
 and occasionally the contrast forced itself upon her 
 thoughts between Eleanor, who was all talent without 
 good feeling, and Miss Murray, who abounded in good 
 feeling without a glimmering of talent. In the world's 
 estimation, how far superior was Eleanor Fitz-Patrick, 
 but in the eye of an all-seeing God, whose thoughts 
 are not as our thoughts, the heart alone shall be judged, 
 and the gentle unsophisticated disposition of Miss Mur- 
 ray, far outweighed more brilliant gifts ; for truly and 
 sadly has the poet declared, that 
 
 " Not many wise, rich, noble, or profound, 
 Shall gain one inch of heavenly ground." 
 
 " Matilda I I must really take a lionizing peep of your 
 Miss Murray, for she seems to be quite a phoenix!" 
 said Eleanor, one morning at breakfast, after her cousin 
 had been describing, with an eloquence peculiarly her 
 own, the good which was done in Gaelfield by Dr. Mur- 
 ray and his sister. "It is always desirable to see per- 
 fection in men, women, or animals." 
 
 " I do not promise you that on the present occasion," 
 repUed Matilda ; '^ I neither think any of my friends per- 
 fect, nor wish others to believe them so. Even Dr. Mur- 
 ray, much as we must admire him, is merely human, 
 after all, and would be the first to acknowledge that 
 his sins and infirmities are numerous every day. He 
 observed to me lately that there is scarcely one of the 
 Patriarchs mentioned in Scripture whose faults and 
 offences are not recorded there to show the frailty and 
 corruption which are inseparable from our nature while 
 we continue upon earth ; and that the surest proof of 
 
THE MARCH OP INTELLECT. 99 
 
 divine grace being implanted in the heart of man is when 
 that struggle commences between good and evil, which is 
 painfully experienced by every Christian, for, as evil con- 
 tinually exists within us, it can only be by quenching the 
 good spirit that people are enabled to say, ' Peace to 
 their awakened consciences.' Dr. Murray's being conti- 
 nually sensible of sin, renders him compassionate to the 
 trials and temptations of others, for he is not one of those 
 who can be humble before God and proud before men ; 
 therefore all his people go to him with the most entire 
 confidence, and impart to him their thoughts and feelings. 
 An hour every day is devoted to receiving any of his 
 parishioners who wish to claim advice or assistance ; and 
 his invitation is without limit, whether to the evil or the 
 good ; for his sympathy extends to all without exception* 
 He keeps a register of every family under his care, with 
 an account of their numbers, their habits, their wants, 
 and their religious state, so that each individual in the 
 humblest hovel is personally known to him ; and I often, 
 in my own mind, compare Dr. Murray to a monarch be- 
 nevolently reigning in the hearts and in the homes of 
 his people." 
 
 *' We shall certainly attend one of his levees," inter- 
 rupted Eleanor, laughingly directing Miss Marabout's 
 attention to Matilda's countenance, which sparkled with 
 animation. " I have always thought that nature or for- 
 tune will make a great mistake if you are not hereafter 
 a parson's wife. You would mend and make the family 
 linen, prepare medicines, and cheap broth for the poor ; 
 and if the good man was not particularly bright, you 
 could even compose his sermons. Dr. Murray is unluckily 
 rather too old, or he would have suited admirably. By 
 the way, he was tutor to Sir Alfred Douglas's father, 
 which is an additional inducement to render his acquaint- 
 
100 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 ance desirable^ though I scarcely know why that should 
 signify either." Eleanor coloured, and rapidly continued 
 her sentence. " N'importe I we cannot live another day 
 without visiting Gaelfield^ — can we, Miss Marabout ?" 
 
 '^Certainly not," replied her companion in a very 
 indifferent tone. 
 
 " "Well then ! to please Miss Marabout, who seems 
 really bent upon going, I shall drive her there in the 
 pony carriage after luncheon, and meet you, Matilda ; 
 for, of course, some charity appointment will cause you 
 to precede us by an hour or two in the village, where 
 your face is better known already than the Saracen's 
 Head. Poor Miss Murray I it is a wonder that we did 
 not go sooner to enjoy the diversion of drawing her out, 
 as she will be quite a study for me. I nearly died of 
 laughing once at an anecdote of your friend's simplicity, 
 for it was so perfectly ridiculous. Lord De Mainbury 
 was out with the hounds, and after a capital run, they 
 were completely at fault, when he suddenly observed 
 Miss Murray tying up a Portugal laurel in the garden. 
 * "Was it this way that the fox passed V he eagerly in- 
 quired. ' Yes !' she replied, ' near that slap in the wall 
 to your right hand.' — ' How long since V inquired Lord 
 De Mainbury, impatiently reining in his horse. ' Just 
 fifteen years ago next November !' replied she, deli- 
 berately. * I remember it perfectly, for he carried off 
 our Turkey cock.' It is alleged that Lord De Main- 
 bury's rage at her stupidity exceeded all bounds, and 
 that he gets into a fury yet whenever the story is men- 
 tioned." 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 101 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 A primrose by the river's brim 
 A yellow primrose was to him, 
 And it was nothing more. 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 Op all the different aspects which insolent pride can 
 assume, there is none half so oppressive to the object 
 of it as voluble condescension, which was the form in 
 which Eleanor occasionally delighted to assert her own 
 importance among those whom she considered her infe- 
 riors. She entered the room at Gaelfield with an air of 
 overpowering patronage, and with a torrent of words 
 which completely bewildered Miss Murray's small por- 
 tion of wit or understanding, while she ran on with a 
 stream of apologies for not having called sooner and been 
 a more sociable neighbour. Something of what she said 
 appeared to be serious and polite, but the rest was so en- 
 tirely jocular, that her simple hostess, who could scarce- 
 ly discriminate between the one and the other, stole an 
 occasional look at Matilda, with an anxious inquiring 
 expression which seemed to ask, ^' Is your cousin laugh- 
 ing at me or not ?" 
 
 Miss Fitz-Patrick complimented her on all the good 
 that was done in the parish, which seemed really to have 
 gratified and surprised her ; but she elicited some jests 
 at the same time upon Matilda having been appointed 
 " assistant and successor." She admired the garden in 
 extravagant terms, though there was scarcely a leaf re- 
 
102 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 maining in it, and professed to think her own not nearly 
 in such good order, while six gardeners were employed 
 continually to dress it. She fell into raptures wdth Miss 
 Murray's ancient Bible, and begged it might be left to 
 her in a legacy. She examined some Scripture prints 
 which were suspended on the wall, and after making 
 several ridiculous blunders in guessing the subjects they 
 represented, she turned to inspect Miss Murray's bon- 
 net, and professed an intention to order one immediately 
 on the same pattern. A sly look which she stole towards 
 Miss Marabout in saying this, betrayed to Matilda how 
 little any degree of simplicity or goodness could serve 
 as a shield from her cousin's satirical propensities, w^ho 
 now proceeded to a critical dissertation on Miss Mur- 
 ray's knitting. "^ You must positively show me all the 
 mysteries of this business, for I intend to reach a great 
 old age, and knitting will be a valuable resource ; but it 
 requires more genius than one would suppose to accom- 
 plish it in perfection, for they tell me that any one who 
 can turn the heel of a stocking is fit to govern a king- 
 dom. Mine must be worked without heels, and people 
 may draw them on the best way they can. I am con- 
 vinced that no lady is ever thoroughly domestic who 
 does not excel in some sort of work ; and half our gad- 
 ding about now, is because we are all so intellectual^ 
 and w^ould sooner think of lifting Cleopatra's needles 
 than our own. What a delightful airy little sitting- 
 room this is ! I protest the bright yellow curtains^, and 
 the profusion of gilt frames, lighted up with that blaz- 
 ing fire and glowing sunshine, look altogether so gay, 
 that it would be impossible for you ever to feel melan- 
 choly here. Such a collection of prints and pictures 
 reminds me of the Louvre ! — have you a catalogue ? — 
 I must come and spend an hour or two some day in 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 103 
 
 studying them all. As for this pea-green carpet with 
 white flowers, you must excuse me, Miss Murray, I 
 cannot help laughing, it is so like a dish of eggs and 
 spinach, but nothing can look better. I guess you never 
 see a room any where so much to your taste as this ? It 
 certainly is quite perfect in its way." 
 
 " Very true," answered Miss Murray, with a look of 
 placid contentment ; ^' nothing could improve it now, 
 since we got home the new book-cases." 
 
 " They are very handsome indeed ! I would give a 
 fortune to transport this room by steam, or any how, to 
 Barnard Castle." 
 
 '^ It would be cheap at whatever price, if we could 
 purchase such feelings as are often experienced within 
 these walls," observed Matilda. " They are such as poets 
 might fail to describe, and Christians only can know." 
 
 " Ah I here is a stray number of the Penny Maga- 
 zine !" exclaimed Eleanor, in pretended rapture ; " how 
 very entertaining it seems ! Could you spare it for a 
 single day. Miss Murray ? Now don't be afraid to trust 
 me, for it shall be honestly returned — I am a careful 
 creature when you put me upon honour." 
 
 Eleanor seemed really enchanted with her own powers 
 of volubility, and ran on for some time without the pos- 
 sibility of interruption, while Miss Murray listened and 
 smiled in a state of helpless surprise. She had never 
 been so perplexed in her life how to reply, but she was 
 spared the difficulty of doing so, as not a crevice occur- 
 red for some time into which she could insert one single 
 word, until her lively guest at length paused for a mo- 
 ment to take breath, and then Miss Murray instantly 
 commenced the usual routine of what she called conver- 
 sation. 
 
 " I hope Sir Richard is pretty well this morning ?" 
 
104 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 was the opening question, in her usual placid, gentle 
 manner. 
 
 *' He had a cold on Thursday fortnight, but I forget 
 whether it was better or worse to-day. Now, Miss 
 Mun-ay, you are just the sort of person who could fur- 
 nish me with an infallible cure, — shall it be a gallon of 
 gruel, or a bushel of lozenges ?" 
 
 Like every one else, the good old lady was of course 
 provided with a receipt, which she instantly prescribed, 
 to Eleanor's secret diversion, who professed unbounded 
 faith in the mixture of acids, sweets, and bitters, which 
 were urgently recommended. 
 
 "■ Do you continue to have good accounts of Miss 
 Barbara Neville ?" continued Miss Murray ; " I had 
 the pleasure of knowing her formerly." 
 
 " That must have been a pleasure indeed ! She was 
 unluckily bit by one of Lady Susan Danvers' lap-dogs 
 before leaving Edinburgh, and whether she died of hy- 
 drophobia afterwards or not we never heard ; but I re- 
 commended that the piece should be kept to see if it 
 foamed. Have I any more relations to be inquired for?" 
 added Eleanor in a whisper to Miss Marabout. 
 
 " Are Sir Francis and Lady Howard continuing quite 
 well ?" pursued Miss Murray, with indefatigable perse- 
 verance. 
 
 *' Not quite !" replied the heiress, concealing a laugh. 
 " My aunt has a slight attack of nervousness, and Sir 
 Francis is extremely ill of — of rheumatism in his elbow, 
 or gout in his little finger, it is not certain which." 
 
 '■' You must have made a mistake, Eleanor," said 
 Matilda, gravely ; " my father writes to me continually 
 in the most perfect health and spirits. He has not 
 missed going to cover a single morning this season, and 
 often wishes there were ten hunting days in the week." 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 105 
 
 " What a keen sportsman he must be I" observed 
 Miss Murray. " But those who like hunting are very 
 fond of it." 
 
 " So they are !" exclaimed Eleanor, rising ; " and 
 those who like me are very fond of me, too ; so I hope 
 Miss Murray is of the number, for I am quite delighted 
 with you — I like you amazingly. Our visit has been 
 really a treat, and I am quite sorry that we must tear 
 ourselves away now, though I shall often return for a 
 comfortable chat, and to tell you how all my friends 
 are." 
 
 "Stop a moment ! — you are not going !" cried Miss 
 Murray, whose hospitable feelings were all on fire at the 
 prospect of any one escaping from her house without 
 tasting refreshment ; '^ let me bring you some ginger 
 wine." 
 
 " Not for worlds I — I beg you will not think of it !" 
 said Eleanor, turning with a clandestine grimace of dis- 
 gust to Miss Marabout; "I — I am forbid by the doc- 
 tors to taste wine — we all belong to the Temperance 
 Society." 
 
 '' Ah ! young people never like to give trouble," said 
 Miss Murray, diving into the depths of an enormous 
 pocket, whence she produced her large bunch of keys, 
 and, hastening to a small dark cupboard, she drew 
 forth a plate, filled with hard, massy gingerbread nuts, 
 which looked like fragments of brick, and having placed 
 beside them a decanter half-filled with wine, she hurried 
 out of the room to send her maid up with glasses, and 
 her departure was speedily followed by the distant ex- 
 plosion of a cork. 
 
 " No wonder you steal down here continually, Matil- 
 da, when there are such luxuries going," said Eleanor, 
 contemptuously examining the gingerbread nuts. '• One 
 
^06 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 would require a fresli relay of teeth every day to enjoy 
 these properly. They were certainly baked last Thurs- 
 day fortnight, when papa caught the cold I bestowed on 
 him to-day — it is a pleasure to get my laugh out ! You 
 need not look grave, Matilda, for Miss Murray is really 
 the best of human beings. But did ever any mortal try 
 to pass off such truisms for good sense as your friend 
 does ? She would tell me that ' sober servants are bet- 
 ter than drunken ones !' that ^ nothing is so rural as the 
 country !' and that ' it is more agreeable to have too 
 much money than too little !' How is it possible to 
 endui'e such prosing V 
 
 "I can dispense with a great deal, where there is 
 kind feeling to compensate for all deficiencies," replied 
 Matilda. " Wit and originality are good things in their 
 way, but not deserving of the precedence they often get 
 in our estimation, and it is always a safe plan to be easily 
 satisfied. I have generally tried to lower my standard 
 of what is indispensable for enjoyment or comfort, be- 
 cause if we encourage fastidiousness in conversation, in 
 reading, in music, or even in eating, we shall so much 
 the seldomer be satisfied. You would starve, where I 
 would be in the midst of plenty ; and at this moment I 
 could make a very tolerable luncheon on these ancient- 
 looking gingerbread nuts." 
 
 '' How delicious they are !" exclaimed Eleanor, slyly 
 taking one up as Miss Murray re-entered the room, 
 and pretending to eat, while she hastily concealed it 
 in her bag ; " Pray give me the receipt for making 
 these — I never saw any thing like them before, so they 
 must be home-made. We shall cause quite a famine 
 in the house," continued she, unwillingly accepting 
 Miss Murray's repeated offer of more, and dropping 
 them privately into her reticule; ^''you will think me a 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 107 
 
 greater eater than Dando, the oyster stealer, of whom 
 honourable mention is so frequently made in the Morn- 
 ing Post." 
 
 " I never read newspapers, for fear of seeing something 
 in them that is not true." 
 
 " What a prudent plan ! — You are quite right, for 
 truth lies at the bottom of a well, and is least of all to 
 be found in newspapers. Good- by for the present; but 
 we are like a pair of scissors, parted to meet again, as 
 I shall long to return here and to taste your ginger- 
 bread nuts another time." 
 
 " Perhaps you will allow me to send a few to Barnard 
 Castle this evening, and also a pair of the stockings you 
 admired so much, of my own knitting ?" 
 
 " Ten thousand thanks ! that is precisely what I 
 wished, so pray do I" exclaimed Eleanor, in a tone of 
 rapturous gratitude ; then turning to Miss Marabout, 
 when they were beyond the possibility of being over- 
 heard, she added, " Only fancy I my foot would look 
 like an elephant ! and the gingerbread nuts I who could 
 have believed that good worthy Miss Murray was gifted 
 with so much less than common sense ? but her presents 
 and her truisms are both inimitable. ' The French are 
 mostly born in France ! Those who spend all their mo- 
 ney can't expect to grow rich ; and health is a great 
 blessing !"* 
 
 " Eleanor ! she has done her utmost to entertain and 
 oblige you ; but nothing makes me value Miss Murray's 
 kindness more than to know, as I do, that if we were 
 friendless outcasts, without any one on earth to care for 
 us, her kind offices would be as ready, and her feelings 
 as cordial as they are now." 
 
 " Well ! well ! you are right, and I, of course, am 
 wrong, so a tmce to lecturing ! — On sera ridicule, et je 
 
108 MODEEN SOCIETY ; OE, 
 
 noserai rire ! Surely we are out of the Ashgrove tram- 
 mels now !" 
 
 " Eleanor !" said Matilda, in a tone of indignant 
 surprise ; but she could add no more, for words seemed 
 inadequate to express what she felt at so irreverent an 
 allusion to Lady Olivia's memory ; and the cousins 
 proceeded home in unbroken silence, together. 
 
 From this time it became a favourite amusement with 
 Eleanor to visit at Gaelfield, where she delighted to 
 flatter and frighten the single-hearted Miss Murray, who 
 tried to believe the intention was kind, though she could 
 seldom follow the volubility of her visitor, and never on 
 any occasion knew for certain whether she spoke in jest or 
 in earnest ; whether the heiress had been sincerely charm- 
 ed, as she professed to be, with her society, or whether she 
 was turning her into ridicule, and making a burlesque, as 
 she actually did, of the whole conversation. In talking to 
 Eleanor, Miss Murray felt the sort of apprehensive inter- 
 est with which a schoolboy ventures on ice which is 
 not warranted to be safe, and which, though it affords 
 amusement for the time, may plunge him suddenly and 
 helplessly beneath its shining surface. The overpower- 
 ing profession of deference with which it was Miss Fitz- 
 Patrick's whim to treat her plain and unsophisticated 
 hostess, put Miss MuiTay completely to the blush ; and 
 the easy familiarity with which she occasionally domes- 
 ticated herself in the little parlour, caused the good old 
 lady to blame herself on account of the constraint and 
 distrust she unavoidably felt whenever her lively visitor 
 entered. With Matilda, Miss Murray felt confident that 
 she might have gone to the Palace of Truth, and not 
 heard a single transformation in all that she said ; but a 
 lurking smile in Eleanor's eye, and the tone of gay su- 
 periority she assumed, even when her words were full of 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 109 
 
 humility, betrayed to her very unsuspicious companion 
 the total want of sincerity and good faith which pervaded 
 all she said. Dr. Murray's presence acted for a time 
 occasionally as some restraint upon her exuberant self- 
 importance, for his address had all the dignity of high 
 intellect, and his look was so penetrating that he evi- 
 dently saw through all her vanity and frivolity of cha- 
 racter, feeling a degree of pity which, in any one less 
 imbued with Christian charity, would have nearly 
 amounted to contempt. It is rare in society when the 
 distinctions of this world are not paramount to every 
 thing ; but she felt conscious that in Dr. Murray's esti- 
 mation they only ranked in proportion as they were used 
 to promote the glory of God and the good of others, — 
 objects which the young heiress could not but acknow- 
 ledge to herself were the very last which occupied her 
 income, or created any solicitude in her thoughts. 
 Neither Miss Murray nor her brother knew any thing 
 relating to Eleanor's disposition from Matilda's report, 
 for she considered the confidence of domestic life so 
 sacred, that not even a sigh or a disparaging shake of 
 the head, ever betrayed how fallacious she knew their 
 hopes to be, when, in arranging plans for improving the 
 parish, they occasionally reckoned upon assistance and 
 encouragement from Barnard Castle. 
 
 Dr. MmTay at length, one day, shortly stated some 
 projects which it was thought might be advantageous to 
 her indigent tenantry, and seemed confidently to antici- 
 pate the pleasure which it must give Miss Fitz-Patrick 
 to be the means of benefiting them ; but though she 
 heard him with that respectful interest which his man- 
 ner invariably excited, Eleanor now, for the first time 
 in her life, seemed to recollect that she had guardians, 
 and thought it necessary to consult them, though with a 
 
no MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 professed intention to entreat their co-operation in the 
 " wise and judicious suggestions" which Dr. Murray was 
 good enough to make. When a subject of conversation 
 became particularly inconvenient, Miss Fitz-Patrick ge- 
 nerally endeavoured to change it, by pouring out a per- 
 fect hail- storm of words, which prevented any one from 
 edging in a single sentence without being guilty of ab- 
 solute rudeness ; she, therefore, on the present occasion, 
 did so, while her auditor listened in grave astonishment, 
 to the consequential tone in which she ran on with a 
 medley of subjects and ideas, as miscellaneous and 
 piquant as the castors of a cruet. 
 
 " Dr. Murray ! you must certainly have swallowed a 
 concordance some day, for I never before heard so many 
 texts quoted in support of an argument ; and you make 
 me quite ashamed of having so long remained like a 
 Limerick merchant, ' busy doing nothing.* With re- 
 spect to our church accommodation, I wish it could be 
 made elastic, like a patent portmanteau. I perfectly 
 agree in all you are going to say I Both Scripture and 
 common humanity make it necessary to be considerate 
 for others, and at the same time more mischief may be 
 perpetrated by attempting injudicious charity than by 
 doing nothing at all, so it is fortunate for me that 
 I have so experienced a philanthropist to consult. 
 Pray visit us often, for we shall always feel it an hon- 
 our. To use expressions common in the General As- 
 sembly, never ' moderate your calls' at Barnard Castle, 
 where they shall all be ' harmonious,' and if ever you 
 wish to * hold a diet,' let that be at six o'clock, when I 
 only hope your dinner will be as hearty as your welcome. 
 We have been threatening Miss Murray to drop in, and 
 take pot-luck with her soon. She may supply the pot, 
 -and I shall bring the luck. Your sister is not very 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. Ill 
 
 encouraging upon the subject ; and I am really quite 
 shocked at her want of hospitality, for we are all very 
 plain people in every sense. I wish papa was the 
 same, for my spirits always sink as the dinner hour 
 approaches, he is so sure to find fault, though there are 
 three courses every day, dressed by a man-cook, Avho 
 was skilful enough to satisfy the French Ambassador. 
 At the same time, whoever wishes to gain a point with 
 him should come at feeding-time, for he would rather 
 give away an estate than be interrupted. You have 
 probably heard that an Ogre once married into our 
 family in Ireland, so we have all been great eaters ever 
 since. A shoulder of mutton is scarcely a mouthful to 
 papa, and Monsieur Martigny drove the whole poultry- 
 yard into a chicken-pie when he came here for breakfast 
 one morning. There never was any thing like the con- 
 sumption of provisions in our house at present, for I 
 have three -and-twenty servants, which you will allow to 
 be a tolerable establishment, and" 
 
 " A very numerous circle indeed !" interrupted Dr. 
 Murray, apparently determined to be heard. " With so 
 many immortal souls, for whose eternal interest you, as 
 their head, must be in some degree answerable, I trust 
 that the good old custom of assembling together daily 
 for family prayers is not discontinued ?" 
 
 " Why ! — all in good time ! I am not sure that papa 
 would consent," replied Eleanor, who had suddenly be- 
 come very considerate of Sir Richard's inclinations. 
 
 '^ Did j^ou ever ask him ?" inquired Dr. Murray, 
 anxiously. 
 
 " No !" stammered Eleanor, somewhat confused. 
 
 " There are many impediments, but In short, you 
 
 know Rome was not built in a day, but we shall, per- 
 haps, come to be all you wish at last. I am not one 
 
112 
 
 MODERN society; OR, 
 
 who can profess a great deal more than I feel," added 
 shcj fixing a malicious look on Matilda. " Whatever 
 I do, or whatever I am, shall be without affectation or 
 hypocrisy ; for it would be well if every one were known 
 as they are, and not as they seem. Tares often pass 
 for wheat. Dr. Murray, merely by mixing with them ; 
 and those who are nearly canonized in this world will 
 find it not so easy to stand the scrutiny of another. We 
 may speak w^ell, and live but indifferently here, without 
 being known, but that will not do hereafter; and I 
 would not for worlds appear more religious than I really 
 am. Some people can talk by the hour in a serious 
 way, but it all evaporates in words ; and though they 
 can speak volumes about the virtuousness of virtue, and 
 use all the mere jargon of religion, they forget to live 
 according to its precepts." 
 
 Eleanor had recently adopted a plan, in Matilda's 
 presence, of inveighing against any particular fault 
 which occurred to her fancy at the moment, until every 
 one in the room must imagine that her cousin was 
 addicted to the practice, though it invariably proved to 
 be something of which she felt totally incapable. On 
 several occasions already she had harangued on the 
 contemptibleness of exaggeration, ill-temper, pride, 
 hypocrisy, and even flattery, pointing the whole so 
 evidently at Matilda, that no stranger could doubt she 
 was guilty of those errors ; while, at the same time, 
 the expressions were thoroughly guarded, that her 
 cousin might neither openly take the accusation to her- 
 self, nor in any way disprove it. The colour mounted 
 to Matilda's forehead frOm astonishment and confusion 
 at these implied accusations, which being totally vague 
 and unfounded, no pretext occurred for noticing ; 
 while even the excellent Dr. Murray looked at her with 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 113 
 
 momentary distrust, though that feeHng was instantly 
 dispelled when, with an eye accustomed to discriminate, 
 he marked the ingenuous surprise that animated her 
 countenance, exhibiting abundant evidence that her 
 conscience was at peace though her feelings were ob- 
 viously hurt. 
 
 *^ As for acting up to our standard in religion, no 
 Christian can ever entirely succeed, for it ought to be 
 nothing short of perfection," said Dr. Murray. '^ We 
 must toil up a steep ascent, seeking the grace of God to 
 help us, while Alps on Alps arise ; and none may ever 
 pause to say that his own attainments are sufficient. 
 Yet, in estimating the professions and conduct of others, 
 we should judge as leniently as we hope to be judged 
 ourselves ; for, though it is easy to tell what Christi- 
 anity has not yet done in sanctifying the characters of 
 others, who can ventm-e to estimate what it has done to 
 improve them ? It may have softened the temper 
 that was originally violent, strengthened the principles 
 that were unusually weak, or enlarged the benevolence 
 which would have otherwise been extinguished by ava- 
 rice ; and yet the fruit may not be ripened into perfec- 
 tion, for if Christians could become all in this life that 
 they ought to become, and all that they desire to be, we 
 should certainly love them too well. There is one respect, 
 however, Miss Fitz-Patrick, in which I have occasion- 
 ally traced a great attainment in Christian forbearance," 
 added Dr. Murray, kindly turning towards Matilda — 
 '^ If, when ye do well and suffer for it, ye take it 
 patiently, this is acceptable with God." 
 
 Few people in the world really and conscientiously 
 desire to scatter as much happiness around them as 
 possible, and few would afford a very large proportion 
 of it to friends and neighbours, even if that could be done 
 
114 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 without diminisliing their own share of enjoyment. It 
 was singular that, as Eleanor's self-importance increased, 
 so did her malicious and even envious feelings towards 
 her cousin^ whom it was her continued study to wound a 
 coups d'epingles ; and had it not been for the most per- 
 emptory letter from Lady Howard, desiring her daugh- 
 ter on no account to think of leaving Barnard Castle 
 before Christmas^ Matilda would have felt it a duty to- 
 wards herself to take the earliest opportunity of return- 
 ing home. Her affection could not be entirely alienated 
 from Eleanor by any circumstances ; but, with every 
 imaginable palliation, her cousin's conduct seemed inex- 
 cusable, and she often exercised a painful degree of 
 Christian meekness in not angrily resenting the wilful 
 slights that were shown her, of which she sometimes 
 thought it right openly to testify her consciousness ; 
 yet occasionally it was impossible to help smiling at the 
 arrogance and self-sufficiency of the heiress's tone, for 
 Matilda had a keen sense of the ridiculous, which was 
 only restrained upon principle and right feeling. A 
 favourite subject of miscellaneous declamation with 
 Miss Fitz-Patrick was, on the necessity for every per- 
 son being '' kept in his place," because on many occa- 
 sions she felt irritated and piqued, when Matilda met 
 with the same respect on her own account that she 
 herself did, with all the adventitious aids of fortune and 
 property. 
 
 " There is no such word now as subordination," she 
 often remarked. " In families, in politics, in religion, 
 that is quite at an end, and all ranks and ages seem on 
 a level. Children are asked their opinions as soon as 
 they can speak, consulted about their own education, 
 and allowed to decide upon the relative advantages of 
 schools and professions as if they really had the power 
 
THE MARCH OP INTELLECT. 115 
 
 of comparing them. They are taken about to visit in 
 country houses, too, in such numbers, that I shall have 
 a nursery of about nine here during Christmas, each of 
 whom is a little wonder, fit to associate with grown-up 
 people. In politics, constituents dictate to their re- 
 presentatives ; and in religion, the members of a con- 
 gregation actually lecture their pastors. I wonder what 
 it will all come to at last ! For my own part, I have 
 a certain station to keep up, and it becomes a duty to 
 myself and my contemporaries, to preserve the dignity of 
 it. In all situations, I consider those who hold them as 
 being answerable to their successors for handing them 
 down unimpaired ; and the proprietor of an extensive 
 property, like mine, cannot yield an atom of the patron- 
 age and influence it confers, without injuring every 
 other inheritor of estates. Even Pauline owes a duty 
 to all other ladies' maids, and must uphold the privi- 
 leges and prerogatives of her office, not merely for 
 her own sake individually, but for the benefit of abigails 
 in general ; and I perfectly approve of her feud with 
 Nanny about keeping the custody of my trinkets. I 
 am no politician, Matilda ; but you may depend upon 
 it that half the democracy in this country arises from 
 great men not submitting to the trammels of greatness 
 as they used to do. Every pleasure on earth has to be 
 paid for by some drawback, and it must have been a 
 bore to the grandees of long ago that they never stirred 
 without carriages and six, sun-ounded with a retinue of 
 servants ; but to vulgar eyes how imposing that must 
 have been, and now, what obvious dificrence is visible 
 between gentlemen of various ranks embarking in a 
 steam-boat, except that, perhaps, one may be followed by 
 two carpet bags, and be attended by a servant ? All are 
 dressed in blue coats, and all very sea-sick ; but even a 
 
116 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 master of the ceremonies could scarcely distinguish 
 between a duke and his tailor — a field-marshal or the 
 senior subaltern of a marching regiment ; so that tra- 
 velling is like death itself now, for it levels all distinc- 
 tions. Noblemen formerly used to dine out in a blaze of 
 orders and ribbons, but now their stars are turned into 
 comets, which only appear once in a century ; and since 
 hoops have been abolished at court, it must seem quite 
 an every-day event to go there. I am certain that it 
 was a great blow to the Church of England Avhen the 
 bishops left off their wigs ; and if the judges part with 
 theirs it would perfectly ruin the assizes. Every thing 
 should be done to keep up the distinction of ranks ; and 
 now, Matilda, the moral of all I have said, including 
 digressions, is to show you that, when the various 
 visitors who assemble here next week are all collected, 
 I shall pay them deference proportioned to their real 
 importance, trusting that neither Charlotte Clifford nor 
 you will feel hurt or offended at being mere pawns on 
 the board, since I must play my part according to rule 
 and etiquette, rather than inclination." 
 
 This pompous exordium was evidently meant to pre- 
 pare Matilda for very defective attention during the 
 ensuing festivities ; and not being anxious to encounter 
 more of Eleanor's caprice than could possibly be avoided, 
 she took the opportunity of announcing that Dr. and 
 Miss Murray had invited her to spend some days with 
 them at Gaelfield, in consequence of which she pro- 
 posed going there and remaining until Christmas- day, 
 when they had both consented, on Eleanor's urgent 
 entreaty, to pass a week at Barnard Castle, and would 
 accompany her back. 
 
 " Can you be serious in proposing to miss ' the 
 gathering of the clans V " exclaimed Eleanor, with ill- 
 
IHE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 11? 
 
 disguised pleasui-e. " Then^ as Tilburina says to her 
 lover — 
 
 ' And must we part ? 
 Well ! if we must — Ave must — and in that case 
 The less is said the better.' 
 
 There is no accounting for tastes, Matilda, but your 
 choice on the present occasion certainly seems outrage- 
 ously odd. I shall either come for you, however, on 
 Tuesday morning, or send the carriage, which is a great 
 stretch of politeness on my part, as I intend making a 
 rule never to lend it, unless when I go a drive myself." 
 
 It may generally he observed, that when people talk 
 of ^' making a rule," they invariably lay down some 
 " rule/' in which no one's comfort is studied but their 
 own. 
 
 During the few days which Matilda spent at Gael- 
 field she felt more happy and at home than it had ever 
 been possible for her to do at Barnard Castle. Days 
 flitted rapidly by, while each as it closed left some agree- 
 able recollection behind of useful occupation, or mental 
 improvement, for her time was passed in a manner 
 which might have been considered as the fleeting repre- 
 sentation of that pure and happy state where " charity 
 never faileth," and where prayer and praise shall for ever 
 accompany active obedience. Dr. Murray delighted to 
 exercise his richly illuminated mind in the familiar dis- 
 cussion of important truths, scattering information and 
 entertainment almost insensibly around, while his only 
 object^ never for a moment overlooked, was to fulfil his 
 own high vocation towards the souls of others. His 
 extensive knowledge of the world, his deep insight into 
 human nature, and his profound attainments in classical 
 literature and historical lore, were all subservient to 
 that single aim ; and Matilda listened with unwearied 
 
118 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 interest and admiration to the sanctified use in cojtvoi'^ 
 sation of such varied and remarkable talents. Some- 
 times a considerable degree of vivacity enlivened what 
 he said, but yet there was a gravity of character, and a 
 subdued tone of feeling, even in his laughter, which 
 testified the continual prevalence of seriousness and 
 reflection suited to his profession, and to the sacred 
 duties it involved, which were incessantly present to 
 his thoughts. 
 
 Miss Murray's constant occupation was to replenish 
 a wardrobe of necessaries for the poor, which she fre- 
 quently distributed with unsparing liberality, though 
 sometimes clandestinely, as her brother's opinion was 
 strongly expressed against any such indiscriminate cha- 
 rities as might, by possibility, paralyze exertion ; and 
 he often good-humouredly foretold that she would bring 
 the whole parish on their hands to be fed and clothed, 
 since the donations she bestowed w^ere most frequently a 
 premium on indolence and improvidence. '^ It has been 
 remarked," said he one day, after detecting some of his 
 sister's favourite proteges in a neighbouring alehouse, 
 " that in this mercantile country, whatever you cause a 
 demand for there will be an immediate supply ; and if 
 a demand is raised for beggars, they will instantly 
 abound. I wish Dr. Chalmers's work on Civic Economy 
 could be rained down in thousands on the world, to 
 show what true philanthropy means, for no science is 
 more difficult than that of doing real good. One would 
 be apt to imagine, my dear sister, that if a kind w^ell-mean- 
 ing person, like yourself, had a large income to spend on 
 charity, great benefits must inevitably result ; but that 
 is not found to be a necessary inference, and the more 
 difficulty we discover in serving the poor, the more 
 should we turn to the great source of all wisdom, say- 
 
THE MAHCH OF INTELLECT. 119 
 
 ing, ' who will show us any good V Above all, never 
 furnish crutches to those who can be made to walk 
 without them, for our prosperity depends on every indi- 
 vidual doing as much as possible for himself. All Scot- 
 land is swarming now with hospitals, and I only hope 
 that no shopkeeper who makes a fortune in Gaelfield 
 will ever wish to immortalize himself by building one 
 here. Except to shelter idiots and incurables, the 
 maimed or the blind, nothing can be more pernicious, 
 for they are mere hot-beds of indolence, vice, and dis- 
 content to young people ; and if aged persons be the 
 objects for which they are built, it is generally but a 
 cruel kindness, because those who would otherwise have 
 been carefully and affectionately attended at home are 
 thrust aside upon public charity, where outward com- 
 fort can never compensate for the solitude of the 
 heart." 
 
 ^' Indeed I have often thought," said Matilda, " that 
 some of these poor old creatures, when conveyed from 
 their little quiet chimney corner to the large and lofty 
 rooms in an hospital, must feel as strange and comfort- 
 less as the oyster did in the lobster's shell. How differ- 
 ent from the cheerful, contented poverty of poor old 
 Janet whom we saw to-day ! I often think, Dr. Mur- 
 ray, how much pleasure you must have in visiting the 
 poor of this neighbourhood." 
 
 '' Ah, Miss Howard, but I have not many such cases 
 of sincere piety and really picturesque contentment as 
 that good old woman, and her exemplary daughter. 
 There are many anxieties and disappointments in the 
 daily course of my superintendence here — for you know 
 a clergyman's life must not be expected to consist in a 
 smooth current of easy duties. Luther has truly re- 
 marked, that it is prayer, and sorrow, and temptation 
 
120 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 which make a minister of the gospel, and daily experi- 
 ence proves it to be the case." 
 
 '' I am aware of that now," replied Matilda, " and 
 the labour is so much greater than I had anticipated, 
 that you will scarcely fiiid it possible to carry on all you 
 do without being soon entirely exhausted." 
 
 " No, Miss Howard ! I would consider it quite as 
 wrong to be a spendthrift of my health as of my fortune. 
 All we have must be devoted to our Master's glory ; 
 but no more, for He who has put limits to our posses- 
 sion of these blessings, has set bounds to the use we 
 shall make of them. You blame the man who has 
 reduced himself to poverty by unwarrantable extrava; 
 gance, but he who hurries himself to an untimely grave 
 by improvident exertion is also wrong. To study our 
 own situation, for the pui-pose of ascertaining the fullest 
 extent of our duties and opportunities, is the chief tes- 
 timony we can give to our conviction of Almighty 
 wisdom in their appointment." 
 
 '' Yet I still think, as I have always done, that a 
 country clergyman's situation must be the happiest on 
 earth, and my visit here serves to confirm the opinion." 
 
 ^' Its pleasures are great indeed, but its sprrows are 
 also peculiar," replied Dr. Murray, impressively. " My 
 own career was begun with all the sanguine expecta- 
 tions of youth, when in every plan of usefulness or im - 
 provement I expected unqualified good. If I preached, 
 every eye that was fixed on mine seemed to hold out 
 hopes of undoubted conversion — every tear that was shed 
 gave promise of permanent repentance — every expres- 
 sion of gratitude was supposed to be directly from the 
 heart. But we must not look for our reward. Miss 
 Howard, in immediate success, nor must we be discou- 
 raged if it appear to be the divine will that ' one shall 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 
 
 121 
 
 sow and another shall reap/ His glory must be our only 
 object, and our highest hope to hear at last those blessed 
 words, ' Well done thou good and faithful servant.' 
 One great difficulty attends our labours, which may not 
 have occurred to you. In seeking the good of a nume- 
 rous congregation, we are apt to forget that the reflec- 
 tions which may be useful to them are also necessary to 
 be made on our own account ; that it would not be suffi- 
 cient to build the ark for others, unless we enter it our- 
 selves, and that the teaching of the Spirit is as essential 
 to him who preaches as to those who hear. While read- 
 ing, the hope of benefiting others is continually present, 
 and even in studying the Scriptures, I have to be watch- 
 ful lest they appear to me only a fountain to refresh my 
 people rather than a well of water springing up unto 
 eternal life for myself. We have to think for others, 
 to pray for others, to lament their sins, and to encourage 
 their repentance. It is a labour I delight in, yet the 
 apprehension is frequently occurring that I may be a 
 mere finger-post, directing my people without advancing 
 myself, or in the words of St. Paul, ' lest while teaching 
 others, I myself may become a cast-away.' " 
 
 Matilda saw once, with astonishment, how patiently 
 Dr. Murray bore the frustration of plans and hopes 
 from which he had confidently anticipated much suc- 
 cess, and she admired the cheerfulness with which 
 he instantly devised new projects of usefulness and 
 benevolence. In the expenditure of an income which 
 seemed ample in his own eyes, nothing was grudged 
 but what he spent upon himself; and worldly ambition 
 or personal luxury were so entirely unknown to him, 
 that his only desire for wealth was to bestow it liberally, 
 while whatever he gave was with a feeling that he had 
 spared from his abundance. It was not how little 
 
 G 
 
122 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 might be necessary on any occasion, Lut how much 
 could be done, that he endeavoured to discover, and the 
 single desire to fulfil his vocation was inseparable from 
 every action. Fame, wealth, honour, and all that 
 awakens the selfish ambition of worldly men, seemed 
 like dust in the balance, compared with the one engross- 
 ing object of his own pursuit, while, "■ forgetting the 
 things that are behind, and reaching forward to those 
 that are before, he pressed forward to obtain the prize 
 of his high calling." 
 
 Every thing in life comes to a speedy termination, 
 and so did Matilda's visit at Gaelfield, when, on the day 
 appointed, Eleanor's chariot and four swept up to the 
 little white gate leading through Dr. Murray's garden, 
 and a peremptory message was delivered, that Miss 
 Fitz-Patrick could not wait a moment, as the horses 
 were impatient, and she hoped to see Miss Murray at 
 dinner, which prevented her from thinking it necessary 
 to alight ; — therefore, with a hasty glance of regret 
 round the sunny little parlour, and bidding a hurried 
 adieu to her friends, Matilda proceeded to seat herself 
 in the carriage. 
 
 "Now confess that you are delighted to make an escape 
 from that stuffy sitting-room, and poor Miss Murray's 
 perpetual truisms," exclaimed Eleanor, taking her cou- 
 sin's hand with some cordiality. " She is the most flimsy 
 weak-tea sort of person I ever saw, and wearies me to 
 death with her unalterable good-humour. The very 
 sound of her knitting pins would drive me distracted, as 
 well as the twaddle that she calls conversation and mis- 
 takes for good sense. Black is not so black, nor white 
 so very white with her. Shall I ever forget being acci- 
 dentally present one day when your friend attempted a 
 consolatory address to old Janet on the recent death of 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 123 
 
 her husband ! Along with many religious reflections, she 
 produced a perfect flock of little aphorisms which almost 
 made me smile, if the occasion had not been so serious. 
 ' It is better to lose a good husband than to be afflicted 
 with a bad one. What can't be cured must be endured. 
 It is not so bad as if it had been worse. Every one has 
 his own burden, — and, None of us can expect constant 
 happiness.' She chattered on in this way till I Avas in a 
 high fever of impatience ; but if you will believe me, 
 Janet dried up her tears, and professed to feel very much 
 comforted." 
 
 " I daresay she did ! The finest oration imaginable in 
 well-turned periods, delivered without that appearance 
 of sympathy, would not have had half the efi*ect of Miss 
 Murray's genuine unaff'ected kindness. The humblest 
 means are often used to produce the greatest ends, for 
 there can be no strength or power in any thing we do, 
 except through the blessing of Him who can bring 
 strength out of weakness, and binds in the mighty ocean 
 with a rope of sand." 
 
 " Yery true," said Eleanor, seriously, " I must tease 
 you no more about the good old lady who reverses 
 Charles the Second, as she never says a wise thing, and 
 probably never does a foolish one. But now, let me de- 
 scribe what an irreparable loss you have sustained by be- 
 coming an absentee during the last few days. Our party 
 is diverting beyond measure. Colonel Pendarvis, Lord 
 De Mainbury, and all the hunting set are here. Perhaps 
 •we may see some of them pass, for the hounds are in this 
 direction, which was the real inducement that brought 
 me to Gaelfield to-day. Ah I there they are, in full cry, 
 coming down Glowrowrum Hill, and approaching us ! 
 How very fortunate ! many people have hunted a whole 
 
124 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 season, and not seen more of the fox than we shall do 
 now." 
 
 In Eleanor's eagerness she completely forgot that her 
 young unmanageable leaders were under the charge of a 
 little postillion, whose chief recommendation had been 
 his very diminutive size, while in strength he was evi- 
 dently defective also. When the dogs dashed past in full 
 career, followed by a troop of sportsmen, the noise they 
 made, and the distant notes of the huntsman's bugle, 
 startled her horses, and in a momont they became fright- 
 fully infuriated. Every effort to check them was vain ; 
 for they kicked and plunged with terrifying violence, 
 while the boy, who had evidently lost his presence of 
 mind, lashed and swore with reckless desperation. Elea- 
 nor in a voice of alarm, peremptorily desired him to 
 stop, but she might as easily have tried to make a ship 
 stand still in a storm. She then hastily opened the car- 
 riage door, with an evident intention to spring out, but 
 Matilda, who saw the imminent danger of doing so, 
 forcibly prevented it, though she trembled to see that 
 the carriage, which was now at full speed, approached 
 towards a deep and rugged precipice, where she had just 
 time to observe the sharp turn, over which they would 
 probably be instantly precipitated. At this moment a 
 horseman suddenly galloped across the fields, sprung over 
 a wall, dismounted in less than a second, and seized the 
 horses' heads with so powerful a grasp, that they were 
 instantly checked, though the shock when they stopped 
 was so sudden, that the postillion, who had already been 
 nearly dismounted, fell to the ground. Not a moment 
 could be lost, for the horses nearly kicked over the traces. 
 and struggled so violently, it seemed next to impossible 
 they should be longer controlled, when the gentleman. 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 125 
 
 with a single bound, sprung into the vacant saddle, and 
 after a desperate encounter of skill and strength, he at 
 length succeeded, by an exertion of masterly horseman- 
 ship in subduing their spirit. At Eleanor's almost fran« 
 tic entreaty, the traces were immediately cut, and the 
 leaders set loose, when their deliverer proceeded with 
 perfect nonchalance to mount his own hunter ; and Ma- 
 tilda, for the first time, recognised Mr. Grant, who rode 
 up to the carriage -window, laughingly complimenting 
 Miss Fitz-Patrick on the high spirit and fine action of 
 her horses, while she in return observed that his riding 
 had never been so much admired before, as nothing could 
 equal it except Ducrow on the high-mettled racer. 
 
 Matilda had been perfectly cool and collected in the 
 time of danger, but now, when all was at an end, she 
 became so overpowered with agitation and thankfulness 
 that it was impossible for her to speak, while, on the 
 contrary, all trace of Eleanor's terror vanished in the 
 moment of safety ; her escape seemed a matter of course, 
 and she was at once restored to all her wonted vivacity 
 of look and manner. She and the lively equestrian had 
 been living in the same house for several days past, yet 
 there were so many jests between them, and so many old 
 stories alluded to, that Miss Fitz-Patrick evidently for- 
 got her cousin being in the carriage, and that she had 
 not seen Mr. Grant for a length of time, though they 
 were formerly intimate. Matilda had so few acquaint- 
 ances that she retained a vivid recollection of all those 
 she knew, and very naturally expected that her first 
 meeting with Mr. Grant would be as important an event 
 to him as it appeared to her, whicK turned out by no 
 means to be the case. Having accidentally caught a dis- 
 tant glimpse of her in the farthest corner of the chariot, 
 he merely gave an animated bow, as if they had been in 
 
126 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 the habit of meeting every day, saying, in a tone of 
 good-humoured cordiality, '^ Ah, Miss Howard ! how 
 are you I" Eleanor then continued the sentence he had 
 inteiTupted, and Matilda felt herself at once reduced to 
 insignificance^, while a long and lively dialogue ensued, 
 which seemed quite interminable, as her cousin and Mr. 
 Grant frequently took leave, but always resumed it with 
 some humourous and unexpected rejoinder. 
 
 During this time Matilda found leisure to exercise her 
 usual penetration, and to observe with surprise and in- 
 terest that there was an obvious change in the manner 
 of Mr. Grant towards Eleanor. He had evidently placed 
 himself at once on the familiar terms of an old friend, 
 but no longer attempted the character of a lover. There 
 were no traces now of that intense interest with which 
 he formerly watched every varying expression in her 
 beautiful features, nor of the agitated anxiety with 
 which he once had listened to the development of her 
 thoughts and feelings. His voice, which M^as always 
 peculiarly harmonious, had long assumed an accent of 
 deeper tenderness towards Eleanor than Matilda could 
 have imagined any voice to express, but that tone was 
 wanting now. He jested with the same liveliness as 
 before, yet it was in a vein of unembarrassed familiarity 
 with which he might have addressed his sister ; and had 
 Matilda judged of Mr. Grant's mind only by what she 
 witnessed that morning, she might have believed, as the 
 world did in general, that he was nothing more than an 
 agreeable rattle, possessing a greater command of non- 
 sense than any man living, who threw care to the winds, 
 " and if the winds reject it, to the waves." She knew 
 Mr. Grant better, however, than to suppose him defi- 
 cient in feeling, though Matilda began to think that he 
 might be capable of conquering it, and she anticipated 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 
 
 127 
 
 much interest in observing a character which she al- 
 ways considered pecuKar, but of which she had recently 
 heard much to enhance her curiosity, and to increase her 
 esteem. 
 
 '^ I cut all the buttons off my coat, after Sir Colin's 
 last story, to prevent his ever holding me by them 
 again," said Mr. Grant, in reply to a remark of Elea- 
 nor's. " Scatter-brain would be invaluable if he were 
 only half as long-winded I — So my cousin, Lady Susan, 
 is expected this morning ! — you probably thought it 
 right on Christmas- day to deck the saloon with ever- 
 greens ?" 
 
 " Among which, without meaning to be personal, I 
 include Yew — so pray come back soon to witness the 
 debut of Lady Susan and her dogs at Barnard Castle." 
 
 " 1 would gallop round the world in half an hour to 
 obey you," said Mr. Grant, with a parting bow full of 
 grace and animation, while the wind as he rode off blew 
 his hair in rich waves over his forehead, and heightened 
 the colour on his sparkling countenance. 
 
 " Poor Mr. Grant preserves his spirit wonderfully, 
 all things considered ; but it is often quite melancholy 
 to think how many people I must sooner or later make 
 miserable for life," said Eleanor, gazing after his reced- 
 ing figure as he flew across the fields, clearing every 
 fence that stood in his way. " I daresay at this moment 
 he is wishing it were as easy to surmount all his diffi- 
 culties as it is to get over those hedges and ditches ; 
 but I must not relent, and have made it tolerably plain 
 that his attentions are only welcome as those of an old 
 friend. Miss Marabout is vehemently in favour of my 
 encouraging Lord Alderby in preference, because she 
 says the richest admirer is the most likely to 1)€ disin- 
 terested." 
 
128 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 " Yeiy suitable advice from a governess ; Lut I am 
 not at all sure of its being founded on fact. One large 
 fortune often sets out in search of another, and I rather 
 admire the Quakers' plan, w^ho make wealthy girls marry 
 the poorest lovers, and rich men are obliged to choose 
 portionless wives ; by which arrangement my intended 
 ought to have L. 10,000 a-year, and Mr. Eleanor less 
 than nothing." 
 
 " Excuse me there ! I admire bread-and-butter-love- 
 marriages excessively in other people, but it is the very 
 last thing on earth I ever could fancy for myself. I take 
 pains every day to shew Mr. Grant my opinion on this 
 subject, for, as Mrs. Malaprop says, ' I cannot afford to 
 lavish myself upon a person not worth sixpence, and 
 shall be obliged to illiterate him from my memory.' 
 How I wish his uncle Sir Evan Grant's intentions were 
 known, or that he possessed Lord Alderby's coronet and 
 property." 
 
 " You remind me of a child asking for the moon, 
 Eleanor ! It was a fable long ago, which seems still to 
 be realized, that Love and Ambition had once a deadly 
 quarrel, and have always since been on opposite sides in 
 matrimony. You will probably need to relinquish one 
 or other of these requisites, and you are the only judge 
 of which is most essential to happiness. As for the 
 misery you are so afraid of occasioning, I am told it is 
 as impossible to break a good modern heart now, as a 
 plate of iron-stone china." 
 
 " Sir Alfred Douglas arrives before dinner to-day, 
 and perhaps, after all, I may promote him, vice Lord 
 Alderby and Mr. Grant cashiered. He is reported to 
 have become more reserved than ever, but it will divert 
 me to tame him, and I shall not dislike his singularity 
 if he relaxes only to me. Mr. Grant is over-anxious to 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 129 
 
 please, which takes away the zest of uncertainty in try- 
 ing to fascinate him." 
 
 " I am not sure that he is quite such a captive knight 
 as formerly, and indeed his motto very prohably is * qui 
 me neglige me perd ;' for, judging by his manner this 
 morning, I should say that he really seems to feel what 
 you wish him to do, no more than the kindness and re- 
 gard of an old friend." 
 
 Eleanor looked startled and astonished at these words, 
 for she entertained the highest opinion of her cousin's 
 penetration, and was aware of her perfect candour in 
 always saying precisely what she thought ; while Ma- 
 tilda felt confirmed, from this moment, in suspecting 
 that, though Eleanor's vanity delighted in conquests of 
 superior calibre, yet her secret aflfections had long since 
 been bestowed on Mr. Grant. The extraordinary viva- 
 city of his manner had a fascination not very common in 
 persons of such gay and eccentric conversation, on ac- 
 count of the high tone of feeling in his character, which 
 became obvious even to Eleanor, for it was not always in 
 his power to conceal the sensibiUty of his nature, and to 
 make it harmonize with that reckless indifference which 
 he usually affected towards every thing but the caprice 
 of the present hour. 
 
 " Mr. Grant must be in a strange state of suspense," 
 observed Eleanor, absently. " It has been long conjec- 
 tured, £ind seems now confirmed, that Sir Evan is not 
 really married to the person who has resided at Clanpi- 
 broch Castle for twenty years past. She lives there yet 
 in that state of wretched uncertainty respecting her chil- 
 dren's station in life which the Scottish law unfortu- 
 nately allows. Her son may either be a beggarly out- 
 cast, without a house to shelter him, without food, 
 without a profession, without education, without even 
 
130 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 a name ; or he may be raised in a moment to the rank 
 of his father, and succeed at once to those immense 
 estates. All this depends on the whim of that tyranni- 
 cal man, Sir Evan, and upon the slavish submission 
 with which the unfortunate woman endures his conduct 
 to herself and to her family. It is a pitiable situation 
 for any one with human feelings thus to witness, in 
 silence, the degradation of those whom she loves with a 
 mother's tenderness, while she dares not, for their sakes, 
 on any provocation, relieve herself from the yoke of 
 perpetual bondage." 
 
 " It seems indeed the most miserable state that one 
 can well conceive, and if a single sentiment of remorse 
 were ever, under present circumstances, to visit her heart, 
 what a fearful struggle of conscience might ensue while 
 she hesitated whether to plunge her children into irre- 
 trievable ruin in this world, or to continue in that 
 course of sin which would destroy her own hopes of 
 happiness in another. I cannot but wonder that a law 
 which has originally facilitated the ruin of many, and 
 kept them afterwards in a state of such prolonged endu- 
 rance, has never yet claimed attention from the legisla- 
 ture and been at once repealed." 
 
 " Yes ! especially for the sake of nephews and cou- 
 sins, who must often be many years in agonizing sus- 
 pense, to know whether they may squander every 
 shilling without reserve, and borrow to an unlimited 
 extent on the strength of their prospects ; or whether, 
 .when the old gentleman at last expires, and they fly 
 out in a state of inconsolable grief to bury him and to 
 take possession of the estate, a whole battalion of sons 
 may not unexpectedly march in as heirs of entail, on 
 the strength of some verbal acknowledgement from the 
 deceased. It is really intolerable, because Mr. Grant, 
 
THE 3IARCH OF INTELLECT. 131 
 
 with the Clanpibroch property, might have made a very 
 presentable paragraph in the Morning Post, and I 
 need not have been ashamed to see myself announced 
 as a ' marriage in high life' with Sir Thomas of that 
 ilk." 
 
 "■ Would you marry for an advertisement in the news- 
 papers, Eleanor ? I think we are both above doing that ; 
 but I really admire Mr. Grant's independent spirit in 
 declining to visit at Clanpibroch Castle while his uncle 
 continues to live so disreputably." 
 
 " On the contrary, I think he plays his cards ex- 
 tremely ill, for they say he has not the shadow of a 
 chance now ; and that when any of his letters are, by 
 mistake, directed to Clanpibroch Castle, Sir Evan re- 
 turns them to the post-office, and writes on the back 
 with his own hand, ' not known here I' 
 
 " Miss Murray related to me yesterday some particu- 
 lars of their final quarrel, which showed an admiral)le 
 instance of generous independence. Sir Evan always 
 used to treat Mr. Grant as his possible heir till lately, 
 when, by an act of extreme benevolence, he was led to 
 incur the old gentleman's utmost rancour. Sir Evan's 
 eldest daughter, a very beautiful girl of eighteen, had 
 become attached to young Cameron of Hetherbrae, 
 who would, you know, be a most eligible match for her 
 under present circumstances, though, for an acknow^ 
 ledged daughter of the family, he might not be suitable. 
 Her father harshly forbade the marriage, without any 
 adequate reason for doing so ; and when the poor girl 
 persevered in importuning him on the subject, he be- 
 came so violently irritated, that, in a moment of uncon- 
 trollable anger, he turned her out of his house. The 
 unfortunate mother dared not interfere, or she and all 
 
 her family might have been obliged to follow ; so her 
 
 5 
 
132 MODERN SOCIETY ; OB, 
 
 daughter departed utterly homeless and forlorn. It 
 was impossible to anticipate what she could do, but Mr. 
 Grant heard the whole circumstances, and instantly 
 hastened to her relief. He placed her under safe guar- 
 dianship with a respectable family, commissioned Miss 
 Murray to supply her with necessaries, and after having 
 vainly endeavoured to mediate for Sir Evan's consent 
 and forgiveness, he promised to be present at the 
 wedding himself next month. Since then, the old 
 gentleman has been heard to make vows of summary 
 vengeance, which can be executed any day by acknow- 
 ledging his three sons, and cuttiug out your friend, Mr. 
 Grant." 
 
 " Foolish man !" exclaimed Eleanor, in a tone be- 
 tween jest and earnest. " He might have done the 
 same thing in some sneaking, clandestine way that 
 never would have reached Clanpibroch Castle ; but Mr. 
 Grant always acts upon impulse, without a grain of 
 discretion. He might probably be heir to Lady Susan 
 Danvers, if he would only call her young and handsome, 
 instead of teasing her with practical jokes, and hinting 
 continually about ' Ocean's many-wrinkled smile,' and 
 Marshal Blue-hair's japan blacking for the hair and eye- 
 brows. She is very harsh to some pretty young niece 
 whose cause he espouses, and that is his reason for tor- 
 menting her. There is nothing half so frightful as a de- 
 cayed beauty who will not grow old ; and it used to be 
 remarked of Lady Susan Danvers and her late sister, 
 that the one was too beautiful to be good, and the other 
 too good to be beautiful ? I wonder if that is ever said 
 of us, Matilda ?" 
 
 '' I shall be perfectly satisfied with the paii; you pro- 
 bably assign to me," replied her cousin, with a smile of 
 so much archness and good-humour that a transient 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 133 
 
 doubt crossed Eleanor's mind whether her own claim 
 to admiration could be superior, and a bitter feeling of 
 jealousy towards Matilda, which was seldom dormant 
 in the heiress's mind, now took entire possession of her 
 thoughts. It seemed strange that there could be any 
 one for a self-satisfied person like Eleanor to envy ; but 
 it was the case from her childhood, and Miss Marabout 
 had early nursed that feeling, which grew stronger and 
 more irritable every day. Of all the rankling pains 
 which a human heart can experience, that of envy is, 
 next to remorse, the most painful. It has not the dig- 
 nity of anger, it receives not the sympathy which grief 
 excites, and it must not be acknowledged even to our- 
 selves, for the meanest of mankind might despise him- 
 self for feeling it, and the proudest is degraded by a 
 conviction that there lives another in whom any thing 
 appears superior to himself. 
 
 Matilda continued to talk with vivacity and humour 
 during the continuance of their drive, though she could 
 not but observe with surprise the peevish, consequential 
 expression which her cousin's countenance gradually 
 assumed ,• for little did she imagine that Eleanor already 
 looked upon her as a rival for admiration among the 
 guests now assembled at Barnard Castle, and that her 
 mind was occupied in planning every expedient by which 
 her companion might be kept in the background and 
 mortified into silence and obscurity during the following 
 week. While Matilda's heart, therefore, glowed with 
 every amiable and affectionate emotion towards her 
 cousin, and while her spirits were buoyant with antici- 
 pated pleasure, it was fortunate for her own happiness 
 that she could not, on the present occasion, see " that 
 hideous sight, a naked human heart." 
 
134 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Dropping buckets into empty wells, 
 
 And growing old in drawing nothing up. 
 
 " Ah ! Lady Susan Danyers is arrived !" cried Elea- 
 nor, as the carriage slowly turned round a broad sheet 
 of gravel which expanded before the house ; " there she 
 is, as gay and fine as a perfumer's wig-block, staring 
 out of the window. How Mr. Grant made me laugh 
 yesterday with an account of her travels abroad, when 
 she refused to marry ever so many ex-kings, counts, 
 and cardinals ! Poor Lady Susan is so frequently in- 
 vited to second-rate Edinburgh parties, on account of her 
 rank being ornamental, that he means to suggest a plan 
 for her being let out by the job, and turning an honest 
 penny by it. In ordinary dress she is worth so much— 
 in diamonds and feathers double the price ; but when 
 she keeps her father's coroneted carriage waiting at the 
 door, she deserves any money." 
 
 '' It is said that, in Mrs. Glass's Receipt-Book, or 
 Hints on Etiquette, I forget which, you may find a 
 prescription for assembling the most agreeable dinner- 
 party imaginable. Get a lawyer to talk, a beauty to 
 excite interest, a traveller to tell stories, and a peer to 
 give it eclat ; but, by your account. Lady Susan might 
 serve in nearly all these capacities at once." 
 
 " So she does ! For instance. Lady Montague, our 
 opposite neighbour, gives only three dinners in a sea- 
 son, which take place on three days running ; so my 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 
 
 135 
 
 great amusement is to watch her party arriving. The 
 first day, a coronet is emblazoned on every pannel ; the 
 second day, gentlemen's carriages arrive with only sup- 
 porters ; and the third day, nothing is to be seen but 
 hackney- coaches full of poor relations ; but I was amused 
 to observe, that Lady Susan is always present at the 
 whole of them, first to be pleased herself at the great 
 party, and then that she may give dignity to the inferior 
 ones." 
 
 A perfect uproar of joy took place between Eleanor 
 and her newly arrived visitor when they met, and the 
 barking of lap-dogs was scarcely louder or more vocife- 
 rous than the clamour of their voices, while compliments, 
 inquiries, reproaches, and protestations of regard were 
 exchanged in rapid and animated succession. A slight 
 bow of recognition was all that Lady Susan bestowed 
 upon Miss Howard, followed by that deliberate stare of 
 a cold examining eye, which is, above all inflictions, the 
 most formidable in society to a person of sensitive feel- 
 ings ; therefore, being anxious to escape from notice 
 which was so little conciliatory, Matilda gracefully re- 
 turned the acknowledgment, and quietly seated herself 
 by the fire. 
 
 " How very thin you are become. Lady Susan !" ex- 
 claimed Eleanor, with well-assumed consternation, for 
 she knew that her friend lived in perpetual vexation be- 
 cause her embonpoint was beyond what suited with any 
 pretensions to young lady ism. *' You must be fed up in 
 the Highlands for the credit of our mountain air, and 
 not leave Barnard Castle, till you can scarcely get out at 
 the door." 
 
 " Bien obligee ! but you shall positively not make a 
 prize- ox of me. I am, as you say, in very good train- 
 
136 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 ing at present. Not quite reduced enough yet, but very- 
 little more would satisfy me." 
 
 " Why;, Lady Susan ! what more would you have ! 
 I declare you must be in a rapid consumption already !" 
 replied Eleanor, undauntedly fixing her satirical eye on 
 the broad expanse of her visitor's well-rounded figure. 
 " I once died of laughing at the theatre, when a skeleton 
 was brought on the stage by Harlequin, who fed it up 
 till the figure gradually became corpulent and fattened 
 into a London alderman ; but we must try a similar ex- 
 periment here wdthout delay, or you will vanish alto- 
 gether ; so ladies ! come to luncheon, and if you cannot 
 eat with an appetite, you may at least eat with a knife 
 and fork." 
 
 On their return to the drawing-room, Matilda felt as 
 if she had become suddenly invisible during a long con- 
 versation which ensued between Lady Susan Danvers 
 and Eleanor, neither of whom seemed to contemplate the 
 probability of her assisting the dialogue. It was chiefly 
 carried on sotto voce, though such parts as she overheard 
 amused and interested her so much, that, to prevent 
 the appearance of being sullen or irritable, she took out 
 some drawing materials, and resigned herself to silence, 
 while the others sat down in that nothing-particular-to- 
 do sort of way in which most ladies at country-houses 
 pass large proportion of their time. 
 
 " Now, Miss Fitz- Patrick, pray tell me who I am 
 to meet this morning ?" asked Lady Susan, with an air 
 of expectation. " The house, you tell me, is fuller than 
 it can hold, so there are probably twenty odd people at 
 least" 
 
 " All our old set are here. Lady Montague, with 
 Adelaide and Mary, who are dull and silent as usual ; 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 137 
 
 they can do nothing, you know, but look pretty ; — Mrs. 
 Clifford and her three indisposable daughters, who have 
 set up for being * an attached family/ which is the sort 
 of thing I have no patience for, one sister taking you 
 aside to praise the other in confidence. Colonel Pen- 
 darvis of the Blues anived yesterday, and Sir Colin 
 Fletcher, larger than life." 
 
 " Ah, poor Sir Colin ! I was introduced to him seve- 
 ral years ago, and we have never exchanged a syllable 
 since, but he has the trouble of bowing to me almost 
 every day when we pass in the street. I owe him a hat 
 for the number of times he has taken his off to me ; and 
 if I go to ten parties in a night, he is the first person I 
 meet at them all. It was impossible to know when one 
 might begin to give up the acquaintance, in case of 
 looking as if I had taken something amiss, which could 
 not well be, seeing we had no intercourse ; but now I 
 shall either improve our intimacy or get up a quarrel, 
 to save the trouble of nodding my head like a Chinese 
 mandarin every day." 
 
 "Sir Colin gives papa a great deal of additional exercise 
 in Edinburgh, for my father invariably rounds the cor- 
 ner of the nearest street on catching a distant glimpse 
 of his portly figure. Major Foley of the 10th came 
 here this morning also. He is still the Beau Fribble of 
 an old comedy in his dress and conversation, with such 
 a look of conscious beauty that I can scarcely resist 
 laughing. His face would do best under a bonnet, and 
 his curls are so elaborately studied, that every hair 
 seems to be on special duty ; yet, in my opinion, your 
 cousin Mr. Grant's head looks ten times better, which 
 always seems to have been dressed by accident. Apropos ! 
 I am happy to tell you that he is arrived." 
 
 '• Tom Grant ! !" exclaimed Lady Susan, in a tone of 
 
138 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 alarm and vexation. " I shall leave the house to-mor- 
 row I What could possess him to come here at this sea- 
 son ? If I have an aversion in the world, it is for him. 
 The most troublesome^ mischievous, and satirical of 
 human beings, whom it is impossible to keep at a dis- 
 tance." 
 
 " I never heard of any one before who wished to do so ! 
 Mr. Grant is universally popular in society ; and I am 
 certain, if ladies returned a member to Parliament, he 
 would be unanimously elected. But," continued Elea- 
 nor, seeing that Lady Susan's observant eyes were fixed 
 on her with a penetrating stare, " if you have any 
 infallible prescription for repulsing forward people, pray 
 furnish me with it instantly. I am inflicted at present 
 with a guest in this house whom no power on earth can 
 possibly aflront or dislodge. He was an unwelcome 
 visitor here last summer, merely tolerated as an old 
 friend of Sir Philip's, but nothing could convince him 
 that we were not delighted at his arrival and inconsolable 
 when he departed. He kept repeatedly promising to 
 return, though no one ever asked him, and here he is 
 arrived again with a thousand apologies for not coming 
 sooner, and a promise to make up for that by remaining 
 as long as possible. He is more at home than myself, 
 and more unwelcome than a rat in a hole ; but I fear 
 that the gamekeeper, who is engaged to keep down ver- 
 min, will scarcely rid me of Mr. Armstrong." 
 
 " Sinbad's old man of the sea was nothing to this ! 
 Could you not have the door of his room locked some 
 night, and 'forget to let him out ?" 
 
 " I would have tried it, certainly, but you know papa 
 is so good natured, he hates making enemies, and Mr. 
 Armstrong adopts a strange way of hinting as if we owed 
 him obligations. He has a very mean sheep-stealing 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 139 
 
 look, and probably wants to impose some absurd story 
 upon us ; but it cannot be endured much longer, for 
 there never was any one so tiresome. He sits from morn- 
 ing till night in that Spanish chair by the fire, whistling 
 a tune and tattooing on the table ; perfectly well dressed, 
 with clean gloves, and so forth, but not a thing to do. 
 lie neither shoots, nor fishes, nor reads, but is for ever 
 in the way, always expecting to be spoken to and enter- 
 tained. Why he comes, or when he goes away, no one 
 can possibly guess." 
 
 *' Is he a man of fortune and family ?" asked Lady 
 Susan, who was never known to omit these two import- 
 ant inquiries respecting any gentleman under discussion. 
 
 " Oh dear no ! Mr. Armstrong is one of the most re- 
 markable men living in these respects ! He began the 
 world with no .visible means of existence and no con- 
 nexions, yet he has lived well and frequented the best 
 Company all his life. Not a conjecture can be formed 
 what are his resources, except that people allege he lives 
 by a curious sort of jobbing ; and Mr. Grant assures me 
 that Sir Philip was actually sold by him to the picture- 
 dealers abroad. Mr. Armstrong had mastered the whole 
 jargon of the trade, and he showed ofit' so much fastidi- 
 ous criticism, that my grand- uncle became fully impressed 
 with his unimpeachable judgment ; half the trash in my 
 lumber room is of his selection ; and your cousin tells 
 me there is not a bad picture to be got now at Florence, 
 because Sir Philip bought them all up. Mr. Arm- 
 strong's father was a law-agent in Edinburgh, who 
 allowed his son to travel for three years in Italy, after 
 which it was expected that the hopeful youth w^ould 
 settle to the same profession; but, when he returned 
 from abroad, with his head running on operas and paint- 
 ings, no consideration could confine his soaring spirit to 
 
140 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 the desk. Accordingly his second brother, who had been 
 more judiciously trained for business, sat down upon the 
 vacant stool and became a pettifogging scribe, who did 
 all sorts of odd jobs for Sir Philip, and often managed 
 what he called ' waff cases/ He died suddenly, about 
 a month after my uncle, but without leaving any for- 
 tune, and his dilettante brother succeeded to little more 
 than papers and parchments. 
 
 "But here comes my ci-devant governess, whom it is 
 very diverting to tease, by pretending that Mr. Arm- 
 strong remains on her account. To say the truth, she 
 rather likes the joke, for you know. Lady Susan, that 
 when ladies come to be of no particular age, they are 
 pleased with the smallest remnant of an admirer, and 
 after thirty we get into the afternoon of life. Ah, 
 Miss Marabout ! I was talking of you, and Lady Susan 
 is shocked to hear what an example of cruelty is set 
 before me in respect to my lovers. Poor Mr. Arm- 
 strong ! he seemed inconsolable at breakfast this morn- 
 ing, and could not eat above three muffins. I observed 
 him look exceedingly sentimental when he asked you to 
 sweeten his tea, and there was something very forbidding 
 in your way of offering him the toast. By the way, 
 there were some tender messages left for you when he 
 walked out to-day, whistling as usual the air, as far as 
 I could follow it, of ' Oh no ! we never mention her.' " 
 
 Miss Marabout attempted to execute a blush and a sim- 
 per on the most approved boarding-school pattern, while 
 she looked so exquisitely conscious, that Eleanor, who 
 watched her countenance with keen enjoyment, gave Lady 
 Susan a look expressive of satirical humour, very similar 
 to that with which she often clandestinely imparted to 
 her governess some jest against others which they mu- 
 tually shared. Matilda's attention was in the mean time 
 
THE 3IARCH OF INTELLECT. 14l 
 
 diverted from the scene before her by a perpetual, annoy- 
 ance from Lady Susan's three little Blenheim spaniels^ 
 which were constantly fighting or playing under the 
 table where she sat, causing such a vibration as occa- 
 sionally threatened the total overthrow of her drawing 
 materials, till at length one of them began barking so 
 violently that further conversation became utterly im- 
 possible. 
 
 *^ Excuse me, Miss Howard," said Lady Susan, affect- 
 edly, " my darling Tiny cannot bear to be looked at." 
 
 " "What a modest dog !" exclaimed Matilda, un- 
 able to help laughing ; — " but she is certainly a great 
 beauty !" 
 
 '' Yes I" said Eleanor, " Tiny has quite the air of a 
 dog of fashion, and such a friendly way of putting her 
 paw upon my arm, as if she really could speak, and had 
 something confidential to say." 
 
 " Dear httle creatures ! they are very attaching I Posi- 
 tively, Tiny becomes so melancholy during my absence 
 that Dentelle and I take it by turns now to remain at 
 home from church on alternate Sundays, that she may 
 not be dull." 
 
 A long conversation ensued between the two friends 
 on the good qualities of their respective pets, while in- 
 numerable anecdotes were told of their sagacity and 
 affection. Dogs, long since deceased, were remembered 
 and deplored with melancholy regret, and the infirmities 
 and distempers of others still living were described and 
 lamented, with expressions of interest and pity which 
 might have been applied to their dearest friends in simi- 
 lar circumstances. The medical treatment of their com- 
 plaints was anxiously considered, the variety of their 
 tastes discussed, and many unpleasant endurances they 
 each boasted of having put up with from the canine race. 
 
142 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY : OR, 
 
 ■which would have caused a fellow-creature to be banish- 
 ed with disgust from their sitting-rooms. In short, it 
 appeared as if the two ladies had formed a conspiracy 
 to render dogs at least equal to mankind, if not superior. 
 Before the endless subject seemed more than begun^ the 
 door suddenly opened, and a head appeared, exhibiting 
 an expression of laughing animation which Murillo 
 might have vainly attempted to copy. 
 
 *' I must pay my devoirs to Lady Susan ! How is 
 my pretty cousin Mary? Have you forgiven me our 
 last rencontre ?" — cried Mr. Grant, not advancing a 
 step. " No answer ? then I must decamp, for the most 
 agreeable personage in the world is a certain lady in good 
 humour, who is the very reverse otherwise." 
 
 '' Come in," replied Lady Susan ; '' you are not one 
 that it is prudent to quarrel with, so we must endea- 
 vour to endure you." 
 
 " ' For better and for worse ?' But I dare not come 
 forward yet ! We are over head and ears in mud — a 
 famous run — fifteen miles straight across the country, 
 and killed near Dewkesbury lane." 
 
 " Do advance, and tell me all about it," said Eleanor, 
 impatiently. '^ What are you afraid of ?" 
 
 " A charge from the whole troop of housemaids, com- 
 manded by old Mrs. Gordon," answered Mr. Grant, ap- 
 proaching on tiptoe : " If she knew of my being here in 
 this plight, her good opinion of me would be forfeited 
 for ever; and I have it upon authority that she was 
 heard to pronounce my panegyric as a very safe person 
 in the house, never elevating my feet on the sofas, nor 
 passing any one of her innumerable mats without doing 
 homage." 
 
 ^^ I like to see poor Mrs. Gordon's esj^rit du corps,'* 
 said Matilda. " She makes as great a commotion about 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 143 
 
 the mark of a footstep on the staircase as ever Robin- 
 son Crusoe did when he traced one on the sand." 
 
 " I met with a curious specimen of professional enthu- 
 siasm from my maid when we last came from London in 
 the steam-boat," said Lady Susan. *' We had a perfect 
 storm — the sea running mountains high — the sails no 
 larger than pocket-handkerchiefs— two men lashed to 
 the helm " 
 
 " Yes !" interrupted Mr. Grant ; " and the ladies 
 quite fatigued working at the pumps." 
 . " Very sublime, and extremely terrifying, I assure 
 you, when my maid rushed into the cabin, staggering 
 with the motion, and scarcely able to stand, while she 
 grasped in her hand a new cap, which she entreated me 
 to put on instantly. Almost bewildered at her earnest- 
 ness, I asked why she wished it. * Oh, my lady !' w^as 
 her reply, ' we are all going to the bottom, and I wish 
 you to be a decent corpse.' " 
 
 " That reminds me of our last meeting, Lady -Susan. 
 It really turned out a better joke than could have been 
 anticipated !" said Mr. Grant, with a laugh of exquisite 
 enjoyment. "You were a little near-sighted that day." 
 
 " Now, Mr. Grant ! I see you are dying to be asked 
 for the story, so pray give it us without delay," cried 
 Eleanor, eagerly. 
 
 " With all the pleasure in life, if I can only get 
 leave ! Your last head-dress. Lady Susan ! The scold 
 was enough to ^faire les cheveux dresser a la iete'" 
 
 " This is evidently a narrative founded on fiction," 
 said Matilda, pitying the alarm and irritation which were 
 visible in the lady's countenance. " We shall, perhaps, 
 read it in the next number of Hood's Comic Annual, 
 illustrated by Cruikshanks." 
 
 " Thank you for the hint, Miss Howard I" exclaimed 
 
144 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 Mr. Grant. " I protest it would do admirably ! In the 
 first page, I shall be represented storming with indig- 
 nation at Gianetti, the hairdresser's, because no one had 
 appeared in the shop to supply my wants. Then my 
 good cousin is seen slowly ascending the steps. I in- 
 stantly dart round to the opposite side of the counter, 
 throw off my hat, tie on a stray apron which happened 
 to be there, and prepare to obey orders ; but instead of 
 being asked, in dulcet tones^ for a bottle of Smith's 
 lavender water or of Rowland's Kalydor, which were all 
 that, in the innocence of my heart, I ever dreamed of 
 any young lady wanting at a perfumer's, there burst out 
 upon me such a discovery, and, though it was not in- 
 tended for me, such a scold !" 
 
 '' You deserved it, and ten times more ! I never 
 heard of any thing so atrocious !" exclaimed Eleanor, 
 in pretended indignation. " Mr. Grant, you are so fond 
 of odd tricks, that no one ever knows when you are in 
 the room, whether their heads are their own or not." 
 
 " The hair on their heads, you mean," whispered Mr. 
 Grantj aside, while his cousin was angrily endeavouring 
 to seem occupied with her dogs. " Lady Susan, you 
 know I am your best friend, and nothing promotes a 
 good understanding among relations half so much as 
 when they have a joke between them," 
 
 " If a joke is a good one, I enjoy it beyond any thing, 
 but there appears to me very little humour in this !" 
 
 '' I see a great deal of good-humour in it," replied 
 Mr. Grant, looking slyly at Lady Susan's irritated coun- 
 tenance. The unfortunate friseur made a hairbreadth 
 'scape, and I was terrified out of my few remaining 
 senses. 
 
 ' This put Mr. Frog in a terrible fright, 
 
 He took up his hat, and he wished them good night.' 
 
THE MARCH OP INTELLECT. 145 
 
 Now, pray forgive me, Lady Susan, for it makes me 
 wretched when we quarrel, considering all the obliga- 
 tions I owe you." 
 
 " Obligations !" exclaimed Lady Susan, in a tone of 
 perplexity ; " what may they be ?" 
 
 " Have you really forgotten your kindness to me 
 when I was a little boy ? Don't you remember all the 
 sugar-plums you gave me, and the whip with the red 
 handle, and a whistle at the end of it ?" 
 
 " I recollect nothing of the kind ! You have a most 
 fertile imagination, Mr. Grant ! but if we may judge 
 of the boy from the man, you certainly deserved the 
 whip, whether you ever got it or not." 
 
 Mr. Grant put his hand to his face, with a con- 
 tortion of pain, as if he really had suffered the lash, and 
 retreated towards a window. 
 
 " Ah ! here are Dr. and Miss Mun^ay arriving ! how 
 glad I shall be to meet them both ! It does my eyes 
 good to see such excellent people, and he is the only 
 clever man I ever liked. One cannot expect above once 
 in a century to see such a person !" 
 
 If Eleanor had been formerly disposed to venerate 
 this truly good man, she felt still more imprdSsed with a 
 sense of his excellence, from the sincerity and warmth 
 with which Mr. Grant expressed himself, and her beau- 
 tiful countenance glowed with animation as she hastened 
 forward to meet her guests. 
 
 " So you have ventured to see me at last, Dr. Murray ! 
 We thought you were never coming back ; and if there 
 had been no other way of prevailing on you to return, I 
 meant to personate a rheumatic old woman, and send, 
 in her name, an ill-spelled letter, requesting an interview, 
 knowing how seldom you pay visits, except in charity. 
 Miss Murray, I stopped at your gate this morning, and 
 
146 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 admired prodigiously all the improvements whicli are 
 going on there. You are doing a vast deal to embel- 
 lish the house and gardens." 
 
 " I see many great changes going on here, too." 
 " Ah I in my small way/' replied Eleanor. 
 '^ Small ! ! !" exclaimed her simple-hearted visitor, in 
 amazement. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Fitz-Patrick ! you are right," said Dr. 
 Murray, who perfectly understood the pride which was 
 veiled under an affected humility. " In scenes of such 
 natural splendour and magnitude as these, ' what is 
 man V "We are but insects scratching on the beautiful 
 face of nature." 
 
 " Or like the fly on the coach- wheel, saying, ' what 
 a dust I raise !' " added Mr. Grant. 
 
 <' A modem author gives the same idea in very strik- 
 ing language," said Dr. Murray. " ' Take some quiet 
 sober moment of life,' he says, ' and add together the 
 two ideas of pride and of man ; add them, if you can 
 without a smile. Behold him a creature of a span high, 
 strutting in infinite space, and darting disdain from his 
 eyes, in all the grandeur of littleness. Perched on a 
 little speck of the universe, he is rolled along the 
 heavens through a road of worlds, while systems and 
 creations are flaming above and beneath ; he is an atom 
 of atoms. Yet will this miserable creature revel in his 
 greatness, and mock at his fellow, sprung from that 
 same dust to which they both shall soon return.' " 
 
 " Yery striking indeed !" observed Eleanor, turning 
 heedlessly to Mr. Grant. " It is curious that we never 
 apply any remark to ourselves, for all the time Dr. Mur- 
 ray has been speaking I could not but wish that the 
 most high and mighty Sir Alfred Douglas had benefit- 
 ed by such a lecture on humility. I am told that 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 147 
 
 at parties abroad, he sometimes drew up to his full 
 height, and looked as if he meant to kick the universe 
 from under his feet." 
 
 " Wait till you know him as well as I do Miss Fitz- 
 Patrick, and then you may believe all those ridiculous 
 stories if you can" 
 
 '' I hope the state-room is ordered to be in readiness," 
 said Lady Susan, wishing to tease Mr. Grant, who had 
 a perfect enthusiasm for Sir Alfred. " It used to be 
 alleged that he complained of catching cold while air- 
 ing all the best beds in every house, because, somehow 
 or other, no one ever thought of placing him, in any ex- 
 cept their principal rooms." 
 
 " I beg his pardon then ; but no such hardships are 
 prepared for him here." 
 
 " How well I know the sort of lodgings which are 
 reserved for stray gentlemen in some country-houses," 
 observed Mr. Grant, laughing. " If there be a cracked 
 basin or a darned towel on the establishment, the house- 
 keeper is heard to say, ^ That may do for the bachelors' 
 rooms !' and wherever there exists an apartment with 
 its only window in the ceiling, or a mirror that distorts 
 your face like a paralytic stroke, it falls to our share. 
 At Clanpibroch Castle, the doors are all in a row, and 
 so exactly alike, that I hung my visiting card on the 
 handle at last, to prevent the intrusion, by mistake, of 
 half-a-dozen single gentlemen successively, who all 
 lodged on the same floor, and used to catch me ar- 
 ranging my last head-dress. Lady Susan." 
 
 A lively dialogue ensued between Eleanor and Mr. 
 Grant, during which Matilda enjoyed some interesting 
 conversation with Dr. Murray ; but Miss Fitz-Patrick at 
 length remembered, that it was her intention to fascinate 
 her newly arrived guests completely : so, breaking 
 
148 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 through her cousin's interview without ceremony, she 
 called them to accompany her in the usual routine of a 
 tour round the cabinets, conservatories, china, books, 
 and pictures. Dr. Murray followed, with the same 
 feeling of good-humoured indulgence which would have 
 led him to testify an interest in the toys of some pleas- 
 ing wayward child whom he wished to conciliate, but 
 yet in his remarks there appeared that perfect judg- 
 ment and good taste which characterised all he ever 
 said. 
 
 " You have never been here since my ancestors were 
 all hung, Dr. Murray," observed Eleanor, smiling defiance 
 to Matilda, who gravely shook her head, and resumed 
 her drawing, for the heiress had actually executed her 
 threat by giving them new names. " Poor Sir Philip 
 used to boast that his family never had a beginning and 
 never would have an end ; but that only reminds one 
 now of the old epitaph — 
 
 ' Here lies the Laird of Lundie. 
 Sic transit gloria mundi.' " 
 
 ^' How very unfortunate it was," remarked Miss Mur- 
 ray, " that he left no family." 
 
 *' Excuse me there ! I am far from agreeing with 
 you," said Eleanor, much diverted. '• This is Lord — 
 Lord Dumbartonshire, who was killed at Culloden. 
 The name seems to be written in gilt letters below the 
 left arm. My great-grandfather, you know." 
 
 " His uniform does not belong to a Scotch regiment," 
 observed Dr. Murray, fixing his thoughtful eyes on her 
 countenance ; *' there must surely be some mistake. 
 That inscription, too, is quite modern." • 
 
 " As for the dress, artists long ago never thought of 
 attending to that ; they carried about figures ready 
 painted, and added the head of any one who sat. A 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 149 
 
 lady with shoulders up to her ears, and her waist like 
 an alderman's wife, might choose the form of a sylph, 
 and my great-grandfather probahly preferred the uniform 
 of the Guards to his own." 
 
 ^' I admire truth and accuracy in every thing," said 
 Dr. Murray, passing on to inspect the succeeding pictures. 
 
 " They are vastly genteel," said Miss Murray, in a 
 complaisant tone. " This is Queen Mary, I suppose, or 
 Cleopatra ?" 
 
 " No I that is Lord Ben-Nevis*s second wife ! I can- 
 not recollect what her name was." 
 
 " Lady Ben- Nevis, I suppose," replied Miss Murray. 
 
 "Now, who could have told you that I" cried Mr. 
 Grant, unable to help laughing at her simplicity. " But, 
 Miss Fitz-Patrick, there is some blunder here, for Lord 
 Ben-Nevis was only married once." 
 
 " Indeed you are mistaken — he lost two wives at 
 least." 
 
 " He may have lost as many as you please, but I am 
 certain he never married above one." 
 
 " You genealogists are all so obstinate ! This picture 
 must have been done for somebody, and it is as likely 
 to have been a Lady Ben-Nevis as any one else. That 
 is old Lady Betty, who was the greatest beauty of her 
 time, but the picture formerly served as a target for Sir 
 Philip to shoot at when he was a boy, so one eye and 
 the nose were gone ; but when we were in Edinburgh 
 last I sat to M'Innes, and had my own substituted, 
 which looks just as well, so now you will allow she is 
 handsomer than ever. Lady Betty made what was then 
 thought a mesalliance, in marrying Lord de Mainbury's 
 grandfather." 
 
 " Had he really a grandfather ?" asked Mr. Grant, 
 incredulously. 
 
150 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 " So it is reported ! and I have heard that when Mr- 
 de Mainbury married my great -aunt, he desired a coach- 
 maker to send pattern coats of arms, that he might 
 choose what looked best." 
 
 " Two salmon rampant for supporters, of course, as 
 all his wealth is derived from fisheries. Three sprats 
 gules, and for the crest a cod's head and shoulders." 
 
 " How I hate people to be satirical I" said Eleanor, 
 laughing, " Here is a picture I wish to have the pub- 
 lic opinion upon. Lady Susan^ we all know what a 
 connoisseur you are considered, ever since that week 
 you spent at Rome ; tell me then if this is a tolerable 
 daub or not ?" 
 
 The lady in question seemed pleased at this reference, 
 and, rolling up a sheet of paper in the form of a teles- 
 cope, she gazed through it with all the air of an acknow- 
 ledged critic. 
 
 "There are some good bits of colour here, but the 
 outline is defective, and not sufficient distance pre- 
 served. These tints are scarcely forcible enough, too ; 
 but that is a very clever mountain in the background, 
 and this light is well brought out. Altogether, it wants 
 breadth." 
 
 " I see plenty of breadth," interrupted Eleanor, slyly 
 directing her eye towards Lady Susan's own figure; 
 *' but there is rather a deficiency, I should say, of 
 depth." 
 
 " Do you advise Miss Fitz-Patrick to sit for her like- 
 ness to the artist who painted this, for I know she 'has 
 thoughts of doing it?" asked Mr. Grant, looking so arch 
 that Matilda felt sure he was devising mischief. " The 
 young man is now in this house, touching up some of 
 those portraits, and we think him a promising genius, 
 seeing his imitation of the antique so excellent." 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 151 
 
 " Tolerable !" replied Lady Susan, in a very dubious 
 tone, " but his painting wants relief ! the composition is 
 not correct. There is no poetry here I as for genius, the 
 less we say about that the better. Pray, Miss Fitz- 
 Patrick, never think of trusting your countenance to such 
 a mere plasterer." 
 
 '•Lady Susan, you are ruined for ever/' cried Mr. 
 Gi-ant, in an ecstacy of delight — " Why, that is Yan- 
 dyck's famous picture of the Sleeping Nymph I Did 
 you never hear that Sir Philip paid L.IOOO for it ? Oh 
 Lady Susan ! unfortunate Lady Susan !" 
 
 " Dr. Murray ! you are admiring nature instead of art 
 now. Is that view not magnificent ?" said Eleanor, fol- 
 lowing him to a distant window. " Each of these pros- 
 pects is different, and appears like a landscape hand- 
 somely framed. I have opened that plantation west- 
 wards, that we may see the sun setting every night 
 behind that hill of Benachscrocholet. Now, do observe 
 how completely I have mastered the Gaelic pronunci- 
 ation ! You will see me become quite a Highland chief! 
 but I cannot yet get seasoned to your northern blasts. 
 They kill one outright, and make me appear like a per- 
 fect heathen, for I can so seldom venture to church. 
 All those country kirks are so damp that Miss Marabout 
 and I catch cold every time we venture there. When 
 the weather reforms so shall I." 
 
 " Miss Fitz-Patrick !" said Dr. Murray, with mild 
 but impressive earnestness. " Pardon me if I estimate 
 my professional privileges too highly ; but believing as I 
 do, that a sacred duty is imposed on me towards yourself, 
 and seeing that hitherto no opportunity has been allowed 
 me of discharging it, I venture to say a few words, 
 trusting that they may be received as they are intended, 
 in all sincerity and kindness. You are now in the morn- 
 
152 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 ing of so bright and prosperous an existence, that amidst 
 the splendours of a scene like this, it is less to be won- 
 dered at, if you are so ready to confess indifference 
 towards those ordinances which remind us of another 
 and a better state. We are now contemplating the 
 portraits of those who long since lived, and felt, and 
 acted in these very chambers, and who called those dis- 
 tant hills their own. Each of them has been summoned 
 away, carrying no possession along with him but the 
 riches which he may have wisely laid up for himself. 
 They were stewards here, not proprietors, and they are 
 gone to give an account of their stewardship. You are 
 appointed for a time to the same office ; but in a few 
 short years, while yet those glorious scenes of nature 
 continue to proclaim their Maker's hand, and to shine as 
 brightly as before, these walls will resound with the 
 mirth of other voices, and you and I shall each be with- 
 drawn for ever, and called to our solemn reckoning. 
 You have been selected. Miss Fitz Patrick, by the Mas- 
 ter whom I serve to be an object of His peculiar bounty ; 
 and in placing you thus conspicuously, as a city set on a 
 hill, and in gifting you with all that might add personal 
 to family influence, He will expect of the ten talents 
 committed to your care a very faithful and a very awful 
 reckoning." 
 
 Dr. Murray continued to address Eleanor for some 
 time with all that could touch her feelings, on the duties 
 and responsibilities of a present life, and finished with a 
 solemn appeal to the fears and the hopes for eternity, 
 which stand in awful contrast before the Christian mind. 
 " Consider, my young friend," said he in conclusion, 
 " that we perish not like blossoms that flutter and dis- 
 appear in the autumn breeze ; but that ours is a des- 
 tiny more permanent, and if we will, more glorious than 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 153 
 
 that of the perpetual stars in the firmament above ; do 
 not then think it a trifling consideration which may be 
 lightly set aside, whether you are preparing to spend 
 those eternal ages in hopeless repentance, or in a degree 
 of felicity which eye hath not seen, and the heart of man 
 has never been able to conceive." 
 
 Eleanor's colour rose while Dr. Murray addressed her 
 in tones of impressive interest. Her look became down- 
 cast, her eyes filled with tears, the proud, consequential 
 aspect of her countenance gradually subsided into an 
 expression of softness, and she silently gave him her 
 hand. 
 
 " Can you. Miss Fitz-Patrick, amongst a multitude 
 of flatterers, suffer one faithful, uncompromising friend ?" 
 continued he, earnestly. '^ I feel myself the appointed 
 guardian of each individual in this widely extended 
 parish ; and it would be well if I might occasionally 
 speak the words of truth and soberness to her whose 
 influence and example will have such weight among the 
 objects of my continual solicitude and prayers." 
 
 " I once had such a friend as you describe," replied 
 Eleanor, in a tone of unusual sensibility. " I still need 
 one. Dr. Murray,^ and though the blessing was not suf- 
 ficiently valued formerly, let us hope that now I may 
 prove deserving of it." 
 
 Eleanor believed herself sincere in saying this, and 
 to a certain extent she was. Deeply impressed by the 
 glowing eloquence of his manner, and conscious of Dr. 
 Murray's exalted character, she had long desired the 
 esteem of one whose regard was indeed an honour, since 
 it could be acquired by nothing but personal worth. 
 While he laid before her the utter insignificance of all 
 earthly distinctions, she felt for the moment as if they 
 had vanished from her afi*ections, and as if she might 
 yet learn to view them in due subservience to the will 
 
154 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 and to the service of her Maker. A deep conviction 
 rushed into her mind of the inability which she had 
 recently felt to derive happiness or peace from the fullest 
 indulgence of every vain and extravagant inclination ; 
 and the contrast forced itself upon her thoughts between 
 Matilda's serenity and cheerfulness in every changing 
 scene, while her own bosom was agitated with torturing 
 emotions of envy and worldly ambition. The ennui 
 and weariness which she had suffered in the absence of 
 any object sufficiently important to occupy her whole 
 desires, now recurred to her recollection with irresistible 
 conviction ; and while Dr. Murray pursued his subject 
 with rising energy, it seemed to Eleanor's mind as if 
 she were gradually awakening from a stormy dream, 
 and that peace, like moonlight on the face of the waters, 
 had again revisited her bosom. But the world does not 
 thus easily lose hold of its votary. Many a struggle 
 takes place before it has been sufficiently weighed in the 
 balance to be found wanting. Many a tear of penitence 
 is shed before we feel that repentance which shall never 
 need to be repented of. Many a resolution formed, before 
 divine grace is sought to render it permanent. Who 
 has not experienced the powerful effects of eloquent 
 preaching on his own heart, rendering every desire and 
 every pursuit that might seem likely to oppose the stream 
 of exhortation like straws on the tide ; but while yet only 
 descending the steps which lead from the altar, his holy 
 dispositions have been put to sleep, his good intentions 
 dispersed, and the seriousness of his thoughts exchanged 
 for all that levity and forgetfulness in which he has long 
 indulged ? It was thus with Eleanor. She seemed to 
 have gazed for a moment through the telescope of faith, 
 and with startling vividness to have brought eternity 
 close to her eye, but in a moment she looked around and 
 all was forgotten. 
 
THE MARCH OP INTELLECT. 155 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Ere triflers half their wish obtain, 
 The toiling pleasure sickens into pain. 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 " Miss Fitz-Patrick !" cried Lady Susan Danvers, 
 in a tone of girlish vivacity, '' do come this way, and 
 look at the sportsmen galloping home across the park. 
 They resemble a field of scarlet poppies in a breeze of 
 wind !" 
 
 " Strike me poetical ! — what brilliant simile was 
 that !" exclaimed Mr. Grant, taking out his pocket- 
 book and pencil ; " I must make a memorandum of it 
 for my next publication — puppies did you say ?" 
 
 " Well, Miss Fitz-Patrick, Sir Richard gave me a 
 capital mount I the horse as quiet as an old cow," said 
 Mr. Armstrong, entering with the other gentlemen, and 
 putting himself first. ^^ Here I am, returned on your 
 hands like a bad shilling I" 
 
 " So I think I" replied Eleanor, dryly. " We must 
 endeavour to pass you as soon as possible." 
 
 " I suppose your subscription to the hounds was paid 
 in advance to-day, Mr. Armstrong ?" asked Mr. Grant, 
 gravely. " We generally expect it to be so from 
 strangers." 
 
 " Subscription ! ! — what do you mean, sir ?" 
 
 " You don't say that the master of the hounds let* 
 
156 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 you join without first settling with him !" repHed Mr. 
 Grant, assuming an air of well-feigned astonishment. 
 " Any one going out for a day is considered the same as 
 a whole season. You are free of the pack now, hut I can 
 tell you there is no getting off without tabling the mo- 
 ney — fifty guineas." 
 
 " But a stranger, who is leaving the country in a few 
 days," interposed Eleanor, " could scarcely be asked to 
 giye such a sum. I shall speak to papa myself, Mr. 
 Armstrong, and tell him that, as you go so very soon"— 
 
 " Ah ! the sooner the better, if you wish to evade the 
 subscription/' added Mr. Grant. " It will be sent for, 
 probably, I should think, on Saturday next." 
 
 " I shall neither leave the place, nor pay any such 
 exaction," said Mr. Armstrong, stubbornly seating him- 
 self on the Spanish chair. " No trifle of that kind 
 would make me disappoint my friends when I have once 
 promised to stay with them; and all the hounds in 
 Britain will not drive me out of this snug corner, w^hile 
 I continue to be as welcome and as comfortable as T am 
 now." 
 
 " Ah, Major Foley !" cried Eleanor, turning away 
 with a grimace of chagrin ; " how do you do ?" 
 
 " How do I do ! — always well when I am near Miss 
 Fitz-Patrick." 
 
 " Colonel Pendarvis ! you were reported among the 
 killed and wounded in a desperate leap over my new 
 enclosure at Wolfdean this morning. Did you know, 
 that Major Foley was the original Snob mentioned in 
 the Quarterly Review ? — it is an undeniable likeness, so 
 he cannot disown it." 
 
 " I never disown any thing !" replied the Major. " If 
 you w^ere to allege that Lord Byron's Corsair was 
 toieant for me, or the Stout Gentleman, I should be 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 157 
 
 equally ready to personate either character that pleases 
 you." 
 
 " Not the Stout Gentleman ! we have him already ; — 
 and here he comes ; I know the creaking of his hoots at 
 any distance," said Eleanor, darting her satirical eye 
 at Lord Alderhy, who entered a moment afterwards. 
 " What an admirable horse yours is, my lord, for a light 
 weight ! — he seems very spirited too. I have read in 
 the Morning Post, these many years past, an advertise- 
 ment for a horse to cany ^ a heavy, timid gentleman.' 
 Can any body tell me who he is, or if there is more than 
 one V " 
 
 " I've seen thousands at Melton I" said Major Foley, 
 " the moment a man gets heavy he becomes timid. I 
 ride exactly ten stone eight myself." 
 
 " In that case, it is less a compliment to you than to 
 Alderhy or Fletcher, when Miss Fitz-Patrick remarks, 
 as she often does, that you are all worth your weight in 
 gold," said Mr. Grant. 
 
 " I wish we all had it I" cried Colonel Pendarvis. 
 " I am sure any one might read half- pay engraved on 
 my forehead, but none of you will take half-price for my 
 hunters. Foley, it is too bad of you asking such a price 
 for Flare-up, when every body knows I am a soldier of 
 fortune, meaning a soldier of no fortune at all, and that 
 I positively cannot afford it. You should be more con- 
 siderate towards a brother-oificer." 
 
 *' Colonel ! I perceive you want to out-general me in 
 our negotiation ; but it won't do !" 
 
 *' Are you parting with Flare-up, Major Foley ?" said 
 Eleanor, reproachfully. " I remember being so sorry 
 last year, when Sir Francis let you have his beautiful 
 chesnut, and to-day Lady Susan was remarking that 
 you looked almost handsome upon her/' 
 
158 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 " Pendarvis I the bargain is off I she would be cheap 
 at a thousand pounds if Miss Fitz-Patrick admires her. 
 I flatter myself we did make a pretty good appearance 
 on the field this morning I'' 
 
 *'Then you do flatter yourself prodigiously," inter- 
 rupted Mr. Grant. " Apropos of bargains, Pendar- 
 vis, let me tell you how famously I once did Sir Colin 
 out of a good mount, — he can't overhear us, does he ? 
 It is the only good story Fletcher never attempts to 
 tell. We were out with the Galewood hounds, and 
 I was on that slow, stumbling bay of mine that you 
 must remember — ' Dapper' we called him, on ac- 
 count of his clumsy proportions. Latterly it was 
 his custom, the instant he was spurred, to drop down 
 on his knees. Well ! Fletcher was riding past on Fire- 
 fly, when I stopped him and remarked what an extra- 
 ordinary instinct my hunter had, for he pointed at 
 game like a dog ! Sir Colin was of course incredulous 
 at first, but as I had privately observed a covey of 
 partridges near, I turned accidentally that way, and 
 when we came near them applied my spurs. Down 
 dropped Dapper, and up rose the partridges, so the 
 thing no longer admitted of a doubt. The old gentle- 
 man was instantly frantic to buy the horse on any 
 terms ; so I agreed to an immense price, without, of 
 course, intending to exact it, but one condition was, 
 that we should immediately exchange steeds. This he 
 was delighted to do, being impatient to try the powers 
 of his recent acquisition. Soon after we reached a 
 stream — Dapper attempted to drink, and Sir Colin 
 spurred him on — so, as usual, he fell on his knees in the 
 water, while I galloped off in triumph, exclaiming, 
 ' Holloa I Fletcher ! that's a salmon ?' " 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 159 
 
 " Lord de Mainbury," said Eleanor, ' how many 
 foxes were put out of their misery to-day ?" 
 
 " Only one ! we set off the second time with a fine 
 burst over the hill of Benachray, skirted Glenalpine for 
 several miles, and lost scent at Boghill ; so the hounds 
 did not find again all day." 
 
 "They had no nose owing to the damp ground," 
 added Mr. Grant. " It was all that the huntsmen could 
 do to prevent them going in full cry through Gaelfield, 
 after the little brown spaniel which followed Lady Susan's 
 carriage." 
 
 "Surely they would not have attacked her?' cried 
 she, in accents of horror and alarm. " Poor dear Tiny ! 
 impossible !" 
 
 " Depend upon it they would have discussed her in 
 the twinkling of a bed-post," answered Mr. Grant; 
 " hounds will attack any thing ! Did you never hear 
 that a pack in Ireland once devoured an old woman ?" 
 
 " They could only be Irish hounds to commit such a 
 blunder !" said Eleanor, laughing. 
 
 " How very sad," observed Miss Murray. " People 
 should not hunt if such things are likely to happen." 
 
 " I hope the whole pack was hanged I" exclaimed 
 Lady Susan, indignantly. 
 
 "Riders included? we should have all deserved it 
 if ' dear Tiny' had suffered to-day," replied Mr. Grant, 
 watching his cousin's angry countenance. " She had a 
 narrow escape." 
 
 " I don't believe a word of it ! — you are in jest I 
 Now do not play upon my feelings, but tell me truly, 
 was dearest Tiny in real danger ? ' 
 
 " Imminent, I assure you I Hounds are known to 
 kill dogs sometimes, and cats often. I have observed an 
 old woman, spectacles on nose, knitting at her cottage 
 
160 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 door, with poor puss purring by her side — quite a pas- 
 toral scene — and the hounds have made a meal of her 
 before we could cry Tally-ho.' " 
 
 " Of the old woman ?" exclaimed Miss Murray-, in 
 accents of consternation. 
 
 " To be sure !" interposed Eleanor, preventing Mr. 
 Grant from setting her right. " Nothing was left but 
 the knitting- pins and spectacles, which I have seen 
 frequently. Are they, by good chance, in your pocket, 
 Mr. Grant ?" 
 
 *' De Mainbury I I remember well what an escape 
 you once made at Beverley," said Sir Richard. " Ha- 
 ving outstripped the whole field, and come in for the 
 death, you dismounted to secure the brush, and were 
 exercising your whip in fine style, when suddenly the 
 hounds left the fox, and turned upon you ! A minute 
 more would have done the business ! When I came up 
 with the huntsman, two or three were already at your 
 throat, and once down, there could have been no escape. 
 I never desire to see any one in such a predicament 
 again !" 
 
 '^ That reminds me of a story which was told many 
 years ago," began Sir Colin Fletcher, in a slow methodi- 
 cal tone, which gained little attention from the lively 
 circle around. '^ It seemed, you understand, as far as 
 I could ascertain, to be very authentic ; at least the 
 circumstances were never satisfactorily contradicted ; 
 and though I have told them frequently in many com- 
 panies, there is seldom any one to be met with who has 
 not heard the incidents already, which proves how uni- 
 versally they must be credited. Many of the party here 
 may know the particulars, yet" 
 
 ^' Pendarvis I" said Mr. Grant, breaking through Sir 
 Colin's endless preface. " What could induce you to 
 let that fat farmer ride a- head of you all day ? His 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 161 
 
 horse's heels must have laved the mud into your very 
 face. I see him noW;, in my mind's eye, riding on the 
 horse's neck, and pommelUng his flanks with a mon- 
 strous pair of spurs. Did' any one ever see such a 
 moving mountain !" 
 
 '' If a house had stood in his way, he would ha-ve 
 knocked it over," added the Colonel. " I believe he had 
 fifteen falls to-day." 
 
 " As for Foley," continued Mr. Grant, " he goes to 
 cover in review order, and the first splash on his boots 
 sends him home." 
 
 " You call yourself a sportsman, Grant I" retorted 
 the Major ; " but I appeal to Sir Richard whether this 
 was the proper order of precedence, as I saw it to-day : 
 The fox first, our friend here following, and the hounds 
 last I" 
 
 " Foley I name your place and hour !" said Mr. 
 Grant, joining in the laugh. *' But here comes Sir 
 Alfred Douglas, Bart., of Douglas Priory — M.P. that 
 shall be. The most distant roll of his chariot-wheels 
 has something so aristocratic in the sound that I cannot 
 be mistaken." 
 
 " I remember once being told that Pope Clement, or 
 Innocent the Fifteenth, issued a bull, setting forth that 
 the American Indians were to be considered human 
 beings," said Eleanor ; " but from all I hear, it would 
 be desirable if his Holiness were alive now, to remind 
 Sir Alfred that there are others of the same species as 
 himself." 
 
 " Has he really become so proud ?" asked Miss 
 Murray. " It seems but yesterday when I remember 
 him such a sweet, clever, little boy." 
 
 *' Fancy Douglas ! a sweet little boy, with a rattle 
 
162 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 and red slices I That could never have been possible ! 
 lie must have been born old," said Mr. Grant ; " but 
 never believe any thing you hear of Sir Alfred^ Miss 
 Murray, and only half what you see, for there is no man 
 on earth less understood." 
 
 " I can only say that he is the finest speaker in pub- 
 lic, and the scantiest talker in private, that I know. 
 He and I never hit it together at all," observed Major 
 Foley, arranging his favourite curl at the looking- 
 glass. '' Nothing could be finer, or more unex- 
 pected certainly, than that burst of eloquence when 
 he was presented to his constituents. It seemed amaz- 
 ing, too, how frankly he declared his sentiments, though 
 not very prudent. Considering the divided state of the 
 voters, I could have managed to humbug them better, 
 with a very little ambiguity and circumlocution, which 
 was all wanting in the speech of yesterday." 
 
 " For a ready answer I would back Sir Alfred against 
 the field any where," observed Sir Richard. " He is 
 sharp and short, like a carving-knife." 
 
 The gentlemen now gathered in a group at the win- 
 dow, and entered on an elaborate criticism of the baro- 
 net's four posthorses ; for no quadruped that ever en- 
 tered a stable is above or below the attention of sports- 
 men, w ho can trace a look of decayed grandeur in many 
 an old, broken- dow^n hack, and who find entertainment 
 in discussing the points of an ancient veteran with 
 scarcely a leg to stand on. 
 
 Meantime Eleanor stole a glance into the mirror — 
 the three Miss Cliffords each instinctively altered the 
 position of their bonnets — the Miss Montagues closed a 
 scrap-book with which they had been occupied — Miss 
 MuiTay put on her spectacles — Lady Susan called all 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 1G3 
 
 the dogs around her, and an air of general expectation 
 prevailed throughout the room, while Matilda alone 
 remained externally still ; yet her colour rose to the 
 most vivid carnation, and she bent more intently over 
 her drawing, while past emotions rushed into her me- 
 mory with such fresh remembrance, that it seemed but 
 yesterday since she had believed herself an object of 
 preference to Sir Alfred. A pang shot thiough her 
 mind when she anticipated that now, probably, like Mr. 
 Grant, he would meet her as a comparative stranger ; 
 and so much had been said of his pride and reserve, 
 that she neither expected, nor very much desired, a 
 renewal of their former intimacy, besides that she had 
 now learned not to hope for better memories in her old 
 friends than the habits of society rendered probable. 
 
 When the door was thrown open. Sir Kichard has- 
 tened forward, with animated cordiality, to welcome his 
 distinguished guest. " Ha ! my good friend I I rejoice to 
 see you here," cried he^ seizing Sir Alfred's hjind, who 
 patiently resigned it to be shaken. " Any news from 
 town ?" 
 
 The baronet replied in a low, confidential voice, and 
 after making a distant bow to Eleanor, and the other 
 ladies, he continued in deep conversation with Sir 
 Richard for a considerable time, while Matilda quietly 
 took the opportunity to make her remarks upon the 
 change which a year had made upon his person. Sir 
 Alfred's dress seemed remarkable for nothing but sim- 
 plicity. His appearance was dignified, but the expres- 
 sion of his countenance perfectly frank and open. His 
 eyes, large, dark, and intelligent, had an expression in 
 them of deep and serious thought, which harmonized 
 well with the strongly marked character of his forehead. 
 
164 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 and his clear, olive complexion, had become darkened 
 by the summer's sun of Italy since Matilda last saw 
 him. No studied attitudes, nor affected grimaces, be- 
 trayed any vanity or littleness of mind, but he acted 
 and spoke with a degree of calm self-possession which 
 nothing could disturb, while his mind became evidently 
 absorbed in whatever subject occupied his attention at 
 the moment. Matilda looked next at Sir Richard, and 
 was amused to observe the contrast, for such a variety of 
 expressions flitted so rapidly across his features during 
 the progress of their interview, that she even fancied it 
 might be possible to fill up the conversation, when 
 alternate surprise, incredulity, pleasure, and regret, all 
 appeared successively on her uncle's countenance. The 
 subject evidently was political, and Sir Richard seemed, 
 from the broken sentences which Matilda overheard, to 
 be eagerly urging on Sir Alfred the necessity for still 
 greater energy in canvassing the neighbourhood. " Ac- 
 tive opponents," — " Unfair advantages," — " Crush them 
 at once," — " Promises of no avail," — Public duty," 
 &c. &c. &c. Sir Alfred's short, decided answers, though 
 they often made Sir Richard laugh, seldom appeared to 
 be satisfactory, for he invariably returned to the charge 
 with growing animation. " Interests of our party at 
 hazard," — " Pledged to do your utmost," — " Country at 
 stake." 
 
 " Sir Richard, what a gentleman can do I shall ; he 
 that would do more is none ! Of course public business 
 cannot go on without dinners ; but my do-er, as you 
 call him in Scotland, had carte blanche to give as many 
 at the King's Arms as he chose. I hope, therefore, that 
 my free and independent constituents have enjoyed 
 abundance of the usual fare on these occasions — soiled 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 165 
 
 table-cloths, steel forks, and cold lobsters. They shall 
 hear my sentiments on all occasions without disguise or 
 evasion, clearly and fully stated, because there is nothing 
 in them to conceal, but I shall not on any account stand 
 up, like a school-boy before his tutors, to be cate- 
 chised." 
 
 " Well, I am thankful to have got over much of my 
 life in better times than you will ever see again," ob- 
 served Sir Richard, who was a very mournful politician, 
 though cheerful on every other subject. " The change 
 is great ! but you young men must conform to the spirit 
 of the age. The people require to be propitiated" 
 
 " Trust me on that score I They are like the bear, 
 who showed his teeth when the traveller seemed afraid, 
 but when a stick was held up he began to dance. We 
 who are accustomed to command, ensure compliance 
 more certainly by preserving our tone of authority than 
 by relinquishing it." 
 
 Sir Richard became outrageous at this reply, and 
 Matilda heard a prodigious accession of energy in her 
 uncle's tone, — " Anarchy in the country ! — immediate 
 revolution I — rally round the constitution !" 
 
 " Keep all that for the hustings next Friday, Sir 
 Richard ; we shall want a little oratory there, and you 
 are wasting a great deal of good alarm on me, which 
 would do admirably for the mob. Depend upon it, no 
 man loses in the estimation of even the lowest rabble by 
 keeping up the dignity of that station which he is bom 
 to fill. It is scarcely worth while to be so anxious about 
 any thing in this world as you wish me to be respect- 
 ing my election ; but depend upon it I shall do my 
 utmost, and moreover get up a speech upon any pattern 
 you choose to bespeak for the occasion — either neat and 
 appropriate, or eloquent and impassioned." 
 
J 66 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 " But is there any truth in that report you told me 
 from Downing Street V 
 
 "^ I never deal in mere reports/' answered Sir Alfred, 
 strolling towards the fire. " A man who circulates false 
 news should he put to death." 
 
 " That would cause an alarming mortality here," ex- 
 claimed Mr. Grant. " How could you furnish conver- 
 sation, Douglas ? for we must talk." 
 
 " Je nen vols pas la necessite" replied Sir Alfred. 
 " In fact, a false report often suits my purpose fully 
 better than a true one," said Mr. Grant, " because I have 
 first the advantage of telling it, and then follows the 
 pleasure of contradicting it." 
 
 "■ What shocking profligacy !" interrupted Eleanor. 
 " No wonder Miss Murray stares like an astonished 
 cassowary ! I am glad the Doctor is not within ear- 
 shot I We are continually hearing marriages announced 
 which are to take place immediately, and the next day 
 they are gone off upon settlements; but who ever guess- 
 ed that they were of your counterfeit coinage !" 
 
 " Many of them are much better arranged than the 
 matches people make for themselves ! I wish no one 
 would ever marry till they have consulted me, for I never 
 saw a happy couple yet without thinking that one of the 
 parties might have done better." 
 
 " I am positively resolved against a sportsman," said 
 Eleanor, ^' for it must be tiresome remaining a discon- 
 solate widow at home all winter, except during a hard 
 frost. Members of Parliament also shall be blackballed 
 on my list, because they annually abscond from their 
 families during the greater part of the year." 
 
 " I shall endeavour to lose my election," said Sir 
 Alfred, dryly. 
 
 '' It w^ould be much better if you did," replied Elca- 
 
THE 3IARCH OF INTELLECT. 167 
 
 nor, laughing. " I have so often^ during my long expe- 
 rience, been disappointed when gentlemen who had a 
 prodigious reputation for cleverness got into Parliament, 
 and were expected to be great orators ; I generally watch 
 for their maiden speeches, expecting a blaze of eloquence, 
 and seldom see more than this, * an honourable member, 
 whose name we could not leani, — Sir Alfred Douglas, 
 we believe, — said a few words, which were inaudible 
 under the gallery.' " 
 
 Matilda stole a look from her drawing at Sir Alfred, 
 and a brilliant smile illuminated her countenance, while 
 she watched to discover how he bore her cousin's raillery. 
 It was instantly evident that he had not been previously 
 aware she was present, and that her appearance at Bar- 
 nard Castle was no less interesting than unexpected, 
 for he started when her eye caught his, made a few 
 hasty steps forward, and actually coloured with astonish- 
 ment and pleasure. The next moment, however, he 
 suddenly checked himself back again, made a distant 
 bow of recognition, and retreated to his former station 
 by the fire, though his eyes yet rested on the counte- 
 nance of Matilda Howard with a sort of fascination 
 which he seemed vainly endeavouring to resist. A 
 natural smile dimpled her cheek, and played on her lips 
 for a moment, rendering her modest countenance more 
 than usually lovely; for there was always a peculiar 
 beauty in Matilda's smile. Eleanor's indicated nothing 
 but hilarity, while hers was full of sensibility, which 
 was not diminished on the present occasion by the emo- 
 tion with which she perceived that her appearance was 
 not a matter of so much indifference to Sir Alfred as 
 she previously anticipated. 
 
 Matilda had not believed it was possible for any event 
 in life to cause him so much agitation as he testified at 
 
168 MODERN SOCIETY j OR, 
 
 that moment, and her own was not less. The flashing 
 glance of his eye reminded her of former times, and 
 raised a transient belief that he was unchanged, and 
 that she had not been mistaken in his former senti- 
 ments. Even his sudden retreat did not entirely alter 
 her opinion, for Matilda knew that Sir Alfred always 
 exercised his own mind in perpetual subjection, and 
 entertained a paramount desire to conceal his feelings 
 from ordinary observation. Strangers might have ima- 
 gined that if any person suddenly dropped down dead at 
 his feet he w^ould have remained as cold and self-pos- 
 sessed as before ; but there were a few people in the 
 world, and Matilda had formerly been one of them, from 
 whom he sought no concealment, and to whom he re- 
 vealed the inmost depths of a mind which glowed with 
 feeling and sensibility. She had often blamed herself for 
 wasting time on the remembrance of one whose absence 
 was in itself a mark of indifference ; and general report 
 had led her to believe him so entirely changed, that 
 with all the strength of a well exercised and well- 
 principled mind, Matilda had resolutely crushed out of 
 her heart every thought that could endanger her peace. 
 She had ceased to think of him except as an interesting 
 acquaintance, in whose conversation there had been a 
 degree of intellectual fire and vigour never equalled by 
 any one since ; and she now resolved not hastily to be- 
 lieve v»hat her heart and her hopes suggested. 
 
 *' You see Sir Alfred is very constant I" whispered 
 Eleanor to her cousin, when a noise of talking prevented 
 the possibility of her being heard. 
 
 ^' How ! !" exclaimed Matilda, starting. 
 
 '^ Did you not observe ! when I threatened never to 
 marry a member of Parliament, he immediately wished 
 to lose his election. Nothing could be more decided," 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. IW 
 
 '' What a salutary lesson for me, to distrust my own 
 impressions/' thought Matilda, as the remembrance arose 
 to her mind, of the tears Miss Murray had often shed 
 in describing her long lost sister's tragical end. " I 
 must avoid such a fate ; and that can best be done by 
 continuing to doubt; for no girl's affections are evtr 
 irretrievably given to another, until she previously 
 believes herself to be loved. It is our nature to return 
 tenfold "what is bestowed, but no more to be first in 
 attachment than for the moon to give light, before the 
 sun has shone upon it. Many a time have I sjrmpa- 
 thized over the v/ithering disappointments of others, 
 who confided their sorrows to me, but now I must 
 be the faithful guardian of my own happiness, and allow 
 no vain fancies to cheat me of my tranquillity." 
 
 Nothing gives us so low an estimate of our own 
 attractions as being in the society of those we most 
 desire to please. Matilda's mind, however, became calm 
 in proportion as she succeeded in convincing herself 
 that Sir Alfred's had been an almost boyish fancy, when 
 she was scarcely yet grown up, but that now he had 
 probably seen many superior to herself, and could not 
 long continue to feel the interest in her which for a 
 moment he betrayed; and being resolved at least to 
 think on the subject no more, she again endeavoured to 
 fix her attention on the gay absurdities of Mr. Grant, 
 who had a sort of laisser aller in his conversation, 
 which rendered him highly diverting. 
 
 '^ How very handsome your poodle looks to-day. Miss 
 Fitz-Patrick ! Is it true that you have Blanco bathed 
 every morning in eau de Cologne ? His coat is really 
 as smooth and white as floss silk ! What an acquisition 
 he would be at those taverns in London where a dog is 
 made to walk round the table during dinner, that the 
 
 I 
 
1 70 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 company may all wipe their knives and forks on hisf 
 back !" 
 
 '' Mr. Grant/' replied Eleanor, in a remonstrating 
 voice, " I generally make a point of trying to believe 
 what you tell me." 
 
 " Well ! so you ought — I appeal to Sir Alfred if 
 that is not the case. Douglas ! You have seen it done 
 fifty times ?" 
 
 " Not above twenty?" replied the Baronet, ironically, 
 '■' and I always contrived to have the advantage over 
 every body else, because I doubled up the tail !" 
 
 " Now ! of all the obligations in life there is none 
 equal to being thoroughly backed out in a story. Sir 
 Alfred, you may tell any thing you please for a month 
 to come with impunity, as I shall vouch for it, even 
 if there is a tongue thrust into every other cheek in the 
 room." 
 
 " Very generous indeed ! but I greatly fear your 
 credit might be easily overdrawn ; and indeed I thought 
 it was a little shaken yesterday with your account of Sir 
 Evan's scanty housekeeping, and the starving mice run- 
 ning about with tears in their eyes." 
 
 " But did I tell you of my honoured uncle's favourite 
 egg soup ? — an egg is boiled every day for himself, 
 and the water distributed to the family. If a bottle of 
 wine be ever drawn in the house, too, he has it labelled 
 * poison,' to prevent any one but himself from venturing 
 to taste it. No wonder his daughter Mary was glad to 
 marry any body, poor girl." 
 
 " A propos, have no new marriages come out lately ?" 
 inquired Lady Susan Danvers ; " they are few and far 
 between at present." 
 
 " I refer you to Mr. Grant for the last assortment of 
 gossip/* replied Eleanor ; " he telegraphs Edinburgh 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 171 
 
 for all the events that have or ought to have occurred 
 there, and has a perpetual supply of the newest matches 
 on hand." 
 
 '^ Every one quite certain," added he, in a tone of de- 
 cision. " The only thing to be regretted is, that I am 
 not on the list myself." 
 
 This was said with his usual careless off-hand tone 
 in which Matilda traced nothing but total indifference ; 
 yet Eleanor instantly coloured, giving a little conscious 
 laugh, and a coquettish toss of her head, which would 
 have been very amusing to any one less truly interested 
 in all her feelings than her cousin, who regretted to 
 observe Miss Fitz-Patrick so blindly unaware of the 
 change which had evidently arisen in her former lover, 
 
 '' I am told/' said Miss Charlotte Clifford, " that 
 there are nine-and-thirty marriages on the tapis at pre- 
 sent." 
 
 " Suppose we make the fortieth \" exclaimed Mr. 
 Grant, eagerly. 
 
 " Now, Charlotte, what do you say ?" cried Eleanor, 
 laughing ; " this is rather a public declaration, cer- 
 tainly !" 
 
 " I generally propose to every young lady during her 
 first season, if I am sure of being refused, because then 
 she can boast with truth of having rejected somebody." 
 
 '^ But that happens to Charlotte every day ! "We 
 know of at least a dozen last winter, and I only wonder 
 what would be good enough — peers, officers, authors, 
 travellers I — she must be waiting for a Lord of Ses- 
 sion !" 
 
 Lady Susan now drew her chair forward and assumed 
 an aspect of the deepest attention, while Mr. Grant, with 
 a degree of gravity and importance suited to the occa- 
 sion, drew out from his pocket a numerous collection of 
 
^72 MODERN society; or, 
 
 old letters. " Are we quite among friends V said he, 
 carefully turning over several papers. " The strictest 
 secrecy must be observed. Douglas, pray step aside, 
 because you are such a gossip, that my news will be 
 repeated all over the country by to-morrow." 
 
 '^ I don't care who marries, provided nobody marries 
 me I" replied Sir Alfred^ looking accidentally towards 
 Eleanor. 
 
 " I publish the banns of matrimony^ then^, between 
 Miss Brown and Mr. Smith — that is positive, having 
 been declared last week !" 
 
 '' Who are they ?" asked Lady Susan, anxiously. 
 ^' How should I know ? very excellent people;, I dare 
 say, and extremely suitable I" 
 
 " There was a Miss Brown, or White, or Grey, or 
 some such colour, that I remember once rather admiring 
 and bringing into fashion at Cheltenham," said Colonel 
 Pendarvis; " but it was nearly two years ago, so she 
 must be quite passee now." 
 
 " For my part I hate new beauties I" observed Mr. 
 Grant, with an arch look at his cousin. " I never 
 thoroughly admire any face till I have been accustomed 
 to it for eight or ten years." 
 
 "■ Pshaw, Mr. Grant ! now tell us of somebody whose 
 name at least we know," continued she, impatiently. 
 " What does it signify to me whether such people as 
 these marry or not ?" 
 
 " But, Lady Susan, if those in whom you are inter- 
 ested will not marry, how can I help it ? Let me see — 
 the list is only begun ! A brother of the Queen of 
 Naples, to the Grand Duke of Baden's half-sister — that 
 is important ! we are getting into high life now ! 
 
 Lady Susan Dan oh ! pardon me ! hem — 
 
 not yet announced hem — splendid alliance — hem — 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 173 
 
 long attachment um — magnificent settlements and 
 
 jewels" 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Grant ! this is not fair I you are become a 
 fortune-teller rather than a newsmonger," interrupted 
 Eleanor. " There are others of the present company 
 who might enlarge your list," added she, looking slyly 
 from Miss Marabout, simpering on an opposite seat, to 
 Mr. Armstrong, who was humming the tune of '' Meet 
 me by moonlight !" 
 
 " I should like to know," said Matilda, " how long 
 this world would last in the hands of a thorough gossip ; 
 because every person must marry immediately, and die 
 not very long afterwards, to furnish them with enter- 
 tainment." 
 
 At length a dressing-bell mng, and the w^hole party 
 were dispersing to prepare for dinner, when Matilda 
 hastily stooped down to collect some of her drawing 
 materials, which had been scattered on the floor by 
 Lady Susan's dogs. Supposing her to be gone. Colonel 
 Pendarvis eagerly asked, in accents of admiration, who 
 she was ; and before Matilda could emerge from conceal- 
 ment, to effect an escape, Eleanor drew a sketch which 
 evidently pointed out to her own admirers in what 
 light she wished them to consider the original. 
 
 *' A cousin of mine I quite a saint, and very blue ! 
 You have heard of my aunt, Lady Howard, who is a 
 perfect Polyglott of languages ? — speaks Latin fluently 
 — could tell if there be a dot too many in Dr. Porson's 
 essays, and asks gentlemen whether they prefer the 
 plays of Euripides or Sophocles. Her daughter is 
 exactly such another — teaches Sunday schools, and is 
 quite in the good line. If you ask her to dance ai quad- 
 rille, she will answer with a text ; and only last week I 
 saw her mooning at the window so long in the evening 
 
174 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 that she is evidently trying to count whether the stars 
 are an odd or an even number." 
 
 Colonel Pendarvis shrunk into the farthest corner of 
 the sofa;, and put up a screen, as if he were seeking pro- 
 tection from such a terrific being as Matilda heard 
 herself described. Lord Alderby turned up his eyes 
 with contempt. Major Foley shrugged his shoulders 
 with horror, and Sir Alfred calmly fixed his penetrating 
 eyes on the heiress's laughing, triumphant countenance. 
 
 " I deny the whole indictment, Eleanor I" said Ma- 
 tilda, rising, when she found it impossible any longer to 
 avoid being produced, though the necessity for coming 
 so unexpectedly forward covered her with confusion. 
 Her bright eyes sparkled with animation, her transpa- 
 rent complexion glowed with more than its usual bril- 
 liancy, and an expression of modest sensibility added a 
 charm to her countenance which nothing could have 
 excelled. Hastily gliding out of the room, she merely 
 whispered to Eleanor, in a tone of gentle reproach, 
 " Defend me from a candid friend ! You deserve to be 
 prosecuted for a libel !" 
 
 So completely had the heiress's suitors understood 
 their cue, from what Eleanor said of her cousin, that 
 not one in the number ventured jto express the admira- 
 tion which could not but be felt by them all, at her 
 graceful appearance, except Mr. Grant, who exclaimed, 
 with his usual independence of thinking and speaking, 
 
 " Look to your laurels. Miss Fitz-Patrick I I always 
 maintained there was no one fit to draw in a curricle 
 with you, except Miss Howard, and I think so still. 
 Now, gentlemen, let me rise to explain, on the present 
 occasion, that I like to see the game of life played with 
 fairness, and as her portrait was rather highly coloured 
 some minutes ago, I must bear my testimony to having 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 175 
 
 formerly talked to Miss Howard often without being 
 one bit the wiser. We never discussed ^ that great 
 Roman Emperor, Pliny the Second/ nor did we quote 
 either Dionysius of Halicarnassus on Gunpowder, or 
 Professor Tiptoe's Essay on Greek Participles. She 
 was always very lovely and interesting, but so improved 
 of late that I scarcely recognized her in the morning, 
 and now my eyes are really quite dazzled by that beau- 
 tiful apparition." 
 
 *' So it appears, for you have been completely blinded," 
 replied Eleanor, with an angry laugh. " For my own 
 part, to say the truth, I never could see much to admire 
 in Matilda." 
 
 " A good-humoured expression, for instance ?" said 
 Mr. Grant, watching the heiress's, which was visibly 
 irritated. 
 
 " If that be all, you might as well admire Miss 
 Murray." 
 
 *' So I do 1 beyond measure ~\ A country clergyman 
 once observed in his sermon, when I was present, that 
 * a good temper was an invaluable blessing, worth five 
 hundred a-year ;* and to those who can afford to pay for 
 such a luxury, I really think it must be. Miss Murray 
 seems rich in good qualities, and ditto, I am convinced, 
 is Miss Howard." 
 
 '■' What an excellent plan it would be, if people's 
 accomplishments and good qualities could be sold by 
 auction when they are of no farther usel — Matilda, 
 according to your way of appraising her, might acquire 
 a tolerable income, whereas now she has none at all, and 
 I could afford to part with several of mine." 
 
 " In fact, people are apt to do so very often when they 
 grow rich, and to part with some the* I could not dis- 
 pense with, at any price. But," added Mr. Grant* 
 
176 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 resuming his usual tone of heedless vivacity, " the grapes 
 are sour when I talk of wealth, being so poor myself 
 that it would make me bankrupt any day, if I went 
 twice in succession to the theatre." 
 
 " It is an infallible sign of people being rich when 
 they talk of poverty," said Eleanor ; '' those who suflfer 
 in earnest, try to conceal their necessities. I suspect 
 you must have succeeded to some large addition of for- 
 tune lately, Mr. Grant ?" 
 
 '' A legacy of six and eight-pence ; and I am trying 
 to live upon the interest," replied he, strolling towards 
 the door, and singing, 
 
 " How happy 's the soldier that lives on his pay. 
 And spends half-a- crown upon sixpence a-day." 
 
 •' Pray, Grant!" cried Colonel Pendarvis, following, 
 " if Sir Evan makes his exit from public life, leaving 
 you L.l 0,000 a-year, what shall you do ?" 
 
 "" Spend L.20,000 a-year, of course !" 
 
 When Matilda had succeeded in effecting her very 
 rapid retreat from the drawing-room, she was astonished 
 to observe Mr. Armstrong following. " Miss Howard," 
 said he, with a bitter smile, " you are not much more 
 obliged to Miss Fitz-Patrick for her attention and hos- 
 pitalities than myself. If you only say the word, we 
 shall soon take the gilt off the gingerbread, — you guess 
 what I mean, — but remember that Sir Robert Walpole 
 said, ^ every man has his price.* " 
 
 Matilda looked at her unexpected companion with sur- 
 prise, and with a transient apprehension that he might 
 be slightly deranged; I ut nothing appeared on his coun- 
 tenance, except a prying expression in the very promi- 
 nent eyes with which he seemed endeavouring to read her 
 thoughts. " Mr. Armstrong," said she, " you suggest 
 ideas to me which I have no wish to entertain ; and, in 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 177 
 
 speaking of Miss Fitz-Patrick, remember in whose house 
 we are." 
 
 " Perhaps I know that rather better than you do. Miss 
 Howard. If you want to open that riddle, apply the 
 proper key. The oracles long ago never spoke for no- 
 thing. Consider what I say, and perhaps you may 
 hereafter think more wisely of it than now. ' Better to 
 flatter a fool than to fight him.' " 
 
 After saying these words, Mr. Armstrong walked 
 away singing the old Jacobite tune, " Geordie sits in 
 Charlie's chair," words he had a constant habit of hum- 
 ming to himself, whenever Eleanor became particularly 
 repulsive in her manner to him, which was certainly not 
 seldom. 
 
178 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 The graceful tear that's shed for others' woe. 
 
 Matilda did not often retire to the privacy of her 
 own room, without devoting some portion of time to 
 the serious consideration of all that had passed within 
 and around her. She usually enlivened the natural 
 cheerfulness of her own mind by a remembrance of 
 what had pleased her taste or amused her fancy ; but, 
 above all, she carefully recalled every thing that might 
 enlighten her understanding, or improve her heart ; and 
 on the present occasion, when she stirred the fire, and 
 sat down in solitude to ruminate over the days which 
 had elapsed since she last occupied that apartment, a 
 variety of thoughts and emotions crowded into her 
 mind. Mr. Armstrong's language and conduct had, 
 during their earliest acquaintance, excited. her distrust, 
 as she saw that, from personal pique on his own part, 
 he wished in some way to make her a tool for his. re- 
 venge. She greatly doubted whether his power was 
 equal to his inclination in working the mischief he 
 threatened against Eleanor ; and though she perfectly 
 understood his insinuations on the subject, no possible 
 way occurred to her imagination which could give them 
 the slightest probability. Not a thought could be 
 wasted for one moment on the idea of purchasing his 
 secret, if he had one ; and being more than half-con- 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 17^ 
 
 Tinced that his hints were about as unfounded as the 
 promised discoveries of the celebrated Mr. Ady, she dis- 
 missed them all at once from her recollection. 
 
 Matilda's next reflections were directed, with a smile 
 of irresistible derision, to the remembrance of her own 
 surprise and mortification at discovering the entire obli- 
 vion to which Mr. Grant seemed to have consigned their 
 former intimacy ; and she readily acknowledged that it 
 ought to have been anticipated in one whose acquaintance 
 was so universal, who formed intimacies every day, and 
 might forget them as easily, and whose notions of friend- 
 ship perhaps resembled those of B ***** L, when he 
 once remarked, that if he lost a friend he had only to 
 walk down St. James' Street and take another. 
 
 There remained but one subject which Matilda's yoimg 
 and inexperienced mind was unwilling to approach, even 
 in the silence and solitude of her secret retirement, and 
 which she postponed to the very last, because it filled 
 her with confusion and perpkxity. To a well-regulated 
 disposition like hers, the earliest dawn of a sentiment 
 till then unknown, and of which the depth and the in- 
 fluence had been as yet unfelt, must ever excite a salutary 
 apprehension that the heart may lose that harmony and 
 cheerfulness which have hitherto been its most precious 
 ornaments ; and therefore Matilda, with all the powers 
 of reason and reflection, long struggled against the con- 
 viction which formerly forced itself upon her mind, 
 that she was an object of peculiar interest to Sir Alfred 
 Douglas. In the secure foundation, and the simple 
 structure of her happiness, love had seemed like a rich 
 decoration, which embellished the existence of others, 
 but which could never be meant for her ; and feelings 
 which might hereafter be the blessing or the misery of 
 
180 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 her whole earthly existence, must be cautiously enter- 
 tained, lest her future life should be deservedly embit- 
 tered by remorse, as well as by disappointment. Deli- 
 cacy and prudence prohibited her from thinking of any 
 man as a lover, until he gave ample reason to believe 
 that the sentiment originated with himself; but though 
 her affections were not to be won unsought, there had 
 been much in the manner of Sir Alfred once to warrant 
 her belief in his attachment. Attentions, which in 
 an ordinary person might have been scarcely remark- 
 able, became conspicuous from him, on account of his 
 singulp.r reserve to other ladies ; and he possessed a 
 peculiar tact, by which his most trifling actions ac- 
 quired meaning and expression, as if they intimated 
 that he cared not to be understood or regarded by any 
 one but herself. His voice had always, latterly, as- 
 sumed a different tone, in speaking to her, from that 
 with which he addressed another ; his manner then tes- 
 tified that sensibility which he concealed from every 
 one else, and his conversation had been frequently filled 
 with a recollection of her favourite expressions and opi- 
 nions, which seemed to be treasured up in his mind 
 with a degree of interest and pleasure such as he ap- 
 peared ashamed himself to acknowledge. There was 
 nothing in all this which pledged his honour, and Ma- 
 tilda might have succeeded in persuading herself, as she 
 resolutely attempted to do, that he merely preferred her 
 society on account of the transient amusement it afford- 
 ed him ; but Sir Francis Howard by no means inclined 
 to take that view of the subject. He constantly rallied 
 his daughter about the crest of the Bloody Heart and 
 the return of th^ Black Douglas, thus keeping up recol- 
 lections which her own good sense would, if possible, 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 181 
 
 have banished entirely, for hers was not a mind which 
 could long be contented to dwell in the fool's paradise 
 of imaginary happiness. 
 
 Matilda had been frequently warned, that it is custo- 
 mary, in the present day, among many gentlemen, along 
 with the most marked attention, to make such enigma- 
 tical speeches to young ladies as may either mean a 
 profession of attachment or a declaration of indifference, 
 according as they are understood. She had sometimes 
 even laughed at instances which were related to her of 
 the ingenuity with which this can be done, but yet she 
 became aware, that in all cases of unhappy self-decep- 
 tion, however justified by circumstances, the lady must 
 bear the blame as well as the sori'ow. Many of her 
 own friends had been fatally deceived into a permanent 
 loss of happiness by putting the construction which 
 seemed to be intended upon such treacherous expres- 
 sions and equivocal conduct ; but though Matilda did 
 not imagine Sir Alfred Douglas to be capable of the 
 vanity and selfishness which must prevail over honour 
 and conscience in all who woidd seek an attachment 
 which they meant not to return, she^elt fully impressed 
 yviih the probability, from his so suddenly retiring, after 
 the first impulse of surprise at perceiving her, that 
 whatever his preference might once have been, it was 
 now, perhaps, extinguished and forgotten, while she 
 acquitted herself from having been misled entirely by 
 vanity, as Sir Francis had made the same mistake with 
 herself, if indeed it was one. Matilda could not but 
 at this moment reflect upon an incident which deeply 
 impressed her own mind two years before with a con- 
 sciousness of the danger there may be in implicitly 
 trusting to any such accidental attentions as are met 
 with frequently in society. Walking one day along 
 
282 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 Queen Street with her friend, Miss Adelaide Montague, 
 who was then not much older than herself, they acci- 
 dentally saw Colonel Pendarvis riding past on horse-^ 
 back ; but immediately on observing them, he reined in 
 his beautiful steed^ and rode up. It was Adelaide's 
 first winter^ during which she had been a reigning 
 beauty of the season, and the Colonel's assiduities 
 were so conspicuous and incessant, that every tea-table 
 in Edinburgh settled, without delay, exactly how much 
 a-year he had, or expected to have, as well as the day 
 when his marriage was certainly to take place. On the 
 morning which Matilda now remembered, Adelaide's 
 eyes sparkled with animation at this unexpected ren- 
 contre, and the handsome Colonel spoke in a tone full 
 of vivacity and pleasure. 
 
 " Miss Montague ! quite delighted to see you ! 
 What a charming day I I am in perfect despair ! Our 
 marching orders are come for to-morrow, and I go with 
 the first detachment. We are all breaking our hearts, 
 I assure you. But one consolation is, that the head- 
 quarters are to be at Brighton ! Any thing rather 
 than Ireland. A propos, you will be diverted to hear 
 that our spare major is fairly caught by your friend, 
 Miss Wentworth. I'm afraid it's a lost case. Good 
 morning I My best regards to Lady Montague and 
 your sister." 
 
 When Adelaide had acted over all the surprise and 
 indifference which were suitable to the occasion, she 
 took a smiling farewell of the lively Colonel, and has- 
 tened on. Matilda felt her companion's arm weigh 
 more heavily upon hers as they proceeded, while the 
 few remarks she made remained unanswered, till at last 
 she stole one single glance at Adelaide's face, and saw 
 the consuming anguish which was painted there. Miss 
 
THE MARCH OP INTELLECT. 183 
 
 Montague silently and rapidly pressed her hand, when 
 they reached home, and vanished into her mother's house ; 
 but Matilda never afterwards forgot that expression of 
 mute despondency ; and when, in society, she heard the 
 frequently repeated " wonder" how very soon Adelaide 
 Montague's looks had " gone off," and the constantly 
 reiterated witticism, declaring that she now only de- 
 served the last syllable of her name, "■ laide," that 
 scene recurred to her thoughts, and she could neither 
 wonder nor smile ; though from that hour it became 
 forcibly impressed on her mind how many might have 
 fallen the unsuspected victims of a too ready belief in 
 the apparent preference which may now be shown, in 
 accordance with the usages of society, but the real 
 fallacy of which she felt that it was well for herself to 
 know. It had interested Matilda much that morning 
 accidentally to witness the first meeting which took 
 place between them afterwards. Colonel Pendarvis, 
 with a polite and graceful bow, expressing his fear 
 that Miss Montague might not do him the honour to 
 recollect that he formerly enjoyed the pleasure of 
 knowing her, aad Adelaide's equally well-bred reply, 
 that she perfectly remembered long ago having been 
 introduced to him, yet Matilda could not but observe 
 also the bitter smile which followed his retreat, when 
 he bowed himself off ; and earnestly did she now desire 
 and pray that such feelings, as those of her friend were 
 at that moment, might never be her own. 
 
 Her ruminations now painfully turned towards Elea- 
 nor, in whom every blossom of good seemed to be entirely 
 withered beneath a blazing sunshine of prosperity. It 
 was with an emotion of pity rather than of displeasure, 
 that she remembered the language respecting herself 
 which had been so recently overheard ; yet with still 
 
184 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 greater earnestness than before, did Matilda wish to 
 hasten from Barnard Castle, and she determined on 
 speedily writing to her mother, more urgently, if pos- 
 sible, than she had already done, entreating to be recall- 
 ed, and reiterating her request that Sir Francis would 
 come for her without delay, though she very much sus- 
 pected that her former messages to him on the same 
 subject had never been delivered ; and she was aware 
 that he felt much occupied with the prospect of her 
 brother returning from England for the Christmas holi- 
 days, while Sir Richard and Eleanor were also looking 
 forward to the arrival of the two young Fitz-Patricks 
 from Oxford, neither of whom had ever yet seen their 
 sister's splendid inheritance. 
 
 Amidst the anxieties and perplexities thus crowding 
 into Matilda's mind, she dwelt with pleasing recollection 
 on the days passed at Gaelfield. They seemed like a ver- 
 dant spot in the arid desert around, when she thought of 
 the sympathy and kindness, the cheerfulness and peace, 
 which had awaited her there, undisturbed by any appre- 
 hension of petty insults from her capricious cousin, or 
 by uncertainty with respect to the sentiments of those 
 around, or the conduct she ought herself to adopt. 
 Conversation and employment were there so com- 
 pletely in accordance with devotion and piety, that half 
 the difficulty seemed to have disappeared of preserving 
 in her mind that continual desire of holiness, and 
 that incessant remembrance of her sacred hopes and 
 duties, which are so incumbent on a Christian, and the 
 deficiency of which, nevertheless, they have all such 
 frequent occasion to deplore. Her thoughts and feel- 
 ings on that subject were then laid open without reserve 
 to friends who imderstood them, and could advise her, 
 from long experience in every mental struggle and in 
 
THE MARCH OP INTELLECT. 
 
 185 
 
 every unforeseen difficulty ; for all who have advanced, 
 like them, in a Christian course, must learn, by deep and 
 afflicting experience, to sympathize in that perpetual 
 combat of good and evil which wars in every human 
 heart where any grace exists ; and simple as was Miss 
 Murray's mind on other subjects, she could speak upon 
 this with the knowledge and the authority of long prac- 
 tice, and of frequent success. The strength was not in 
 herself, but she knew where to seek it with infallible 
 expectation ; and she spoke of her experience, and 
 of her hopes, with the genuine eloquence of nature. 
 When Miss Murray described her unsophisticated feel- 
 ings, it seemed to Matilda like the voice of her own ear- 
 liest childhood, for the hymns and the texts which first 
 dehghted her infant mind were those to which her aged 
 companion continually referred, with unfading interest, 
 as being the words which constantly beguiled her time, 
 as well as directed her conduct and thoughts. The 
 high tone of principle and of fi eling which were hourly 
 more developed by Dr. Murray, in proportion as he 
 learned to appreciate the cultivated mind and enlighten- 
 ed piety of his young companion, seemed to Matilda as 
 if he thus led her visibly onward in a Christian course. 
 Deeply had she lamented the necessity for leaving a 
 retreat of so much heartfelt serenity and real enjoyment, 
 to enter on the present scene of tumultuous amusement 
 and artificial pleasure ; and though there appeared little 
 as yet to excite any grave disapprobation, even in the 
 most censorious, there was a want of that reality in the 
 feelings and the conversation, which would have excited 
 her confidence and regard. 
 
 It was not a life of " cloistered indolence " which 
 Matilda would have preferred, because few young people 
 enjoyed society more than herself, but she desired only 
 
186 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 to see it establlslied more upon the Christian principle 
 of kind feeling and considerate recollection for others. 
 Though there appeared now more of temptation to levity 
 and forgetfulness among the gay scenes on which she 
 seemed about to enter, than she ever experienced before, 
 Matilda reflected that they were not her own voluntary 
 choice, and that therefore she could confidently ask to 
 be shielded amidst its dangers, and even venture to hope 
 that her mind would be strengthened by the difficulties 
 she might yet have to conquer. 
 
 Eleanor informed her guests that the dressing-bell 
 rung only to intimate that there would be dinner in the 
 course of that evening, though she professed to be so 
 liberal in her hours, that it was impossible to say when ; 
 yet Matilda now discovered that little time remained to 
 prepare for the very late period at which it was her 
 cousin's whim to dine, and she roused herself to com- 
 mence the duties of her toilette. Nanny soon afterwards 
 entered the room, and began hastily arranging, or rather 
 disarranging the dressing-table, while, to Matilda's sur- 
 prise, she rapidly opened and closed a succession of 
 boxes and drawers without any apparent object, and 
 yet with a degree of nervous excitement and agitation 
 which could not but be obvious. It had been recently 
 reported by old Mrs. Gordon the housekeeper, that 
 Martha, being at last fully persuaded of her sister's in- 
 difference to William Grey, had consented to accept of 
 his frequently repeated offer, and that their wedding was 
 to take place without delay. This might in some measure 
 account for a degree of incoherence and confusion in 
 Nanny's manner, which had lately become perceptible, 
 though she mentioned her sister's engagement some 
 days before without any apparent surprise or emotion. 
 Persuaded as Matilda had always been, that the poor 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 187 
 
 girl was almost unconsciously attached to "William, she 
 pitied with her whole heart the misguided folly by which 
 Nanny had estranged and finally lost his affections. But 
 though, in speaking on the subject to Matilda, she once 
 confessed that her conduct towards her former lover had 
 been foolish;, and that it now occasioned regret, there 
 seemed besides at that time to be some unacknowledged 
 anxiety and distress on her mind, totally unconnected 
 with Martha and William, of which Miss Howard knew 
 nothing, and which she appeared unable or unwilling to 
 mention. During the drive from Gaelfield that day, 
 Matilda now remembered that Eleanor accidentally 
 dropped some insinuations against Nanny and accused 
 her of dishonesty ; but thinking it was merely her usual 
 way of haranguing against servants, as if they were all 
 convicted thieves, or that it resulted from their peculiar 
 good fortune if they were not, she paid very slight atten- 
 tion to her cousin's words at the time. Often had Ma- 
 tilda warned the poor girl of her imprudence in many 
 respects ; but now she thought only of her distress ; yet 
 as Nanny averted her countenance, and evidently shunned 
 observation, Matilda proceeded to dress without imme- 
 diately shewing any consciousness of her presence, or of 
 her singular proceedings in the room. Miss Howard 
 possessed that feeling, so inseparable from sensitive 
 minds, that affliction must not be hastily intruded upon ; 
 while no disparity of circumstances made her feel entitled 
 to forget that delicacy, and even that respect, with which, 
 while endeavouring to draw out the confidence of others, 
 we must cautiously approach their sorrows. She heard 
 with commiseration and surprise a deep sob of agony, 
 which Nanny vainly attempted to choke back, and she 
 felt shocked to observe the tremulousness of her hands, 
 when there was occasion for her assistance ; but desirous 
 
188 MODERN SOCIETY ; ORj 
 
 to ascertain the extent of her distress before she spoke> 
 Matilda placed herself in such a position, that Nanny's 
 countenance became unconsciously reflected in the oppo- 
 site mirror. Never was Matilda more startled and as- 
 tonished than to perceive the alteration which a short 
 time had produced on the youthful countenance which 
 she now saw distorted with suffering. The colour had 
 entirely fled from Nanny's cheek, her very lips had 
 grown livid, and every feature of her face seemed con- 
 vulsed with weeping, so that it would scarcely have been 
 possible to recognize her. With an irresistible impulse 
 of surprise and sympathy, Matilda turned hastily round, 
 and taking the poor girl's hand, she earnestly inquired 
 what could have happened to cause such overpowering 
 distress. A smothered, hysterical sob was all her reply, 
 and the unfortunate sufferer seemed too much exhausted 
 even to weep. There was always a magnetic power in 
 the tears of others to draw forth those of Matilda, and 
 her own eyes overflowed at the sight of such intense 
 suffering, while she led Nanny towards a sofa, and placed 
 herself upon it. Unmindful of Miss Howard's desire 
 that she should do likewise, the unfortunate girl seated 
 herself on the ground at Matilda's feet, and covering her 
 face with her hands, she wept aloud. 
 
 *^ Nanny !" said Matilda, vainly trying to raise her, 
 " tell me what has happened ! — say, if I can console 
 you ? — rise and sit here — let me know every thing that 
 has occurred. I pity you from my very heart already, but 
 perhaps we may be able also to assist you. Let me ad- 
 vise you, if I can ; or at least let us pray together that 
 you may find better comfort than any earthly friend can 
 bring" 
 
 " Oh, Miss Howard ! I could not have lived till this 
 hour if it were not for the hope that you would feel for 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 189 
 
 me/' cried Nanny, wringing her hands, with a look of 
 frightful agitation. " My heart must have burst, if you 
 had not asked me to speak — oh ! promise that you will 
 not believe me guilty. You knew me from my happiest 
 days, before I ever entered this house — do not cast me 
 off at the first breath of suspicion. Say only once that 
 you will remain my friend, and I may still preserve my 
 senses." Nanny paused with a wild hysterical laugh, 
 and looked anxiously and eagerly into Matilda's counte- 
 nance, while the colour rushed for a moment over her 
 face, and as instantly retreated, leaving her, if possible, 
 paler than before. 
 
 " Trust me, Nanny," said Matilda, in a soothing tone, 
 for she was alarmed at the sight of such extraordinary 
 agitation. " I could not credit any stories against you ; 
 it would be a sorrowful hour for me if I did ? Can I 
 forget that you were Lady Olivia's favourite pupil — that 
 your mother instructed you at home — that you were 
 always a diligent and grateful girl I Oh no ! you may 
 have acted thoughtlessly, but I could make myself re- 
 sponsible, without a moment's hesitation, that you have 
 done nothing really criminal." 
 
 Nanny clasped Miss Howard's hand in hers, and 
 buried her face on the sofa, unable to speak, while Ma- 
 tilda silently waited till she had sufficiently recovered 
 the command of her voice, when, after some vain at- 
 tempts to articulate, she became at last able in broken 
 sentences to make herself understood. 
 
 " I am heart-broken, but not guilty," said she, in 
 feeble accents. " They may destroy my good name, 
 but they could not make me forget my duty. I can 
 look you in the face. Miss Howard, with as much inno- 
 cence now as ever I did in my happiest days : but to- 
 morrow I am to leave this house disgraced and miserable. 
 
190 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 All that was precious in life is gone — my character has 
 been blasted by those who wished to humble me. I have 
 found no pity, and no help. Never shall I forget the les- 
 sons of my childhood, and they have preserved me now. 
 I knew you would not believe their cruel stories — you 
 are the only person in this house who will not. Oh ! 
 when my mother hears it all — when Martha is told the 
 worst — it will break their hearts ! — yet they must know 
 it is false. — And William too ! what does he think ? — 
 but that is no matter now !" 
 
 At these last words Nanny clasped her hands over 
 her facCj while large hot tears slowly coursed each other 
 down her cheeks, and she became silent. 
 
 " Nanny, it cannot be so hopeless surely ? I believe 
 you to be innocent of this calumny, whatever it is,'* 
 cried Matilda, warmly, for she saw that this assurance 
 alone seemed to have any power in composing her agi- 
 tated companion. " Tell me all, and depend upon it 
 justice shall be done. Miss Fitz- Patrick must be 
 informed of the circumstances without delay, and she 
 will do what is right on the occasion." 
 
 '' No I no !" replied Nanny, despondingly. " Her ears 
 are already poisoned against me. This has not been the 
 business of a day, and those who contrived my ruin have 
 completed it ; they convinced both Sir Richard and my 
 young lady that I was always worthless and dishonest. 
 Various trinkets have lately been missing in this house, 
 especially from Sir Richard's cabinet and Miss Fitz- 
 Patrick's jewel box. Some of these were yesterday found 
 concealed in a flower stand, and I am accused of having 
 secreted them there. It was even said that William, 
 who came every morning to water the plants, had taken 
 that opportunity to carry them off", and many of the most 
 valuable are still missing. The bitterest stroke of all 
 
THE MARCH OP IiNTELLECT. 191 
 
 has been that his good name should be injured through 
 me, and his place taken from him. We met to-day, 
 Miss Howard, — he came to comfort me — to say that he 
 had got employment at Sir Evan's, — to know if he 
 could be of any service, — to propose that he should 
 break it all to my mother, — but the sight of him, after 
 what has happened, was worse than death. Martha will 
 make him happy, and she deserves his affection. — I 
 never did, and least of all now." 
 
 " I shall speak to Miss Fitz-Patrick this very evening. 
 You must not suffer an hour longer than can be helped ; 
 remain in my room till dinner is over, and depend upon 
 it I shall bring you comfort ; there must be some cruel 
 mistake, and my cousin will rectify it at once." 
 
 Nanny closed her eyes and mournfully shook her head. 
 " You are as kind as I expected, Miss Howard I very 
 kind I words cannot say what I feel, — but no one can 
 help me, for the web is stronger than you think. Pauline 
 has often been in the habit of wearing my young mis- 
 tress's shawls ; she went out last night in one of them, — 
 her conduct became improper, and she was in very bad 
 company. Stories were repeated to Miss Fitz-Patrick of 
 what passed on that occasion ; and Pauline has contrived 
 to persuade every one that it was I, and not herself, who 
 appeared at that hour. I remained alone in my room all 
 the evening, suffering great distress of mind on other 
 accounts, but that was nothing to what has befallen 
 me since. I had lately avoided being seen, so no one 
 can testify that I was really at home. I had found out 
 my folly in many ways, and repented of it, but nothing 
 can clear me now. I am bowed down to the very dust 
 with shame and sorrow. My mother's grey hairs will 
 be dishonoured, — my sister's name is disgraced, and I 
 dare not even ask to be laid beside my father in the 
 
192 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 grave. Oh, what shall I do, Miss Howard? The 
 whole world is in darkness now ! Will no gleam of 
 light ever shine on me again." 
 
 Matilda felt a nameless apprehension steal over her 
 thoughts as she saw the wild tumult of Nanny's mind, 
 the increasing incoherence of her manner, and the 
 burning hectic which glowed on her cheek, and which 
 lighted up her eye with unnatural brightness. The 
 gong had sounded for dinner long before she left off 
 endeavouring to bring peace and composure to the 
 broken spirit beside her. Matilda's w^ords of comfort 
 fell like flakes of snow on a burning desert, so soft and 
 so refreshing was all that she said to the suffering mind 
 that it was her desire to cheer ; and she did not leave 
 Nanny without obtaining a promise, given with some 
 degree of serenity, that she would retire to bed, after 
 seeking for peace and support where alone it can never 
 fail to be sufficient. 
 
THE MARCH OP INTELLECT. 193 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 — Sedentary weavers of long tales 
 Give me the fidgets, and my patience fails. 
 
 COWPKK. 
 
 When Matilda entered the drawing-room, the whole 
 gay party had assembled, forming a brilliant contrast to 
 the scene she so recently left. Lively groups were scat- 
 tered about the room, all apparently animated by the 
 highest spirits ; and she looked around to ascertain if 
 there was any individual with whom she felt sufficiently 
 acquainted to place herself; but all were already engaged, 
 or else comparative strangers, and Eleanor wa:'s so sur- 
 rounded by her satellites as to be quite unapproachable ; 
 therefore, feeling very much like some person who had 
 dropped from the clouds and belonged to nobody, Matilda 
 quietly glided into a chair, as near her cousin as pos- 
 sible, and began examining a volume of prints, to diminish 
 the awkwardness of sitting alone and unnoticed. Mean- 
 time she stole an intelligent glance around, to observe 
 what was passing, and felt as completely aufait in read- 
 ing the plot of all that was going on, and as far removed 
 from taking an active part in it, as if she had been seated 
 in a side box at the Opera. Lady Montague and Mrs. 
 Clifford appeared to be in deep and consequential con- 
 ference, probably comparing the relative prices of their 
 milliners' bills, or else each praising her own daughter 
 in a confidential tone to the other, and boasting of the 
 brilliant talents and prospects of their respective sons. 
 
 K 
 
194 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 Sir Eichard occupied the whole fire, which appeared large 
 enough to have roasted an ox, but he contrived to spread 
 himself entirely over it, holding by the button Dr. Mur- 
 ray, to whom he was eagerly demonstrating on the 
 subject of politics. Mr. Grant had placed himself beside 
 Miss Murray, and seemed for once to be talking gravely 
 and in earnest, with a degree of respectful deference 
 towards his aged companion, which in Matilda's estima- 
 tion did him honour. Eleanor continued to be hemmed 
 in by a cordon of beaux, each of whom seemed to rival 
 all the others in the brilliancy of his own sallies, and in 
 the readiness of his laughter at hers. Not far off was a 
 contrast to this noisy coterie. Sir Alfred Douglas had 
 retired to a distant corner of the room, externally in a 
 state of suspended animation, though an unconscious 
 knitting of his brow seemed to indicate that his mind at 
 the moment was not so inactive as his body. His eyes 
 were half closed, and overshadowed by the dark clusters 
 of his hair ; his head was thrown back ; his arms folded, 
 and his legs stretched out to their fullest extent, so that 
 Matilda could have laughed to see how impregnably he 
 had fortified himself against the possibility of being 
 invaded by any one. Before long, however, she had 
 reason to suspect that her estimate of fashionable intre- 
 pidity was too low, for Miss Charlotte Clifford evidently 
 intended, by a daring enterprise, to carry the outworks ; 
 and she was amused to observe, when Sir Alfred first 
 became aware of that young lady's approach, a moment- 
 ary smile that glittered only in his eyes, and the sly 
 humour with which he observed the proceedings of his 
 unexpected assailant. 
 
 "What an enchanting day this was. Sir Alfred!' 
 said she, dropping accidentally into a neighbouring 
 chair. 
 
THE MARCH OP INTELLECT. 195 
 
 *' Indeed I I am glad it pleased you." 
 
 " Of course it did ! we had a west wind and sunshine 
 all day." 
 
 " Had we ! Now, who noticed all that ? You never 
 could have observed so much yourself?" 
 
 " I am half dead. Sir Alfred, this morning, with the 
 fatigue of riding to Gaelfield." 
 
 " I can't help it I" 
 
 " Was that a new britschka you came in this morn- 
 ing ? What a variety of equipages, I am told, you sport I 
 Pray tell me how many ?" 
 
 " I shall have them counted some day, and let you 
 know." 
 
 " Do you mean to hunt at Melton this year ?" 
 
 " No ! Do you I" 
 
 " Pshaw, Sir Alfred ! what nonsense you talk !" 
 
 " Merely for the sake of contrast, that I may be as 
 different as possible from you." 
 
 " Now that is quite polite and proper I I shall re- 
 peat what you have said to every person in the house, 
 because civil speeches are not supposed to be your forte. 
 How agreeable it always makes people when they go to 
 the Continent !" 
 
 " You have never been there I believe ?" 
 
 " No ! but I have a cousin-german at Paris. By the 
 way, one's cousins-german should all come from Vienna 
 or Dresden." 
 
 " Your geography is all astray. Miss Clifford ! Did 
 you never hear that Dresden is in China ? I am sure 
 you might know better, when we dine every day off 
 Dresden China." 
 
 " So we do I How very strange that I Apropos, 
 
 you will be delighted to hear that Mr. Grant, who can 
 prove any two people that he pleases to be related, was 
 
196 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 showing us this morning that you are actually a Scotch 
 cousin of Eleanor's." 
 
 " How glad she must be I Miss Fitz-Patrick has 
 something now to boast of." 
 
 " Yes I she will probably inscribe on her tomb-stone> 
 ' Here lies the cousin of Sir Alfred Douglas.' Talking 
 of that, did you admire Pere la Chaise ?" 
 
 " I am not very apt to admire/' answered he, turning 
 a laughing eye towards Miss Charlotte herself; " ' all 
 seen,' as Lord Byron says, ' but nought admired.' " 
 
 Matilda had been listening to the whole of this dia- 
 logue with much diversion^ and suddenly looked up, 
 while her countenance sparkled with so much archness 
 and vivacity, that it caught even Eleanor's notice ; but 
 she hastily dropped her eyes on the album again, when 
 she unexpectedly perceived that Sir Alfred Douglas was 
 intently observing her. 
 
 "What have you got there so very amusing, Ma- 
 tilda ?" exclaimed the heiress, in a tone of curiosity. 
 " Did ever any one behold such a student ? Dr. John- 
 son was a joke to you ! but dinner waits, and we posi- 
 tively cannot allow of that book being brought to table, 
 which would be done, I dare say, if you durst." 
 
 ^' I know of several excellent boarding-schools for 
 young ladies where that is actually insisted on," observed 
 Lady Montague. " My daughter, Maria, at Elysium 
 House, was always obliged to learn her Italian exercise 
 while she breakfasted, and her Euclid during the inter- 
 vals of dinner. The girls walked out in pairs, one 
 guiding her companion along the path, while the other 
 read aloud from the best works on science and natural 
 history ; besides which, the French governess repeated 
 verses to them all the time they dressed. Nothing 
 could be more admirable than the whole system, and I 
 
THE MABCH OF INTELLECT. 197 
 
 only lamented being obliged to take my daughter away, 
 because of that long unaccountable illness she had, 
 which has never entirely left her. It is, I must say, a 
 great mortification to me that, with so many accomplish- 
 ments, she can scarcely leave her sofk, and that, with a 
 perfect knowledge of every language in Europe, she has 
 hardly strength to speak even in English." 
 
 " The Manchester cotton-weavers, with their sixteen 
 hours of labour a-day, are nothing to this," cried Mr. 
 Grant, laughing. *^ When I get into Parliament, my 
 first exploit shall be to present a petition from the dis- 
 tressed young ladies of Great Britain, praying to be re- 
 lieved from excessive taxation on their health, their 
 spirits, their time and their understandings." 
 
 After a long procession had moved to the dining- 
 room, and every preliminary arrangement was happily 
 settled, so that no lady should be too near the door, or 
 too far from the fire, or above or below her proper place 
 — and after Lord de Mainbury had been called up, and 
 Mr. Armstrong received a hint to go down, order seem- 
 ed to be in some degi-ee rising out of confusion, and 
 Matilda found herself seated next to Sir Colin Fletcher. 
 Opposite, was Sir Alfred Douglas, but as no attempt 
 had been made on his part to approach her, she at once 
 determined on encouraging the conviction of his indif- 
 ference, and on preserving her own by the consciousness 
 of his. 
 
 " No one will venture into this chair between us," 
 observed Eleanor, who never took the head of her own 
 table, and placed herself now within one of her cousin. 
 ^' Your learned reputation has caused quite a panic 
 among the gentlemen ! only think, we have been laugh- 
 ing for an hour at the terror poor Colonel Pendarvis is 
 inr 
 
198 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 Matilda was surprised at the audacity with which 
 the heiress alluded to her own misrepresentations ; hut 
 though it did cost her an effort, she resolved to pre- 
 serve her good-humour, and tried to change the subject 
 immediately. 
 
 " Eleanor ! if we enjoyed the privilege, which ladies 
 had formerly in France, of choosing what gentleman 
 shall sit next to them at dinner, I wonder if we could 
 agree whom to summon now V 
 
 " Mr. Grant, of course," said that gentleman, insert- 
 ing himself into the empty space. ** Are not your ut- 
 most wishes anticipated ?" 
 
 Both ladies smiled a gracious assent, hut Matilda 
 soon experienced what she had previously anticipated, 
 that it would be hopeless to attempt appropriating the 
 smallest fragment of her lively neighbour's attention, 
 which Eleanor claimed and entirely monopolized, while 
 an animated dialogue instantly commenced, and con- 
 tinued almost without interruption till dinner was over. 
 Having no more amusing employment for her attention, 
 Matilda listened with great animation to what follow- 
 ed, though she was allowed no opportunity of putting 
 in a single remark. Mr. Grant's conversation with her 
 cousin seemed a complete contradiction to the proverb, 
 " nought comes of nought," for all that passed was 
 literally " much ado about nothing," and yet so enter- 
 taining, on account of the light spirits and gay expres- 
 sion of the speakers, that it was impossible not to be 
 exceedingly amused. They did not talk absolute non- 
 sense, though approaching to the very verge — no opi- 
 nions were revealed — no sentiments expressed — no facts 
 stated — no questions asked. The conversation had no 
 visible object and no useful tendency, yet it never flag- 
 ged for a moment ; but glancing at every thing, and 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 199 
 
 skimming the surface, it seemed to glide along with 
 such abundance of sail, and neither rudder nor ballast, 
 that Matilda wondered every moment it was not strand- 
 ed altogether, while they carried it on without effort, 
 and almost without thought. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Grant, there is a laugh in your eye that 
 tells me you are going to be satirical ! — is it a droll re- 
 mark or a dry observation ?" 
 
 " Let me try the droll remark — hem ! — what shall I 
 say I — hem ! — what a delightful day this was !" 
 
 " So I have been told a hundred and fifty times 
 already ! If that be meant for a sample of your powers, 
 I shall turn to Lord Alderby on my other side. You 
 shall be allowed five minutes to strike out something 
 new !" 
 
 " I do not require two seconds ! Some people are 
 obliged to search their minds for ideas, but mine rush 
 out like a pack of hounds from the kennel every time 
 my mouth opens. The only difficulty is to keep them 
 back." 
 
 " Then pray be very original and amusing without a 
 moment's delay." 
 
 '^ In your company that is not difficult." 
 *' How I do you think me so easily pleased ?" 
 " Quite the contrary ! — my meaning is, that I need 
 only take example from yourself." 
 
 " Now, that is the only tolerable thing you have said 
 for a century I I perceive, Mr. Grant, that your wit is 
 a mere annual, which flourishes but once in a season. 
 You probably live at the rate of an idea a-year I Be 
 sure to set down that last good saying in your common- 
 place book for future use." 
 " Perhaps I never write one." 
 
200 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY ; OB, 
 
 '^ Impossible ! every human being does ! Did you 
 never hear Mrs. Ramsbottom's advice, that we should all 
 ' keep a dairy for the cream of what we see/ Why, 
 even my maid Pauline, who has not three ideas, keep» 
 her journal !" 
 
 " What a literary gem it must be ! I could form a 
 tolerably correct guess of the subjects recorded- therein 
 — a list of her true lovers, followed by a catalogue of 
 how many gowns Miss Fitz-Patrick ought to have left 
 off wearing."' 
 
 " Now, that is a severe hit at my old black velvet ! 
 How I detest mourning ? — all my cousins and relations 
 may depend on being regretted, if they oblige me to 
 wear black. People should mourn in white, like the 
 Chinese. One thing I have fully made up my mind 
 about : if ever I am in a widow's bonnet to wear some 
 pink bows under it, for that is the most odious dress al- 
 together that has ever been invented V* 
 
 " So it is ! How fortunate for me, that I shall never 
 live to behold my widow in full costume I" 
 
 '^ Not unless you are buried alive ! But tell me what 
 you think the most becoming of all dresses ? 
 
 " Black velvet." 
 
 That is a proper amende to my respectable old gown. 
 But now, seriously, Mr. Grant, and upon your veracity, 
 what do you think ?'* 
 
 " I never was half so serious upon any subject before, 
 as in delaring that every lady might be a beauty in 
 my estimation, if she would wear black velvet and dia- 
 monds. I give you no credit whatever for looking well 
 in them. Lady Susan herself would be quite young and 
 handsome in such an equipment ; but show me the beauty 
 who would be tolerable in a quaker's cap." 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 201 
 
 " I shall wear one to-morrow." 
 
 " But then, perhaps I may giv€ out that your cap is 
 set at me." 
 
 " No one would believe it ! However, for your com- 
 fort, Miss Murray certainly intends to do so. She has 
 been watching us all dinner-time ; — what a dear old dot 
 she is r 
 
 " Truly excellent, indeed," replied Mr. Grant, with 
 sudden gravity. " I do not know her equal in the 
 world. Miss Murray, will you do me the honour to 
 take wine ! — How I wish we were all like her I" 
 
 " What a dull, respectable world it would be I — why, 
 the very art of laughing would be lost, and that is the 
 only faculty we possess which animals do not." 
 
 " Philosophers have discovered now, that laughter is 
 always at the expense of others, and therefore it must 
 be a very unamiable propensity. I never have a good 
 opinion of people who indulge in it much." 
 
 " Then take the consequences, Mr. Grant, for I shall 
 not do more than smile at your next bon mot, if it be 
 ever so good." 
 
 " That would be exceedingly ungrateful, for I have 
 laughed heartily at many of yours, when they were none 
 of the best. But, Miss Fitz- Patrick, you are not pro- 
 perly sensible of half your obligations to me." 
 
 " Indeed ! what may they be ? You remind me of 
 Mr. Armstrong, who frequently hints that I owe him 
 unutterable gratitude for something or other, which is 
 never explained. Now, pray come to particulars." 
 
 " It was only yesterday that I wore out an entire set 
 of intellects in trying to understand some of the worst 
 puns you perpetrated." 
 
 " Did I ever degrade myself to punning ? — impossi- 
 ble ! — ^your bill is protested." 
 
202 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY : OR. 
 
 " "Well, then, I danced last year with two plain elderly 
 misses at your own ball, to make it go off well." 
 
 " Ah, that seems worth mentioning ! — it is a tolerable 
 cheval de bataille, so let it stand. I begin to blame 
 myself for not having sufficiently appreciated your 
 merits." 
 
 " Besides, I spoiled a good ear for music this morning 
 by listening to your attempts on the flageolet." 
 
 " You are running up a perfect national debt against 
 me !— How flagrantly ungrateful I have been ! If Mr. 
 Armstrong ever makes out as good a case for himself, I 
 shall be covered with confusion." 
 
 " Stop a moment ; you have not heard the half yet ! 
 I lamed Scatterbrain yesterday, in trying to make you 
 admire my riding — I forced a laugh when you criticised 
 my singing — I lost a night's rest in trying to recollect 
 the name of that novel you wanted — I risked my life in 
 going to the greenhouse for the sprig of myrtle you 
 have on " 
 
 " Not so fast, Mr. Grant ! I sent you a box of 
 jujube lozenges this morning, so your cold must be 
 cured. It is never the sign of a generous mind to make 
 the most of people's obligations. The new definition of 
 gratitude is only for favours that are coming, so I owe 
 you none at present. We must explain this to Mr. 
 Armstrong also, if ever I vouchsafe a word to him 
 again." 
 
 " Miss Eleanor Fitz- Patrick I will you take wine?" 
 said the unconscious object of her animadversions. 
 
 " I wish I had fifty names, that he might give me 
 them all !" said she, laughing affectedly, and pretending 
 not to hear ; but on Mr. Armstrong repeating his pro- 
 posal. Sir Richard called her attention to it, and she was 
 obliged to accede. " Only a single drop, if you please. 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 203 
 
 Mr. Grant I I would refuse^ if I durst, but papa is obser- 
 ving me, so we must drop the business in this way. Now, 
 watch my bow, for it will be a model of repulsireness. 
 Ah ! quite a failure ! he seems as pleased as possible, so 
 my countenance is destitute of expression." 
 
 " What a remarkable talent Mr. Armstrong has 
 acquired for introducing into conversation the titles of 
 all his great acquaintances," remarked Mr. Grant. " It 
 was very diverting to hear him yesterday endeavouring 
 to out-peerage Lady Montague, who goes already by the 
 name of Lady M'Quality, on account of her adulation 
 for rank. I am credibly informed that she puts on slight 
 mourning for every Scotch peer who dies, because they 
 were all her distant cousins, which assertion most people 
 are too polite, or too indifferent, very closely to investi- 
 gate, therefore she passes for being most highly, as well 
 as very extensively connected. 
 
 ** My uncle. Sir Francis, calls her the peerless Lady 
 Montague. For my own part, I never learned the game 
 of * Catch Honours ;' but I fancy the conversation in 
 that comer of the table must greatly resemble it. Mr. 
 Armstrong first brings out Lady Ben-Nevis, — then 
 Lady Montague trumps her with the Dowager Mar- 
 chioness of Dumbartonshire, and Mr. Armstong tables 
 the Duchess of Caimgorum, and takes the trick !" 
 
 " How different that sort of vanity is from the real 
 dignity of my friend Douglas, who never imagines he 
 could borrow importance from any circumstance, or from 
 any person. If he were made a peer to-morrow, or if 
 he lost his all in this world, it would leave him un- 
 changed. I should like to see the acquaintances, the 
 equipages, the houses, or the estates that he would think 
 worth boasting of ! But few men have such a well-ba- 
 lanced mind. I am not sure if I could even say as much 
 
204 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 for myself ! Did you ever hear that when the late Lord 
 De Mainbury got a title, he and his son, in order to fit 
 themselves for London society, began with exercising 
 each other in the peerage I and I am told it was very 
 hard work before they both got it up thoroughly. ^ What 
 is the family name of Lord Inchkeith ? How many 
 daughters has the present Duchess of Cairngorum? 
 Who is heir presumptive to Viscount Broadstairs? 
 What title does the Marquis of Glencoe's eldest son 
 take?'" 
 
 *' Mr. Grant, you are growing satirical !" 
 
 " I can't help that, as Douglas always says, — but you 
 know. Miss Fitz-Patrick, two of a trade never agree." 
 
 *' I despise your insinuations ! every body says that I 
 err on the side of good-nature. Even Miss Murray is 
 much more satirical than I am ; but, as the shuttlecock 
 said to the battledore, * you like a hit at your friends.' 
 I begin to be afraid that you will take me ojBP next." 
 
 " Pray let it be in a chaise and four then !" replied 
 Mr. Grant, with a tone of careless jocularity, which might 
 have shown to the most superficial observer how little he 
 expected or desired such a denouement. It was evident, 
 however, that Eleanor by no means understood his mean- 
 ing in this light, for she coloured deeply, and nearly 
 pulled her bouquet to fragments, while he rattled on 
 with other subjects, totally unsuspicious of the impression 
 which had been produced by these few accidental words. 
 
 Tired at length of merely listening and smiling, 
 Matilda now wished to vary her amusement, seeing she 
 was no more expected to take a share in the dialogue 
 between Eleanor and Mr. Grant, than if it had been a 
 debate in the House of Commons, and desiring, if pos- 
 sible, to have some conversation herself. The first per- 
 son on whom her eye rested, in glancing round the table 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 205 
 
 was Dr. Murray, flanked on one side by Lady Susan, who 
 had turned her back upon him in the eagerness with which 
 she spoke to Colonel Pendarvis, and on the other side, 
 also dos-a-dos, by Lady Montague, who seemed engrossed 
 with Mr. Armstrong in a conversation which appeared 
 to be as dull as a Court Guide, or a visiting book. 
 
 " How very strange !" thought she ; *^ the brightest 
 talents ; the profoundest learning ; the truest philan- 
 thropy, and the most extensive knowledge of science, of 
 nature, and of revelation, are all at a discount here. No 
 one near Dr. Murray would willingly listen to the glow- 
 ing eloquence with which that voice can speak, — to the 
 clear light he can throw upon our condition and pros- 
 pects, — to the plans of usefulness, of kindness, and of 
 mercy with which that heart is teeming. Yet there is 
 no look of angry superiority, while he listens to the deve- 
 lopment of minds so inferior to his own. He does not 
 wrap himself up in a self-satisfied elevation of intellect, 
 but would evidently conform in a great degree to the 
 humour of those around, if they gave him opportunity. 
 I remember Dr. Murray saying lately, that he never was 
 in company with any one from whom he did not learn 
 something. I wonder if he would say so still !" Ma- 
 tilda's eye next caught the placid, smiling countenance 
 of his sister, who had been for some time attempting to 
 understand the conversation of Eleanor and Mr. Grant. 
 Though the effort was evidently vain, she seemed pleased 
 nevertheless to observe so much vivacity, and looked from 
 one to the other, testifying the same sympathetic interest 
 with which she might have watched the playful gambols 
 of two lively children. Miss Murray being eminently 
 endowed with a heart that thinketh no evil, seldom sus- 
 pected any, unless something was forced upon her notice 
 which appeared flagrantly wrong, and therefore, amidst 
 
206 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 the ebullition of frolicsome spirits before her, she still 
 hoped there might succeed hours of serious thought and 
 salutary meditation. There are those in the world who 
 believe every man in the wrong till he is proved to be 
 right ; but this rule was reversed by Miss Murray. 
 Others hear with astonishment and incredulity any 
 favourable comment on the faith or practice of those 
 about whom they know little, or perhaps nothing ; but 
 no traits of excellence in her acquaintances ever took Miss 
 Murray by surprise. There is a vulgar old proverb 
 which says, '^ set a thief to catch a thief,' which is never 
 more glaringly exemplified than in the case of those who 
 suspect that others are hypocrites ; for a true Christian, 
 being himself incapable of deceit, will be slow to imagine 
 it in his neighbour. Miss Murray always suspected 
 some lurking good, where the world saw only evil. She 
 felt sceptical about nothing but the faults of her asso- 
 ciates, and ^ shifted her trumpet' when they could no 
 longer be defended. There had always been some per- 
 plexity in her mind with respect to Eleanor, which 
 daily intercourse only increased. She felt occasionally a 
 dim suspicion of being herself an object of ridicule ; and 
 she had lately lamented the heiress's gay indifference to 
 the privations and sufferings of others ; but still Miss 
 Murray looked upon her with partial indulgence, as a 
 child of prosperity, in whom better feelings might yet 
 be developed, while she frequently added her prayers to 
 her hopes, that present scenes, with all their dazzling 
 brightness, might not permanently blind her young 
 friend to the all-important future. 
 
 When Matilda's eye met that of Miss Murray, the 
 good old lady nodded and smiled to her with such an 
 expression of beaming benevolence and of natural sim- 
 plicity, that her heart at the moment might have been 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 207 
 
 compared to some modest wildflower amidst a collection 
 of exotics, so artificial were the manners and feelings of 
 those around her, amongst whom any traits of nature, 
 or any expressions of serious recollection, would have 
 been considered an outrage on good-breeding, and an 
 infringement on social comfort. 
 
 About this time Eleanor, with that laudable ambition 
 which she often testified, to raise her dogs to a level 
 with herself, sent for a second supply of soup, which 
 she gave to Blanco ; while Lady Susan, not to be out- 
 done, soon afterward minced down carefully, for Tiny, 
 a slice of turkey which Sir Richard sent for her own 
 consumption. The dogs being hungry, " licked the 
 platter clean," and a footman, in haste, put Tiny's plate 
 on the sideboard, whence Martin, without becoming 
 aware of any previous destination, transferred it to 
 Lord Alderby. Matilda, being the only person who 
 observed this oversight, made a hasty signal for the 
 objectionable plate to be changed; but she coloured with 
 confusion to observe the astonishment of his Lordship at 
 her unaccountable interference, which it was impossible 
 to explain, and she could not but think afterwards that 
 those ladies who blame a Roman Emperor for promoting 
 his horse above human nature, should look at home. 
 
 Nothing is half so rapid as thought, and much of 
 this passed through Matilda's mind in the course of five 
 minutes, when at length she observed Sir Richard's eye 
 fixed upon her. It was his frequent remark, that vacant 
 chairs are better at a dinner-table than silent guests, 
 so she now determined to make an essay of her conver- 
 sational powers on Sir Colin. Seeing that he was 
 occupied in anxiously investigating the bill of fare, she 
 ventured some leading remark upon it, by way of com- 
 mencing a dialogue, but she unconsciously addressed 
 
208 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 one of those public talkers who disdain to waste their 
 tediousness upon solitary individuals. Merely giving a 
 hasty constrained reply, he continued eagerly watching 
 for the first opening into which his word and his story 
 might be inserted, amongst a knot of joyous bons vivants 
 who gathered round Sir Richard near the head of his 
 table. 
 
 Matilda was now consigned to irretrievable silence, and 
 she could not resist smiling to observe that Sir Alfred 
 acted the same part from choice which she did from 
 necessity, as he had succeeded at last in reducing 
 Miss Charlotte Clifford, his persevering tormentor, to a 
 state of quiescence. She now endeavoured to cover her 
 defeat by a spirited attempt at engaging Sir Richard in 
 conversation, though he was so engrossed with his pub- 
 lic duties, as host, that her success became laughably 
 deficient. Of all the forlorn hopes that any one can 
 volunteer upon, none is more desperate than that of 
 monopolizing much attention from a hospitable country 
 gentleman presiding at his own table, of which Matilda 
 now saw an amusing exemplification. 
 
 " This was a charming day !" said Miss Charlotte, 
 who seemed never to tire of praising it. 
 
 " Lady Susan Dan vers ! will you take wine ? — port 
 or sherry ? Sir Colin calls this vin cheri, it is so excel- 
 lent ! Were you speaking to me. Miss Clifford ?" 
 
 " This was a" 
 
 " Douglas I try that salmon ; it was in the river 
 three hours ago ! Alderby ! send Lady Montague a 
 pate. Pardon me, Miss Clifford ; I am all attention 1" 
 
 " This was a char" 
 
 " Dr. Murray ! as Matthews says, ' you are not a 
 soup or-Jishial man,' I perceive ! A disciple of Jephson's, 
 evidently. Well ! it is what we must all come to, 
 
THJB MARCH OF INTE;LLECT. 209 
 
 sooner or later. I would rather not live at all than live 
 on a rule-of-three diet. De Mainbury I try that vol- 
 au vent. Made on a Leamington prescription, you may 
 depend upon it. Were you remarking any thing, Miss 
 CUfford?" 
 
 " I merely said" 
 
 " Fletcher ! that Madeira has been forty years in 
 bottle ! Excuse me, Miss Clifford !" 
 
 "My observation was very insignificant; merely 
 that" 
 
 " Lady Montague I pray call for a screen ! you don't 
 stand fire well !" 
 
 Matilda's countenance had been gradually kindling 
 with animation as she watched the fate of Miss Char- 
 lotte's valuable remark, which was destined never to 
 struggle into existence at all. She now hastily averted 
 her eyes, to conceal a smile which irresistibly forced 
 itself on her countenance, and, in turning another way^ 
 she unexpectedly received a look from Sir Alfred, so full 
 of archness and humour, that she was completely taken 
 by surprise. Often on former occasions, the same ex- 
 pression had glittered in his eye beneath an external 
 aspect of gravity, as if he wished her alone to per- 
 ceive it, and now she felt almost as if a renewal had 
 taken place of their intimacy, and that possibly he 
 might still be unchanged from what she once thought 
 him. " Time might have altered me also," thought she, 
 '* and a whole year may have changed all that he used 
 to prefer. I have always thought that when people 
 meet after a long absence, they are scarcely the same 
 individuals who became originally attached, for years 
 transform our sentiments, our opinions, and our spirits, 
 as much as our appearance. If Sir Alfred ever thought, 
 as I once had some reason to believe, he may still perhaps 
 
^10 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 find me tlie same." Matilda observed, however^ that 
 he did not ask her to take wine, nor in any way follow 
 up their intercourse, so she again resolutely dismissed 
 the subject from her thoughts. 
 
 Sir Richard Fitz-Patrick had now attained the para- 
 dise of hospitality, applauding his own cellar, as if his 
 very existence depended on its being appreciated, and 
 listening with good-humoured delight to a chorus of 
 approbation which followed the drawing of every 
 cork. 
 
 " This hock might do for the Antiquarian Society ! 
 I dare not mention its age !" said he, in a tone of 
 exultation. " Without vanity, I may assert that it 
 excels any thing we tasted at Clanpibroch Castle last 
 week." 
 
 "■ I'll answer for that !" exclaimed Mr. Grant. 
 
 "Does your uncle not keep a well- filled cellar?" 
 asked Colonel Pendarvis. 
 
 " I know of none except the salt-cellar. Sir Evan 
 never gave me any thing formerly but Cape Madeira 
 and gooseberry champagne. I never can conceive where 
 such things are bought ! One day, however, I remon- 
 strated seriously, and told him my terms, that I never 
 dined out under a bottle of claret." 
 
 " By the way, Grant, could you give me leave to 
 shoot over the Clanpibroch property next season ?" asked 
 Colonel Pendarvis. '^ Your uncle preserves the game 
 so rigidly that they tell me he has a keeper for every 
 bird ,• but as I mean to Scotlandize again in August, and 
 shall visit this neighbourhood, it would be desirable in 
 good time to secure the privilege." 
 
 " You shall have it then ! but only on condition of 
 adopting the plan that I shall suggest — otherwise, there 
 is not a chance." 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 
 
 211 
 
 " Well, let me hear it ! What would I not gladly 
 undertake for a shot over such capital moors ?' 
 
 " That being the case, you must shoot Sir Evan first, 
 and afterwards I can give you leave." 
 
 '' How very obliging, Grant I Pray accept all the 
 thanks you merit for so friendly an ofi'er, and take a 
 glass of Burgundy with me. It turned out rather 
 stronger than my pericranium yesterday ; but no mat- 
 ter. If I get such another mal de tete again, some per- 
 son must be hired to take my head off, and wear it for 
 me till morning." 
 
 " Martin !" cried Sir Richard, turning angrily to- 
 wards the butler, " you have omitted to cool this cham- 
 pagne ! It might have been iced with the vegetables, 
 they are all so cold." 
 
 " Talking of Sham pain*' began Sir Colin, loudly, — 
 " the best pun in the world, except one of my own, 
 which you shall hear afterwards, about Cure us a' ; but 
 next to that, the cleverest bon mot I remember was one 
 of Sir Jonathan Fowler's, which you shall hear, about 
 Champagne" 
 
 " Mean time join me in a glass of it, Fletcher !" 
 interrupted Sir Richard. '^ I got a supply from the 
 Continent this month, and wish to have the public 
 opinion. What I had last, turned all at once into 
 vinegar." 
 
 «* This is inimitable I and to show you how much I 
 think of it," said Mr. Grant, " if somebody would pre- 
 sent me with a pipe of the same, I would actually ac- 
 cept the offer." 
 
 " That wine is so mild, you might drink it in tumb- 
 lers/' continued the hospitable host. 
 
 ^* Then, Sir Richard, we should very soon be tumblers 
 ourselves." 
 
212 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 " Seriously," replied the Baronet, with an air of con- 
 scious merit, " I scarcely believe any one could possibly 
 find its equal," 
 
 " Rather flat," replied Lord Alderby, with a dissent- 
 ing shake of the head. 
 
 '^ This is a flat contradiction, at any rate !" 
 
 '^ Why, Fitz-Patrick," exclaimed Lord De Mainbury, 
 '^ your wit sparkles like your champagne !" 
 
 '' Yes," pursued Sir Colin, " and the story which I 
 was about to relate, and which you may all perhaps now 
 be at leisure to hear"— 
 
 '' Pendarvis I try that hock ! — it was in bottle long 
 before your father was born." 
 
 " I shall respect it accordingly, Sir Richard." 
 
 " No one venerates a good old age more than I do," 
 said Mr. Grant, turning to Lady Susan, and asking 
 her to join him in a glass of wine ; " it certainly wears 
 well." 
 
 "I am steady to the champagne," said Lord Al- 
 derby. 
 
 " Then you'll not be steady long !" observed Mr. 
 Grant. 
 
 " As I was saying," resumed Sir Colin, looking 
 round in desperation for a listener, " about the 
 Sham" 
 
 " Fletcher !" interrupted Sir Richard, " we are try- 
 ing a new cook to-day, and I wish you would eat down 
 one side of the table, to let me know your candid opinion 
 of his skill. It is intolerable to see any one wasting a 
 good appetite on roast mutton." 
 
 Sir Colin, it was hoped, had now been efi^ectually 
 silenced, as the whole party were aware that he enter- 
 tained no higher ambition than to be reckoned skilful 
 in the science of gastronomy. No geologist could have 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 213 
 
 understood the strata of a mountain more perfectly than 
 he did that of a fricandeau, and his knowledge of che- 
 mical analysis was profoundly practical among sauces 
 and seasonings. Unfortunately, however, like all su- 
 perficial philosophers, he was more addicted to lecture 
 than to study, and therefore Sir Richard's quietus did 
 not long remain effectual, for he soon broke silence, in a 
 tone all the more consequential, for having been thus 
 publicly appealed to as a high authority. 
 
 " Fitz-Patrick I I have dined at Windsor — I have 
 lived at Crockford's — and I keep a first-rate French 
 cook myself, therefore my verdict may be supposed to 
 carry some weight with it. You will be glad to hear 
 that this is a very clever fricassee." 
 
 " Keep your own counsel then, Fletcher ! No good 
 poUtician praises any dish till he has dined on it, and I 
 generally make a grimace of disapprobation when most 
 pleased, on purpose to cause a diversion in my own fa- 
 vour. Let us all try something different to-day, as 
 it really hurts Monsieur Martigny's feelings extremely 
 when any dish goes down untouched, so that I shall 
 make it a duty to partake of whatever no one else has 
 ventured to attack." 
 
 *' How very different from me,' cried Colonel Pen- 
 darvis, laughing. '^ My old aunt, Grace, who grows 
 every day richer and shabbier, became so saving many 
 years ago, that, during my juvenile visits at Yorkton 
 Abbey, it used to be as much as my head was worth, if 
 I presumed to be the first who opened a tart, or invaded 
 any fortress of pastry whatever. Since then, I have 
 stormed the breach at Bergen-op-Zoom, but never did I 
 suffer more real apprehension than in once attacking 
 such a castle of whipped- cream and almond-biscuits as 
 this ! Shall I ever forget one day. after my return 
 
214 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 from Spain, her whispering to me during dinner, 
 ' You may take the blanc-mange, but the jelly will 
 keep !' " 
 
 " Really," said Mr. Grant, " those rich old aunts and 
 uncles, who exceed the age of fifty or sixty unmarried, 
 should all retire on a pension, or be put to death in the 
 easiest way that can be devised." 
 
 " Aunts are sometimes very respectable people too I" 
 interposed Major Foley. " One of mine was exceedingly 
 kind to me formerly, during the Eton holidays, and I 
 shall never forget that day when a letter reached me in 
 the barracks, announcing her death. We were all sitting 
 at the mess, when it was put in my hands, and being 
 then quite young and unsophisticated, I instantly started 
 up to leave the room. Our senior captain anxiously 
 stopped me, to hope nothing distressing had occurred, 
 and if you will believe it, the whole table burst into an 
 explosion of laughter when they heard me announce, in 
 doleful accents, that ' my aunt Dorothy was dead !' 
 You have no notion how abashed I felt ; but they made 
 me sit down again, and in two minutes and a quarter 
 my grief was over." 
 
 Mean time Sir Colin's lecture still continued, while, 
 with a bill of fare in one hand and his fork in the other, 
 he prosecuted his investigations. " A cook should re- 
 ceive every encouragment, and be accustomed to consi- 
 der himself as the most important functionary in the 
 house, or he cannot be expected to take proper pains. 
 I have a tray of tea-cups, filled with different kinds 
 of soup, brought to my room every morning to be 
 tasted, in order to judge which would be preferable for 
 dinner, and my chef declares I am the only master he 
 ever served who is really worthy of him." 
 
 " No doubt I" said Mr. Grant. " You ought also 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 
 
 215 
 
 to try a plan which was adopted by the French epicures 
 long ago, Sir Colin, to encourage exertion : they dropped 
 half-a-crown into the sauce of any dish which pleased 
 their palates, and thus the artist was crowned with ap- 
 probation." 
 
 " I protest, here are woodcocks again I" exclaimed 
 Sir Richard, in a discontented tone. " Why, Eleanor, 
 if you go on in this way much longer, we shall have 
 bills growing." 
 
 " And that would make you bill-ious," added Sir 
 Colin, falling into such immoderate fits of laughter at 
 his own wit, that he continued speechless for some mi- 
 nutes. " That saying of mine reminds me of the most 
 amusing story imaginable. I have laughed at it for 
 hours alone" 
 
 Matilda looked breathless with expectation — universal 
 attention was excited — and Sir Colin became at last 
 happy in having obtained " possession of the house," 
 which he endeavoured to keep as long as possible. 
 
 " I heard the incident from Lord Ben-Nevis who 
 
 had it from Sir Jonathan Fowler — or rather, I believe, 
 it was Lady Fowler who told it to the General's bro- 
 ther" 
 
 By this time the attention of most people relaxed, and 
 many began gradually to talk aside, while, as the circle 
 of Sir Colin's audience perceptibly diminished, he felt 
 obliged to lower his voice accordingly, until Matilda 
 remained the only person whose ear he could command. 
 The bright look of intelligence with which she had 
 watched his promising commencement gradually faded 
 into an air of constraint, and in proportion as the narra- 
 tor's tediousness increased, so much the more difficult 
 did she find it to force her thoughts away from more 
 attractive sounds of piirth and repartee which were ex- 
 
216 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 ploding in all directions around ; yet, even on suck 
 trifling occasions, Matilda had a prevailing sense of duty, 
 which taught her not to seek entertainment at the ex- 
 pense of mortifying another. To spare Sir Colin any 
 such degree of chagrin as the continuance of her solitary 
 attention could do, after his more distinguished auditors 
 had forsaken their allegiance, she resolutely chained her 
 ears to his narrative, while, in a dull, monotonous voice, 
 the baronet wound his way through a labyrinth in which 
 he soon got entangled and nearly lost. Matilda could 
 not but privately think that her present annoyance might 
 do admirably in a new edition of the Miseries of Human 
 Life. At last she was called on for a complaisant laugh, 
 as a chorus to the loud peal in which Sir Colin indulged 
 when his story reached an end, and immediately after- 
 wards he turned away to watch whether a larger circle 
 of auditors could, on a future opportunity, be attracted. 
 
 When Matilda's eyes were released, she found the 
 whole party in joyous anticipation of a proposed excur- 
 sion on the ice next morning, since, to the utter dis- 
 comfiture of the sportsmen, it was reported that a hard 
 frost had set in for some hours, and that snow several 
 inches in depth was already on the ground. 
 
 " In Scotland," said Colonel Pendarvis, " people 
 should all hunt with a pair of skates in their pockets, 
 in order to secure some amusement for the day, in so 
 changeable a climate." 
 
 " It never snows in England," observed Mr. Grant 
 dryly ; " and the Serpentine is to be frozen by Leslie's 
 machinery, in future, about Christmas, that you may 
 practise skating." 
 
 " We shall have a delightful exploit on Loch Deveril 
 to morrow !" exclaimed Eleanor, in an ecstasy. ^' Un- 
 luckily, it is too cold for gipsying under a tree and 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 217 
 
 broiling chops in the open air ; but we may order a pic- 
 nic at the fishing lodge, and skate about all day, with a 
 tumbler of hot negus in one hand and a biscuit in the 
 other. I could live for ever on the ice !" 
 
 " So could I, with the party you propose/' added 
 Lord Alderby, bowing and shivering. 
 
 " Is skating one of your accomplishments ? I thought, 
 my Lord, your favourite aquatic amusement had been, 
 as Dr. Johnson describes fishing, with a fly at one end 
 and a fool at the other !" 
 
 " There is a rod for you, Alderby I" said Mr. Grant. 
 
 " Let me tell you, Miss Fitz-Patrick," added his Lord- 
 ship, " that no one knows what perfect happiness is un- 
 til he has hooked a ten-pound salmon, and played it on 
 the line for an hour. Pray try the experiment." 
 
 " Thank you ! but I have other game quite as divert- 
 ing. Lord Alderby ; and sometimes I do fish in very 
 shallow streams for compliments." 
 
 " Your only diflftculty is, probably, to avoid being 
 deluged with them ?" 
 
 ** There I Miss Fitz Patrick !" cried Mr. Grant. 
 " If you were angling, that was ' a glorious nibble.' " 
 
 " I remember a laughable story of Dr. Johnson," 
 began Sir Colin, glancing anxiously round the table for 
 an audience, but every eye became carefully averted, and 
 even Matilda looked inexorably away for some time, but 
 was at last obliged, being next him, to become compas- 
 sionate, and endure the endless detail of a well-known 
 narrative, which she could have told twice as well in half 
 the time. 
 
 " Any one who saw me to-day for the first time, 
 would imagine that I am dumb," thought she, when 
 the story was ended, for Sir Colin did not wait to hear 
 her make a single remark, before he relapsed into a state 
 
218 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 of watchful vigilance over the jovial party whose atten- 
 tion it was so much his desire to entrap. 
 
 <' This ice is the merest snow-ball I ever tasted, 
 Eleanor !" said Sir Richard, in a criticizing tone. 
 " Could Monsieur not have thrown in a glass of Fron- 
 tignac, or even a bit of })rown bread, to flavour it. Send 
 me the preserved ginger, that I may add a relish of 
 something." 
 
 "Douglas!" cried Colonel Pendarvis, "I calculate 
 the wine has stood with you nearly one minute-and-a- 
 half. Your mind seems to have been absent so long 
 to-day, that I wish we may ever be able to bring it 
 back !" 
 
 " The mouton qui reve is the worst sort of mutton I 
 know at a dinner-table, and should be roasted without 
 mercy," added Sir Richard. " As for circulating the 
 bottles, I have a plan for forcing every body to recollect 
 that duty. They shall be made not to stand alone." 
 
 '' Then," replied Sir Alfred, '' before long, none of 
 your company will be able to stand alone either." 
 
 " When you are come to that, we ladies ought to 
 withdraw," said Eleanor, rising. 
 
 '^ Stop one single moment, and you shall hear a most 
 diverting circumstance," cried Sir Colin, eagerly ad- 
 dressing Miss Fitz-Patrick ; "it can be related in very 
 few words" 
 
 This threat seemed only to accelerate their flight, but 
 as the ladies were moving away. Sir Colin said to Ma- 
 tilda, in a promissory tone — 
 
 " You need not suffer for this precipitation. Miss 
 Howard, because I shall tell it all to you in the draw- 
 ing-room, where there will be more leisure to enjoy the 
 details than if I had hurried them over now." 
 
 The smile which glittered on Matilda's countenance 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 219 
 
 at this formidable threat was mistaken by Sir Colin for 
 one of pleasure ; but, in hastening away from table, she 
 again caught the animated eye of Sir Alfred, whose 
 archness and vivacity of expression seemed like a mo- 
 mentary gleam of lightning, revealing a glimpse of that 
 mind which it appeared to be in general his pleasure to 
 envelop in impenetrable obscurity, and she again felt 
 surprised at the peculiarity of his conduct, in not placing 
 their intimacy on former terms, or else appearing more 
 entirely to forget it. 
 
 " Matilda ! you have shewn a real talent for silence 
 to-day," said Eleanor, satirically. *' I think all you 
 have said during the last four hours might be printed 
 in a duodecimo page." 
 
 " Probably it might ! I am like an echo, only able 
 to speak when I am spoken to." 
 
 '' Now I evidently perceive your intention is to set 
 up for the reputation of modest merit, which is one of 
 the most troublesome characters in society, and one of the 
 most easy to support that can be conceived, though, let 
 me warn you, Matilda, that generally the vainest people 
 affect it. Who has not been tormented, at some time or 
 other, with that pride which apes humility among se- 
 cond-rate ladies, though you ought to be above it ? I 
 have had visitors of that kind here who lived in a con- 
 tinual expectation of being overlooked and undervalued 
 — who remain silent, unless particularly addressed, be- 
 cause they cannot presume to expect the honour of 
 being listened to — who sit in an obscure corner of the 
 room, unless called forward to the most conspicuous — 
 who would pass their best friend in the street, because 
 they would not be supposed to feel certain whether the 
 said ' best friend' meant to notice them at all — whom 
 
220 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 no constancy of regard can teach to confide in the good- 
 will of those who are above them in rank, and who re- 
 quire more anxious attention than any peeress of the 
 party, on account of the obscurity which they seem to 
 court, and in which, nevertheless, they would feel 
 equally surprised and indignant to be left for a single 
 hour." 
 
 '' I am trying to trace the connection between all you 
 say, Eleanor, and my silence at dinner, for unless I had 
 done like the French preacher, who took up his hat in the 
 pulpit and held an argument with it, you can scarcely 
 suggest any way in which a conversation could have been 
 supported." 
 
 " Ah ! your modest merit wears a different fancy 
 dress. When others commit themselves in conversation, 
 you have the pleasure of silently thinking that you w^ould 
 never have been so caught ; when others are preferred, 
 then modest merit whispers that if it were not for an 
 interesting sensitiveness of disposition you might easily 
 eclipse all competitors ; and if you condescend at any 
 time to give out a remark, or to exhibit any little accom- 
 plishment, then comes modest merit, expecting the great- 
 est empressement of attention, because it is so easily dis- 
 couraged, and so seldom comes forward ; therefore, in 
 fact you, Matilda, can pass off that simple plea of modest 
 merit as a sort of paper currency for every virtue, while, 
 on the contrary, poor Charlotte Clifford and I frankly 
 display all the rubbish of our minds, without a wish to 
 pass for being more than mere everyday mortals. I would 
 not for worlds seem better than I am conscious of 
 deserving ; but if we were all turned inside out, Matilda, 
 some people might appear in a very different light from 
 what they do." 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 
 
 221 
 
 ** That would be rather an unpleasant experiment 
 ^certainly ; but as you acknowledge its being ray turn to 
 speak now, pray listen to me for a few moments." 
 
 Matilda then related to Eleanor, in terms of the 
 warmest feeling, all that she heard from Nanny that 
 evening with respect to the unfortunate misrepresenta- 
 tions which had taken place in the house, and entreated 
 that they might be thoroughly cleared up, if possible, 
 without delay ; but Miss Fitz-Patrick's ruling passion 
 had become a love of power, and one of the ways in Avhich 
 it appeared, was, that she never chose to act or think in 
 the way that other people expected. If her cousin had 
 endeavoured to produce a strong feeling against Nanny, 
 and a perfect conviction of her guilt, it would then pro- 
 bably have been treated as a tiifle, and listened to with 
 ridicule and incredulity ; but perceiving that Matilda's 
 feelings were strongly excited, and that she entertained 
 no doubt of producing a similar emotion by the simple 
 narrative of all she had seen, Eleanor, to show the inde- 
 pendence of her own judgment, spoke of Nanny's suffer- 
 ings in a tone between pity and contempt. 
 
 " Poor creature ! she is the vainest and silliest mortal 
 in the world I It has been already a most intolerable 
 bore to have a pensive, romantic abigail ; but I was only 
 too indulgent on the present occasion, for now she has 
 turned out worse than you have the least idea of. Both 
 Pauline and Mrs. Oordon have a very bad opinion of her. 
 At the same time it is quite unnecessary to look so 
 shocked and alarmed, for justice shall l>e done to all 
 parties, therefore pray do not invariably expect that 
 whatever I do shall be wrong." 
 
 " You mistake me^ Eleanor, as you always do, now," 
 replied Matilda, " but I must persevere a few moments 
 longer in importuning you about Nannv. She is one of 
 
222 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 the last remnants of Ashgrove, and we have both known 
 her from a child. Do, dear Eleanor, let there be no de- 
 lay in trying to exculpate her Every hour is a life- 
 time while she remains under these false imputations, 
 and nothing could possibly persuade me that they are 
 true." 
 
 '' You always had a prejudice against Pauline, Ma- 
 tilda It is strange that we never, on any occasion^ or 
 even by accident, like the same people; but Mrs. Gor- 
 don's opinion ought to have some weight with you, and 
 she gives a very indifferent account of Nanny for being 
 extremely lightheaded. Indeed, any one may see that 
 in her whole dress and manner. I quite regret having 
 ever had any thing to do with her !' 
 
 " You may often find occasion to say so, Eleanor, if 
 this business is neglected, for that poor girl is breaking 
 her heart about it. Oh ! think seriously for your own 
 sake, for hers, and for the sake of our beloved aunt, wlio 
 taught Nanny to value her good name as she does, and 
 let immediate investigations be made, before she is con- 
 signed to irretrievable ruin !" 
 
 " Matilda ! I know my duty in this house, perhaps, 
 as well as you do, and have no 'vvish to take a course of 
 lectures upon it from any one. I wonder that phreno- 
 logists have not discovered a large organ of interfering- 
 ness in some heads that I know of; but pray endeavour 
 to practise a few of the Christian virtues you so often 
 recommend, and then I may listen with more deference." 
 
 " She did not see Nanny's distress, as I did ; she ha» 
 not heard the eloquence of real suffering," thought Ma- 
 tilda. " Let me pardon a few hasty words to myself, and 
 persevere, whatever be the difficulty, in trying to rescue 
 this poor girl from her present misery." 
 
 Miss Howard hastened to her own room, where 
 
THE MARCH OP INTELLECT. 223 
 
 Nanny had been desired to wait for her, but she was 
 susprised to find it not only vacant, but in the strangest 
 disorder, while every door and window stood open to its 
 widest extent, her flowers were all scattered on the 
 floor, her wardrobe unclosed, and her drawers in evi- 
 dent confusion. Hastily rectifying in some degree 
 what was amiss, she, mean while, repeatedly rung the 
 bell, but in vain ; and at length, with a vague feeling of 
 appreliension, she snatched up her candle, and proceeded 
 in search of Nanny to the housekeeper's room. There, 
 no one had seen or heard any thing of her for several 
 hours, and Pauline, giving a contemptuous toss of the 
 head, remarked, that if Miss Howard would send to 
 inquire in the butler's hall, or the steward's room, she 
 might probably be found, while old Mrs Gordon shook 
 her head, with a look of stern severity, and dryly ob- 
 served, that, indeed, Nanny little merited Miss Howard's 
 care. 
 
 " Mrs. Gordon," replied Matilda, anxiously, '' I have 
 known that poor girl since the time when we both were 
 children. She was then the most innocent, guileless 
 creature on earth, and if there be any thing greatly 
 wrong now, it is very recent. Let us try, then, to 
 reclaim her. She is in a state of extreme distress, 
 and deserves, even at the worst, our pity. Be kind to 
 Nanny, for my sake, if not for her own, and rest assured 
 I shall take it as a mark of personal attention to myself 
 if you will treat her with consideration while she so 
 greatly needs it." 
 
 " Indeed, Miss Howard, she takes no advice from 
 me ! I never stop telling her how foolishly she has 
 acted, and if Nanny loses her character it is no fault 
 of mine," 
 
 *^ Perhaps it may be unnecessary to give counsel now. 
 
224 
 
 MODERN SOCIETl ; OR, 
 
 Mrs. Gordon, for Nanny's present sufferings are the 
 strongest admonition in favour of future prudence. But 
 do not pronounce her guilty of crime till she is proved 
 to be so, and let her not be treated as a criminal while 
 any hope remains that she is innocent." 
 
 *' I fancy the less we say about that the better. Miss 
 Howard, for it will soon be shown that she is little 
 worthy of so much kind interest." 
 
 '' If none of us ever got more than we deserve, Mrs. 
 Gordon, how miserable we should all be ! let us then 
 imitate that mercy which we hope hereafter to receive, 
 and be slow to take up an evil report. Where will it 
 be possible to find that poor girl; for the state in which 
 I left her was truly pitiable ?" 
 
 " Slie has found employment, no doubt. Miss Howard, 
 for Nanny knows how to take good care of herself," said 
 Mrs. Gordon, maliciously looking towards Pauline. '^She 
 is not at all fit to wait on a young lady like you, ma'am." 
 
 Matilda turned away, with vexation and regret, to 
 pursue her search for Nanny, wherever there was a pro- 
 bability of success, but in vain ; till at length, despairing 
 for the present, and greatly perplexed how to account 
 for her absence, she became apprehensive of remaining 
 longer alone, knowing that Eleanor would not be spar- 
 ing of animadversions ; so she slowly returned to the 
 drawing room. 
 
 All was liveliness and vivacity there. Sir Richard 
 and his party had joined the circle some minutes before, 
 in a blaze of spirits and good-humour, while Eleanor 
 might be seen fluttering about the room, like a but- 
 terfly on a sultry day, her movements were so full of 
 animation, and her dress so voyanle and gay. No- 
 thing can be more just than the privilege given to 
 strangers, of estimating female character at first by the 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 225 
 
 test of their attire, wherein much moral principle as 
 well as judgment may be displayed, and more of the 
 character becomes discernible than could easily be anti- 
 cipated. It is certain that accommodating external 
 decoration to the progressive advance of years requires 
 a degree of frequent recollection which few are willing 
 to exercise, and some ladies never seem to ask themselves 
 the question — " How old art thou V The fortune and 
 rank of the wearer, also, are not always suflBciently con- 
 sidered ; and while some exhibit a lavish expenditure, 
 inconsistent with Christian moderation, others also err 
 in giving way to a slovenly despondency of appearance, 
 in which the proprieties of station are overlooked. There 
 can be no well-regulated time which does not allow 
 suflScient leisure for personal tidiness, while, at the same 
 time there can be no inward delicacy of mind where any 
 thing is sacrificed to outward allurement ; and in pro- 
 portioning what part of an income shall he given to the 
 needy, it is often a duty to afibrd them employment, as 
 well as to afford them alms ; to encourage the industri- 
 ous, while we relieve the necessitous; and to have it 
 always in view that motives to exertion should be sup- 
 plied rather than premiums on idleness. Matilda's 
 costume w£is chiefly regulated according to the rules of 
 that standard work on the subject, " Mrs Theresa Tidy's 
 Eighteen Maxims of Neatness and Order"— being pre- 
 cisely adapted to her rank, and to the very liberal in- 
 come which Sir Francis allowed. Though no part of 
 her happiness consisted in dress or show, she had been 
 taught to consider it a duty towards others, as well as 
 towards herself, that there should be nothing in it, of 
 which any friend could disapprove, nor any carelessness 
 of her own to let it be supposed that strictness of 
 Christian principle interfered with the petites morales of 
 
226 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 society. If she had been to pass a whole day in her room 
 alone, still a due care would have been bestowed on 
 personal propriety, and yet nothing she ever wore was 
 extravagant or inconsistent. Her dress fitted well, was 
 carefully put on, and showed to advantage the perfect 
 symmetry cf a graceful figure, while the massy folds of 
 her smooth shining hair testified to great attention 
 having been given to it ; but from the time when Matilda 
 left her toilette, she thought no more of dress than of 
 the air she breathed. Eleanor's costume, on the con- 
 trary, was as capricious as her character. At one 
 time she glittered in jewels like an eastern Sultana; 
 and diamonds sparkled as glow-worms amidst her dark 
 waving tresses, — but on her next appearance she might 
 in all probability be attired like a school-girl, in her 
 white muslin robe a. Venfant, with her hair simply 
 braided, and unconscious of ornament. In the same 
 spirit, she was muffled up one day in the utmost affecta- 
 tion of prudery, and the very next opportunity she ven- 
 tured to the extremest verge of decency. Whatever 
 Eleanor did, or whatever she did not, became always 
 a subject of importance, in her own estimation ; and 
 whether the remark might be, " I always wear blue," or, 
 " I never wear pink," it was given out as a niatter of con- 
 sequence which she piqued herself upon. The round 
 white arm of Matilda was almost entirely shrouded from 
 view, and never willingly displayed ; but Eleanor's, 
 bared almost to the shoulder, seemed only covered by 
 the profusion of bracelets which adorned it; and her beau- 
 tifully formed foot and ankle were flourished on every 
 stool in the drawing-room, while Matilda's, of equal 
 symmetry, was never seen, except by accident. Who 
 has not observed the brilliant silks which are obtruded 
 on the notice of every passenger, at a shop window, till 
 
THE MARCH OP INTELLECT. 227 
 
 they become so wearisome to the sight, that any thing 
 less beautiful is more attractive ? and thus it was with 
 respect to the young heiress's appearance, in consequence 
 of that vulgar-minded ostentation with which she ex- 
 hibited herself, while the modest reserve of Matilda 
 rendered her an object of watchful interest to many of 
 whose notice she was unconscious. 
 
 " So you have taken a siesta till the gentlemen ap- 
 peared I" whispered Eleanor when she entered the room. 
 " I suppose you are annoyed because I would not fly 
 instantly to be judge and jury at your bidding, upon 
 this fracas between my two abigails I — Well I with all 
 my faults, I have rather more equanimity of temper than 
 to sit in angry retirement during a whole evening for 
 such trifles ; and more might have been expected from 
 one who makes such professions of religion as you do." 
 
 Matilda's colour rose to its brightest vermilion at this 
 unexpected address, and with a look of indignant sur- 
 prise, almost amounting to incredulity, she was about to 
 reply, when Eleanor, conscious that she stood on unten- 
 able ground, hastened away, leaving Matilda to rumi- 
 nate with vexation and astonishment on the distorted 
 aspect which her cousin was sometimes able, and always 
 willing to throw upon all she did or said, while a feeling 
 of unconquerable impatience took possession of her mind 
 at being unwillingly detained where she was so evidently 
 unwelcome. No distressed damsel in an enchanted 
 castle could have seen less chance of immediate escape ; 
 for Sir Richard's outrageous hospitality, and her mother's 
 positive determination, were more than a match for the 
 readiness with which Eleanor and Sir Francis would have 
 facilitated her wishes ; and she could only wonder in 
 silence what might be Lady Howard's object in forcing 
 her to enter a scene of so much perplexity and annoyance. 
 
228 MODERN SOCIKTY ; OR, , 
 
 Mean time, a project having originated with Major 
 Foley and the Miss Cliffords to get up some quadrilles 
 on the carpet, an animated discussion took place respect- 
 ing the capabilities of the room for dancing ; and Elea- 
 nor, having, as she hoped, obviated every difficulty, was 
 soon in a state of almost childish glee. Her eyes glistened 
 with anticipated pleasure, while she sung some bars of a 
 favourite galope, and executed a few light and graceful 
 steps toward a retired part of the room, where Sir Al- 
 fred Douglas was deeply engaged in conversation with 
 Dr. Murray. 
 
 " What a delightful quadrille we shall have I" cried 
 she, eagerly. 
 
 " Shall we ! !" replied the young Baronet, looking 
 rather incredulous. '' I hope you have prepared a tight 
 rope for me, as I never dance on any thing else." 
 
 " Now, Sir Alfred I how teasing you are ! we cannot 
 possibly make out the second set without you." 
 
 ** Try that gentleman in the Spanish chair. He has 
 a disengaged look." 
 
 " Mr. Armstrong I I I never speak to him ! — and 
 besides, he seems planted in that seat. I do believe he 
 is like the Chinese ladies, whose feet sometimes take 
 root in the floor. But now. Sir Alfred, do bestir your- 
 self without delay, or I shall be obliged to give you up 
 as a mauvais sujelJ' 
 
 '' I heartily wish you would, — but since you must 
 know the worst, I am as immovable here as a rock." 
 
 " Then you must be blown up with gunpowder ; and, 
 indeed, Sir Alfred, if you continue to be so untractable, 
 I shall order the floor to be made red-hot, and then you 
 know even a bear would dance." 
 
 '' Yes ! and with a much better grace than I should," 
 replied Sir Alfred, resuming his discussion with Dr. Mur- 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 
 
 229 
 
 ray, in which they Loth seemed to be profoundly inter- 
 ested. 
 
 A fatal impediment now arose to the projected amuse- 
 ment, as all the young ladies were ready to dance, 
 but none seemed inclined to perform the music. One 
 was "so nervous," another could do nothing without her 
 own books, and a third had " made a rule" never to play 
 for dancing. Mr. Grant, jestingly offered to whistle a 
 quadrille ; and Eleanor professed her intention to order, 
 without delay, a hand- organ containing the suitable 
 number of tunes. Still the evil seemed without any 
 immediate remedy, when Matilda accidentally became 
 aware of the deficiency, and being glad of an opportunity 
 to do something which could not be misrepresented, she 
 hasted forward with an offer of her assistance. 
 
 " Oh I you are the best of human beings !" cried 
 Eleanor, eagerly looking round for her partner. " Dear 
 Matilda ! how very kind you are I" 
 
 Miss Howard fixed her large speaking eyes on her 
 cousin, and they became suddenly brightened with a 
 tear, for her feelings had been excited previously by 
 reflection on past scenes ; and she was now reminded of 
 the time when such words as these had been spoken 
 frequently and sincerely, while she felt how truly they 
 would have been deserved, at any sacrifice, if the hope 
 and the confidence could have been restored with which 
 she had once looked upon their friendship as that which 
 nothing could alter. 
 
 " After all, it is a chance if you would have had a 
 partner, and it is better to cover your retreat at the 
 piano, as most of the gentlemen seem provided al- 
 ready," continued Eleanor^ who had herself been the 
 person to arrange this. " Perhaps, indeed. Sir Colin, 
 who is dancing to cure the liver complaint, might have 
 
230 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 exhibited with you some of the ninety-nine steps which 
 he boasts of knowing — or Mr. Armstrong c(S|d possibly 
 be stirred up with a pole as the quadrupeds are in a 
 menagerie." 
 
 " Thank you, Eleanor ! two more elderly and re- 
 spectable partners could scarcely have been selected. 
 Perhaps Sir Richard also ^ight have forgot his gout, in 
 a fit of generous compassion," replied Matild% taking 
 her place at the piano, where she performed per self- 
 appointed task with mechanical precision, ^hile her 
 thoughts irresistibly turned upon Nanny, of whose 
 absence she could not but think with surprise, and 
 whom she was anxious to form some plan for assisting. 
 It occurred to her, at length, how thankfully Miss Mur- 
 ray would embrace any opportunity of doing a kind 
 action, and as there could be no hope of retaining the poor 
 girl longer at Barnard Castle, she resolved on requesting 
 that Nanny might be received for a time at Gaelfield, 
 to prevent the appearance of her character having been 
 entirely forfeited. Impatient to put this plan in execu- 
 tion, she turned hastily round, whenever the quadrille 
 was concluded, intending to open the negotiation, when 
 to her great surprise, the quadrille party had form- 
 ed themselves into a country dance, and she saw Colonel 
 Pendarvis clapping his hands for the music to com- 
 mence. No sooner did the country-dance conclude than 
 a waltz was called for, and to that succeeded a galope, 
 so that Matilda thought the whole party must have 
 been bit by a tarantula, and yet she scarcely knew how 
 to refuse performing for those who seemed so entirely 
 dependent on her exertions. Certainly there were no 
 very obvious symptoms of gratitude on their part, as 
 she neither saw nor heard any of the dancers, except 
 now and then, when gentlemen came hastily up to her 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 231 
 
 with a message from their partners to request that she 
 would play, faster or slower, according as taste or caprice 
 happened to dictate ; but it seemed to be considered a 
 matter of course that, as music was the indispensable 
 accompaniment of dancing, it signified little how that 
 might be obtained, so long as it continued to be ne- 
 cessary. 
 
 After Dr. Murray had left the room, which he did 
 early, Sir Alfred placed himself near the pianoforte, 
 where it might be imagined he was listening to the 
 music, as no other ostensible object appeared in his sit- 
 ting beside Matilda. Not a word passed upon either 
 side, and at length Eleanor came up to him, exclaiming, 
 in a remonstrating voice — 
 
 *' Sir Alfred, you really ought to do a little popularity 
 amongst us, since you are canvassing the neighbourhood. 
 A dance now would be excellent practice for the elec- 
 tion-ball, where every fat farmer's cherry-cheeked daugh- 
 ter will expect a quadrille." 
 
 " I would rather, at this moment, relinquish my seat 
 in Parliament than my seat here." 
 
 '^ I wonder what your valet thinks. Sir Alfred, when 
 you return from parties, night after night, without 
 having worn out any shoes with dancing ! He must 
 fancy that you have been dreadfully at a loss for part- 
 ners I" 
 
 "So I am ! an^ therefore I never presume to ask 
 one I" 
 
 But did I not hear Charlotte Clifford say, some 
 minutes ago, when Sir Colin asked her to dance, that 
 she was very much afraid a previous engagement to you 
 would interfere ?" 
 
 " Let Miss Clifford plead any engagement she pleases, 
 provided I am never asked to fulfil it. Nothing on 
 
232 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 this side of Circassia would tempt me from my quiet 
 corner." 
 
 '' I wish we had the enchanted horn which forced 
 people to dance while it was played upon, and then you 
 should not be allowed to sit down for a year. Charlotte 
 would be delighted to perform also for as long a time ; 
 and you have no idea how charmingly she galopes — one 
 might suppose she was blown along the floor by a gale 
 of wind." 
 
 " How enchanting I if your friend is really such a 
 superlative performer, perhaps she will favour us with a 
 specimen now. Pray ask her to exhibit a few steps 
 here I" 
 
 " Well, Sir Alfred I since you are inexorable to Char- 
 lotte, perhaps I might be prevailed on to dance with you 
 myself." 
 
 " It is very plain why you propose that, Miss Fitz- 
 Patrick, because all the world would immediately ex- 
 claim, ' there is the handsomest couple in the world !' 
 but I cannot countenance such inordinate vanity.' " 
 
 '* It is more a matter of curiosity, to ascertain how 
 I should feel in dancing, for once, with an unwilling 
 partner." 
 
 " You would be as much uplifted by the honour as 
 Abon Hassan during his one day of being a caliph ; but 
 seriously, Miss Fitz- Patrick, I have got what is called 
 in this country " a sitting-down cold," and I was, besides, 
 given over by the doctors yesterday with a sprained 
 ankle. Pray let me settle here quietly — for life." 
 
 Eleanor gave a conscious look, and a blush, at these 
 inadvertent words of Sir Alfred, to which Matilda per- 
 ceived that she attributed as much meaning as they 
 could carry, while she jestingly replied — 
 
 " Then I must make away with myself, since you give 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 233 
 
 me no hope, for I am like time and tide, which wait for 
 nobody; and once lost can never be recalled! — Going ! 
 going ! gone !" 
 
 Sir Alfred looked much relieved at the departure of 
 his lively persecutor, and re-established himself in his 
 retreat near the piano, where Matilda observed the 
 inward diversion with which he seemed to watch some 
 daring manoeuvres of Mrs. Clifford to provide her daugh- 
 ters with partners for a quadrille which was about to be 
 formed, and before long she had so far succeeded, that 
 Miss Charlotte alone remained disposable. 
 
 " Mr. Grant I will you be so obliging as to help me on 
 with this scarf I" said Mrs. Clifford, stopping that gentle- 
 man when he was about to glide past. " The room is so 
 cold that my teeth are chattering in time to the music ! 
 How I envy you young people who can keep yourselves 
 warm with dancing ! Do you mean to join the next 
 quadrille V 
 
 " Yes ! and if there are twenty more I am engaged 
 for them all," replied he, hurrying past, with his laugh- 
 ing eyes fixed on Lady Susan, whom as usual he had 
 been teazing Mrs. Clifford now moved a little way on, 
 till she caught a glimpse of Colonel Pendarvis; but 
 when she had manoeuvred herself within two yards of 
 him, he suddenly claimed Miss Fitz- Patrick as his part- 
 ner, and walked off, while the baffled lady turned round 
 and looked for a moment at Sir Alfred, but evidently 
 considering it a forlorn hope to attack him, she reserved 
 her powers for what seemed possible. Ah ! Major 
 Foley ! have you not secured a partner yet ? — allow me 
 to" 
 
 " Miss Clifford, you are quite right not to dance any 
 more," interrupted he, hurrying off. " I am tired my- 
 
234 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 self of beating the carpet all night ; but really to see dan- 
 cing like yours to such disadvantage quite shocks me." 
 
 " Can any one tell me where Miss Fitz-Patrick is ?" 
 asked Lord Alderby, who had been for some time Mean- 
 dering about with his glass at his eye. '' She sent me 
 for a camellia to the conservatory, and promised to wait 
 here and be my partner, if I returned in time." 
 
 " Miss Fitz Patrick went off the instant you left her^ 
 with Colonel Pendarvis ; but my daughter Charlotte is 
 disengaged." 
 
 " Insufferably hot rooms !" continued Lord Alderby, 
 with perfect nonchalance ; " I must positively look out 
 for a more endurable atmosphere." 
 
 *' Miss Clifford," said Matilda, who felt for the awk- 
 wardness of that young lady's situation, " here is a vacant 
 chair >vhich looks inviting, beside me, and perhaps you 
 would add a note or two of accompaniment in the treble 
 to enliven my playing." 
 
 " Thank you I but if no better partner occurs to night, 
 I would rather dance with a chair than sit on one. No- 
 thing is half so dull as looking on at the enjoyments of 
 other people ! But here comes my usual pis aller, Sir 
 Colin — I wish it may never be my lot to marry him, as 
 a last resource, for he is always so convenient." 
 
 "■ You might do worse, and you could scarcely do 
 better," said Mrs. Clifford, in a jocular tone. '' Young 
 ladies have many more offers of a partner to dance, than 
 of a partner for life, so they may afford to be much more 
 fastidious in the one than in the other." 
 
 " Pray, Sir Colin, where is your friend, Sir Jonathan 
 Fowler, at present?" asked Miss Charlotte, arresting 
 his steps. 
 
 " I cannot be quite certain whether he is at this mo- 
 ment in Rome or in Naples !" replied the baronet, look- 
 
THE MARCH OP INTELLECT. 235 
 
 ing rather surprised at so unexpected a question ; " but 
 I am searching for Miss Fitz-Patrick, to tell her such a 
 capital anecdote" 
 
 " Stop one single moment then !" cried Miss Char- 
 lotte^ as he was hastening past ; " I would not for worlds 
 miss seeing the effect of your story on Eleanor ! — how 
 she will laugh ! — do take me with you to enjoy it also." 
 
 Sir Colin looked delighted to have his vanity so flat- 
 tered ; but when the young lady took his arm, with an 
 air of discontented resignation, she stole a satirical smile 
 at her mother, and affected to suppress a yawn already, 
 as she disappeared in the crowd. 
 
 At last Matilda heard a sudden commotion behind — 
 hopes of release seemed unexpectedly to dawn upon her 
 — supper was announced ; and scarcely had she time to 
 look round, before every one had rushed like a torrent 
 to the dining-room, leaving her apparently alone at the 
 pianoforte, where she could compare herself to nothing 
 but an upas-tree in the desert, so completely did she 
 at that moment feel like an alien from society. An un- 
 accountable spell seemed over her, and though partly 
 suspecting that it was by the manoeuvres and descrip- 
 tions of Eleanor, that she had become such a mute in 
 the drama, still that only served to aggravate her vexa- 
 tion, and to make her long the more anxiously for home, 
 where she would again be restored to proper considera- 
 tion and respect. A moment served for these thoughts, 
 and Matilda rose to hasten towards her own room, when 
 she was suddenly addressed by a well-known voice, which 
 arrested her steps, and caused the colour to rise on her 
 cheek with surprise. She tmned instantly round, and 
 saw Sir Alfred Douglas approaching, while he evinced 
 in his manner a degree of agitation, and even of embar- 
 rassment, not less than her own. 
 
236 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 '' Miss Howard/' said he, vainly trying to conquer a 
 certain tremulousness of voice, " I have been anxious 
 for an opportunity to express my astonishment and plea- 
 sure at finding you here ! We once agreed formerly — 
 and nothing you ever said escapes my recollection — that 
 all great emotions shun observation. Mine certainly do, 
 and you might judge of their extent to-day, if you could 
 only know the eifort which it caused me to control 
 them." 
 
 "■ You succeeded so well, Sir Alfred, that I scarcely 
 felt conscious till now of your having been interested at 
 all on the occasion. I am truly glad, on the score of 
 our former intimacy, that we do not really meet now as 
 strangers." 
 
 " I trusted that you had known me better. Miss 
 Howard — that you had long understood me — that you 
 never would measure my feelings by the degree in which 
 they are exhibited before the world ! — strangers, did you 
 say? — why cannot I tell you at this moment all the 
 injury you do me by such a supposition, and how unwill- 
 ingly I would live to see that hour ? But I must trust 
 to your forbearance at present, and ask you to believe, 
 that during the long period of my absence it has been 
 my — my first wish to return, and claim the place I once 
 hoped to have in — in your recollection. Time alone can 
 show how far I may merit its continuance, but we must 
 bogin where we left off, with at least being friends. 
 More 1 would say, if I were at liberty to do sOj but the 
 
 day will come when In short, Miss Howard, 
 
 you well know how reserved I am to the world, but to 
 you I would be perfectly open, and if ever I seem other- 
 wise, ascribe it to any thing rather than indifference." 
 
 Matilda's colour fled and returned, in rapid succession, 
 during these few hurried words from Sir Alfred. She 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 237 
 
 bent her head to conceal the emotion which his manner 
 could not fail to excite, and the long dark fringes of her 
 eyelids dropped on her cheek, while he anxiously 
 watched for the sound of that voice which was so inter- 
 esting to him, and so exquisitely harmonious that all 
 who heard it once must have wished to hear it again, 
 but he waited in vain, for she could not reply, and a 
 pause of some moments ensued. 
 
 This was by no means the first time that a similar 
 warmth of feeling had been testified in the manner and 
 expressions of Sir Alfred, and she could not but remem- 
 ber now the deep interest with which his former lan- 
 guage once inspired her. AVhenever they were alone, 
 he had then always relaxed from the frozen stateliness 
 and reserve of his general manner, and betrayed all that 
 energy and enthusiasm of character which were pecu- 
 liarly his own ; but so immediate a relapse into for- 
 mality took place, when there appeared a chance of 
 being observed, that she often, on subsequent reflec- 
 tion, felt painfully perplexed to account for his con- 
 duct, and had even occasionally doubted his sincerity ; 
 yet it was impossible for her to do so now, when his 
 ardent language was seconded by an expression of 
 reality in his countenance which could not be misinter- 
 preted. 
 
 Matilda had been frequently told by Lady Howard, 
 that men of great conceit and little principle are in the 
 practice of endeavouring to make a first impression on 
 young and unsophisticated hearts, knowing that neither 
 time nor circumstances can ever afterwards obliterate 
 those earliest remembrances ; but no one could suspect 
 Sir Alfred of vanity, seeing the wide field he might have 
 had for its exercise ; and that, with every thing to ren- 
 
MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 der his attentions acceptable^ he seemed careless of show- 
 ing any, except to one only, who would have been as 
 unwilling, as she was unable to suspect him of deceit. 
 Yet Matilda felt incapable of speaking, from an appre- 
 hension of betraying more agitation than the occasion 
 warranted, for it might appear by that means as if she 
 attached too much importance to language which was 
 evidently guarded, and seemed meant to be ambiguous ; 
 she therefore remained in perplexed and agitated silence. 
 
 " I have been abrupt and precipitate, Miss Howard/* 
 continued Sir Alfred ; " but such an accidental oppor- 
 tunity as the present might not occur again. I was 
 impatient to assure you that no change of scene has 
 made me forget the hours we passed together formerly, 
 and that I anticipated nothing on my return with so 
 much ardour as the renewal of our intimacy. You know 
 me to be a man of few words, yet those few may be im- 
 plicitly relied on. But for an impediment which can 
 not at present be explained, my first object on reaching 
 this country would have been to " 
 
 A sound of voices was heard ascending the staircase, 
 and at this moment Mr. Grant, with his usual joyous 
 hilarity entered the room, and walked up at once to the 
 piaioforte. 
 
 " Miss Howard !" he exclaimed, in accents of asto- 
 nishment, on observing how visibly she was agitated ; 
 but instantly afterwards, with a degree of delicacy and 
 tact which could scarcely have been anticipated, he added 
 in the same tone of surprise — "■ is it possible that you have 
 had no supper ? I see you are a more incorrigible student 
 than was represented by Miss Fitz Patrick, for you would 
 rather sit here reading a music-book, than not read at 
 all. She tells me that you think the dullest book in the 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. ^ft 
 
 world better than the best conversation ; but Douglas 
 and I must undeceive you on that point, by doing the 
 agreeable for once in our lives." 
 
 Mr. Grant could not resist a sly glance at Sir Alfred, 
 who had been examining a print, to conceal his counte- 
 nance, but now looked up with much of his usual calm- 
 ness and self-possession. 
 
 " I have not the same happy confidence in my powers 
 that you feel in yours, Grant. One who so continually 
 exercises them for the benefit of every person indiscri- 
 minately, ought to be in good practice ; whereas I so 
 seldom care to please, that I scarcely deserve success, 
 even where it is of most importance." 
 
 Mr. Grant looked with momentary surprise from Sir 
 Alfred to Matilda ; but it was only instantaneous, for 
 he immediately reassumed an appearance of total uncon- 
 sciousness, saying in his usual tone of heedless vivacity, 
 '' Miss Howard, I have not yet heard a single Latin 
 quotation, nor a syllable about the Greek participles ! 
 Pray, if we by chance fall into conversation, how long 
 might I depend upon its continuing in plain English V 
 
 " You may have bail for the rest of my life," replied 
 she, trying to recover herself. " My own language is 
 good enough for any thing I have to say ; but Eleanor's 
 sketch of me was so formidable this morning, that it is to 
 be hoped no one will ever find it to bear any resemblance. 
 T might have said on that occasion, as a Spanish ofiicer 
 did, who saw himself for the first time in uniform, — 
 ' With such an aspect I have even a terror of myself.' " 
 
 " Miss Fitz-Patrick's pictures are all mere daubs, 
 loaded with colour, but not in correct drawing," observed 
 Sir Alfred. *' On most occasions I prefer my own judg- 
 ment to other people's descriptions." 
 
 '* If every one did the same I should not perhaps be 
 
240 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 SO completely under the ban of Eleanor's coterie at pre- 
 sent; but she amused herself with giving a most ludicrous 
 representation^ which makes the boldest people afraid of 
 me ; and really, of all solitudes in the world, there is 
 none, you know, so great as being alone in a crowd." 
 
 <' I like it above every thing," said Sir Alfred ; " but 
 you should imitate Miss Charlotte Clifford, whose en- 
 terprising attempts at conversation I observed you 
 watching to-day ; and certainly, Miss Howard, any 
 one might have been envious of her success, especially 
 considering that you were placed at dinner, where on 
 neither side had you the smallest chance of being lis- 
 tened to." 
 
 " That cannot be levelled at me of course," observed 
 Mr. Grant. " The fact is, that I require a great deal 
 of drawing out, and Miss Fitz-Patrick, by way of doing 
 so, talks incessantly herself, so that I really had not 
 time so much as to give a cough all dinner-time." 
 
 " Apropos, Grant ! I always intended to ask your 
 receipt for making young ladies conversable, because I 
 never saw you introduced to one yet without her being 
 instantly in a state of animated volubility." 
 
 " Keep my secret, then, and you shall hear it. When 
 ever I am lazy about talking, and can imagine nothing 
 else to say, I ask my new acquaintance. If she knows 
 'Captain Campbell? Immediately half-a-dozen gen- 
 tlemen of that name start up to her recollection, and 
 she is eager to know which of them I mean. Of course 
 they must all be described, and before their histories 
 are completed, the quadrille terminates, and it is time 
 for us to separate." 
 
 " That might do for a ball, but it will scarcely get 
 you through the three courses of a dinner party." 
 
 " Ah ! that requires more arrangement. Begin with 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT 241 
 
 finding the room insufferably hot, or intensely cold ; 
 complain of being oppressed with innumerable dinner 
 engagements, and remark how much you hate crowded 
 parties; fall into raptures with the last concert, but 
 disparage most of the performers ; find out a likeness 
 for the" Prima Donna, and compare the German and 
 Italian schools, remarking, of course, that Rossini bor- 
 rows from himself, and how unlucky it was that Weber 
 died before he wrote more; then start fair with the 
 last novel, and your business is done." 
 
 A lively dialogue ensued, which continued to be kept 
 up with characteristic humour and animation on all 
 sides, till at length it took a yet more interesting turn ; 
 and in the interchange of sentiments and opinions which 
 ensued, Matilda was pleased to see traits of good sense 
 and of right feeling in Mr. Grant for which she had 
 scarcely been prepared, from the general care-for-no- 
 body tone of his conversation. She could be surpris- 
 ed at no degree of talent or feeling evinced by Sir 
 Alfred, knowing that the exhibition of both, in their 
 highest degree, was only checked by his habitual re- 
 serve, which he seemed for the present to have laid 
 aside ; and Matilda herself, while she was delighted 
 with the observations of others, insensibly revealed 
 the hidden depths of her own mind, with which few 
 would not have been captivated when it was thoroughly 
 known, for the naivete of youth was united to a degree 
 of candour and originality in expressing her thoughts, 
 which attracted instant confidence and regard. 
 
 At length a rush of voices in the anti-room preceded 
 the entrance of Eleanor, leaning on Lord Alderby's arm, 
 and followed by a numerous train of satellites; but 
 before they appeared, Sir Alfred quietly resumed his 
 
 M 
 
242 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY I OR, 
 
 former position on the sofa^, apparently in a state of 
 entire abstraction, while Mr. Grant continued his sen- 
 tence to Miss Howard, without expressing any surprise 
 at this sudden desertion. 
 
 " Matilda ! ! I am quite petrified to find you here !" 
 cried Eleanor, who was generally petrified or thun- 
 der-struck at least three times a-day. "^ Have n't you 
 had any supper ? We left some jelly below, and the 
 drum-stick of a turkey — a ding-dong, as Mrs. Rams- 
 bottom calls it ; so pray go down, and see what you 
 could fancy." 
 
 Miss Howard professed an utter distaste for suppers, 
 and gladly seized the earliest opportunity of quietly 
 stealing to her own room, where, her heart fluttering 
 with emotion, and her countenance glowing with happi- 
 ness, which she scarcely dared confess even to herself, 
 she hastily cast herself on a seat near the window, and 
 began an agitated review of all that had been said by 
 Sir Alfred. It was impossible not to become convinced 
 of his sincerity now, and she felt that his had been the 
 tacit declaration of a preference to which the confidence 
 of her whole heart might be given. That some impe- 
 diment prevented a more full explanation, seemed to 
 have been implied; but she knew Sir Alfred to be 
 gifted with an almost chivalrous sense of honour which 
 could not be too implicitly relied on, and she gave her 
 mind up to the belief that he had long been, and still 
 continued to be, attached to herself. Often before, as 
 the guardian of her own happiness, she had called in the 
 warning voice of prudence to remind her how many 
 made shipwreck of their happiness by too ready a cre- 
 dulity on these subjects ; but now she felt that not only 
 was it justifiable to credit all Sir Alfred said, but that 
 it would be unjustifiable any longer to doubt his profes- 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 243 
 
 sions j and, before she turned her mind upon the more 
 serious thoughts and duties of the evening, Matilda 
 endeavoured to compose herself by a pleasing remem- 
 brance of many past scenes, which, till now, she had 
 frequently endeavoured to forget. 
 
244 MODERN society; ok, 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The broad unfeeling mirth that folly wears. 
 Less pleas3S far than virtue's very tears. 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 The silver crescent of a cloudless moon shone in 
 solemn brightness oyer the distant hills, and lighted up 
 the gaunt, bare skeletons, of many ancient trees, throw- 
 ing their shadows upon the grass beneath, while the 
 deep blue sky was studded with countless stars, which 
 were reflected in the dark gloomy bosom of the silent 
 waters, when Matilda looked abroad to admire the mys- 
 terious tranquillity of nature, before she prepared for 
 consigning herself to repose. What Christian can gaze 
 long or often on the majestic grandeur of the starry 
 hearens, and not be lost in contemplation of its more than 
 earthly glory, while the heart soars above those abject 
 cares and personal feelings which belong to a present 
 life, and is filled with the prospect of an eternal destiny ? 
 Matilda's mind expanded in the thoughts of futurity, 
 and she anticipated that time when the remembrance of 
 every worldly emotion would seem, in her own estima- 
 tion, like the momentary ripple occasioned by a summer 
 breeze on the fathomless ocean. A pleasing calm dif- 
 fused itself over her meditations, and she was about to 
 leave the window, and begin preparing to retire for the 
 night, when she became suddenly startled to observe the 
 dim shadow of a human figure, pacing rapidly up and 
 down near the margin of the river, with vehement gesti- 
 culations, and almost maniacal energy of manner. Oc- 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 245 
 
 casionally the person, who seemed to be a female, dis- 
 appeared for some moments beneath the dark shadows 
 of the forest, but again she emerged, and at length 
 stooping down, where a lai^e bundle was laid on the 
 grass, she untied it, and drew out a quantity of shawls 
 and ribbons, which she proceeded to hang in fantastic 
 draperies on herself. After arranging and altering 
 their positions in every capricious form, she heaped 
 them all on with frantic haste, and began gazing at 
 a reflection of her own figure in the moonlit surface 
 of the river, as it swept rapidly past beneath the win- 
 dow. Matilda stood transfixed to the spot, and a thrill 
 of apprehension ran through her frame, for it suddenly 
 flashed upon her mind that this could be no other than 
 Nanny, whose eccentric gestures and strange appear- 
 ance caused so much terror and surprise. Still she 
 wished to doubt, and knew not what to think or do. 
 No one in the house could possibly be called, and Matilda 
 remembered, not without feiir, that a door which com- 
 municated with the terrace, led by a back-staircase to 
 the large lumber-room opposite her own, and that in all 
 probability the poor girl had gone out in that way, by 
 which she might at any time return. While these alarm- 
 ing thoughts darted into her mind, a voice suddenly 
 rose on the midnight air, in tones of wild and high 
 excitement. Matilda listened in breathless agitation, for 
 she traced the broken snatches of hymns and tunes which 
 had once been familiar companions of her own childhood ; 
 a moment afterwards, however, they died away in low 
 and melancholy cadences, till the voice became utterly 
 inaudible. Touched by remembering former times, and 
 deeply affected by the discovery of Nanny's situation, Ma- 
 tilda banished at once every personal feeling, and nerving 
 
246 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 her resolution to the utmost, she instantly threw up a 
 window, and called aloud to the poor girl, who stood 
 immediately heneath the castle wall. A faint echo alone 
 replied ; and though she waved her handkerchief, and 
 tried by every device to attract attention, it was all in 
 vain ; Nanny stood motionless, and apparently uncon- 
 sciouSj till suddenly she raised a wild hysterical shriek, 
 and Matilda heard for the first time that fearful laugh of 
 insanity which none who have once known it, can ever 
 afterwards forget. Her courage now appeared entirely 
 to have failed, she leaned against the window for support, 
 and it seemed as if her heart had ceased to beat. The 
 first suggestion of fear was to make fast her own door ; 
 but even terror could not make Matilda entirely selfish, 
 and knowing that it would be vain to ring her bell, she 
 anxiously thought how assistance could be most imme- 
 diately obtained for securing the poor girl's safety. She 
 looked again, and saw Nanny wildly stretch her arms 
 towards the river, and rush down to its very margin. 
 There she threw off her bonnet, and fell on her knees, 
 while her long dark hair floated on her shoulders, and 
 she clasped her hands above her head with a look of 
 mortal agony, and of desperate resolution. Matilda 
 snatched up her candle and instantly flew down stairs. 
 Contrary to her usual timidity of disposition, she formed 
 an immediate resolution, not by the loss of one single 
 moment, to spare her own feelings in a case like the pre- 
 sent, where life or death seemed at hazard ; and without 
 an instant's pause, she rapidly glided into the drawing- 
 room, where Sir Richard and the other gentlemen were 
 on the point of dispersing. Matilda's steps faltered, 
 and her colour rose when she saw their evident astonish- 
 ment at her unexpected presence. But personal consi- 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 247 
 
 derations at such a time are nothing to a generous 
 mind, and, advancing straight to her uncle, she grasped 
 his arm, and related what had occurred in a few words. 
 Mr. Grant comprehended the whole at once, and rush- 
 ed out, followed by Sir Alfred and the other gentlemen, 
 while Matilda remained behind, knowing that her pre- 
 sence could now be of no use ; but she told Sir Richard 
 that, if Nanny were brought to the housekeeper's room, 
 every thing should be prepared for her there. She then 
 aroused Mrs. Gordon and several of the maids from their 
 slumbers, and caused a fire to be rekindled in the grate ; 
 but when all was ready, and nothing more could be done, 
 Matilda became alarmed at hearing no tidings from the 
 gentlemen, and her heart sunk with apprehension. Every 
 breath of wind seemed like the sound of their footsteps, 
 and every moment that passed served to increase her 
 fears. At length, more than half-an-hour had elapsed, 
 when the door flew open, and Mr. Grant entered, bear- 
 ing in his arms the apparently lifeless form of Nanny, 
 which he hastily placed on a sofa near the fire. Ma- 
 tilda felt that her hair and her clothes were streaming 
 with wet, and it became evident that she had been res- 
 cued from a watery grave, but scarcely one word of 
 explanation was given relating to the circumstances. 
 Mr. Grant, indeed, began a hasty narrative, apparently 
 descriptive of great danger and exertion, which were 
 not his own ; but Sir Alfred, v/ho stood near, gave him 
 a look commanding silence, and, with a shrug and a 
 grimace of humorous submission, he obeyed. 
 
 With silent heartfelt thankfulness for the safety of 
 €very one, and a tear of pity for the unfortunate Nanny, 
 Matilda proceeded to use every means to promote re- 
 covery ; and having at last succeeded in restoring ap- 
 
248 MODERN SOCIETY ; oil, 
 
 parent consciousness, she calmly requested the gentle- 
 men to withdraw, that the poor girl's dress might be 
 changed for what was warm and dry. Against being 
 left without protection, however, Mrs. Gordon loudly, 
 and almost angrily, remonstrated, saying she would as 
 soon be in the presence of a ghost as of a madwoman. 
 '" Bodies without spirits, or spirits without bodies, I 
 don't know which is worst, Miss Howard ! but I can- 
 not possibly remain in the room with only you and 
 this poor daft creature. Her head is just turned with 
 vanity, and I always thought she would come to no good." 
 " There is nothing the matter with me, but that I 
 wish to put an end to myself!" shrieked Nanny, start- 
 ing up with a sudden desperation, which caused Mrs. 
 Gordon to retreat in terror. " I wish to put an end to 
 myself," repeated she, deliberately, while her large dila- 
 ted eyes were fastened on Matilda with an expression 
 which appalled for the moment, and blanched her cheek 
 with awe and apprehension. " Why am I here ? Let 
 me go ! I heard a voice that called me ! I hear it now ! 
 Let me go ! I am wanted ! I tell you there is nothing 
 the matter, but I want to get away from myself! Oh ! 
 I have such horrid, horrid dreams !" 
 
 " Nanny !" said Matilda, making a powerful effort to 
 conquer her own fears, and addressing the maniac in tones 
 of touching softness ; " My poor Nanny I" continued 
 she, laying her hand on the unfortunate girl's arm, and 
 fixing her eye intently on hers, with an expression of 
 kindness, though it was difficult to fasten a steady gaze 
 on the eyeballs, glaring like live coals, which were 
 bent on herself, with an Unnatural stare. " Do you re- 
 member Ashgrove, Nanny ? Do you ever think of 
 Lady Olivia and the Sunday School ? She was very 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 249 
 
 kind to you, Nanny, and she always said you would do 
 well." 
 
 " I want to go where she is ! I would have done it, 
 but they will not let me," whispered Nanny, in a low 
 husky voice, while a frightful wintry smile came over 
 her rigid features. " Say nothing about it — I'll do that 
 yet ! I'll put an end to myself — there's nothing else the 
 matter I" 
 
 " But, Nanny, it is impossible to follow Lady Olivia, 
 unless you bear sorrow patiently as she did. We wish 
 to be kind to you — no one shall believe any of those 
 foolish stories. I have contradicted them all." 
 
 At these words, Mrs. Gordon angrily drew up, with 
 a look of injured merit, being one of those individuals 
 who never for one moment forget their own personal feel- 
 ings even while witnessing the utmost extreme of hu- 
 man misery ; and she considered it an impeachment of 
 her credit, in the government of Sir Richard's household, 
 that any person should doubt of Nanny's guilt, when 
 she had so decidedly condemned her. 
 
 " None of us arc fit for a better world before we are 
 called to it, Nanny. You know the apple is not ripe 
 till it falls from the tree, and you must stay your time, 
 while the sun shines, or while the rain falls, because 
 all is needful to prepare us. Do you remember this 
 Hymn, Nanny ? Many times you said the words long 
 ago— 
 
 ' Grace alone can cure our ills. 
 Sweeten life with all its cares. ' " 
 
 " Yes !" said Nanny, while her eyes gradually soft- 
 ened into a look of recollection — 
 
 " ' Though you oft have heard in vair, 
 Former years in folly spent, 
 
250 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 Grace invites you yet again. 
 Once more calls you to repent,' " 
 
 The unnatural fire whicli had glared in the unfortunate 
 girl's eyes became suddenly quenched in tears, while 
 large drops slowly coursed each other down her cheeks, 
 and at length, clasping her hands over her face, she burst 
 into a passionate fit of weeping, which lasted for a length 
 of time with frightful vehemence. 
 
 " You may leave us now in perfect safety," whispered 
 Matilda, turning calmly to Sir Alfred and Mr. Grant, 
 who lingered near the door, and seemed still unwilling 
 to depart. '' I can manage perfectly now — more of the 
 servants are command she will probably soon be composed 
 when they have placed her in bed." 
 
 Mr. Grant looked at Matilda with a degree of grave 
 and serious interest very different from his usual man- 
 ner, and answered, in a tone of respectful kindness, — 
 " May we feel sure, Miss Howard, that your own powers 
 are not overtasked ? — with so much sympathy as you 
 evidently feel, this is a very trying scene. We must be 
 allowed to remain until medical aid arrives, which Sir 
 Richard has sent without delay to summon." 
 
 The proposal of staying was warmly seconded by Sir 
 Alfred, and not many minutes afterwards Dr. Mackenzie 
 arrived. Having bled his patient copiously, and pre- 
 scribed a composing draught, he desired that the room 
 might be left quiet. The whole party then dispersed, 
 and Matilda appeared as if she were retiring also, but 
 having contrived to elude observation, she glided noise- 
 lessly back, and gently placed herself by the bedside of 
 Nanny, making signs to the housemaid, who was also in 
 attendance, that she might be seated. Morning dawned, 
 and the grey twilight dimly diffused itself over the land- 
 scape, before Matilda's prayers and watchings were 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 251 
 
 ended ; but at length, seeing that Nanny's eyes were 
 closed in sleep, though her slumber was agitated and 
 disturbed, she stole out of the room, and sought for that 
 repose which her own frame so greatly needed. 
 
 Nothing could be more irritating to the jealous spirit 
 of Eleanor, than next morning to observe with what 
 interest and empressement Matilda was received on her 
 entrance to breakfast, by all those who had witnessed 
 her generous exertions and heartfelt benevolence during 
 the previous night ; and nothing could have exhibited 
 more evidently her own good sense and discretion, than 
 the calm self-possession with which she endeavoured to 
 pass over all her own share in what had happened, by 
 changing the subject of discussion entirely, though her 
 quiet unobtrusive attempts to do so, did not at once suc- 
 ceed. Each gentleman, as he came in, renewed her 
 embarrassment, by expressing the most anxious solici- 
 tude lest she might have suffered from her exertions ; 
 while she with that instinctive sympathy which enabled 
 her to read the thoughts of every one, felt perfectly con- 
 scious of her cousin's annoyance, and tried to save her 
 feelings by retiring as much from notice as possible. 
 Eleanor heard a distorted account of the whole scene 
 which took place during the previous evening from 
 Pauline, corroborated by Mrs. Gordon. Sir Richard's 
 valet also gave a similar statement to his master, by 
 which a prejudice had been fixed in the minds of both, 
 and they were fully persuaded that Nanny had been 
 equally criminal and indiscreet ; in consequence of which 
 orders were given for her immediate removal to Gowan 
 Bank. Miss Fitz-Patrick thought she had done a great 
 act of liberality by ordering that Dr. Mackenzie should 
 attend the invalid, and spare no expense in the remedies 
 he prescribed ; but having done this, she felt entitled to 
 
252 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 dismiss the subject from her thoughts, and considered it 
 an injury in any one to recal what was so disagreeable. 
 Eleanor during the commencement of breakfast, was 
 for once grave and silent. This might have been attri- 
 buted to sorrow and self-reproach for the sufferings of 
 her protege, had there not been a shade of anger on her 
 countenance, and of irritability in her tone of voice, 
 which evinced any thing rather than amiable feelings. 
 Matilda resolutely closed her eyes to this, until forced 
 at last to see it, for the colour rushed unbidden into her 
 countenance, when she heard Eleanor say, in an audible 
 whisper, to Miss Marabout, " All got up for effect ! — 
 so fond of a scene I — some people like on any terms to 
 be conspicuous." 
 
 " Absurd !" replied the ci-devant governess ; " what 
 have people in Nanny's line of life to do with fine feel- 
 ings ? Miss Ploward has encouraged it all ; and that 
 sort of thing is as much out of its place in the poor crea- 
 ture's mind, as if she wore a Brussels lace dress. It is 
 evidently done to gain some purpose, and I am glad she 
 is to be sent home immediately. For my own part I 
 have long suspected the girl was a little insane, and 
 would not for worlds live an hour in the house with any 
 person convicted of being mad." 
 
 " There is more than one person in this house who 
 seems to me a little mad. Miss Howard \" said Mr. 
 Armstrong, in an under tone. " Have you not thought 
 better of all I said to you ? It is a good move on a 
 chess-board to take the castle, and I could pawn my 
 credit on the enterprise succeeding, if your own willful- 
 ness does not check-mate the whole affair. Would it not 
 be worth while to know how the knave was once played 
 to advantage already, and how you could give a Row- 
 land for an Oliver V^ 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 253 
 
 " I already mentioned, Mr. Armstrong, that, if you 
 can produce a fair and open statement of any thing in 
 which my interests are concerned, it will give me plea- 
 sure to hear it fully explained ; but nothing underhand 
 can possibly receive countenance from me, nor shall I 
 allow myself to be made the depository of malicious 
 innuendoes against my uncle or my cousin on any occa- 
 sion whatever, and especially here." 
 
 Mean time, Sir Alfred buried himself behind a widely 
 extended sheet of " the Times," and seemed utterly in- 
 sensible of all that was passing around ; while Mr. Grant 
 leaned familiarly over the back of his chair, and made a 
 running commentary on the news of the day, which 
 afterwards diverged into discussions of an approaching 
 ballot at the club. 
 
 " Above all things, avoid electing any busy, legisla- 
 ting men," observed Sir Alfred. '^ There should always 
 be a second ballot at the end of the year, to ascertain if 
 new members may be permitted to remain." 
 
 '^ Admirable ! I shall suggest that when our next 
 meeting takes place. How it would thin the ranks. 
 Poor Sir Colin, among all those he belongs to, would not 
 survive to tell his next story at one of them. I am as- 
 sured that, in London, he belongs to three or four." 
 
 " Quite a knave of clubs ! I shall take my name 
 out of White's or the Traveller's, if they ever admit 
 him." 
 
 *^' To myself and others, who are on committee at the 
 Albion, nothing is half so troublesome to manage as a 
 country gentleman, who has been accustomed to rule his 
 wife, his children, and his tenantry. People who go 
 into society, and mingle with strangers, become ten 
 times more tranquil about trifles ; but a man who 
 lives constantly at home is in a perpetual storm about 
 
254 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 the merest bagatelles. From being accustomed to do- 
 mineer without resistance, every fault he finds with our 
 management is pronounced disgraceful, atrocious, or un- 
 heard of, at the very least ; while he puts himself in a 
 perfect uproar to know if such a thing was ever done 
 before in any community — most likely something that 
 every body does every day, and which I have probably 
 done fifty times myself." 
 
 " Ahj yes ! people who live always on their own pro- 
 perty get such an overgrown opinion of its importance, 
 that they become like the mouse in a chest, who could 
 not believe that there was any thing larger or greater in 
 the whole world. Society is a perfect Procrustes's bed 
 for reducing these imaginary giants to their proper 
 level ; and it does them unspeakable good to be several 
 times black-balled at a club before admission." 
 
 " How it spoils gentlemen when they begin to inter- 
 meddle with news I" said Eleanor, looking with an air 
 of pique at the two friends, particularly Mr. Grant, 
 whose altered manner towards herself appeared now, for 
 the first time, to strike her. " Politics destroy con 
 versation, and clubs ruin all the comfort of domestic 
 life/' 
 
 " I beg leave to differ from the last speaker !" cried 
 Mr. Grant, breaking off from his studies. " Now, Miss 
 Fitz- Patrick ! argument is better than assertion ; so 
 maintain your position, and try if it be possible to con- 
 vince me." 
 
 " Can you deny that a thorough club-monger is scarce- 
 ly ever at home ? so how can he be domestic ? He 
 bustles off early in the day, to spell over all the provin- 
 cial papers, till it is time to get anxious about the Lon- 
 don post. When that arrives, he greedily seizes one 
 newspaper, and keeps his eye fixed upon some person 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 255 
 
 from whom he hopes to secure another. After these are 
 concluded, he must have his pool at billiards, and proba- 
 bly ends the evening by playing a rubber at -vvhist with 
 two friends and a dummy." 
 
 " Ah ! you are describing some miserable old bachelor 
 •with no attractions to take him home." 
 
 " As for that, a man who has married upon nothing, 
 which means, you know in London, about twelve hun- 
 dred a -year, may, for the merest trifle, enjoy at his club 
 the most splendid sitting-rooms, gilded like a lord 
 mayor's coach, and lighted up like Aladdin's palace, 
 while his dinner is prepared by a French cook, and 
 served up in a degree of luxury and splendour fit for an 
 emperor. Only fancy such a man going occasionally 
 home to a dusky parlour, in the twilight of one pair of 
 candles — his wife and his dinner both ill-dressed — a per- 
 petual talk of economy ringing in his ears — and probably 
 a noisy tumult of troublesome children throwing his 
 room and his brains into disorder. Now, if he knew 
 no better, the poor man might learn to call that so- 
 cial happiness and fire -side peace ; but having a club 
 for his refuge, he falls into a paroxysm of disgust, and 
 exit." 
 
 " What an entire want of sentiment is ascribed to 
 us, Miss Fitz-Patrick I Do you suppose we are insen- 
 sible to the felicities of domestic confidence — the sweet 
 interchange of mutual aff'ection, — the — the — In short, 
 let us read the last chapter of any novel we can 
 lay our hands on, which wall express exactly what I 
 mean." 
 
 " Ah ! but you never see any hero of a novel who is 
 described as being both a domestic married man and a 
 member of White's. All stories end with the happy 
 
256 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 couple going oflPlike a sky rocket in a brilliant flame of 
 love and happiness ; but if we could only see the result, 
 nothing comes back but the stick. I have already super- 
 intended the rise and fall of several very romantic love- 
 matches, and invariably, if the gentleman was a professed 
 frequenter of clubs, he relapsed almost immediately into 
 bachelor habits. Mutual indifference is the consequence ; 
 and positively many married people, without any actual 
 quarrel, have nevertheless, so little intercourse, that I 
 am confident, if some kind fairy offered to give each 
 separately all the comforts they now enjoy, on condition 
 of their never meeting again, it would be a mutual re- 
 lief." 
 
 " Ah ! Miss Fitz- Patrick ! to a man of my exquisite 
 sensibility, what an incredible picture that appears ! 
 Such is my idea of domestic happiness, that since no 
 lady can be prevailed on to accept me,il have actually 
 ordered a frame of worsted work to be placed in my 
 sitting-room ; and my parrot is taught to cry out in an 
 angry voice, whenever I enter the room — ' Where have 
 you been all day, Tom V merely to keep me in mind of 
 the felicity which may one day be mine with my future 
 better half." 
 
 " You can scarcely suffer disappointment, if that be 
 all," replied Eleanor, laughing and colouring. " I hope. 
 Sir Alfred, your standard of perfection in ladies is as 
 moderate V 
 
 " Mine is so high that I have never but once seen any 
 one reach it." 
 
 Observing the emphasis with which Sir Alfred spoke, 
 Eleanor evidently applied it to herself, and dropped her 
 eyes with a look of gratified consciousness ; but had she 
 happened to notice his intendedapplicationof the words — 
 
'ittE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 257 
 
 he merely darted one momentary glance toward the 
 interesting countenance of Matilda, who was tying up 
 her houquet, and resumed his newspaper. 
 
 '' You complain, Miss Fitz- Patrick, of gentlemen 
 being too much absent from their own houses/' conti- 
 nued Mr. Grant, " but if I were a young lady, nothing 
 would be half so formidable to me as the prospect of ever 
 having what is called ' an attentive husband !' A man 
 with nothing to do, — always at home, — always in the 
 way, and perpetually expecting to be amused; — who asks 
 in the morning when you mean to walk, and cannot be 
 got rid of on any terms, — equally ready to shop, or visit, 
 or stroll in the country, and to whom, in short, no plan 
 for the day can be proposed so odious as to make you sure 
 to get rid of his society." 
 
 *' I may certainly answer for it already, that there 
 are some gentlemen who can on no terms be got quit of! 
 Mr. Armstrong ! I'll trouble you to ring the bell ! — 
 people who stay in your house, like a wasp upon a win- 
 dow-pane, buzzing about the table at meals, and keep- 
 ing one in perpetual hot water. Mr. Armstrong, will 
 you fill the tea-pot ? It breaks my arm to reach so 
 far." 
 
 '^ Those wasps you speak of are very dangerous some- 
 times, and can sting severely," said Mr. Armstrong, in a 
 slow tone of suppressed rage. " I would advise you, Miss 
 Fitz-Patrick, to beware of irritating them." 
 
 " Ah ! Lord Alderby ! good morning ! I guess you 
 sat up all night, in order to be down in such excellent 
 time ! Pray, give us a new idea upon the weather ! " 
 
 " I always prophesy rain every morning in this coun- 
 try, and am sure to be right before evening." 
 
 " They tell me that this day is cold, — fine, — freezing, 
 
258 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 — likely to thaw, — likely to snow, — and likely to hold 
 up ! — how does all this promise for my skating party V 
 
 " Eleanor ! your tea will be fit to skate upon, if we 
 don't get it soon !" exclaimed Sir Richard impatiently. 
 '' I never saw any woman yet who could make it toler- 
 ably." 
 
 " Papa ! if there is an accomplishment on earth that I 
 excel in, it is this ! — but the most deserving people are 
 generally traduced by an ungrateful public !" 
 
 " I have some good news to give you ! ' added the 
 Baronet, glancing rather dubiously at a remarkably ill- 
 folded, awkward-looking letter, which he handed to his 
 daughter. " Captain M'Tartan, R.N., has appointed him- 
 self to this station for three weeks, if quite convenient." 
 
 " Captain M'Tartan !" cried Eleanor, faintly ; " I 
 thought he had sailed to Africa, or the West Indies, or 
 somewhere of that kind, which would have rid us of him 
 entirely ! I had even been considering how a black 
 velvet trimming would do on my bonnet I but Scotch 
 cousins have been a proverbial bore all over the world 
 ever since I entered it, and will probably continue so, as 
 long as we remain." 
 
 '^ I consider that remark as intended to be personal, 
 Miss Fitz -Patrick," said Sir Alfred, looking off his news- 
 paper. 
 
 " Oh ! you are enough to exculpate the whole race I 
 But did you ever see Captain M'Tartan ? Such a man I 
 — he is my beau ideal of vulgarity ! His face is not 
 merely weatherbeaten, but it looks as if he had been in 
 a storm all his life ! — I can't be in the room with him, 
 he is so ugly." 
 
 '' But, my dear girl ! you have not seen him for 
 ages," cried Sir Richard. " He went to the Mediter- 
 
THE MARCH OP INTELLECT. 2^9 
 
 ranean and to Petersburgh when you were a perfect 
 childj and no one here has been in company with him 
 since." 
 
 ^' People do not improve with years, and I never 
 forget any body. In that respect, my memory is like 
 the Royal Family's, and my abhorrence of Captain 
 M'Tartan began before I was ten. He fastened my 
 eyelids together with sticking-plaster in the school- 
 room, when I fell asleep over my lessons, and persuaded 
 me that I had become suddenly blind. His whole wit 
 consisted in those sort of silly practical jokes, and mau- 
 vaises plaisanteries, which I detest when they are played 
 upon myself." 
 
 " Let me tell you, Eleanor ! that Donald M'Tartan 
 is one of the most distinguished officers in the service," 
 said Sir Richard rather angrily. " You may be very 
 proud of the connexion, for he shewed prodigious spirit 
 at Algiers and Navarino. It is said that he has already 
 received nine-and-twenty wounds in battle." 
 
 " Then I must take care not to wound his feelings, 
 or that would be the thirtieth." 
 
 " And much the most difficult to bear !" added Lord 
 Alderby, with a very asthmatic attempt at a sigh. 
 
 " He always speaks nautical language, too, as officers 
 are represented doing in naval novels, though never 
 heard in real life," added Eleanor. " It is like dining 
 at the United Service Club to hear him talk ! He 
 'heaves to' when he comes up to one ; 'casts anchor' 
 when he sits down ; and ' fires a broadside ' of words 
 whenever he opens his mouth. But his worst crime 
 is yet to come ! Having been intimate in our house 
 when I was a child, he still calls me in this letter 
 Eleanor ! Nothing can be a surer test of vulgarity 
 
260 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY ; OH, 
 
 than that familiar way of naming to others our acquaint- 
 ances, or even our near connexions, in their absence. 
 I already know one or two misses, professing to under- 
 stand good manners, who talk of gentlemen with whom 
 they are intimate, as ' Jack,' ' Dick/ or ' Tom.' 
 
 " To be sure !" said Mr. Grant. " "We have a right 
 to be as intimate as we please with those who are not 
 present to contradict us I I always speak of ' my 
 friend, Cairngorum,' and ' that excellent fellow Dum- 
 bartonshire,' though certainly, if they entered the room, 
 at this moment, I am not sure if either of them could 
 recollect me, seeing we only met once/' 
 
 " People of a certain calibre are not entitled to know 
 whether I have a Christian name or not ?" continued 
 Eleanor, looking at Mr. Armstrong. " Captain M 'Tar- 
 tan is in all respects, exactly like a great, overgrown 
 schoolboy. I would rather go about with no face at 
 all, than exhibit such a physiognomy as he does, and 
 his laugh seems to ring in my ears already, it is so 
 outrageous. Well ! inevitable evils must be indured, 
 and there is no perfect happiness in this world, as 
 Matilda would say." 
 
 " You make me quite vain, Eleanor, by attributing 
 such extraordinary originality to my remarks !" replied 
 she, smiling. " All that has been said raises my curio- 
 sity to see your visitor, because it is interesting to be 
 in company with remarkable people, and he certainly 
 has a most distinguished reputation for courage." 
 
 " The M'Tartans are an exceedingly old family," 
 added Mr. Grant. "Their whole clan was massacred 
 several times during tli^ ancient wars, and they got a 
 peerage from Prince Charles." 
 
 " You will observe, Eleanor," added Sir Richard, 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 
 
 261 
 
 ^' that he brings a foreign friend with him, which is a 
 favour I could have excused, for you have unfortunately 
 always been only too partial to that sort of cattle." 
 
 " Does he indeed I" exclaimed the young heiress, 
 eagerly referring to her letter. " That is really gilding 
 the pill. A Russian, too ! — Count Constantine Eca- 
 trinoslav ! I have seen that name often in the Morn- 
 ing Post ! This is too good news to be true ! Can 
 any body tell me what he is like V 
 
 " Probably," replied Sir Richard, provoked at her 
 empressement, " a little, dark, squinting man, covered 
 with snuflf." 
 
 " Above all things, I hate a squint !" cried Lady Susan 
 Danvers, aifectedly. " It makes one quite nervous when 
 any person in company has that deformity." 
 
 " Do I hear you objecting to a squint, Lady Susan !" 
 asked Mr. Grant, looking earnestly in her face, with 
 well -feigned astonishment. " I certainly could not have 
 expected that I" 
 
 " What can you mean, Mr. Grant ! You don't in- 
 tend to insinuate that I have one ?" 
 
 ** Were you never sensible of it before ? What a 
 heedless mortal I am ! — how could I commit such a 
 blunder ! But, Lady Susan, many people are thought 
 to look rather the better of a slight cast, and, for my 
 own part, I admire it excessively. With you it merely 
 seems as if one eye was attracted by excessive brilliancy 
 in the other !" 
 
 '^ Mr. Grant ! you talk the most insufferable non- 
 sense ! My dog Tiny squints as much as I do I" 
 
 " How very unfortunate that the subject came under 
 discussion at all ! You know. Lady Susan, it is consi- 
 dered lucky for a man to squint, but in the case of a 
 lady — why ! — No one can become sensible of any obli- 
 
262 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 quity in his own vision, because, when he looks in the 
 glass, each eye is directed straight to its own image, but 
 
 when you turn away, Lady Susan 1 appeal to Miss 
 
 Fitz-Patrick !" 
 
 " Oh I don't ask me ! I hate to tell disagreeable 
 truths I" interrupted Eleanor, enjoying beyond measure 
 her friend's indignant surprise. " But candidly now, 
 Lady Susan, did you never observe two gentlemen start 
 up simultaneously, when you asked one of them to ring 
 the bell ? I have been puzzled once or twice myself to 
 ascertain whether you were speaking to Miss Marabout 
 or me." 
 
 " Of course !" said Mr. Grant, leaving the breakfast- 
 table, and singing, as he went away^ — 
 
 " There's a look that is rather uncommon, 
 In the flash of that very bright eye." 
 
 " Fletcher ! do these words remind you," asked Sir 
 Richard, " of a ridiculous circumstance which occurred 
 to us when we met at dinner last Thursday" 
 
 " Wednesday, you mean," interrupted Sir Colin ; 
 "or, I believe, on reflection, it was Friday, or Saturday I 
 — ^yes I it must have been Friday, for I recollect a 
 trifling event which" 
 
 " Well," continued Sir Richard, impatiently ; " let 
 it be Friday, or Saturday — no matter which — we were 
 all sitting at the Duke of Cairngorum's" ■ 
 
 " Excuse me ! — It was the day I went to Clanpibroch 
 Castle," interposed Sir Colin, hastily. " You know the 
 Duke arrived that morning for the funeral of poor Lady 
 Anne M'Intosh" 
 
 " At Clanpibroch Castle, then, and a gentleman hap- 
 pened to say" 
 
 " I beg your pardon ! it was a lady ; she wore a 
 gold turban, and" 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 263 
 
 '^ Ah ! — man, woman, or child — one of them observed 
 to Sir Colin" 
 
 No ! no ! — I first said to her" 
 
 Well ! let it be so ! ' Pray, madam' 
 
 " But," interrupted Sir Colin, emphatically, " did 
 you explain that I sat next to her V 
 
 " You matter-of-fact idiot !" muttered Sir Richard 
 between his teeth. " Pray, Fletcher, tell the story 
 yourself, since it appears that I am incompetent." 
 
 This was precisely what Sir Colin had been aiming 
 at, and he recommenced it, telling every extraneous 
 particular of the anecdote that could be edged in, and 
 prolonging his narrative till breakfast was ended and 
 most of the company had strolled away ; but Miss . 
 Howard complaisantly sat out the whole of Sir Colin's 
 tediousness, while, in the meantime, Mr. Grant affected 
 to fall asleep, and nodded in his chair, having previously 
 whispered a request to be called when it was over. 
 
 Matilda proceeded, as always had been her custom at 
 this hour, to the music-room, which she was then sure 
 of finding empty, and played several of her favourite 
 songs. She excelled without a thought of exhibiting, 
 and had, with the most exquisite taste, a mellow 
 flexible voice, which was a perfect tenor, and the varied 
 tones of which, whether in music or conversation, ex- 
 pressed the deepest sensibility. Matilda had begun the 
 touching air of " Bendemere Stream," and while her 
 thoughts reverted to Ashgrove, her notes swelled into 
 richer harmony, and then died away, like the softest 
 vibrations of a guitar. Before the prelude was finished, 
 she had heard some one enter, but supposing it to be a 
 servant come to replenish the fire, she did not look 
 round, until, to her surprise, some low, and scarcely 
 audible notes of accompaniment were unexpectedly 
 
264 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 thrown in^ and she perceived Sir Alfred standing near, 
 and apparently listening with entranced attention. 
 Matilda's ready tact prevented her from exhibiting 
 any of the astonishment she felt, hut, with a height- 
 ened colour, and some trepidation, she continued the 
 air, while Sir Alfred gradually let out his voice more 
 fully, and displayed much judgment, taste, and science, 
 united to a manly, harmonious voice, of which the arti- 
 culation was as distinct as if he had been speaking. 
 Scarcely was the song concluded, and before Matilda 
 had, with modest embarrassment, expressed all her 
 pleasure at receiving such unexpected assistance, when 
 the door flew open, and Eleanor, followed by a detach- 
 ment of friends, burst into the room, full of mirth and 
 animation. 
 
 " We heard music, but could not imagine who it 
 was !" she exclaimed. " Sir Alfred ! no one ever hinted 
 that you w^ere an amateur, or I should have teased you 
 for ever till we got a song !" 
 
 '' That is the very reason you never heard it," said 
 he, turning away. " I know not a note of music, and 
 sing merely by ear, or by accident. It is the merest 
 whim in the world when I attempt any thing of the 
 kind !" 
 
 " How very odd that nobody ever minds Matilda !" 
 cried Eleanor. " To be sure, she is no critic, and I 
 shall not be a very severe one. Pray, Sir Alfred, do 
 indulge us with a cadence or two ! — any thing that 
 strikes you as being suitable !" 
 
 Sir Alfred shook his head, and strolled out of the 
 room, singing a verse of the '^ Charming woman," and 
 Miss Fitz-Patrick, ever ready to fancy a compliment 
 implied, was perfectly satisfied that the title of the song 
 alone applied to herself; and taking instant possession of 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 
 
 265 
 
 the piano, she began to play a brilliant new piece by 
 Czerny, which had recently come from London. 
 
 " That is very nice music !" said Miss Murray, com- 
 plaisantly. " My favourite piece is, ' The Battle of 
 Prague.' Can you play it. Miss Fitz-Patrick ? ' 
 
 A smile dimpled in the cheek of Matilda, and a con- 
 temptuous frown lowered on the brow of Eleanor at 
 this instance of antediluvian taste, while Miss Murray, 
 perceiving she had made a blunder, turned, with an 
 anxious whisper, to ask Mr. Grant if he could explain 
 why Eleanor seemed so irritated. 
 
 " I can't conceive ! By the way," added he, seeing 
 Miss Murray still looked perplexed and uneasy, " was 
 not Sir Colin Fletcher wounded at the battle of Prague, 
 or he ran away, I forget which ? but you know, all 
 things considered, it would be awkward to perform that 
 piece before him. You are very sly and satirical. Miss 
 Murray," added he, with an admonitory shake of the 
 head. 
 
 " I am !" exclaimed she, with consternation and sur- 
 prise. " You cannot surely be serious ?" 
 
 '^ Now, Miss Murray, I shall prove it at once. Do 
 you not always pretend to mistake my friend Foley's 
 name, and call him, without the smallest compunction, 
 jMajor Folly ? and did I not yesterday see you hastily 
 rise, and offer Lady Susan the arm-chair, to show, of 
 course, that you consider her a little advancing in years, 
 and she angrily sat down on a music-stool, by way of 
 being juvenile ? Oh, Miss Murray I Miss Murray ! I 
 am quite afraid of you myself, seeing nobody is 
 spared !" 
 
 The gentlemen proceeded soon afterwards, as usual, 
 to lounge aw^ay an hour at the stables, in discussing, 
 for the fortieth time, the comparative merits of their 
 
 N 
 
266 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 hunters, when Lord Alderby seized an opportunity to 
 drop a few paces behind the rest with Mr. Grant, to 
 whom he made some accidental remarks, and imme- 
 diately afterwards observed, with a look of penetrating 
 curiosity at his companion, though affecting to be solely 
 occupied in lighting his cigar, — 
 
 " My good fellow ! I mean to back you against the 
 field yet for winning the heiress !" 
 
 '^ Alderby ! " replied Mr. Grant, carelessly, " how 
 dare you presume to mention Miss Fitz-Patrick's name 
 with such a mouthful of smoke ! It is a most unlover- 
 like piece of disrespect, and would be resented accord- 
 ingly if she knew it ! I observe you never think, nor 
 speak of her but as ' the heiress ;' yet even a compara- 
 tive stranger, as you are, might see that her richest 
 gifts are not in her estates. I estimate her simply as 
 Eleanor Fitz-Patrick, whom from her earliest childhood 
 I have known — whom I still admire — and whom once 
 I loved." 
 
 " Once I — you mean once for all then, I suppose ?" 
 answered Lord Alderby, laughing, while he closely watch- 
 ed Mr. Grant's countenance. " Can I forget how you 
 raved long ago about dark hair and hazel eyes, and an 
 undying attachment ! We were all wearied of Eleanor 
 Fitz-Patrick's name before she came out. Every pic- 
 ture you saw abroad was like her — no beauty that I 
 pointed out could be compared to her. You carved her 
 name upon trees and tomb-stones — called a dog after 
 her — and sung nothing but * Nora Criena' for ever, so 
 that my very ears used to ring with it. That was all 
 absurd enough at the time, but it is likely to turn out 
 well now, since it gives you the start of us." 
 
 '^ Alderby, you mistake me !" replied Mr. Grant, 
 with unusual seriousness. " The revival of these stories 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 267 
 
 only serves to show more strongly what a contrast there 
 is between past and present feelings — how great, no one 
 but myself can ever know ; but that is past. You, and 
 others whom I could name, are brought to the feet of 
 Eleanor Fitz- Patrick by the very circumstance which 
 places a gulf between us, and I shall never attempt to 
 pass it." 
 
 " That sounds amazingly fine — quite chivalrous !" 
 answered Lord Alderby, incredulously. '' But, Grant, 
 we all know what human nature is. Your estates lie 
 contiguous — they ought to be united ; your stud requires 
 to be enlarged" 
 
 *' Alderby I whenever you judge of me by yourself, 
 you cannot fail to be mistaken/' said Mr. Grant, resum- 
 ing his wonted tone of careless vivacity. '^ I am jealous 
 of my independence, and shall never marry any woman 
 whose fortune is superior to my own. It would put me 
 frantic to hear any wife of mine talking in the way heir- 
 esses do, about *my' carriage, 'my' house, and "my* 
 establishment.' I could not stand that — no, not even 
 from Miss Fitz-Patrick ! Seriously, however, there are 
 some things changed in her already, which will make 
 me envy less than I should have once done the man who 
 gains her. I w^ish to set this subject quite at rest be- 
 tween us now, and therefore let me say that such an 
 attachment as mine was, requires to be preserved by 
 entire approbation." 
 
 " Then, my dear fellow, if you are become so fastidi- 
 ous, why not retire from the field, leaving it open to us ? 
 I never could understand such Platonic friendship, which 
 cannot exist upon both sides you may depend upon it ! 
 Why are you carrying on such a vehement flirtation at 
 this very hour with Miss Fitz-Patrick, that not another 
 
268 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 soul in the house can speak to her ? Am I expected to 
 believe that it is not on your own account ?" 
 
 " Most potent, grave, and reverend senior ! you 
 may believe this, that, if there be truth in man, neither 
 Miss Fitz-Patrick nor I entertain ' any intentions,' as 
 the usual phrase is. We have always enjoyed a little 
 lively persiflage together, but there is no deeper senti- 
 ment on either side now." 
 
 " I am not so sure of that," muttered Lord Alderby, 
 in an under tone. 
 
 " When any one appears, whom I think deserving of 
 Miss Fitz-Patrick, you shall then see me retire, and act 
 the part of a brother to her," continued Mr. Grant, in a 
 tone of feeling and sincerity. " I know myself to be 
 capable of it, and I shall. Eleanor Fitz-Patrick's hap- 
 piness can never be indifferent to me, and though I 
 seek not to be intrusted with the care of it now, I 
 fervently desire to see it committed to one who deserves 
 her. Excuse me, Alderby, but your motives are not 
 satisfactory, if there were not other objections. Douglas 
 might merit her, and I should gladly have resigned 
 Miss Fitz-Patrick to the man whom, above all others 
 on earth, I respect and like ; but he is evidently occu- 
 pied with a different object. In short, till some one 
 starts up, who can love Miss Fitz-Patrick as I did, and 
 who possesses the rank and fortune which I want, you 
 may expect to see me act as her guardian." 
 
 " A very competent one truly I" said Lord Alderby, 
 evidently piqued ; " quite a dog in the manger. I had 
 no idea you were bitten with sentimentality !" 
 
 " I have a tinge of what you would call romance in 
 my disposition naturally, though every endeavour has 
 been used of late to extinguish it, and, let me hope, 
 with some success." 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 269 
 
 *^' Douglas !" said Lord Alderby, turning to Sir Al- 
 fred, who was lounging behind, " we are wondering 
 that you are not more diligent in canvassing for the 
 good graces of the heiress." 
 
 " I have more than enough of canvassing on my 
 hands already, and one election will satisfy me. Some 
 people might like to be deafened with wit, and stunned 
 with accomplishments; but a fireside upon my plan 
 would not suit so very brilliant a young lady as Miss 
 Fitz-Patrick." 
 
 " She is the grand prize in the lottery of life," per- 
 sisted Lord Alderby, " and, unlike most girls of for- 
 tune, she is neither red-haired nor deformed, but 
 curiously beautiful !'* 
 
 '' So she maybe, but I never admire professed beauties, 
 with that sort of ' look-at-me' air," replied Sir Alfred, 
 taking the arm of Mr. Grant, and walking away. " Life 
 is not a mere party of pleasure, or it might signify 
 little whom we passed it with ; but you know my opi- 
 nions, Grant, already, and that they govern my actions 
 in every event of life. How much more shall they do 
 so while forming that solemn engagement in which it 
 may almost be said, that the happiness of both worlds is 
 at stake I" 
 
270 MODERN SOCIETY : OR. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Oh, I would walk 
 A weary journey — to the furthest verge 
 Of the big world, to see that good man's form. 
 Who, in the blaze of wisdom and of art, 
 Preserves a lowly mind, and to his God, 
 Feeling the sense of his own littleness, 
 Is as a child in meek simplicity. 
 
 KiRKE White. 
 
 Matilda having understood that the unfortunate 
 Nanny was at once removed from Barnard Castle, and 
 carried without warning or preparation into the presence 
 of her aged mother, felt anxiously desirous to ascertain 
 how the good old woman had borne so sudden a shock, 
 and she determined to lose no time in making her 
 inquiries at Gowanbank, with a hope of ascertaining 
 some way in which the sorrows of that once cheerful 
 cottage could be mitigated. Having stated the case 
 fully to Dr. and Miss Murrray, they instantly proposed, 
 as she expected and wished, to accompany her there, 
 without delay, expressing an anxious hope that it might 
 be possible to give assistance as well as comfort to both 
 mother and daughter, in a case of difficulty and distress 
 which so greatly needed consolation. 
 
 Nothing could be a nearer approach to perfect happi- 
 ness than the feelings of Matilda, as she proceeded along 
 the beautiful green path which led towards her destina- 
 tion. The glowing benevolence of her own mind, which 
 expanded with every emotion of charity and kindness, 
 the overflowing good-humour of Miss Murray, and the 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 
 
 2iri 
 
 pleasing tone of intellectual elevation with which Dr. 
 Murray conversed upon every subject which was most 
 interesting, all combined with the bright sunshine and 
 the varying landscape, to give her a feeling of unquali- 
 fied delight ; while present gratification led her to con- 
 trast it all with the artificial manners, the exaggerated 
 expressions, the petty treachery, and the carelessness of 
 each other's real thoughts and feelings which pervaded 
 the party she had recently left. It was impossible to 
 associate an hour with Dr. Murray and not feel the head 
 and heart improved by his deep knowledge of human 
 nature and of divine things. The more exalted might 
 be the subject of contemplation, the more did his mind 
 rise to explore it, for difficulties were to him like the 
 breeze against the breast of the eagle, which only makes 
 it soar the higher. Few subjects within the compass 
 of human investigation remained in doubt or in darkness 
 when he had thoroughly discussed them. His case was 
 always clearly stated, and he brought to bear upon it, 
 with readiness and precision, the whole mass of his ex 
 tensive reading, while many things of which Matilda 
 had desired an explanation, were given with such per- 
 fect clearness, and in so portable a compass, that they 
 could never be afterwards forgotten or confused. Dr. 
 Murray's knowledge seemed only estimated by himself 
 according as it could aid him to make wise the simple. 
 In illustrating the analogies of nature and of grace, in 
 showing how we may discover the same Almighty power 
 and wisdom in the least and in the greatest of God's 
 creatures, and in proving how His works and His word 
 reflect upon each other a mutual light. Dr. Murray spoke 
 with tlie mild authority of profound intellect, without 
 pedantry, without affectation, without a thought but of 
 recalling to his own heart, and impressing on his com- 
 
272 MODERN SOCIETY ; Oil, 
 
 panions, all that might direct their affections towards 
 the omnipotent and bountiful Creator. 
 
 '' It seems strange," said Dr. Murray in answer to 
 a remark of his sister's, " that there really are persons 
 who can live amidst the great and marvellous w^orks of 
 God, without asking themselves who created this stu- 
 pendous theatre, and for what purpose we are brought 
 to act a part in it. I have often pitied the situation of 
 ancient heathen philosophers, who vainly speculated 
 throughout a long and laborious life to discover whence 
 they came and whither they were going. No doubt seems 
 ever to have remained on their minds that our spirits 
 are immortal, yet their wonder seems only to have been 
 raised in order to be baffled ; and how awful must have 
 been the feeling of such meditative minds in watching 
 the final departure of a soul, and in asking themselves 
 on what unknown scenes it was about to enter, whither 
 they themselves must so speedily follow." 
 
 " Yes," replied Matilda, " I have sometimes been 
 astonished that such persons retained their senses. Or- 
 dinary minds, to whom the everyday occurrences of life 
 are sufficient, seem in little danger of insanity ; but those 
 who possess deep feelings and meditative spirits, without 
 the guidance of revealed truth, must have often sustained 
 great agitation, and it is easy to trace in the writings of 
 heathen sages what a state of torturing perplexity they 
 lived in, respecting the enigma of their own existence." 
 " But," added Dr. Murray, " the knowledge which 
 those learned philosophers were so darkly groping after, 
 is revealed to us in a blaze of light, and men will scarcely 
 attend to it. All we have to learn of our eternal rela- 
 tion to the great Creator is so plainly laid down for us 
 now, that he who runs may read — but how few will pause 
 one moment to reflect upon it I His majesty and power 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 273 
 
 were always inscribed in the canopy of heaven, and in 
 the glorious scenes around our path ; but that which 
 connects man with his Maker, by the ties of everlasting 
 confidence and love, can only be found in Holy Scrip- 
 ture. Yet nature and revelation are studied as anato- 
 mists examine the body, without attending to the living 
 Spirit which alone gives life and energy to all, and by 
 the eye of faith only can we see what is precious and 
 important in both. The Bible was written not for giants 
 in logic, but for babes in Christ, and the earth was created 
 not merely as a curious problem for philosophers to in- 
 vestigate, but as a platform on which Christians are to 
 rehearse the virtues which shall be perfected for them 
 in a better and holier world." 
 
 " It seems melancholy indeed," observed Matilda, 
 " that those who penetrate deepest into the wonders of 
 nature, and into the mysteries of doctrine, are often so 
 occupied with intellectual discovery, that they forget in 
 all humility to adore the omnipotent Creator himself, 
 and to recognise Him in the multitude of His works." 
 
 " Yet, if man never had been and never was to become 
 otherwise than he is, what a fleeting, insignificant, and 
 painful dream would this life, at its best, be considered 
 by those who reflected at all ! But none who study the 
 Christian revelation and their own nature can fail to be 
 convinced that man must have been originally created 
 great in intellect and virtue, proportioned in dignity to 
 the glorious universe by which he is encompassed ; that 
 we are now but a desolated ruin of what once was ; and 
 that after a transient season of trial, degradation, and 
 sorrow, we shall again be raised to that rank after which 
 our fallen nature so ardently aspires. If it were other- 
 wise — if our hearts were vainly to pant after knowledge, 
 happiness, and virtue, without a hope of their ever being 
 
274 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 perfected in a better state, and if all the affections, emo- 
 tions, and hopes, which support us through the sorrows 
 of life, were in a few short years to be annihilated — then 
 indeed we might envy, as Colonel Gardiner did, the ex- 
 istence of his dog, ' because it could neither reflect nor 
 feel.' " 
 
 " I am sure many unbelievers must think the same," 
 said Miss Murray ; " and I remember many years ago 
 being impressed with this conviction, when we heard of 
 the Tom Paine Club, and were told of that remarkable 
 circumstance, which has been so frequently since men- 
 tioned, respecting it, that both the president and secre- 
 tary shot themselves." 
 
 " It is indeed a wonderful proof of our depraved nature, 
 that men can be found who would desire to level them- 
 selves with the brutes that perish, and to argue them- 
 selves out of their own immortality ; but it is ' the wish 
 that is father to the thought ; they prefer darkness to 
 light for very obvious reasons, and he who wishes to 
 doubt may soon disbelieve any thing. I read a pamph- 
 let lately, very plausibly argued, to prove that Bonaparte 
 never existed, and all the usual objections were stated, 
 which infidels bring against the evidence of revelation." 
 
 " Some persons are apt," observed Matilda, " to make 
 even the grandeur of creation an excuse for disbelieving 
 the greatest work of all — the redemption of man. It 
 seems so wonderful that He who made such a world of 
 splendour, should sacrifice His only son for us, that they 
 rashly pronounce it incredible, and therefore the magni- 
 tude of the benefit is an excuse for rejecting it alto- 
 gether !" 
 
 '^ Yet observe what evidence we see all around of in- 
 finite care for our happiness ! — the very flowers that are 
 strewed on every bank, the joyous carol of the birds in 
 
THE 3IARCH OF INTELLECT. 275 
 
 spring, the loveliness of landscape scenery, and every 
 unforbidden joy of man's existence, speak of immeasur- 
 able love in the Almighty towards His creatures. We 
 may confidently believe, then, that the everlasting feli- 
 city of millions is of such importance in His eye, that 
 He mercifully planned for us what the heart of man 
 could never have conceived. It is a mystery to be con- 
 templated with wonder, love, and praise ; — on the right 
 belief of which our eternal hope depends, which no man 
 can understand without the teaching of a divine Spirit, — 
 and which we shall only comprehend in all its glory here- 
 after. There are depths in our holy religion which men 
 have lost their souls by denying, and which they may 
 lose their senses by endeavouring fully to understand \" 
 
 " Yes !" said Miss Murray I " and such religion as we 
 shall meet with to-day in old Janet's cottage, is often 
 more influential on the heart and feelings than that of 
 many a learned divine." 
 
 " True I" replied he, " there are philosophers who 
 could speak off-hand without effort a perfect Bridge- 
 water Treatise on the evidences of Almighty power in 
 the structure of the universe, — and there are clergymen 
 who can sprinkle over every page of Scripture new defi- 
 nitions, and amended translations from the original ; — 
 but if I were to choose between the head or the heart, — 
 though both may certainly be enlightened, I would pre- 
 fer the simple belief of a day-labourer, who sees in the 
 stars above his head nothing more glorious than in the 
 lamps along the street, to that of the profoundest philo- 
 sopher — the simple belief of a cottager, who knows only 
 Christ, and him crucified, to the most intimate acquaint- 
 ance with the Syriac, Greek, and Hebrew text." 
 
 " It was once remarked," said Matilda, " that the idea 
 of a schoolboy, who has learned to know that the earth is 
 
276 MODERN SOCIKTY ; OR, 
 
 round, must be very inferior in sublimity to that of a 
 wandering Arab;, who believes in an unlimited world, 
 and an unmeasurable sea. Yet I think, Dr. Murray, you 
 must have many pleasing emotions in your own mind, to 
 prove how much more elevated is the devotion of a cul- 
 tivated intellect, amidst the wonders of creation and 
 redemption, than the simple admiration and gratitude 
 of an uninstructed heart. The poet says, ' an undevout 
 astronomer is mad ;' and you know better than I can 
 imagine, how the thoughts are expanded by a knowledge 
 of that stupendous creation, where ' worlds on worlds 
 compose one universe.' " 
 
 "■ It is only where the head acts instead of the heart, 
 and where men observe the heavens without preparing to 
 go there, that I would deprecate learning ; for a study of 
 truth in every department of science or knowledge will 
 but serve to exhibit its consistency and connexion with 
 the great fountain of all truth ; and the higher the intel • 
 lect of man is raised, the more glorious will be his con- 
 ceptions of Almighty power, till, like Job, he learns to 
 say, *^the more I consider, the more I fear God.' " 
 
 Dr. Murray's eye kindled with animation, and he 
 looked above and around him with an expression so full 
 of devotion and reverence, that it almost seemed as if he 
 saw the visible presence of Him who shall be known in 
 His works, and whose power may be traced in the light 
 that shines on our path, and in the very air that we 
 breathe. " Yes !" added he, ''there are hours of holy 
 meditation, which appear like a foretaste of the joy 
 that shall hereafter be revealed ; — but there are seasons, 
 too, of sorrow and humiliation, to remind us that the 
 tempest-tossed vessel is yet at sea, and the haven only 
 in sight." 
 
 "I have often thought," said Matilda, ''how very 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 277 
 
 different must be the anticipation of heaven formed by 
 various individuals^ according to their habits and capa- 
 cities of thinking. We each hope at some time to be 
 admitted there, and few have passed through many years 
 without attempting in some degree to conceive that 
 state to which all are hastening. Bishop Hall remarks 
 that an impenitent sinner would feel as much out of his 
 element in heaven as a toad in a king's palace ; yet every 
 one expects to go there, and probably most minds form 
 an idea of what might be anticipated in that state of 
 perfect happiness. A labourer, worn out with the toils 
 of his daily task, will meditate most on the promise of 
 eternal'rest, where there shall be no more labour, nor 
 sorrow ; while the man of science could scarcely imagine 
 any gratification apart from mental exertion, and will 
 joyfully anticipate the time when ' increase of know- 
 ledge' shall no longer be ' increase of sorrow ;' for he 
 shall be with Him in whom are hid all the treasures of 
 wisdom, and whose perfections will flow on before his 
 adoring contemplation, like a ceaseless stream. And 
 those who are now delighting in the pleasures of bene- 
 volence, or in the intercourse of friendship, must be de- 
 sirous to believe, that in a state of unclouded joy, such 
 blessed feelings of the heart will not be absent." 
 
 " I think we are warranted in Scripture to conceive as 
 vividly the happiness of heaven, as the terrors of hell, 
 and to exercise our minds in seeking a knowledge of 
 what is revealed on that subject, though not positively 
 to conclude that we are infallibly right." 
 
 " Many Christians feel satisfied," replied Matilda, 
 " with that important text which declares, that ' eye 
 hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into 
 the heart of man the things which God hath prepared for 
 them that love Him.' " 
 
278 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 " Yet," said Dr. Murray, '' We must not forget the 
 verse which comes next : ' But God hath revealed them 
 to us, by His Spirit.' The passage which follows, en- 
 joins Christians to ' know the things that are freely 
 given to them of God ;' and I am convinced it engen- 
 ders a feeling of indifference, not to realize in some de- 
 gree the conception of that life which we shall one day 
 enjoy, and which we now desire. In attempting to 
 give precision to our thoughts on this solemn subject, 
 let us pray for understanding to know as much as is 
 revealed, while we are preserved from prying into more, 
 for ' secret things belong unto the Lord ;' but at the 
 same time ' He has brought life and immortality to 
 light.' " 
 
 '^ It appears," observed Matilda, " as if the Bible pre- 
 sented a map of heaven, on which are drawn in distinct 
 outlines what shall be enjoyed hereafter ; and Christians 
 may confidently anticipate, that on entering the New 
 Jerusalem, we shall be ready to say, as the Queen of 
 Sheba did when she heard the wisdom of Solomon, 
 * The half was not told me.' " 
 
 " If a full revelation of heaven in all its glory were 
 made, how could any one endure a present life ?" said 
 Dr. Murray. " We should feel like a man who fixed 
 his eyes on the blazing sun, and then attempted to 
 look at the scenery around. The whole would appear 
 dim and distorted. But though it be a presump- 
 tuous and an impossible attempt to realize all that is 
 promised, and often difficult in Scripture to distin- 
 guish what is allegorical from what is real, yet many 
 things are told of that ' place" which Christ has gone 
 to prepare." 
 
 '' I often think," said Matilda, '< that much of the 
 indifference which prevails in this world about a future 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 279 
 
 state may be traced to the vagueness of our conceptions 
 respecting its enjoyments, for few people fully consider 
 how much is implied in the promises of revelation, with 
 which our natures, even as they are now constituted, can 
 have sympathy and connexion. I remember, as a child, 
 when any of my juvenile indulgences particularly de- 
 lighted me, I frequently asked the nursery-maid if there 
 would be pleasures similar to these in heaven ; but her 
 invariable answer was, of course, in the negative ; yet 
 she might have added much to fill my mind with joyful 
 anticipation, instead of the blank disappointment which 
 her unqualified ' no' occasioned me. I think Christians 
 often treat men of the world in a similar way. They 
 tell, what is really true, that no sinful pleasures shall 
 be there, but they forget to add those blessed hopes for 
 hereafter which our Bibles hold out to all whom the 
 Spirit shall fit and prepare." 
 
 " True," replied Dr. Murray. " It is impossible to 
 speak or to think of them too much, for they are des- 
 cribed continually as motives to our love and obedience, 
 which we ought to see and to appreciate in order that 
 we may pursue them diligently. The grateful and 
 adoring contemplation of perfect holiness, and of infinite 
 glory, will be the first and chief theme of every Chris- 
 tian's delight, when seeking to join in that eternal 
 anthem of praise which St. John, in his mortal state, 
 could not learn, though he heard it, and which St. Paul, 
 when caught up into the third heaven, declared that it 
 was not possible for man to utter. In a form such as our 
 own, we shall then behold the merciful Author of our 
 redemption, and feel, in His presence, that the gratitude 
 and love which are now but faint and occasional, can be 
 continually exercised without efibrt, and without fear of 
 
280 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 diminution. Our praise, too, will be unmingled with 
 sorrow, and uninjured by any remaining consciousness 
 of sin, to mar that confidence and joy with which we 
 shall stand before a benignant Saviour, The reunion of 
 sisters, friends, and brethren, when we are ' gathered to 
 our fathers,' will be a meeting of unalloyed delight ; for 
 then every eye will be kindled with the same feelings of 
 adoration, and every look will be one of sympathy and 
 love. We read that St. Paul expected his converts to 
 be ' a crown of joy and of rejoicing,' in the presence of 
 their Saviour, which gives a blessed confidence that the 
 minister and his people shall not then forget their 
 mutual ties. As St. Peter knew the glorified spirits of 
 Moses and Elias, we may hope at once to distinguish 
 the patriarchs and saints whose memory we reverence 
 now ; and as St. Paul forbids Christians to grieve like 
 those who have no hope, who can doubt that it was 
 because our lost friends were to be restored to us ? 
 David also comforted himself for the departure of his 
 child by the prospect of going to him, and Dives is 
 represented as recognising Abraham. We read, too, 
 that the rich man in hell wished to save his brethren 
 from so wretched a fate, and if there be brotherly love 
 even there, what must it be amidst the society of just 
 men made perfect ; for who can question that the graces 
 and virtues which we are commanded to exercise now, 
 will hereafter find an abundant field for exercise ? Those 
 who have been faithful over few things shall be rulers 
 over many things, which is a promise that implies active 
 employment when men become, as we are told they shall, 
 ' kings and priests unto God.' The bodies which we 
 now wear shall then be restored to us, and in the new 
 heavens and the new earth which are to be our blessed 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 28l 
 
 abode, how often will men look back, with distinct 
 recollection, on their past existence, and acknowledge, 
 with adoring admiration and gratitude, the infinite 
 wisdom which caused every event of life to work 
 together for their good, and which led them, blind, and 
 faint, and wilful, as we all are, safe through the dangers 
 and temptations of a thorny path, to the green pastures 
 and the still waters of that better country, where the 
 sun always shines, and where the joy is without measure 
 and without end !" 
 
 Dr. Murray walked on for some time in silence, and 
 Matilda did not interrupt hira. There are thoughts too 
 solemn for utterance, and there are emotions too pro- 
 found for the ear of another. It became evident that 
 his mind was delivered up to the boundless contempla- 
 tion of futurity, and that his heart bore testimony to 
 the language of his lips when he spoke of its incompar- 
 able importance, and of the grateful delight with which 
 a Christian can forget every intermediate care of an 
 earthly existence, and satisfy himself with the confident 
 hope of a sinless and tearless eternity. When they 
 approached within sight of Gowanbank, however, he 
 seemed at once to call his mind back from the pleasures 
 of meditation to the business and duty of the present 
 hour. 
 
 '^ Mine has been a life of unusual peace," said he, 
 " with none of those nearer ties which produce the 
 keenest emotions of joy and of sorrow. Those few real 
 afflictions which have fallen to my lot are so tempered 
 by consolation that they scarcely deserve the name ; but 
 I have seen enough, in my sympathy for others, and in 
 such worldly grief as Providence, in His wisdom, has 
 ordained for myself, to prove that it is indeed better to 
 
282 MODERN societV ; oft, 
 
 visit the house of mourning than the house of feasting, 
 and I trust that in administering comfort here we shall 
 still find cause to say so." 
 
 Matilda could not but think how differently Dr. 
 Murray's society would be appreciated in the house 
 w^hicli they were now about to enter, from what she had 
 seen it previously at Barnard Castle ; and as she consi- 
 dered how he had been forgotten and overlooked amidst 
 the gay revelry of those Avhom they had recently left, 
 while she knew how his presence w^as hailed as the har- 
 binger of consolation to many a desolated heart, she 
 almost thought that such estimation as the servant of 
 God received in these contrasted scenes of prosperity 
 and adversity, might fairly illustrate the comparative 
 importance in which they teach men to hold that Great 
 Master whose cause Dr. Murray felt continually desirous 
 to promote. 
 
 Old Janet met Matilda at the door, and made a faint 
 endeavour to assume the usual smile of hospitable wel- 
 come, but the words she would have spoken died on her 
 lips ; and turning hastily away, with a faltering step 
 she preceded them into the cottage, where Martha sat, 
 with her sister's hand in her own, and her eyes despond- 
 ingly bent on the ground. 
 
 If ever there lived a heart which vibrated to every 
 tone of human suffering, it was that of Dr. Murray, who 
 only showed he had inwardly felt what grief is, by the 
 deep experience with which he could talk to others of 
 its consolations. Yet, accustomed as he had long been 
 to scenes and sights of woe, he paused in silent pity and 
 astonishment Avlien they entered and beheld the desola- 
 ting effects of mental agony. There is a fable of Niobe 
 having been turned into stone by extreme anguish, 
 which seems true to nature, whenever we behold the 
 
tHE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 283 
 
 consequences of sudden calamity. Tears characterise a 
 gentle feeling, but the blanched cheek, the sunk eye, 
 and the parched lip of Nanny, mournfully testified that 
 grief, like an ice-bolt, had entered into her heart, and 
 paralysed her senses. She crouched on a low seat, mo- 
 tionless as death, her hair dishevelled over her face, 
 and her eye fixed on vacancy, without the slightest 
 evidence of observing what passed around ; it appear- 
 ed, indeed, that '' her beauty had consumed away," 
 and as Matilda looked at her, with speechless emotion, 
 it seemed as if years must have passed since she had 
 beheld that haggard countenance in all the bloom of 
 youth. 
 
 After many vain effbrts to attract her notice, Nanny 
 at length looked up with a strange ghastly smile, at 
 Matilda, until, after some moments, a dawn of recollec- 
 tion seemed struggling into her mind, and beckoning 
 her forward, she whispered in a low bewildered tone, 
 pointing to old Janet — 
 
 " Speak to her ! — Tell her it was untrue I — We'll not 
 let Martha know that I cared about him ! — Who put all 
 those things in the flower-stand ? Oh ! don't say it was 
 me !" 
 
 " Nanny !" said Dr. Murray, in a tone of mild autho- 
 rity, which attracted her instant attention, " there 
 is a day coming when the secrets of all hearts shall 
 be laid open. Those who are unfairly accused will then 
 be acquitted, and any one who has told a falsehood 
 against his neighbour shall be known and punished. I 
 believe, when that hour comes, that your mother, your 
 sister, and all of us who believe you to be innocent, will 
 then rejoice in hearing the real truth. But there are 
 many unfounded stories, and many evil reports in this 
 world, and we must not break our hearts if they rise up 
 
284 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 against ourselves. You should be comforted when un-^ 
 justly accused, by feeling in your own heart that it ac- 
 tually is untrue, and that you were never really tempted 
 to do what is said. We commit sins every day, which 
 are known only to God, and not to man — how much 
 better it is if the Almighty sees we are not guilty, when 
 man suspects that we are. Every sorrow in life is light 
 and easy to endure in comparison of remorse: but a 
 wounded spirit who can bear ? We must value our 
 good name and character in the world more than any 
 mere earthly blessing ; but still even that may be 
 taken from us by the wisdom of Him who knows 
 what is good for every one. Let us then be ready to 
 suffer, though it were worse than death itself, not con- 
 sidering the loss as an accident, nor as the fruit of 
 malice, but as the merciful correction of a Father, 
 who knows what is best. It would be better certain- 
 ly, to weep for a short season and live for ever, than 
 to rejoice in that mirth which, is as the crackling of 
 thorns under a pot, and ends in quick destruction. By 
 the loss of friends, and the treachery of enemies, or 
 in any w^ay that may be surest, oh ! who would not de- 
 sire, on whatever terms, to be fitted for that country 
 where no enemy ever entered, and Avhence no friend 
 shall ever go away I" 
 
 Dr. Murray continued his address, from time to time, 
 in the soothing accents of kindness and pity, while 
 Nanny seemed to listen ; but it was difficult to say how 
 far her mind followed his meaning, for she appeared 
 stunned and stupified, without the power to express 
 emotion, or to reflect on any thing but the weight of her 
 own sorrow. Old Janet watched her countenance with 
 intense anxiety, till at length she shook her head des- 
 pondingly, and turned away, while tears started into 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 285 
 
 Martha's eyes ; but when Dr. Murray at length pro- 
 posed that they should unite in prayer, Nanny looked 
 around with sudden recollection, and then slowly, with 
 an air of deep solemnity and devotion, sunk upon the 
 ground, and buried her face on her mother's knee, 
 while she clasped her hands together with convulsive 
 energy. 
 
MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER XY. 
 
 I'll introduce you ; Gentlemen! my friend. 
 
 Crabbe. 
 
 i( 
 
 Eleanor !" cried Sir Ricliard, entering next day, 
 when the whole party were gathered merrily round a 
 blazing lire, and fixing a look of sly humour on, his 
 daughter, " I have charming news for you ! — My good 
 friend and kinsman, M 'Tartan, has met with an acci- 
 dent on the road ; and whether it be a spring broken, or 
 a fractured limb, is, I am aware, all one to you, since it 
 must inevitably postpone his arrival here. But," added 
 the Baronet, drawing a long breath, and trying to assume 
 some appearance of gravity, " he has very stupidly for- 
 warded this foreign Count of his, who may probably 
 arrive in an hour. It will be an unspeakable bore, 
 because my French is not in good repair now, and he 
 speaks no English." 
 
 '^ Delightful !" exclaimed Eleanor. " You know, papa, 
 how I doat upon foreigners, so make him over entirely to 
 my care. It wanted but this to make me completely 
 happy I — how enchanting it will be to have him for a 
 partner this evening !" 
 
 •' I have no objection, provided you don't take him as 
 a partner for life I" replied her father, with a look of ir- 
 repressible glee, which seemed quite unaccountable to 
 Matilda. " These foreigners are all so handsome and so 
 insinuating that they invariably carry off our heiresses 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 287 
 
 now ; and if I had foreseen that you were to become the 
 laird here, Your Honour should never have been allowed 
 to learn one syllable of French !" 
 
 " Oh ! how barbarous, papa ! ! — I would rather relin- 
 quish my mother tongue ; and if the Count speaks only 
 Italian, that would be irresistible." 
 
 " I always feared this," continued Sir Richard, trying 
 to look very serious ; " we Englishmen have no chance in 
 a drawing-room, when foreigners, with nine syllables to 
 their names, like Count Constantine Ecatrinoslav, arise 
 and shine in our hemisphere. I must ring for Martin 
 directly, to give him a lesson of prenunciation, that he 
 may announce our visitor properly. It will take some 
 hours' practice at least to make him perfect ; and Mon- 
 sieur le Comte will arrive immediately, for, as Shakspeare 
 says, 
 
 * By the pricking of my thumbs. 
 Something wicked this way comes !' " 
 
 " What is he like ?" asked Major Foley, turning to- 
 wards the mirror, and pulling up his neckcloth. " You 
 have seen him, I suppose ?*' 
 
 *' Why, no. I never was in company with Count 
 Constantine ; but his description is set down here with a 
 degree of accuracy that might have done for a passport. 
 Tall, dark hair, florid complexion, grey eyes, and so 
 forth." 
 
 '' Has he mustachios V exclaimed Mr Grant, clasp- 
 ing his hands, and assuming a look of agonizing sus- 
 pense. 
 
 *' Prodigious !" replied Sir Richard, laughing. 
 
 " Then we are all undone !" continued Mr. Grant, giv- 
 ing a glance of condolence to the other gentlemen, and 
 sinking back on the sofa, in an attitude of despair. 
 
 " I am the last man on earth to be at all illiberal," 
 
288 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 said Lord Alderbv, in a pompous tone ; " but at the 
 same time I hate all foreigners, and consider them most 
 dangerous people in society." 
 
 " I wish the Count had staid in Siberia, for it freezes 
 my very blood to think of him !" added Mr. Grant, 
 laughing. " Remember, Miss Fitz-Patrick, if he cuts me 
 out of my seat next you at dinner to-day, I shall be 
 seen wandering round the table, with tears frozen in icicles 
 from my eye-lashes, according to the fashion of his 
 country." 
 
 " A very melting sight indeed," replied Eleanor. 
 
 " My hair w^ould grow grey in a night with distress 
 of mind !" continued Mr. Grant. 
 
 " Ah I that happens to every person now, once in their 
 lives ! — we never hear of any one becoming grey in the 
 regular course of nature, but always some romantic his- 
 tory of its coming on in a few hours." 
 
 " I dare say this Count that shall be nameless, because 
 it really fatigues me to pronounce his endless designa- 
 tion, probably travels with a bear inside the carriage," 
 added Mr. Grant ; '' a monkey on the dicky; smokes 
 cigars along the road ; and brings a hamper of the best 
 train-oil with him to flavour M. Martigny's sauces." 
 
 " Eleanor has such a passion for every thing foreign," 
 observed Sir Richard, '' that I doubt if she will even 
 object to that." 
 
 '^ Not at all !" persisted she eagerly. " My penchant 
 for foreigners is incurable, they are all so agreeable. It 
 is the only rule I know without a single exception." 
 
 " He will play the pianoforte for you on Sundays," 
 continued Sir Richard, slyly watching the effect of all he 
 said ; " and the Count performs charmingly on — on the 
 Russian horn." 
 
 '' There must be surely some mistake here !" said Sir 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 289 
 
 Alfred, who had been listening for some time past to the 
 conversation with an air of perplexity and surprise. " I 
 once met Count Constantine Ecatrinoslav abroad ; and 
 though he had not the honour of being introduced to me, 
 yet I have a dim recollection." 
 
 'f Very dim indeed, I daresay," cried Sir Richard, 
 with a degree of brusquerie and eagerness which asto- 
 nished Matilda not less than it evidently did Sir Alfred- 
 " He is amazingly altered of late, I am told, and that 
 reminds me that I wish to consult you about the — the 
 — the new kennel I am building, so let us waste no 
 more time in foreign affairs. By the way, we have not 
 discussed the state of your canvass this morning yet," 
 added Sir Richard, hastily beckoning Sir Alfred aside, 
 who rather unwillingly followed. The two gentlemen 
 continued in close conference for some time, while Matil- 
 da observed that the former seemed to be explaining 
 something which greatly diverted himself, while the 
 handsome and expressive countenance of his companion 
 indicated a vain attempt at good-humoured remonstrance, 
 which ended in his giving a smile of unAvilling acquies- 
 cence, and silently resuming his place amidst the joyous 
 party round the fire. 
 
 Eleanor's impatient curiosity to see her foreign visi- 
 tor was not destined to be of long duration, for Sir 
 Richard entered the drawing-room about an hour after- 
 wards, rubbing his hands with glee, and announcing that 
 Count Constantine's carriage had come in sight. " It 
 is extremely like the one you arrived in lately. Sir 
 Alfred," added he, " but only much handsomer." 
 
 *' He copies me, I have no doubt," replied the baro- 
 net, dryl3\ " There are a number of people who do, 
 which is very inconvenient. The moment I get a new 
 
290 MODERN SOCIETY ; OK, 
 
 equipage, or even a new waistcoat, every body starts one 
 in imitation/' 
 
 '^ Pray, come to the window and look at him/' con- 
 tinued Sir Richard, eagerly. 
 
 " You had better bring him to look at me," answered 
 Sir Alfred, rising as he spoke, and strolling up to his 
 laughing host, who continued whispering and talking, 
 until the door flew open, and Count Ecatrinoslav was 
 duly announced. 
 
 Sir Richard hastened forward with surprising cordi- 
 ality, and Eleanor thought it the strongest proof she had 
 ever witnessed of her father's unbounded hospitality, that, 
 forgetting all his prejudice against foreigners, he wel- 
 comed their illustrious visitor with a truly English shake 
 of the hand, expressive of the warmest cordiality. Not 
 a word passed on either side, but he instantly led the 
 Count all round, introducing him with great ceremony 
 and respect to each individual of the assembled circle, 
 while the newly arrived stranger followed up these pre- 
 sentations by performing a profusion of bows. At every 
 repetition of his name, he struck his heels together and 
 clashed his spurs, while his hat was clasped to his heart 
 and then waved to the very ground. Sir Alfred vouch- 
 safed to give only a very slight inclination of the head 
 in reply, but when Mr. Grant's turn came, he completely 
 excelled Count Constantine in the number and pro- 
 foundness of his salutations, till Matilda could scarcely 
 refrain from laughing outright, to observe how rapidly 
 the two gentlemen flitted from right to left, and from 
 left to right before each other. 
 
 Eleanor's eyes followed Count Constantine round the 
 room with an expression of delighted approbation, because 
 nothing could be more outrageously foreign than his whole 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 291 
 
 dress and appearance. His face was let out through a 
 parenthesis of enormous whiskers, while mustachios and 
 patches were scattered over every part of his counte- 
 nance where they could be supposed possible. A great- 
 coat, completely lined with splendid sables and covered 
 with frogs and tassels, was what he wore, with boots 
 that seemed almost to raise him on tiptoe, the heels 
 seemed so elevated, and several scraps of ribbon which 
 were visible on his inner coat, appeared to indicate the 
 existence of corresponding medals and orders, when he 
 chose to make a display. After Eleanor had concluded 
 the ceremony of receiving him, with all her natural grace, 
 and more than her natural dignity, she turned to Mr. 
 Grant, whispering in an under tone, " The Count looks 
 quite like a hero !" 
 
 '^ Rather mock-heroic I He is the very model of what 
 would be admired among nursery maids and boarding- 
 school misses. Those Russians always wear ribbons of 
 more various colours than any tailor's pattern book, but 
 your visitor must have distinguished himself in every 
 battle that ever was fought, and acquired all the medals 
 and orders that were ever invented. Shall I pierce my 
 last shilling to-day, and hang it on a blue ribbon to my 
 button-hole, in order to keep him in countenance ?" 
 
 Eleanor now resolved to lose no time in makins: an 
 entire monopoly of the interesting foreigner, and entered 
 immediately upon a discussion of all the subjects which 
 appeared most suitable, speaking at random, in French, 
 with such rapidity and fluency, that scarcely an interval 
 was allowed for the Count to give more than a bow and 
 a shrug of reply. Upon her favourite principle of adap- 
 tation, she chose every topic in the most distant degree 
 connected with Russia. The Emperor Paul, St. Peters- 
 burg, Countess Dashkoif, bear's grease, sledges, palaces 
 
292 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 of ice, Marshal Blucher, Elizabeth of Siberia, the state 
 of Poland, and a panorama of the burning of Moscow, 
 which she asked her guest if he had seen in London. 
 
 Putting his hand suddenly to his forehead, the count 
 turned away, and Matilda could not but think for one 
 moment that the convulsive workings of his features 
 looked almost like laughter, till Sir Eichard stepped 
 hastily forward, and whispered to his daughter in a tone 
 of indignant remonstrance, " My dear Eleanor, how 
 can you be so cruelly thoughtless ? — ladies never have 
 any reflection ! The count lost on that occasion a splen- 
 did palace, plate, jewels, pictures, books" 
 
 " An old Russian-leather writing-case," added Mr. 
 Grant, in an under tone, " and several very valuable 
 pairs of Russia ducks, which have never since been re- 
 placed." 
 
 " How exquisitely agreeable he is," exclaimed Elea- 
 nor, affectedly, when Count Constantine soon after sent 
 for his foreign servant, and left the room to see his bag- 
 gage arranged. 
 
 " I am not sensible that our friend has spoken above 
 one or two monosyllables," replied Sir Richard ; " but 
 that shews, my dear girl, the power of prejudice." 
 
 '' Not at all ! I never saw a more romantic-looking 
 man — such an air distingue — such perfect self-possession 
 
 — so much grace in his address" 
 
 '' I would rather not be asked ray opinion of him," 
 said Mr. Grant. " It may be prejudice, from the de- 
 scription we had of the personage who introduced Count 
 Ecatrinoslav here; but there certainly appears some- 
 thing very M'Tartanish about him. I know a thorough- 
 bred foreigner by instinct, and this is evidently some 
 valet de place, who has murdered his master, and stolen 
 his letters of recommendation." 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 293 
 
 " How very malicious ! when we all know that you 
 are dying to he like him." 
 
 " The last man on earth that any one could wish to 
 resemble, except in his power of pleasing you." 
 
 '' All envy and detraction ! I must positively leave 
 the room, ]\Ir. Grant, if you become so very censorious. 
 In fact the world is getting extremely ill-natured of 
 late, and will soon be unfit for me to live in." 
 
 " And if you were to depart, I am sure it would be 
 fit for nobody else," added Lord Alderby. 
 
 " Eleanor, can you be serious in thinking so much of 
 the Count ?" asked Sir Richard, stooping over a news- 
 paper, so as to hide his face. '' My old protege, Donald 
 M'Tartan, used to be fully better looking, were you only 
 to see him with the same eyes." 
 
 " If I become blind, there might then be no visible 
 difference; but, papa, your favouritism of Captain M'Tar- 
 tan was an old grievance ages ago, and I am sony to see 
 it reviving." 
 
 '' If my good cousin had been handsome and agree- 
 able, like this new importation from Petersburgh, would 
 you have received him as graciously 1" 
 
 " Quite ! I have actually no preference for foreigners, 
 when our own people can learn to be equally agreeable," 
 replied she, in a tone of lively persiflage. ^' Let me an- 
 nounce, however, papa, to complete your horror, that 
 this Count bids fair to become a special favourite of 
 mine." 
 
 '' It is only to be hoped that the partiality is mutual," 
 said Sir Richard, dryly. 
 
 " Undoubtedly, as all Miss Fitz-Patrick's partiali- 
 ties must be," observed Lord Alderby, with a sigh 
 that might have driven a man-of-war from its anchor- 
 
294 MODERN iJOClETY ; OU, 
 
 " Surely the Count has lost his >vay," continued she, 
 anxiously. " Mr. Armstrong's baggage had to be moved 
 up another flight of stairs. I really am sorry not to 
 have a better room at my disposal, for, though it might 
 do very well for Captain M'Tartan, yet" 
 
 " Eleanor, you have exceeded my hopes/* exclaimed 
 Sir Richard, slapping his hand on the table, and rising;, 
 with an explosion of laughter, which he seemed totally 
 unable to control, while the whole party looked on in 
 silent amazement. As soon as he could command his 
 voice, however, he added, '' I knew that it was impos- 
 sible to expect a tolerable reception for my friend the 
 Captain, so we planned together a little agreeable coup 
 dt theatre, which has outdone my utmost expectations. 
 Count Ecatrinoslav was unexpectedly detained for seve- 
 ral days by an invitation to Windsor, but mean time 
 allow me to introduce my cousin, Count Constantine 
 M'Tartan ! I did not intend to betray our secret for a 
 month, but this opportunity becomes irresistible." 
 
 Sir Richard hurried, in an ecstasy of delight, to the 
 entrance-hall, and produced tlie ci-devant foreigner, who 
 looked precisely as he did before, but with a laugh in 
 his eye, which showed Eleanor at once how completely 
 she had been imposed upon. 
 
 Matilda felt alarmed to anticipate what her cousin 
 might say or do, for anger flashed in her countenance, 
 and she was evidently irritated in the highest degree ; 
 but before the sentence which rose to her lips could be 
 uttered, she suddenly caught the calm observant eye of 
 Sir Alfred fixed upon her, and instantly became silent ; 
 while Miss Howard, to fill up the pause, observed, in a 
 soothing tone — 
 
 " We have been all completely taken in, Eleanor, 
 Sir Ricluird can claim little credit for imposing on me^ 
 
TriE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 295 
 
 but it really must be allowed that the joke was excel- 
 lently got up when it deceived you." 
 
 *' I know," began Sir Colin, *' a very curious circum- 
 stance of the kind which occurred to myself" 
 
 " So do II interrupted Eleanor, instantaneously 
 recovering her temper, and giving way to a hearty fit of 
 laughter. " Papa ! for this once I forgive you, and 
 shall, moreover, generously add my congratulations on 
 your success. Captain M'Tartan ! so you are as fond of 
 masquerading as ever ! Now, observe ! when you have 
 been translated into English, I hereby retract all that 
 was said after you entered this house, either in favour of 
 the Count, or in disparagement of yourself At the 
 same time, allow me to request that you will remain at 
 Barnard Castle till your spirits have recovered the loss 
 of your palace at Moscow, and of all the plate, pictures, 
 jewels, and writing-cases. How could I be such a dupe! 
 but that was not the case either, for I guessed it all the 
 time!" 
 
 When ^Matilda had dressed for dinner, and was about 
 to re-enter the drawing-room, she heard a new voice, 
 and a ringing laugh of such uproarious vulgarity, that 
 it puzzled her for a moment to conjecture who could 
 perpetrate sounds so out of keeping with the harmoni • 
 ous tone of the party in general ; but immediately 
 afterwards she perceived Captain M'Tartan, who had 
 hitherto appeared only in dumbshow, standing upon the 
 hearth rug, in a perfect blaze of spirits, and address- 
 ing every one familiarly, whether he knew them or not. 
 
 " You've been in India, I suppose, Sir Colin ? One 
 may guess it by a little tinge of the pagoda in your 
 complexion ; but six weeks at Cheltenham is infallible 
 for the liver." 
 
 Sir Colin's feeble attempts to deny this imaginary 
 
^rfi MODERN SOCIETY ; OR^ 
 
 trip to the East, and the consequent aspersion on his 
 liver, were drowned in the stentorian voice of his new 
 acquaintance. 
 
 '' I've seen officers come home that you might have 
 coined their faces into gold ; and it was quite a benevo- 
 lent pleasure to watch every day at the Wells how they 
 gradually cleared up. Fine Indian-looking city Chel- 
 tenham is ; by the way, you would suppose every Nabob 
 had brought his own bungalow from Calcutta and set it 
 up there, with verandahs and balconies complete — the 
 walls, too, such a delicate colour, they seem to be built 
 of cream-cheese. Apropos, Fitz-Patrick, the yellow- 
 fever broke out on board of us at Jamaica, and nearly 
 sent me off to a foreign station — officers were dropping 
 like nine-pins. Since then, we never saw a sight of 
 land — forgot my geography entirely, but I've at least 
 remembered my way here. You must teach me, Elea- 
 nor, to know a cow from a camel, and a man from a 
 monkey." 
 
 " I see very little difference myself sometimes ! but 
 among all other oblivions, I perceive Captain M'Tartan 
 has not yet taken the trouble to forget my Christian 
 name." 
 
 " Ah for that matter, I know your name and date 
 pretty coj^rectly, Eleanor ! — we'll not say how much 
 twice nine makes, for I can keep a secret as well as an- 
 other. Ladies never like their ages to be published, 
 Ijady Susan Danvers, so I ask no questions, that we 
 may hear no untruths Did I ever see any girl rise 
 above twenty ! and old ladies stick at nine- and forty for 
 ten or a doaen years always ! For my own part, as the 
 Irish lady said, * I'm just tlie age of otiier people.' So 
 my old acquaintance Sir Alfred is here — he s not a bad 
 fellow Douglas ! I really feel a regard for him — a little 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 
 
 297 
 
 brusque or so occasionally, but has some very good 
 points, vvben you know how to manage him — rather 
 too shy, perhaps. Ah, my good friend ! speak of any 
 one, and he starts up directly. How goes all at Dou- 
 glas Priory V said Captain M*Tartan, advancing with 
 extended hand to the Baronet, who entered at that 
 moment, and assuming that patronizing air of encou- 
 ragement which is always exhibited towards those who 
 have the reputation of shyness. 
 
 " Did you wish to see the Courier ?" replied Sir 
 Alfred, holding out some newspapers which were in his 
 hand, and making a distant bow. 
 
 Captain M'Tartan shrunk back, provoked, but not 
 abashed. 
 
 " Tell me, Eleanor, how shall we amuse ourselves 
 this season ? I am your man for any thing. A tableau 
 of all work, or whatever pleases you ; but come what 
 may, for better or for worse, I have hung up my hat 
 here for three weeks at least !" 
 
 " I wish you would change places with it." 
 
 " No ! no ! I'm not come to that yet I You will 
 never make a victim of me ! We've known each other 
 too long, Eleanor, so there can never be much love lost 
 between us, though let me tell you that a certain gen- 
 tleman, not many miles off, was immensely admired by 
 the Russian ladies" 
 
 " Every person is supposed to be admired who leaves 
 home," answered Eleanor. " When any young lady 
 goes to England, we are invariably assured by all her 
 relations that she has been considered the greatest 
 beauty in London. If she gets as far off as Rome, 
 there are no bounds to what may be said ; — we are then 
 generally told she is taken for Raphael's Madonna, and 
 mobbed whenever she appears. But when you talk of 
 
298 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 what people admire in Russia, I should imagine that 
 Medusa might pass there for one of the Graces. A- 
 propos of those frozen regions, I hope we shall enjoy an 
 arctic climate for my skating party to-morrow% when 
 there must be no clouds either on the sky or the earth." 
 
 Next morning a bright, joyous, laughing sunshine, 
 and a clear, hard frost, fulfilled Eleanor's most sanguine 
 hopes, and for once a party of pleasure assembled, una- 
 nimously declaring that the weather was beyond criti- 
 cism. Loch Deveril glittered, like a broad expanse of 
 mirror, in one resplendent field, and'the whole surround- 
 ing country w^as clad in a winding-sheet of snow, when 
 the cavalcade of britschskas, phaetons, pony-carriages, 
 and riders, drew up along its margin, and the whole 
 cortege alighted in a tumult of joyous excitement. 
 
 Sir Alfred wrapped himself in a large cloak of sable 
 fur, and leaned against the trunk of a tree, while several 
 other gentlemen impatiently launched themselves on the 
 ice. There is something characteristic in every action 
 of a man's life, whether it be his manner of sitting, 
 standing, walking, dancing, entering a room, or even 
 skating, and Eleanor felt amused for some time with 
 watching and criticising the different conceptions of that 
 art which were exhibited by various performers. 
 
 Captain M'Tartan displayed tremendous powers of 
 velocity, which contrasted well with the graceful evolu- 
 tions of Mr. Grant, whose light and buoyant figure 
 skimmed along as if he scarcely touched the ice, while 
 Lord Alderby appeared, by his weight, to shake the 
 whole surface of the lake. 
 
 " This is already marked down as one of the white 
 days in my life!" cried Eleianor. "Ah! there goes 
 Sir Colin! slow, deliberate, and vacillating, like one of 
 his own stories. Mr. Grant's manoeuvres remind one of 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 299 
 
 the maze at Hampton Court, where so many doublings 
 and windings have been contrived that we are always 
 moving, but never advancing. I see he is waiting for 
 us. Captain M*Tartan looks like a Dutch hulk in full 
 sail ! Now, Sir Alfred, what shall you and I do ?" 
 
 "One vowel at a time, if you please, Miss Fitz- 
 Patrick, for that is all that either U or I ever profess to 
 take care of." 
 
 " You must be the Scandinavian bear escaped from 
 the Zoological Gardens, Sir Alfred, for that was pre- 
 cisely the answer he once made me on a similar occasion. 
 Any one else in this world would have had his head 
 turned for ever, if I had so much as hinted that his 
 escort might be acceptable." 
 
 " We are both spoiled by adulation, Miss Fitz-Pa- 
 trick." 
 
 " Will nobody take down your vanity ! Positively, 
 Sir Alfred, you grow more intolerable every day I" 
 
 " Do I ? — that is the very thing T desire I" 
 
 " Now, tell me, seriously, if one may venture to ask 
 — are you supposed to have complete possession of your 
 senses ?" 
 
 " I know only one or two people who have !" 
 
 " Mine would very soon be distracted with listening 
 to such incredibilities ; so good-by, Sir Alfred ! I shall 
 never see you again ! It is scarcely worth while to be 
 a ' lady in waiting' for any one, while there stands a 
 lord in waiting not far off." She pointed to Lord 
 Alderby, and slipping on her skates, proceeded to join 
 some more active members of the party, who were 
 already at some distance, in gay and lively emulation of 
 each other's achievements. 
 
 " As Ophelia says, ' What a noble mind is there 
 o'erthrown I' " observed Sir Alfred, watching Eleanor's 
 
300 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 departure, and addressing Matilda. " Your cousin 
 always seems to me like a pianoforte all treble, with no 
 full, deep tones in her character at all." 
 
 " Perhaps you might think otherwise, Sir Alfred, if 
 Eleanor were in circumstances to call them forth. At 
 the time of her poor mother's death she suffered deeply, 
 and no one would have thought her deficient in feeling 
 then ; but amidst such scenes of festivity as she has 
 lately enjoyed, there is little opportunity to judge of 
 the heart, or to know whether people have any heart at 
 all." 
 
 " Your zealous defence of Miss Fitz-Patrick, for 
 instance, is no evidence whether judgment or feeling 
 is the strongest," replied Sir Alfred, smiling at Ma- 
 tildas warmth. " But could a mind of any sensi- 
 bility be satisfied with mere amusement, in which every 
 serious reflection, and every kind impulse, is for the 
 present laid aside ! Could you ?" asked he, at once 
 resuming a tone of confidential intimacy. " No, Miss 
 Howard ! I read the answer in your countenance, for 
 we are both convinced that there is a sphere of thought, 
 of feeling, and of enjoyment, which the world knows not 
 of, and which, nevertheless, no one can be happy with- 
 out having tried, in a way that your brilliant cousin has 
 never yet done. Nothing amuses me more than her air 
 when she enters the room, w^hich looks as much as to 
 say, * Here is Miss Fitz-Patrick, of Barnard Castle, who 
 can neither think, say, nor do a single thing that should 
 not be watched and admired.' One might fancy from 
 her look sometimes, that she expected to be received 
 with three rounds of applause." 
 
 " Sir Alfred 1" replied Matilda archly, " if we were 
 to judge of every one from appearances, I have heard 
 something very like that said of somebody else." 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 
 
 301 
 
 " I dare say you have ! The truth is, Miss Howard, 
 for I wish to conceal nothing from you, that my reserve 
 seems unconquerable, except towards the very few whom 
 I trust entirely ; and I care for no familiar intercourse 
 with any one whose sentiments are not in some degree 
 similar to my own. As most pleasures appear to be 
 greater when clandestine, so, in my deepest emotions, it 
 often gives them a profounder zest to think that they 
 are known only by those friends who have my most 
 sacred confidence. I shall never be slow to acknowledge 
 opinions and principles, where it seems right to do so, 
 for they are my highest honour ; but in proportion to 
 my reverence for holy things, is my apprehension of 
 hearing them hackneyed in ordinary conversation, as a 
 subject for mawkish sentiment or idle gossip." 
 
 " I quite agree with you. Sir Alfred, in disliking a 
 superficial interchange of unfelt truths, and all that mere 
 jargon which people sometimes talk in society now ; but 
 yet it appears to me a matter of duty openly to acknow- 
 ledge such convictions as are inwardly felt, that we may 
 not seem ashamed of them." 
 
 " I certainly do encourage rather a morbid sensibility 
 in that respect, but the moment any man publicly de- 
 clares his attachment to serious religion he becomes 
 liable to a thousand deceptions. All those who have 
 any object to gain by pleasing him, adapt their conver- 
 sation to his supposed inclinations, so that in the form- 
 ing of friendships, and of all nearer ties, he is apt to be 
 misled and disappointed. Religion is the fashion now, 
 rather than an object of persecution, as formerly, and 
 my friend Leicester warned me once of what he had to 
 undergo, after it became generally known that he with- 
 drew from the world on Christian principles. Each 
 lady or gentleman who wished for his confidence pro- 
 
302 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 fessed an inclination to do likewise^ but for some cruel 
 necessity which prevented it. They all agreed to his 
 opinions, were convinced by his arguments, felt all he 
 had felt, read what he recommended, subscribed to his 
 favourite charities, and, in short, made him their coun- 
 sellor and confessor. Every one can talk so fluently, 
 and read so much, that he seemed to live in an atmos- 
 phere of profession without principle, and my good 
 friend soon had really little else to do than listen to the 
 eloquence of those whose practice was entirely inconsis- 
 tent with that knowledge they were so ready to dis- 
 play." 
 
 "It is certainly singular what a general familiarity 
 prevails in every company with the doctrines and feel- 
 ings of religion. You never encounter any one in 
 society now who is not able and willing to discuss that 
 subject in an interesting manner ; and though there are 
 not many to whom it is the first object in life, scarcely 
 an individual I ever converse with does not make it the 
 second, to be promoted at some future time to its proper 
 place." 
 
 *' There is pain in associating with those who are 
 entirely ignorant of religion, but still more in hearing 
 those who know their Master's will, and evidently do it 
 not. I have seen your cousin talk like a bishop to Dr. 
 Murray when the whim takes her, and if it were under- 
 stood that the subject is one of more than common 
 interest for me, even my friend Miss Charlotte Clifford 
 might get up a few suitable questions and remarks." 
 
 " By allowing yourself to become so fastidious, may 
 not many opportunities be lost. Sir Alfred, of usefulness 
 to others, and gratification to yourself? I have often 
 felt agreeably surprised in talking to friends, on finding 
 that the subject excited more interest, and that their 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 303 
 
 sentiments were really more serious than might have 
 been anticipated. With respect to Eleanor, she had 
 early advantages, of which, I trust and believe, we shall 
 yet see the fruits." 
 
 " No one can be otherwise than amused by her viva- 
 city ; but Miss Fitz -Patrick's entire want of sympathy and 
 kindness towards one who deserves both in their highest 
 degree has perhaps prejudiced me too strongly. For 
 all that gives worth or interest to the female character, I 
 long since looked elsewhere, and found more than my 
 most sanguine wishes could desire, without having been 
 ever on any single occasion deceived or disappointed. I 
 am naturally gifted with a keen perception of character 
 and motives, which, in a world like tliis, is seldom an 
 agreeable instinct to possess. With me it seems like an 
 additional sense, the clear light in which I can read 
 thoughts and intentions carefully veiled from ordinary 
 observation ; and it is only when in company with Miss 
 Howard, and a very few others, that I have never felt 
 cause to regret this habitual penetration." 
 
 Scarcely had Sir Alfred done speaking, when a loud 
 and piercing shriek, which seemed to rend the very skies, 
 arose on the ice, and was repeated again and again, while 
 Matilda, with clasped hands and straining eyes, gazed 
 in the direction whence it came, vainly seeking to ascer- 
 tain any cause for so much terror and alarm ; but a mo- 
 ment afterwards her utmost fears were exceeded. 
 
 In gay emulation of each other's skill, the party of 
 skaters had careered about Loch Deveril for a consi- 
 derable time, wheeling backwards and forwards, cutting 
 spread-eagles, and trying races in proof of their pre- 
 eminent grace and velocity. At length Eleanor, unthink- 
 ingly, started with her utmost speed towards a point 
 which none of the party had ventured to approach be- 
 
MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 cause of a rapid stream which fell from the neighbouring 
 hills, and was known to flow across the ice, rendering it 
 at all times extremely unsafe. A loud cry of apprehen- 
 sion from her companions was uttered in vain, for Miss 
 Fitz-Patrick seemed determined to out-dare them all ; 
 and, delighted with the notice she excited, as well as 
 ignorant of her danger, she seemed in the act of lightly 
 skimming along the surface, and gracefully kissing her 
 hands to the group of alarmed spectators behind, in 
 laughing defiance of their w^arnings, when in a moment 
 she disappeared. 
 
 The instant Matilda became conscious of what had 
 happened, she uttered a cry of grief and despair while 
 rushing forward to the margin of the lake, and hastily 
 proceeded onwards, almost unconscious of what she did, 
 when her arm was firmly grasped, and her progress ar- 
 rested by Sir Alfred Douglas. 
 
 " She is lost ! — let me go I — let me try to save her," 
 gasped Matilda, in breathless agitation ; " I must help 
 her, or perish with her ! — oh ! Sir Alfred, do not stop 
 me, as yoa value the life of the person dearest to you on 
 earth" 
 
 ^' That is my reason for detaining you," replied he, 
 in a tone of such emotion that even her present terror 
 and distress could not make Matilda entirely insensible 
 of it. " Promise me that you will remain here, what- 
 ever happens, and I shall instantly go in your place." 
 
 Scarcely had Matilda given the required assurance 
 before Sir Alfred darted off, and proceeded on the ice at 
 a rate which seemed more like the flight of a bird than 
 any mere human effort of velocity, while she remained 
 fixed to the spot, with straining eyes and beating heart, 
 watching his progress, and uttering many an inward 
 prayer for Eleanor, herself, and him. 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 305 
 
 No sooner did it become obvious into what very im- 
 minent danger Miss Fitz Patrick's fool-hardiness had 
 betrayed her, than, w^ith the most eager recklessness of 
 danger, she was instantly pursued by one, whose cou- 
 rage and presence of mind were equal to every emer- 
 gency, while his very life seemed never worth a thought 
 when an opportunity occurred of risking it with spirit, 
 or of losing it with honour. Captain M'Tartan appear^ 
 ed to outstrip the wind, he flew forward with such 
 incomparable fleetness ; and all the anxiety with which 
 he was followed by Mr. Grant could not afford the 
 smallest chance of his being anticipated or overtaken. 
 Instantly plunging into the gulf where Eleanor va- 
 nished, he seemed scarcely to have left his native ele- 
 ment, and grasping her with a powerful arm, he buffet- 
 ted his way up the course of a torrent, which had 
 broken through the ice, and a moment afterwards placed 
 Miss Fitz-Patrick safe, though nearly insensible, on the 
 shore, amidst loud acclamations from the surrounding 
 spectators, who instantly crowded to the spot. 
 
 Miss Marabout was at once sufficiently recovered 
 from her recent fright to wish for a little bustle and 
 importance on an occasion when she felt entitled to 
 assume the lead. She caused Eleanor to be instantly 
 conveyed to the fishing-lodge, where, after banishing 
 Matilda and every one else from the room, she prepared 
 to place Miss Fitz-Patrick in bed, when Eleanor sud- 
 denly roused herself, to make a decided protest against 
 any such arrangement. No persuasions on the part of 
 Miss Marabout could induce her to take any precau- 
 tions, except changing her dress for one wkich was pur- 
 chased from the fisherman's daughter ; and thus equip- 
 ped, she soon rejoined the party, with all her usual 
 animation of manner, and with more than her usual 
 
306 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 beauty, in consequence of recent agitation having 
 heightened her colour, and given additional lustre to 
 her eyes. 
 
 When Matilda saw her cousin once more restored to 
 life and safety, she forgot for a moment every thing but 
 the joy with which her heart was filled, and clasping 
 Eleanor in her arms, with an exclamation of thank- 
 fulness, she burst into tears. 
 
 " My good cousin !" said Miss Fitz-Patrick, in a 
 tone of more kindness than usual, " you are a perfect 
 Niobe, and will dissolve away altogether some day, if 
 we do not look after you ! My danger must have been 
 greatly exaggerated, and, besides, every one is immortal 
 till his hour be come. Depend upon it, I am not born 
 to be drowned in Loch Deveril, so you should never 
 anticipate the worst, but remember there is no evil so 
 bad as that which never happened. I recollect nothing 
 of the accident now, except a strange sensation from 
 having nothing to stand on." 
 
 " As for Miss Howard's alarm, that could never be 
 compared with mine I" said Miss Marabout ; " but it 
 is not my way to say much. Every one must see how 
 pale I look ! My heart still beats like a clock, and my 
 eyes are perfectly dim with the fright ! Really our 
 obligations to Captain M'Tartan are incalculable, and if 
 he were only in the room" 
 
 " Don't speak of him!" interrupted Eleanor, impa- 
 tiently. " If I was destined to meet with an adventure, 
 would nobody be the hero of it but Captain M'Tartan V 
 
 " You must end in being married to him at last," said 
 Lady Susan Dan vers, in an oracular voice. " When- 
 ever any gentleman saves a lady's life, that is the certain 
 denouement, however unlikely at the time." 
 
 " Yes I every impediment will, of course, give way," 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 307 
 
 added Miss Charlotte, enjoying Eleanor's visible irrita- 
 tion. '' How delightful it was long ago, when no young 
 lady seems ever to have embarked in a boat, mounted on 
 horseback, or staid at home, without being rescued from 
 imminent danger, as yoii were to-day, by some hero like 
 Captain M'Tartan, who married her three volumes after- 
 wards !" 
 
 " I am trying to calculate," said Eleanor, gravely, 
 •' whether it would have been most advantageous to the 
 world, that Captain M'Tartan and I should have been 
 both saved or both drowned — whether he would not 
 have been as great a riddance to you all as I am an ac- 
 quisition." 
 
 " He has done more for you," said Lady Susan, look- 
 ing maliciously at IVIr. Grant, " than many people who 
 make finer speeches." 
 
 " Poor Foley ! we must not be too severe upon him," 
 replied her cousin, turning away the sarcasm from him- 
 self. " I was sure you thought the Major too compli- 
 mentary this morning, when he discovered such a family 
 likeness between us, but I really forgave him at last, 
 knowing how completely it is his foible, wishing to put 
 ladies on good terms with themselves.' 
 
 At this moment Captain M'Tartan entered from an 
 inner room, where he had been engaged in performing a 
 hasty toilet, having contrived with extreme difficulty to 
 squeeze on the Sunday clothes of a young man, who 
 seemed on a moderate computation to be about half his 
 size. The coat appeared in imminent danger of burst- 
 ing, and the sleeves were so short and so tight, that his 
 elbows could not be bent, and his wrists remained totally 
 uncovered A pair of white trowsers, which were meant 
 to be long and wide, scarcely reached below the knees, 
 his face and hands looked purple with cold, and his hair 
 
308 MODERN sociEry ; or, 
 
 stood on end, as if frozen in an upright position. Bowing 
 rather uncouthly to the ladies, he would have hastened 
 pastj when Miss Marabout, who was on all occasions 
 very attentive to middle-aged beaux, hastily intercepted 
 his steps, and began an oration which was meant to be 
 long and eloquent. 
 
 " Captain M'Tartan, let me take the first opportu- 
 nity to express our admiration and gratitude" 
 
 *' Pshaw ! — nonsense. Miss Marabout ! — I hate pala- 
 ver," interrupted he, trying to hurry on, but she skil- 
 fully intercepted him, and proceeded, — 
 
 " We really do consider ourselves under the deepest 
 obligations, and Miss Fitz-Patrick feels most grateful 
 as well as myself. A pretty story it would have been, 
 Captain M Tartan, if the heiress of these wide domains 
 had been drowned in sight of us all, without any one 
 affording her the least assistance, which would have been 
 the case^ but for your gallantry and heroism." 
 
 " One w^ould think we are at a pubHc dinner. Miss 
 Marabout,' replied Captain M'Tartan, impatiently mea- 
 suring the distance between himself and the door, with 
 evident intentions to make a spring at it. 
 
 " Indeed, many people have had public dinners given 
 them for less," persisted she. 
 
 " It would take a man several bottles of claret to stand 
 such a broadside as this," muttered the Captain, angrily 
 attempting to escape, but still in vain, for though Miss 
 Marabout could not well take him by the button, she 
 contrived to make it almost equally impossible that he 
 should elude her vigilance. 
 
 '^ I only speak what Miss Fitz-Patrick thinks, and 
 she would have expressed her own sentiments on the 
 occasion, but unfortunately, you will perceive, she is still 
 rather hysterical." 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 309 
 
 The tinith was, that Eleanor had been for some time 
 convulsively endeavouring to restrain a burst of laughter 
 with which she nearly greeted the entrance of her 
 heroic deliverer, and she dared not yet venture on a 
 second glance at his strange-looking figure. 
 
 " This is too much for the shilling gallery," whispered 
 she to Mr. Grant, seeing a servant enter to announce 
 the carriage, who was obliged to turn away unable to 
 speak, when his eye caught the grotesque costume before 
 him. 
 
 " There is a great difference between empty profes- 
 sions and spirited actions," continued Miss Marabout, 
 warming into eloquence ; " and it will be seen that Miss 
 Fitz-Patrick can appreciate the true value of both." 
 
 " Hem ! if the coat fits put it on !" said Mr. Grant, 
 good-humouredly coming up to the reHef of Captain 
 M'Tartan, whom he perceived to be really annoyed at 
 his detention j " Stultz of course," continued he, slip- 
 ping his arm into the captain's and walking him away. 
 " My good fellow, as we say in Persia, may your shadow 
 never be less !" 
 
 " Captain M'Tartan," said Sir Alfred, offering him 
 his hand with the warmest cordiality, "You must par- 
 don a little malice and envy from us all. Fortune has 
 favoured you already with so many opportunities of gain- 
 ing distinction, that your laurels might have been spared 
 this morning to those of us who needed them more." 
 
 The grasp of a vice could scarcely have been more 
 powerful than that with which Captain M'Tartan seized 
 the extended hand, and Sir Alfred returned his friendly 
 greeting with scarcely less empressement, while Eleanor 
 was restored to instant gravity by the sui*prise of observ- 
 ing what passed. 
 
 "To be well shaken when taken," said Mr. Grant. 
 
310 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY 1 OR 
 
 offering his hand also, and contriving to give Ekanor a 
 hint to do likewise, in consequence of which she felt, bon 
 gre mal gre, obliged to come forward. Lady Susan^ 
 perceiving how the tide set, next advanced, followed by 
 Miss Charlotte and the whole party, who crowded round 
 the Captain with such a chorus of congratulation and 
 praise, that his stock of patience became completely ex- 
 hausted. " Ladies and gentlemen," said he, breaking 
 through the thick array, and escaping out at the door, 
 " I wish you would observe a rule made in the Laird of 
 Macfarlane's family long ago, that not above nine of 
 them were to speak at once !" 
 
 " I could tell you a much better story than that" — 
 began Sir Colin, in a slow methodical voice, which in- 
 stantly cleared the cottage of its inmates, and drove them 
 all for refuge into the various carriages which were wait- 
 ing to convey them home. 
 
 '^Matilda," whispered Eleanor, taking her cousin's 
 arm, in a tone of friendly confidence, " there certainly 
 is something of the sublime and beautiful about Sir 
 Alfred very different from other men, and you will 
 allow" that we can feel very little doubt now of his pre- 
 ference." 
 
 '* For whom ? " asked her cousin, starting and colour- 
 ing. 
 
 " Nonsense, Matilda ! — you must have observed it. 
 Miss Marabout tells me his efforts to reach the place 
 where I fell into Loch Deveril were perfectly superhu- 
 man, and his speech to Captain M'Tartan was made with 
 prodigious feeling. All this is quite unlike his usual 
 indifference about every one else, and makes the affair 
 perfectly plain to me. Besides, it is unprecedented his 
 remaining so much in the saloon as he has done lately, 
 for Mr. Grant told me that his friend used to have an 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 311 
 
 utter contempt for any mere drawing-room man. In- 
 deed, he asked me, with a particular look this morning, 
 if I had never yet guessed what caused the great change 
 in Sir Alfred's habits, and would certainly have men- 
 tioned something interesting at the moment, but he 
 gave a cautionary glance towards you, as much as to 
 say that we might be overheard." 
 
 "Eleanor," replied Matilda, trying to steady her 
 voice, while a very inconvenient blush stole into her 
 cheek, '' there is some mistake — I am almost certain — 
 
 that is to say — I think it right to mention" 
 
 " You don't mean to profess any doubt !" exclaimed 
 her cousin, with a laugh of angry surprise. " But I see 
 how it is — you may talk of vanity, JMatilda, but I know 
 some young ladies who never can think enough of any 
 trifling attentions which are shown to themselves. Girls 
 who are unaccustomed to much notice become so con- 
 scious of any little civility, that their colour flits like an 
 aurora borealis or a shot silk whenever they are spoken 
 to. I have had some little experience now in these 
 matters, Matilda, and let me tell you, that when a gentle- 
 man has any serious intentions, his external devoirs are 
 all paid to some aunt, or cousin, or grandmother ; even 
 the lap-dog and piping bull-finches come in for a share ; 
 but it is to be hoped none of the parties will ever make 
 the mistake of supposing they are preferred." 
 
 " Eleanor ! there are limits to what I can feel justi- 
 fied in submitting to from you," said Matilda, with 
 gentle firmness. '^ You put old friendship and my sense 
 of our present relative position to a very trying test ; 
 but it would be neglecting my duty either towards my- 
 self or you, not to explain the strong reasons I have for 
 
 believing" 
 
 *' Pshaw, Matilda ! I shall never laugh at Charlotte 
 
312 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 Clifford again, for all young ladies are alike. I did 
 think you had been above those sort of missy-ish confi- 
 dences ; and to say the truth, I am tired to death of 
 them. Sir Alfred scarcely speaks to you ; but if he ever 
 makes a formal declaration let me know, — mean time I 
 believe nothing that I am told on these subjects and 
 only half what I see." 
 
 Matilda could not resist a smile when she perceived 
 how clear-sighted Eleanor was respecting the self-decep- 
 tion of her friends, while she so blindly flattered herself; 
 but anxious yet to put Miss Fitz-Patrick on her guard, 
 she took her cousin's hand before they parted, saying, 
 with a look of frankness and affection, — 
 
 " You may say some hasty words in a moment of 
 anger, Eleanor, but it is impossible seriously to doubt the 
 integrity of my intentions, or the warmth of my friend- 
 ship ; so, without being over-anxious about your good 
 opinion at present, let me only hint that I have reason 
 to believe Sir Alfred is not yet attached to you ; that, 
 moreover, I seriously think you prefer Mr. Grant, who 
 would suit you better ; and that while you are amused 
 with attracting attention from the one, merely because 
 he piques your vanity, the other will be lost for ever, if 
 he is not so already, and I scarcely know any one whom 
 you would have equal cause to regret. Now, Eleanor, 
 after all that has passed, I know what you will think of 
 me for venturing this opinion, but I am resolved at least 
 to deserve your confidence." 
 
 Matilda sprung into the carriage, where Lady Mon- 
 tague and Miss Marabout waited for her, and felt un- 
 able to speak for some time from agitation on account 
 of the effort it had cost her to persevere in being can- 
 did with Eleanor. At the time when she had thus 
 openly given an opinion of Sir Alfred's sentiments, she 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 313 
 
 considered how painfully difficult it was, fully to under- 
 stand them herself, and how gratefully she would have 
 listened to any friend who could have acted towards her 
 as she wished to do towards Eleanor. Matilda knew but 
 little of the world and its ways ; she placed entire reliance 
 on Sir Alfred's honour and integrity, but still he had 
 said nothing which a brother might not have done ; and 
 the more she felt inclined to think of him, the stricter 
 seemed tluit vigilance with which she ought to watch 
 over her own peace of mind. His eye had been the first 
 to remark Eleanor's want of kindness towards herself, 
 his voice had been the first to speak of sympathy in a 
 sorrow which had so long distressed her, and it would 
 have been a pleasing indulgence to let hope and imagi- 
 nation picture a secret attachment on the part of Sir 
 Alfred, which for some inconceivable reason he could not 
 at once declare. Almost every young man has a tyran- 
 nical uncle, or father, or aunt, whose wealth and caprice 
 might be supposed to afford plausible impediments to 
 any decided eclaircissemenf — but Sir Alfred entertained 
 no expectations from any one : he was, according to 
 the modem phrase, " his own father," and quite inde- 
 pendent of any one's opinion, so Matilda determined to 
 suppose nothing meant unless distinctly expressed. It 
 was now that she felt the benefit of having been early 
 practised in commanding her own thoughts. No roman- 
 tic visions of imaginary happiness were allowed to flit 
 through her mind ; no exaggerated recollection of past 
 professions, nor any fancied meaning given to words or 
 actions which she could not entirely forget ; but after 
 calmly and dispassionately considering all that had passed, 
 she became able to satisfy her heart with the reflection 
 that her happiness had been long since implicitly con- 
 signed to the care of Him who ordered all things well. 
 
314 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 In praying that every event may be ordained for the 
 best, we know not what we ask, unless that petition dis- 
 tinctly pledges us to su£Per cheerfully the disappointment 
 of every earthly hope, if necessary to our future well- 
 being, for it is seldom that the enjoyment of our desires 
 in a present world is consistent with our safe and 
 speedy preparation for a better and more enduring in- 
 heritance. 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 
 
 315 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 When I was yet a child, no childish play 
 To me was pleasing; all my mind was set 
 Serious to learn and know, and thence to do 
 What might be gen'ral good ; myself I thought 
 Born to that end, born to promote all truth. 
 All righteous things. 
 
 MlLTOX. 
 
 When Matilda re-entered the drawing-room before 
 dinner, she perceived Dr. Murray and Sir Alfred engaged 
 in deep and earnest conversation, in ^vhich they had both 
 the appearance of being profoundly interested, while she 
 observed with pleasure her venerable friend's rising ani- 
 mation of manner in proportion as he felt himself under- 
 stood and appreciated by the young Baronet, who de- 
 lighted to take every opportunity of drawing him aside 
 to a private conference. , 
 
 Matilda had not the slightest intention of joining 
 them, but before she was seated Sir Alfred rose and 
 placed a chair, apparently anxious that she should par- 
 take in the same pleasure which he enjoyed so much 
 himself, while, to his no small surprise, Eleanor accom- 
 panied her cousin as a volunteer in the little coterie. 
 Miss Fitz-Patrick had such a happy confidence in her- 
 self, that she felt, on all occasions, sure of being an 
 acquisition ; and whenever she saw people intently con- 
 versing, her first impulse -w as to become one of the 
 party, though generally rather with an intention to 
 
316 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 lead than to follow. On the present occasion, however, 
 she listened with unusual deference to the conclusion of 
 Dr. Murray's discussion respecting the subjects for 
 meditation which are most to be cultivated by the 
 Christian mind ; and though what he said had not been 
 at first intended for so many listeners, he continued 
 without shewing any apparent consciousness of their 
 augmented numbers. In describing the wide field of 
 thought, and the refreshing streams of pleasure which 
 are thus opened for the heart of man to rejoice in, his 
 own extraordinary powers of reflection, and his impas- 
 sioned eloquence of expression, became strikingly ob- 
 vious, and had their usual impressive effect upon all 
 who heard him. Even Eleanor experienced the influence 
 of a heart and understanding so truly elevated; but 
 wherever the feelings ought to be touched, hers were 
 seldom exactly tuned up to concert pitch ; and as she 
 always spoke out the first thought that occurred, with- 
 out a doubt of its being right, she could not fail to 
 betray the nature of her own reflections. Pleased with 
 all he said, and judging from herself that praise must 
 be always acceptable, she exclaimed, in a tone of real 
 admiration, " Dr. Murray ! how completely you must 
 feel lost in this little country parish !" 
 
 " Lost, did you say ! Miss Fitz Patrick ?" asked he, 
 with a look of surprise and perplexity. " In what 
 respect ?" 
 
 " Why, there is no opportunity here of distinguishing 
 yourself — no public meetings — no platforms to make 
 speeches on I — and you ought to have the largest 
 church in the kingdom instead of the least." 
 
 " Little as you think it, the responsibility is more 
 than sufficient, Miss Fitz - Patrick ; and could I alter 
 the extent of this parish at all, my first wish would 
 
IrftE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 317 
 
 be to diminisli it ; but the bounds of our habitation 
 are appointed for us; therefpre my only desire is to 
 have strength given me in proportion to what is a 
 sacred duty towards the four thousand persons for 
 whose welfare I am in a great degree answerable." 
 
 " But your learning and talents are thrown away 
 upon people who cannot possibly appreciate them." 
 
 " My parishioners estimate me precisely as I wish," 
 replied Dr. Murray, with a benevolent smile, seeing that 
 for once he must talk of the person who was generally 
 least in his thoughts or conversation — himself. " I trust 
 we all experience that there is no happiness in life equal 
 to that of promoting the happiness of others ; and in 
 watchin;^ over that of so many, my greatest ambition is 
 to be regarded as the friend and counsellor of each indi- 
 vidual. I would not have one of them imagine me above 
 sympathizing in their cares and sorrows, and even in 
 their ignorance, for it has often occurred to me that 
 much of the dissent throughout this kingdom is occa- 
 sioned by the wide disparity in rank and intellect be- 
 tween the established clergy and their parishioners. It 
 must seem to these poor people as if we could never have 
 suffered like themselves, and could scarcely enter into 
 their ideas, which might account for their being enticed 
 by the ministrations of those who do not intimidate them 
 by a shew of superiority. Nothing pleases me more. 
 Miss Fitz-Patrick, than to perceive the perfect readi- 
 ness with which my people come to me, and the entire 
 confidence with which they ask my opinion in every 
 emergency. Poor Donald M'Intyre consulted me yes- 
 terday about the price of his cart-horse, and I was quite 
 flattered to observe the interest he expected me to take 
 in his purchase." 
 
 " But then, Dr. Murray, what pleasure can there be 
 
318 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 in composing your sermons so beautifully, and delivering 
 them Avith such eloquence as I know you do ?" 
 
 " Miss Fitz-Patrick, never poison your friends with 
 praise — it is dangerous diet for any one to live upon ; 
 hut if there be a single individual to whom the mere 
 composition and delivery are of importance, then no pains 
 should be spared to improve both. We must be ^ all 
 things to all men, lest by any means we may win some.' 
 Yet give me a congregation M'ho listen profoundly, and 
 disperse to their houses in silence, impressed with the 
 awful truths which I come to promulgate, rather than 
 one who could be moved to a tempest of emotion, and 
 then follow it up, as people of education too often do, 
 with a critical disquisition on the style, on the train of 
 argument, and on every thing except the effect intended 
 to be produced on their own life and conduct." 
 
 " That reminds me," said Matilda, " of the panegyric 
 which Louis XIY. pronounced on Massillon, for I am 
 sure you would prefer it. Dr. Murray, to any other 
 praise : ' many preachers make me think a great deal of 
 them, but this one teaches me to think little of myself.' " 
 
 " So, Dr. Murray, being myself a member of the 
 parish," observed Eleanor, " I am glad, for the sake of 
 Gaelfield, that you have no ambition for a higher 
 sphere." 
 
 •' It would scarcely be possible for me to enter on a 
 happier one. Miss Fitz-Patrick, those who were young 
 when I first came here, have grown old under my care. 
 I have rejoiced in the blessed progress of the just, and 
 mourned over the sins of the profligate. Many parents 
 and many children I have buried, and I married most of 
 those who are now smiling in prosperity around me. 
 It has been my duty to soothe the sorrows of all, and to 
 know, in every separate house, the hopes and fears, the 
 
THE MARCH OP INTELLECT. 319 
 
 temptations and afflictions of my people. Could any 
 thing ever unite me as closely to another congregation ? 
 These are, in every sense, my own family, and no pro- 
 motion could compensate for dividing me from all that 
 has hitherto engrossed and interested me in existence. 
 It is strange, — it is deeply impressive, to be a spectator 
 of life so long as I have been. To look back upon the 
 lapse of years, and remember it like the flitting page- 
 antry of a theatre. The bloom of youth has now faded 
 on many a healthful cheek — the spring of hope has dried 
 up in many a sanguine heart ; — the smiling infant, the 
 cherished bride, and the aged patriarch, have each and 
 all been torn from their weeping families, while I am 
 yet left to declare, that there has been but one anchor 
 of hope, both sure and steadfast. They have passed 
 away, as it were, in a mournful procession, and I wait 
 till my summons comes, to follow. Then, when dust 
 returns to dust, my desire is, to be laid in the grave 
 beside mine own people, and beneath the shadow of 
 those walls where we have so often assembled together." 
 
 There was silence for a moment, as no one could re- 
 ply, and Dr. Murray seemed anxious to proceed, though 
 unable at once to do so ; but having considered for some 
 time, he added, in a tone of great feeling, — 
 
 " Miss Fitz- Patrick ! I have laid open my mind the 
 more clearly at present, from an anxious desire to speak 
 once again on the subject which we discussed yesterday, 
 that by revealing the deep interest I take in all my 
 people, you may appreciate the extent of my solicitude 
 respecting one who suffers severely. I might tell you 
 that many sorrowful scenes have already fallen to my 
 share, — that I have seen the laugh of frolicsome youth 
 suddenly change to the cry of despairing anguish, — that 
 I have seen hearts alienated for ever, which once were 
 
320 MODERN SOCIETY ; Olt, 
 
 linked by the strongest ties of earthly affection ; and 
 that, stranger and sadder than either, I have watched 
 over the bright intellect of man becoming gradually 
 darkened beneath the infirmities of age, while the senses 
 and the affections were sunk into a living grave ; but 
 never, oh I never before, did I see all these united in one 
 overpowering calamity, and a mind, yet in the vigour of 
 youth, struggling against the undeserved imputations of 
 guilt, and against the inroads of insanity." 
 
 " Dr. Murray !" replied Eleanor, starting and colour- 
 ing, " it was impossible to hear all you told me yester- 
 day without being deeply affected, and I lost not an hour 
 in sending my housekeeper, Mrs. Gordon, to Gowanbank. 
 She says Nanny has greatly recovered since your visit, 
 and is urgent for her sister's marriage to take place with- 
 out delay. She talks of the wedding- incessantly, and 
 her eyes were perfectly lighted up when she spoke of it 
 to Martha ; but she has merely requested that William 
 Grey shall never enter the house till he becomes her 
 brother. The cold Nanny caught, with being out so late 
 and so improperly in the evenings, brought on a slight 
 feverishness and delirium, which Mrs. Gordon assures 
 me is perfectly cured, and I have desired no expense to 
 be spared in making her comfortable at home. We shall 
 send again, in a few days, to inquire if she continues 
 well." 
 
 " No messenger will be necessary to-morrow, as I shall 
 call there myself, on our way home, to tell Nanny of the 
 promise you made me yesterday. Miss Fitz-Patrick. It 
 will be the poor girl's best consolation to feel assured that 
 this whole business shall be thoroughly sifted. Her cha- 
 racter must not be left at the mercy of vague suspicion 
 any longer; and for my own part, I have a perfect con- 
 fidence in the result of your investigation. 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 321 
 
 Eleanor looked exceedingly annoyed at this unexpect- 
 ed appeal to her memory, respecting a promise which 
 had been given in haste, and repented of at leisure. She 
 foresaw a world of trouble which it would involve to 
 disturb the harmony of her household at present ; and 
 it had appeared such an easy way of temporizing with 
 the whole aflfair, to get rid of Nanny, and let the blame 
 rest with her, that she fully persuaded herself of the 
 justice, as well as the convenience of this measure ; and 
 now, with a peevish exclamation about the " plague of 
 servants," she turned hastily from the observant look 
 with which Dr. Murray regarded her, for it was evident 
 that, upon this subject, he had resolved to be persever- 
 ing and decided. 
 
 " Well, Dr. Murray," said Eleanor, adopting her usual 
 plan of altering disagreeable topics, ''if this country 
 were the Happy Yalley of Rasselas, I should still fe»el 
 in your place the same misery that he did, about the 
 impossibility of ever getting away, for I begin to dislike 
 it already, with respect to Barnard Castle." 
 
 *' There is much truth in the French proverb," said 
 Sir Alfred, " *La felicite est dans le gout, et non pas 
 dans les choses, ou les places.' " 
 
 " True indeed," replied Dr. Murray. " My neigh- 
 bour at Clanpibroch Castle is poor and discontented on 
 an almost boundless income — and old Janet used to think 
 herself rich and happy with scarcely enough to purchase 
 the necessaries of life. Many a lesson I have received 
 in that cottage, of cheerful self-denial, for truly our best 
 school of practical divinity is often found in the homes 
 of the pious poor." 
 
 '* You must frequently wish for a larger income, in 
 order to relieve their wants ?" said Eleanor. " It might 
 extend your sphere of usefulness." 
 
322 modern: society ; or, 
 
 ^' I have quite a sufficient one for all professional pur- 
 poses. We have long been happy on little, and might 
 be miserable on a great deal ; therefore, neither for my 
 people nor myself do I desire an increase. Their habits 
 are simple^ and their wants are few." 
 
 '' I do wonder, then, how people manage to keep 
 down their necessities," said Eleanor, with a conse- 
 quential look round her splendid rooms. " Mine seem 
 to increase every day." 
 
 '' You should never let them grow," said Mr. Grant, 
 joining the circle. " No man is poor unless he thinks 
 himself so ; and I live upon a straw a-day without ever 
 feeling the want of more. You would admire. Miss 
 Fitz-Patrick, the superlative dignity with which I can 
 pay off my last guinea, looking as if thousands more 
 were ready to follow." 
 
 '' But with respect to Dr. Murray, he must really give 
 us a chapter like Dr. Johnson's, ' On the wants of a man 
 who wants nothing ;' for he is the first person I ever met 
 with who had not some good presentable reason for wish- 
 ing to be rich" 
 
 '' Unfortunately, you must perceive. Miss Fitz-Patrick, 
 that our friend here has no expensive taste to serve as an 
 outlet for this imaginary large income. Dr. Murray feels 
 but little ambition to collect china or pictures — he dis- 
 likes a carriage, has no penchant for a French cook, nor 
 the slightest desire to set up his yacht. Besides which, 
 if all his friends are like me, they would rather dine with 
 him on a plain joint and a bottle of sherry, than with 
 any other person on champagne and turtle. Therefore, 
 having settled to your satisfaction the impossibility of 
 his spending, I believe he would still more dislike to 
 hoard, which reminds me of a plan I once invented for 
 enriching the govern ment^ to be proposed by some able 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 323 
 
 legislator like Sir Alfred. Whenever it can be legally 
 proved that any man has, during ten years, not lived up 
 to his fortune, let the surplus be confiscated on behalf 
 of those good people who positively cannot live within 
 theirs ; and any thing that is over, to go for the relief of 
 taxation." 
 
 '^ Very good," said Eleanor ; " your uncle might be 
 kept very cheaply at the public expense, with the old 
 gig, the old horse, the old butler, and the old grey coat, 
 as usual, and what would he lose ? I estimate every 
 person's wealth by what he spends ; and an avaricious 
 man, whatever money may be in his name at a bank, is 
 born a beggar, and dies a beggar." 
 
 *^ I consider every one more or less insane in pro- 
 portion as he hoards or does not hoard," observed Mr. 
 Grant, laughing ; '' yet to those who thoroughly enjoy 
 the pleasure of saving, it is a perpetual amusement. 
 The richest of us cannot be always giving or spending 
 money, but the miser finds incessantly recurring plea- 
 sure in every pin he picks up, or in every scrap of paper 
 he saves ; but certainly those of modern times enjoy less 
 happiness than their predecessors, because a banker's 
 book cannot be half so interesting an object of contem- 
 plation as the chests of gold and the bright guineas 
 which they are represented as perpetually counting in 
 old pictures." 
 
 "Sir Alfred," said Eleanor, soon after, when Dr. 
 Murray was called away by Sir Richard, "I see you 
 understand canvassing better than one would suppose, 
 by your paying attention to our parish clergyman. He 
 has unbounded influence over all the farmers and peo- 
 ple about the district, if you only persuade him to exert 
 it. 
 
 " Can you possibly imagine. Miss Fitz-Patrick, that 
 
324 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 I am biassed by self-interest in associating with Dr. 
 Murray!" replied Sir Alfred, in momentary astonish- 
 ment. " No, believe me, that is an honour which I 
 appreciate for its own sake. We never touch upon 
 politics together, and, except where they are imme- 
 diately connected with his own profession, he generally 
 avoids the subject entirely." 
 
 " Apropos^ Douglas," said Mr. Grant. " I have 
 been doing a bit of popularity for you to-day. Our old 
 adversary, Jones, the farmer at Bannockfield, has lost a 
 quantity of cattle lately, so I rode over, and asked, at a 
 venture, for his brown cow. By good fortune there 
 were a dozen of that colour, one of which had been com- 
 plaining, so he was prodigiously pleased at the attention. 
 "We went all over the stock, and I praised his pigs, poul- 
 try, and children most zealously, besides talking big 
 about the landed interest. His parting looks promised 
 me a vote, and, if you will believe me. Miss Howard, 
 nothing could exceed old Jones's disappointment when 
 he discovered that I was not the candidate myself!" 
 
 *' I dare say that, for in his place I would certainly 
 have capitulated." 
 
 *' Now, Sir Alfred's conception of canvassing is such 
 a contrast to mine I He rides up to the door of every 
 farmer or shopkeeper, with his well- mounted groom 
 behind, and sends for the voters. Out they come, hat 
 in hand, and he strokes his horse's head, tells them his 
 opinions have been fully stated, and asks for their votes 
 in the sort of commanding tone with which I would 
 order a pair of boots, or a few tons of hay. It takes 
 amazingly, for he looks as if no one had ever refused 
 him any thing, and that it was quite impossible they 
 should." 
 
 *' There are occasions when I could be diffident 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 325 
 
 enough — perhaps more so than you. Grant ; but that is 
 only where there is much to be asked," said Sir Alfred, 
 fixing Ms eyes for a moment on Matilda, with a look of 
 anxious interest, which brought the ready colour to her 
 cheek. The tone in which these few words were said, 
 appeared so full of sensibility, that Eleanor felt how 
 much meaning was attached to them; but supposing 
 that, of course, they must be meant for herself, she 
 turned away with a conscious smile, satisfied that 
 nothing could be more undoubted than his devoted at- 
 tachment. 
 
 " Sir Alfred," said Miss Charlotte, joining the party, 
 ^^ I am positively assured you were so exclusive on the 
 Continent that you would not make a single acquaint- 
 ance, and cut all those who knew you already." 
 
 " On the contrary, I behaved particularly well ! — 
 answered almost every body who spoke to me, and 
 endeavoured to endure them. But, Miss Clifford, pray 
 write my travels, and depend upon it I shall vouch for 
 whatever you like to assert." 
 
 " It is a great advantage to begin the world as you 
 have done, by establishing a reputation for being ' odd,' 
 as one must never be surprised or offended at any thing 
 you say or do," continued Miss Charlotte. " I often 
 tell people the strangest stories about you, Sir Alfred, 
 but they invariably reply, with a laugh, * That is so like 
 him I' " 
 
 " On the same plan, every lady at the head of a 
 country mansion," said Mr. Grant, " should set up for 
 having ' a way' of her own, and then whatever habit 
 she adopts is above all criticism. If any visitor com- 
 plains of remaining a whole day in the house ^vithout 
 her noticing him, as Mr. Armstrong did yesterday, the 
 ready answer of every one is — * Ah ! that is her way !* 
 
326 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 If another remarks that she kept dinner waiting an 
 hour, those who are more intimate reply, with a look 
 of contemptuous superiority, ' I perceive you don't 
 know " her way" !' and if she sits a whole evening in a 
 remote corner of the room with one friend, to the ex- 
 clusion of all the others, still nobody could be so unrea- 
 sonable as to take offence, if it is ' her way.' So, the 
 moment any lady establishes a way, she is at perfect 
 liberty to be as capricious as she likes, though, till then, 
 I do not know a greater slave to the whims of others 
 than one who is determined to make her country-house 
 agreeable." 
 
 " Well, then ! here is Martin to announce dinner, and 
 it is ' my way' not to wait till Lord Alderby comes to 
 hand me in," said Eleanor, looking at Sir Alfred, who 
 felt obliged to take the hint, and with an almost imper- 
 ceptible glance towards Matilda, who could not but 
 observe it, he offered his arm to Miss Fitz- Patrick, and 
 silently conducted her to the dining-room. The young 
 Baronet had often maintained an opinion that it was much 
 more tolerable to live with those who talk too little, than 
 with those who talk too much, and he never felt more 
 perfectly confirmed in any assertion than on the present 
 occasion. Eleanor's spirits were excited beyond even their 
 usual pitch ; and being resolved to complete at once her 
 supposed conquest, she spoke incessantly, and made Sir 
 Alfred's eyes, ears, and whole attention, perfect prisoners, 
 so that he could scarcely snatch a momentary interval to 
 eat, and sent the greater proportion of his dinner away 
 untasted. It would have been more tolerable to him 
 if the dinner bell had continued ringing in his ears du- 
 ring as long a time ; but there being no escape, he com- 
 posedly resigned himself to his fate, and assumed an 
 external aspect of deference and attention, to conceal the 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 327 
 
 want of real interest in what she said. Upon this Elea- 
 nor became more than ever confident that he must be 
 charmed with her vivacity ; and little guessing how dif- 
 ferent was the style of conversation he preferred, she 
 rattled on with immeasurable rapidity, regretting only 
 that Matilda seldom looked her way, or she could not 
 have been otherwise than convinced how fallacious had 
 been her own opinion of Sir Alfred's indifference. 
 
 Mean time MisS Marabout began entertaining Dr. 
 Murray at another end of the table with a most sublime 
 and terrific edition of Eleanor's adventure that morning 
 on the ice. Her account might have sufficed to bring 
 Captain M'Tartan a medal from the Humane Society, 
 she enlarged upon it in such glowing terms ; and being 
 seldom much listened to by any one, her eloquence rose 
 as she proceeded, and seemed likely to become endless. 
 The object of this panegyric, who sat near, was evidently 
 annoyed almost beyond endurance ; he writhed about in 
 his chair, coloured, talked of other subjects, and at length, 
 perceiving that it would never terminate, as she appeared 
 evidently to think praise must be secretly gratifying 
 to him, Captain M'Tartan exclaimed, in an irritated 
 voice, 
 
 " Miss Marabout ! I would rather go into the pillory 
 at once than be held up in this ridiculous way I — one 
 would imagine I had leaped into the whirlpool of Corry- 
 vrekan I" 
 
 " Come ! my good friend ! take a glass of wine with 
 Eleanor !" said Sir Richard. " I fancy you both had 
 water enough for to-day." 
 
 " Why really, my cousin's white poodle might do all 
 I did ; and Blanco would have answered the purpose 
 better than I in one respect, that I fancy she is very 
 much preferred !" 
 
328 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 " I remember hearing a remarkable instance of saga- 
 city in a Newfoundland dog," began Sir Colin, eagerly. 
 
 " Fletcher I a glass of Madeira ?" interrupted Sir 
 Richard. 
 
 *^ With pleasure J — in a Newfoundland dog, and" 
 
 " Sir Colin ! send Miss Clifford a slice of turkey," in- 
 terposed Mr. Grant. 
 
 " Take my advice, old gentleman ! and when you 
 want to spin a yarn in this house, clap on all steam, or 
 else wait till after dinner," said Captain M'Tartan, good- 
 humouredly. 
 
 " The dog was given to my friend, Sir Jonathan Fow- 
 ler, by Captain Hargrave," persisted the Baronet, " one 
 of these Leicestershire Hargraves, a Captain in the 33d 
 infantry, who distinguished himself in Spain. — Poor fel- 
 low ! he lost both his legs there" 
 
 " The dog I" exclaimed Mr. Grant. 
 
 '' No ! Sir Jonathan Fowler," replied Colonel Pen- 
 darvis. 
 
 " You are all wrong I it was Captain Hargrave of 
 the 33d." 
 
 " Rather awkward for a Captain in the Feet to lose 
 both his legs !" added Major Foley. 
 
 " Pray," asked Miss Murray, " how do officers 
 travel in an infantry regiment? Do they take post- 
 chaises ?" 
 
 " Always in hackney-coaches," replied Mr. Grant. 
 ** But I am told every regiment is to have its own omni- 
 bus now." 
 
 " In fact," pursued Sir Colin, " the courage and sa- 
 gacity of those animals might often put men to the blush, 
 and" 
 
 " Yery true !" interrupted Miss Marabout, " and 
 
THiJ MARCH OF INTELLECT. 3^ 
 
 had it not been for Captain M'Tartan's admirable bold- 
 ness and presence of" 
 
 " Miss Marabout !" interrupted he, " if you mention 
 this affair in my hearing again, I shall instantly leave 
 the room." 
 
 " M'Tartan ! will you take wine ?" said Sir Alfred^ 
 in a tone of friendly regard with which he seldom ad- 
 dressed any one ; and if the gallant Captain had been 
 knighted on the spot, he could scarcely have looked 
 more surprised and pleased than at this unexpected 
 attention. 
 
 " As I was saying," continued Sir Colin, deliberately^ 
 " about this dog of Sir Jonathan's" 
 
 " Fletcher, I am told you make it a rule never to 
 tell any story twice the same, because that would shew 
 such a want of imagination," said Mr. Grant. " I like 
 the plan amazingly, for it is so much more entertaining 
 than those dull prosing people who have every thing 
 stereotyped on their brain, and never can bring out a 
 new edition. Now I last time you told that story the 
 dog was a poodle ! — yes, decidedly, a black poodle ?" 
 
 " People with luxuriant imaginations should really try 
 to curb them," added Eleanor. " One must keep to 
 facts. Sir Colin, for there is nothing of so much conse- 
 quence as to be quite correct in the minutest details. I 
 like even to know whether you sat on a person's right 
 hand or his left." 
 
 No inducement could bring either of his accusers to 
 hear Sir Colin's indignant protestations of rigid accu- 
 racy — the laugh was universal, and, in despair of receiv- 
 ing common justice, he turned angrily to Matilda, who 
 compassionately lent her eyes for half an hour, though 
 her ears were more amusingly entertained in listening 
 to the lively sallies that were passing all round the table. 
 
330 Modern society; oR) 
 
 Sir CoHn's voice sounded like a bee buzzing at her ear, 
 until his final titter recalled her attention in time to 
 take a part in the laughing chonis with which he always 
 wished to conclude. 
 
 When the gentlemen re-entered the drawingroom at 
 a late hour that evening, Mr. Grant stole round behind a 
 large sofa where most of the young ladies were engaged 
 in an animated discussion, and leaning over the back of 
 it, with a coffee cup in his hand, he fixed his laughing 
 eyes on Eleanor and Miss Charlotte, who had both been 
 talking at once, but paused suddenly on observing him 
 near. 
 
 " Mr. Grant," said Eleanor, slyly, '^ listeners never 
 hear good of themselves. If you could adopt invisibility, 
 and know all we are saying, it would make you hold up 
 your three hands with astonishment !" 
 
 " Then it is as I guessed, and you were talking of 
 me. I was certain the subject must be more than com- » 
 monly interesting. Few nerves can stand the reception 
 we meet with on coming up stairs after dinner. The 
 ladies all pause, and look disconcerted at our entrance, 
 which really puts a shy, diffident man like me quite out 
 of countenance." 
 
 " Every person living professes to be shy !" exclaim- 
 ed Miss Charlotte ; " but I certainly had an idea that 
 you were thoroughly bronzed, Mr. Grant." 
 
 '' How little you know me, Miss Clifford ! I really 
 am the shyest man in existence, and often wonder that 
 young ladies never have the charity to pay me more at- 
 tention. You should tr}'^ to draw me out, and give me 
 confidence. I have otie small merit which obscures 
 many greater ones, and that is modest merit." 
 
 "Matilda made precisely that remark on you five 
 minutes ago," said Eleanor, archly. " My cousin is al- 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 
 
 331 
 
 ways rather censorious, and she was wondering you ever 
 went into society, seeing how dull and silent it made 
 you ; but she thinks Sir Alfred's chatty pleasant man- 
 ners must render him the life of every tea-table." 
 
 " You have my free permission to believe this, if it 
 be possible, Mr. Grant," added Matilda ; " my cousin 
 seems to have mistaken her own opinion for mine." 
 
 " You would never do for the heroine of a novel, 
 being so ready with an answer," cried Eleanor, laughing. 
 *' Now a thoroughbred heroine ought to appear con- 
 tinually speechless with emotion. Another deficiency 
 let me take this opportunity of remarking : Whenever 
 a gentleman attempted being civil to a young lady 
 formerly, she was all on fire to repress his hopes and to 
 punish his presumption ; but, on the contrary, my good 
 cousin is really forgetting her duty towards poor Sir 
 Colin. He has twice handed you a cup of tea to-night, 
 so it is full time at least to look repulsive ; this morn- 
 ing you got up a smile at his favourite bon mot about 
 Sir Jonathan Fowler calling his fallen postillion a Pos- 
 tilioff ; and you are the only young lady he knows who 
 can laugh at his stories, and not at himself." 
 
 " You are maliciously bent on making mischief be- 
 tween Sir Colin and me, Eleanor, but I shall not be 
 your dupe, having resolved to avoid all Missy-ish airs of 
 that kind. You may have the most perfect reliance on 
 his indifference, and I find great advantage from the at- 
 tention he shews me." 
 
 " Well ! well ! we shall all see what you will bring on 
 yet. Mr. Grant, only imagine what a proposal it would 
 be — two sheets of foolscap, with six or seven postscripts 
 at least." 
 
 "Imagine!" exclaimed Mr. Grant, with animation, 
 " if it be supposed possible for him to have so much 
 
33^ Mbt)i!:RN SOCIETY ; oil, 
 
 presumption, I could write down every word he would 
 say ; beginning with" 
 
 " Hush ! not now !" exclaimed Eleanor, with sudden 
 eagerness ; and Matilda looked round, expecting, from 
 her cousin's manner, to perceive Sir Colin within ear- 
 shot ; but she only saw Sir Alfred sitting near, and the 
 old Baronet himself, at a great distance, haranguing to 
 Lady Susan, who had assumed a look of animated atten- 
 tion. 
 
 '' How I do like to see young people happy," said 
 Mr. Grant, following the direction of Matilda's eyes. 
 '^ Their united ages are exactly a hundred and sixty." 
 
 "Now, hear me, Matilda !" continued Eleanor, grave- 
 ly. " I know the world, and you do not, so it is quite 
 presumptuous to set up your judgment in opposition to 
 mine. Depend upon it. Sir Colin is not a man to trifle 
 with. I once knew an old gentleman, nearly his age, 
 who died of an apoplexy from disappointment ; and poor 
 General Anderson has had the gout ever since Adelaide 
 Montague refused him. If you hear a story out once 
 again, observe, I shall not be answerable for the conse- 
 quences. Go now, like a good girl, and give us some 
 music, after which you — you might dance us a few of 
 your steps." 
 
 Matilda plainly perceived that Eleanor wished to mo- 
 nopolize the conversation of Mr. Grant, so she strolled to 
 a distant table for her work. Scarcely had she drawn 
 out a needle, however, before, to her great annoyance, 
 Sir Colin approached, and was instantly plunged into 
 the labyrinth of his most interminable narrative, from 
 which nothing short of rudeness could have disentangled 
 her. A transient smile passed over the features of Sir 
 Alfred, when he caught Matilda's eye wandering round 
 the room for a pretext to escape, while she also saw her 
 
'JHE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 333 
 
 cousin and Mr. Grant watching her with the most un- 
 disguised diversion. It seemed evident that they were 
 talking of her ; and the subject became productive of 
 extreme amusement, which was testified by frequent 
 laughter. Nevertheless, Eleanor found intervals to cast 
 many satirical glances and reproachful looks at Matilda^ 
 shrugging her shoulders, and turning up her eyes to in- 
 timate what an unpardonable flirt they both considered 
 her. Miss Howard felt a shrinking apprehension of 
 ridicule ; but having resolved on all occasions, whether 
 trifling or important, not to be biassed by it, but to act, 
 as she believed at the moment to be right, without in- 
 dulging too much her own natural sensitiveness, she 
 determined now to remain stationary, though annoyed 
 by her cousin's bantering looks, and inwardly intent on 
 escaping from the thraldom of Sir Colin's ANEcdotage at 
 the first opportunity when politeness and good feeling 
 rendered it possible. At length Eleanor hastily rose, 
 and gravely shaking her head at her cousin, she walked 
 towards the library, followed by Mr. Grant. No sooner 
 had they departed, than Sir Alfred approached the 
 place where she sat, and made an immediate diversion 
 in Matilda's favour, by asking Sir Colin for his friend 
 Sir Jonathan Fowler, and assuming an attitude of atten- 
 tion to the very elaborate reply which followed, while 
 she gladly hastened towards the pianoforte. It was now 
 that Miss Howard, for the first time, fully estimated the 
 prolixity of Sir Colin's style, when she observed Sir 
 Alfred enduring it on her account, and that his eye 
 became fixed on a vacant chair near herself, which he 
 seemed evidently anxious to seize the first opportunity 
 of occupying. It was obvious with what impatience 
 he bore Sir Colin's tediousness ; but at length, having 
 
334 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 hastily terminated the interview, by making a short con- 
 cluding remark, in his own peculiar style. Sir Alfred 
 proceeded a step towards the seat he had so long been 
 preparing to take. Matilda coloured, and smiled as he 
 approached ; and nothing seemed likely to impede the 
 pleasure of the evening, when suddenly, and most unex- 
 pectedly, the empty place became occupied by the very 
 last person in the room whom she expected to see there. 
 
 Mr. Armstrong had been for some time humming to 
 himself the airs in / Puritani, while sitting near Elea- 
 nor, in the library, when all at once he started up, after 
 something she said to Mr. Grant, and hurried in obvious 
 irritation to the drawing-room. It was evident from the 
 glitter of Miss Fitz-Patrick's eye, that her wit had been 
 levelled at him, and that she had put in what was con- 
 sidered a successful stroke, for the excited and furious 
 expression of Mr. Armstrong's dark sallow countenance 
 showed how it had told. Placing himself beside Matilda, 
 he remained for some moments silent, but his compressed 
 lip and flashing eye spoke of the storm that raged Avithin. 
 To the disappointment of seeing Sir Alfred withdraw 
 to join Dr. Murray instead of herself, Matilda had the 
 additional grievance of being placed beside the only per- 
 son against whom she ever entertained an unconquerable 
 aversion ; and there was a sternness and malignity in 
 his eyes which, united with his meanness in remaining 
 under a roof where he appeared so obviously unwelcome, 
 made her gentle nature recoil from his approach. 
 
 " Pray, Miss Howard I" said he, abruptly, " did you 
 ever hear of an Irishman who sawed off the branch of 
 a tree on which he was sitting himself ? Your cousin 
 may some morning encounter such another fall as he 
 hadj and be equally surprised. ' 
 
THE MARCH OP INTELLECT. 335 
 
 " Indeed I" replied Matilda, seeing she was expected 
 to speak. " I should be sorry for that !" 
 
 " Perhaps you may have cause to rejoice, and I shall 
 he the first to light a bonfire on that occasion. If you 
 were told all Miss Marabout repeats of your cousin s 
 observations on us both, you would know better what 
 to think upon this subject." 
 
 " I am shocked to hear of Miss Marabout's treachery ! 
 but, Mr. Armstrong, no one need expect to be discussed 
 in his absence as he would be if present ; and we must 
 make allowances for very lively spirits. I could not trust 
 the misrepresentations of any person who openly violates 
 the mutual confidence on which all society depends, and 
 I am sorry that the friend my cousin so entirely relies 
 on, should be unworthy of her kindness." 
 
 " There are secrets, Miss Howard, in the best regula- 
 ted families ; and if you could find them all out, I know 
 one which would be worth a trifle. Pay your best re- 
 spects to me, and if I choose to do all that could be done 
 — but I say nothing." 
 
 " So it appears I" replied Matilda, laughing good- 
 humouredly. " Do what is just and right, Mr. Arm- 
 strong, but never expect that I shall pay attention to 
 any one from sinister motives." 
 
 " "What is just !" exclaimed he, twisting his features 
 into a tremendous contortion, expressive of mysterious 
 caution. " You may be rather surprised. Miss Howard, 
 to hear what strict justice might involve. How would 
 you like to have L.l 2,000 a-year — answer me that? 
 What would you say, if, with a single whisper, I could 
 bring Lord Alderby and all Miss Fitz-Patrick's admirers 
 to your feet, instead of hers ?" 
 
 " Why ! neither she nor I could desire it I" 
 
 " You know the old proverb, Miss Howard, ^ point 
 
336 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 d' argent, point de Suisse.' It would be a friendly thing 
 to drop a hint of that to Miss Fitz-Patrick. Perhaps, if 
 I am not better treated, her lovers may be put to the 
 test," added Mr. Armstrong, with a look of malignity 
 towards the next room where Eleanor sat laughing with 
 Mr. Grant, but his voice became nearly drowned by a 
 brilliant prelude with which Matilda began an air of 
 Rossini's, in order to terminate a conversation which 
 she considered unpleasant and incomprehensible. 
 
 " Miss Howard," said he, with increasing irritability, 
 " your music may be good, but your cards are very ill 
 played." 
 
 " How can I do otherwise, without knowing what the 
 cards are ?" replied she, pausing in the midst of a 
 cadence, and turning her bright ingenuous countenance 
 full upon him. " Seriously, Mr. Armstrong, you perplex 
 and annoy me with hints and inuendoes which it is 
 impossible to understand, and which direct my thoughts 
 towards apparent impossibilities ; therefore, let there be 
 an end of such discussions, and, believe me, I am per- 
 fectly satisfied with the present state of affairs, which 
 are all more wisely ordered than either you or I could 
 have done. If any alteration ever comes, it shall not be 
 of my seeking." 
 
 " Then allow me to say but one word at parting," 
 answered Mr. Armstrong, with a look of intense cunning, 
 '' and take time to consider what you would give. Miss 
 Howard, to have the mystery cleared up. I could make 
 you mistress of Barnard Castle to-morrow, with a snap 
 of my fingers," and suiting the action to the word, he 
 suddenly started up, and hurried out of the room. 
 
 Matilda was bewildered and amazed at his strange 
 language and extraordinary manner, though the more 
 she considered, the less she thought it possible that such 
 
 . 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 337 
 
 power could be in his hands as he seemed to intimate, 
 nor did she feel that it could have added to her happi- 
 ness, if the revolution had been produced which he 
 threatened. Miss Howard saw the evil effects of extreme 
 prosperity on her cousin, and she would have feared it 
 for herself. She observed, also, in no very inviting co- 
 lours the unnatural position which any young lady must 
 holdrin society, who is very richly endowed ; and she 
 perceived Eleanor often so encumbered with the adven- 
 titious importance of her situation, besides being viewed 
 by every acquaintance so differently from what she 
 would have been without it, that Matilda sometimes 
 remembered the fable of the peacock which asked Jupi- 
 ter for a splendid tail, and afterwards found himself so 
 unable to fly, and so beset by other birds of inferior plu- 
 mage, that he would gladly at last have dispensed with 
 his brilliant appendage to be placed on an equality with 
 the rest. 
 
 Matilda had been completely abstracted for some 
 moments, till she perceived that the ladies were about 
 to withdraw, and was surprised to observe that Mr. 
 Grant and Eleanor were still apparently engaged in a 
 secret conference, which ended by his rapidly glancing 
 round the room, and clandestinely slipping a letter into 
 the hand of the heiress, who received it with a smile of 
 animated pleasure, but at the same time with an equally 
 apparent desire of concealment, for when she suddenly 
 looked round, and caught her cousin's eye, the colour 
 mounted to her cheeks with perplexity and annoyance, 
 while she hastily secreted the document in her reticule. 
 
 What it could be. Miss Howard had scarcely time to 
 conjecture, before her cousin hastily beckoned her to fol- 
 low, saying she had something particular to communi- 
 cate. Matilda had been seated for some time afterwards 
 
 Q 
 
338 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 beside the dressing-room fire, before Eleanor seemed con- 
 scious of her presence, for she continued nearly ten 
 minutes in an anteroom with Pauline, giving some very 
 lengthened directions and explanations which were con- 
 cluded with the most earnest injunctions on her abi- 
 gail to be speedy. When all was over, and Miss Fitz- 
 Patrick at last sat down, her cousin had too much good 
 breeding to testify any impatient curiosity respecting 
 the object of her being summoned, but made a trifling 
 remark, in hopes that the business would soon be opened 
 on which they had met ; but w^hatever that might be, it 
 seemed for the moment entirely to have escaped her 
 friend's memory, who caught hold of any subject which 
 might be suggested, and pursued it eagerly, as if that 
 alone had any interest. At length it seemed neces- 
 sary to recall her cousin's attention to whatever she had 
 been so anxious to communicate, therefore Matilda de- 
 termined to lead the way. 
 
 '' You wished to speak to me this evening, I think, 
 Eleanor?" 
 
 " Oh yes ! — to be sure I did ! — what was I going to 
 say ? — Now, help me, Matilda, for you can always guess 
 what I would be at." 
 
 '' Perhaps it was about that letter which I saw Mr. 
 Grant give you ?" 
 
 '^ A letter ! — Oh no ! — that was only a — a copy of a 
 new song. Have you seen the — ' The charming wo- 
 man?'" 
 
 " We both had the words of that song some time ago ; 
 but I shall intrude on your confidence no farther, seeing 
 you do not wish it at present ; only, dear Eleanor, beware 
 for your own sake, as well as Mr. Grant's, how you en- 
 courage his intimacy without a definite decision as to 
 what influence it may have on the happiness of either. 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 339 
 
 He suffered all the sorrow of unrequited affection once ; 
 so it would be your turn next." This was said in a jo- 
 cular tone by Matilda ; and yet there appeared more of 
 sincerity in her remark than Eleanor liked^ and a pause 
 of some moments ensued. " Perhaps/' added she, colour- 
 ing and hesitating, " you meant to allow me one more 
 opportunity of pleading for poor Nanny ; and at all 
 events I must risk your anger for this once, to preserve 
 us both from all danger of future self-reproach." 
 
 With all the eloquence of nature and feeling, Matilda 
 now represented Nanny's situation, and entreated Elea- 
 nor to judge for herself, and not to be biassed by the 
 misrepresentations of any one, so as to deny her an 
 opportunity of being speedily reinstated in the good 
 opinion of all around, by a strenuous investigation of 
 the whole business. It was too late now to restore the 
 poor girl's happiness to what it might have been, for she 
 understood that by Nanny's own desire, her former lover 
 was to be married the very next day to Martha, accord- 
 ing to their previous engagement ; but at least her repu- 
 tation was still within the reach of justification, and 
 ought if possible to be cleared. Where there is a total 
 vacuum, the largest bell is rung in vain, and Matilda's 
 efforts called forth no answering look 'from Miss Fitz- 
 Patrick, who seemed entirely preoccupied with some 
 other subject, while an unconquerable smile played about 
 her mouth, and lurked in the corner of her eye. 
 
 " Well ! I shall think of all this, Matilda; but now good- 
 night, for you must be tired of talking so much, and of 
 listening to Sir Colin also — could you not give him the 
 same hint that Gil Bias did to the Archbishop of Gre- 
 nada about his homilies ? Don't you talk of flirting, for 
 I never w^ent on in my life as you did this evening ! 
 after having been fairly warned too ; so take the conse- 
 
340 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 ^uences ! Be careful not to lose your way through the 
 passages, for all the lamps must be out; and Pau- 
 line once spent an entire night on the staircase, in con- 
 sequence of having been benighted there. Poor crea- 
 ture I she is terrified at every turn after dusk, expect- 
 ing to encounter one of our Highland ghosts in full 
 kilt." 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 341 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Grace, that with tenderness and sense combin'd 
 To form that harmony of soul and face. 
 Where beauty shines the mirror of the mind. 
 
 Mason. 
 
 Matilda took leave, and rapidly proceeded towards 
 her own apartment. As she traversed the large gloomy 
 entrance-hall silence reigned throughout its wide ex- 
 tent ; and at every door a draught of air threatened 
 to blow out the light she carried, which flared up 
 in her eyes, when she ventured to quicken her pace. 
 At last a sudden gust of wind extinguished her taper, 
 and Matilda was left in total darkness. Perfectly ac- 
 quainted with the way, however, she groped along, 
 feeling entire confidence, and had begun slowly ascend- 
 ing a steep winding staircase which led through the tur- 
 ret exclusively to her own apartment, when suddenly 
 she became startled and astonished to hear the distinct 
 sound of footsteps coming downwards. Matilda paused 
 and listened. No one slept near, nor could there be a 
 possible cause conjectured why any person should be in 
 that direction ; yet the noise of steps descending was dis- 
 tinctly audible, accompanied by the sound of rustling 
 silk. Scarcely a single individual is entirely free from 
 superstition ; and though Matilda's well-poised mind 
 and enlightened understanding had never before yielded 
 to supernatural fear, yet the sudden remembrance thrilled 
 through her frame, of Eleanor's stories connected with 
 this ancient staircase, in which it had been stated that 
 
342 MODERN societV ; oft, 
 
 during more than two hundred years there had heen the 
 report of sounds such as these being unaccountably 
 heard on the spot where she stood. For one moment a 
 cold shudder passed through her frame ; but hastily dis- 
 missing these apprehensions, she regained her self-com- 
 mand, and nerved her resolution by the thought that she 
 must act for herself, as no one could possibly be sum- 
 moned to her assistance. Matilda now called out as 
 loudly as she could, to know if any one was there ; and 
 as her voice became feeble from terror, she repeated her 
 words again. The sound echoed upwards in harsh hol- 
 low tones, when instantly afterwards a noise of whisper- 
 ing seemed audible above, a light gleamed there for an 
 instant, and the rush of footsteps followed in an opposite 
 direction, — after which all was still. 
 
 Matilda stood transfixed to the spot with amazement 
 and fear, her heart ceased to beat, her limbs quivered, 
 and she remained motionless, as if she had been turned 
 into stone, while listening with breathless attention to 
 catch the smallest sound Her hearing seemed to be sharp- 
 ened by apprehension, but she waited in vain. Re- 
 solved at length to brave the worst, she summoned a de- 
 gree of desperate resolution, and proceeded as rapidly as 
 the darkness would permit towards her own room, where 
 she intended to obtain a light. In passing the dreary 
 lumber-room opposite to her own, she again saw a mo- 
 mentary gleam in the distance — a slight rustling noise 
 called her attention to a white figure flitting out of sight 
 in the gloomiest recesses, and instantly afterwards a loud 
 crash took place, which startled and bewildered her, so 
 that, unable to hazard another glance around, she rushed 
 into her own room, and with fluttering heart and 
 unsteady hand bolted the door. Matilda could not 
 but remark that it was wide opened as she entered^ 
 
tiiE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 343 
 
 though the housemaids invariably closed it, and that her 
 fire bore traces of having been recently and violently 
 stirred, though not a servant on the establishment would 
 have ventured up that staircase after dusk ; she therefore 
 still trembled with nervous apprehension to find herself 
 thus alone, and so completely unprotected. All the 
 theories of apparitions which she had ever read or could 
 remember, failed to compose her agitated nerves. She 
 trembled at every crack which the old wainscot gave in 
 her room; the rattling of the window-frame startled her, 
 and a mouse in the wall would have almost made her 
 faint. " What poor weak creatures we are !" thought 
 Matilda, trying to imagine some plausible explanation of 
 all she had seen, and to compose her mind for the solemn 
 duties of the evening. *' But yesterday I should have 
 been the first to laugh at such a story as this, yet no 
 human being can foresee how he will feel or act under 
 any circumstances, until he is actually placed in them" 
 Impatient for the first peep of daylight, she opened the 
 curtains, and looked out upon the pale, cold moon ; the 
 deep shadows cut upon the grass, the glittering stream 
 rolling beneath her window, the massy clouds careering 
 along the sky, and the bright stars shining in perpetual 
 beauty. There is something which speaks peace to the 
 heart amidst a scene of such majestic stillness ; and Ma- 
 tilda now began in some degree to forget her alarm. 
 The agitation which she had witnessed in Nanny's state 
 of mind during the previous night, forced itself on her 
 thoughts, accompanied by a feeling of melancholy at 
 remembering the callousness with which Eleanor had 
 treated those distressing circumstances which followed, 
 though she was consoled by the hope, that her cousin's 
 judgment had been in some degree perverted by the mis- 
 representations of Pauline and Mrs. Gordon. The re- 
 
344 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 membrance next succeeded, of all that Mr. Armstrong had 
 said, — or rather, according to his own phraseology, what 
 he had not said ; but the whole was so indefinite and un- 
 pleasant, that nothing remained on which she could have 
 any desire to rest her meditations, except those pleasing 
 words of Scripture, which are consoling in every period 
 of similar perplexity — " He shall choose our inheritance 
 for us." But Matilda found it more difficult to banish 
 from her mind the increasing uncertainty she felt re- 
 specting Sir Alfred's conduct. It was impossible to have 
 any hesitation in believing that she was an object of pe- 
 culiar interest to him ; he always betrayed a consciousness 
 of her presence ; while the most trifling remark she ut- 
 tered evidently acquired importance in his eyes when 
 she made it, for at whatever distance he might be ofi^, it 
 always seemed to reach him, and to arrest his attention in 
 preference to every one else. His favourite position 
 in the room was near her, and she could not but be 
 aware how anxiously he had desired an opportunity of 
 speaking to her unobserved during the evening. Yet 
 when Matilda reflected that Eleanor was equally confi- 
 dent of Sir Alfred's regard, she felt how prudent and 
 desirable it must be, under whatever circumstances, to 
 maintain an uncertainty of that which was not yet de- 
 clared. Nothing cures people so surely of their faults 
 as to see the very same errors exaggerated in the conduct 
 or feelings of others, for we then become conscious of their 
 danger and deformity. Miss Howard, therefore, being 
 unable to avoid the conviction of her cousin's vain and 
 unwarrantable expectations, found it easier to diminish 
 her own. Had she been addicted to amusing self-decep- 
 tions, Matilda might even have begun to flatter herself 
 that the gay and lively Mr. Grant was becoming conscious 
 of her charms, as there had been much in his manner 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 345 
 
 to her of late which tended to that conclusion. From 
 the moment when he observed her soothing kindness 
 to the wretched Nanny, and her unaffected indiffer- 
 ence to the interest which she herself excited on that 
 occasion, he adopted a new tone towards Matilda, full of 
 respectful deference, while his attentions were frequent 
 though unobtrusive ; and the conversation which he 
 addressed to her became often so superior to his general 
 character and style, that during dinner that day she had 
 been surprised and flattered at the change. Eleanor 
 might often have remarked, if vanity did not lay obser- 
 vation to sleep, how different seemed the manner of 
 gentlemen in general towards her cousin from what it 
 was towards herself. They all assumed a gay tone of 
 easy familiarity in suiting themselves to her, and it 
 appeared often no better than the lively persiflage, with 
 which they were willing to amuse a wayward child, whom 
 they perfectly understood, and whom it was their interest 
 to humour and indulge in every capricious whim ; but 
 when Matilda entered unobtrusively into the room, a 
 look of interest became obvious in the manner which they 
 adopted towards her, and of pleasure in observing one 
 who seemed so unconscious of attracting notice, and so 
 indifferent to admiration. People are usually most desi- 
 rous to acquire that of which they are uncertain, and 
 while all felt secure of amusing Eleanor, many had be- 
 come anxious to please Matilda, whose remarkable rich- 
 ness of mind, united with her graceful turn of expression, 
 her fertility of thought, and her tone of sensibility, gave 
 a charm to her society quite unrivalled. With Eleanor 
 many gay effusions of wit and vivacity sparkled under 
 the influence of excitement, but when once her spirits 
 flagged, the game of conversation " was up." But Ma- 
 tilda, on the contrary, had a quiet under-current of 
 
346 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 knowledge and observation which varied the occasional 
 vivacity of her ideas ; and Mr. Grant had been heard to 
 declare, after sitting next her for nearly an hour, in 
 apparently serious discussion, that " he did not know her 
 equal at ' a two-handed crack.' " 
 
 Unable yet to feel sufficiently composed for retiring 
 to rest, and finding it unusually difficult to banish from 
 her thoughts those subjects which perplexed while 
 they interested her, Matilda rose to procure a book, 
 and was surprised, in passing the toilet- table, to observe 
 a letter laid conspicuously on the dressing-box. Snatch- 
 ing it hastily up, she examined the handwriting, which 
 was unknown, and the address, which was certainly for 
 herself. Matilda then turned it over, to inspect the 
 large and consequential-looking seal ; but she became 
 startled to observe that it bore the impression of a tor- 
 toise carrying the globe, which, being somewhat of a 
 herald, she at once recognised as the crest of Sir Colin 
 Fletcher. Two monkeys, with long tails, for supporters, 
 had often been a subject of wit among the Baronet's 
 friends, and the motto '' Je Fuis" was always quoted 
 as particularly inappropriate. Eleanor's warning now 
 flashed into Matilda's memory — she had lately heard 
 proposals spoken of as an everyday occurrence, without 
 apprehending any danger of meeting with one herself; 
 but, ignorant of the way in which these events took 
 place, she felt a pang of self-reproach for having acted 
 entirely on her own judgment, and for having allowed 
 herself to believe that her cousin's prophecies were 
 merely in jest, when they ought at least to have pro- 
 duced some caution. Sir Colin's advanced age had pre™ 
 vented Matilda from ever imagining the possibility of his 
 marrying, but Eleanor had recently assured her, that no 
 multiplicity of years could be any security. Colouring 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 347 
 
 with vexation, as these recollections crowded into her 
 mind, Matilda's trepidation increased when she broke 
 the seal and read as follows : — 
 
 '^ Dear Madam, 
 
 " Many letters begin with the use of a possessive 
 pronoun, which is wanting here, seeing that I am not 
 yet entitled to use it towards you ; but the very great 
 encouragement with which I have lately been honoured, 
 entitles me to believe that before long I shall have ac- 
 quired the privilege of doing so. My friend, Sir Jona- 
 than Fowler, who is one of the cleverest people to be 
 met with in society, and tells a story better than any man 
 I know — with a single exception — for no rule is without 
 one — indeed, I believe the present company is always 
 excepted, and I trust in this instance will be Accepted 
 too, which is a bon-mot of which you may not discover 
 the merit till my letter is finished — My friend, Sir 
 Jonathan, I say, who had a story for every occasion, or 
 who made an occasion for every story, as few people had 
 a better art of introducing them, or told one better when 
 he set about it — I have actually seen him entertain a 
 circle from breakfast- time till dinner, without stopping to 
 take breath, when he could find an audience, which is 
 not easy in these talkative times, as people have all got 
 into an unpleasant habit of holding forth incessantly 
 themselves, especially young ladies, which I particu- 
 larly disapprove of, being still of the old, exploded opi- 
 nion, that they should be seen and not heard. Even 
 my own narratives are not listened to as they used to be 
 in former days, which is perfectly unaccountable, since I 
 now relate them with much more accuracy than formerly, 
 when many essential preliminaries were carelessly slurred 
 over— as Mr. Grant does, who tells a story worse than 
 
348 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 any man I know — he has such a trick of dashing out the 
 point at once, and setting people in a roar of laughter, 
 without keeping them a moment in suspense. I really 
 wonder that Mr. Grant receives so much attention in 
 company, when others, greatly his superiors, scarcely 
 obtain common civility. This very circumstance, however, 
 has made me desirous to secure the constant society of 
 one who has penetration and taste to understand good 
 conversation, and discretion also to abstain from mono- 
 polizing too large a share of it herself, which is an un- 
 doubted proof of the soundest good sense. Therefore, 
 to make a long story short — a practice by no means to 
 be recommended in general — let me ask a plain ques- 
 tion, though, by the way, we are losing sight of my 
 friend Sir Jonathan's story, which, nevertheless, you 
 can have ample leisure to enjoy hereafter, as we shall 
 probably be much together, and I prefer telling a story to 
 writing it, because of the pleasure it affords me to watch 
 your increasing anxiety during the progress, and the ani- 
 mated satisfaction with which you at last reach the con- 
 clusion. Few people are more competent to appreciate 
 your fascinations than myself, having always kept the 
 best cook that France could produce, and entertained 
 personages of the highest rank and distinction at my 
 table, besides having travelled in Sweden, Spain, Ame- 
 rica, and the Orkneys ; yet I never saw any young lady 
 more highly gifted, and with whom I would prefer to 
 spend the rest of my life. Hoping and believing that this 
 good opinion is reciprocal, and that you are desirous, like 
 myself, of an agreeable companion during our joint lives, 
 I shall willingly take you for better or for worse ; and 
 should no answer reach me before breakfast to morrow, 
 I shall consider the whole affair to be favourably arran- 
 ged, which will save you the trouble of a reply, and en- 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 349 
 
 able me to write, without delay, to Sir Fraueis, as well 
 as to announce the joyful event instantly to our mutual 
 friends here. Mean time, I am always, and entirely 
 yours, 
 
 Colin Fletcher. 
 
 Matilda read over this strange farrago of nonsense 
 several times, with renewed astonishment and confusion. 
 Her mind had been agitated and bewildered by the pre- 
 vious events of that evening, so that she now felt per- 
 fectly incompetent to fix her thoughts with deliberation 
 on any thing ; but Sir Colin's style of writing was so 
 complete a specimen of his conversation, that on each 
 revisal of his letter she felt as if he were speaking to 
 her, and could not resist laughing, in the midst of all 
 her annoyance, at the perfect certainty with which he 
 evidently anticipated an acceptance. The first idea of 
 its being possible for Sir Colin to marry, had been 
 broached in her presence some days before by Miss 
 Charlotte Clifford, who never received the most acci- 
 dental notice from any gentleman without at once 
 coming to a conclusion as to his suitableness for herself; 
 and she had remarked, in allusion to Sir Colin, that it 
 would be much more tolerable to marry a really old 
 man than one who was merely middle aged ; after which 
 she had proceeded to deliver an elaborate panegyric on 
 his house, which she had once seen, on his pictures, his 
 furniture, his china, cutlery and damask, ending the 
 whole by observing — " And as for the man himself, he 
 really is passable enough," It had been then very evi- 
 dent that Miss Charlotte would have required no long 
 time to deliberate before accepting an offer which so 
 greatly shocked and annoyed Matilda, whose most pro- 
 minent desire at the moment was that neither Eleanor 
 
250 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 nor Mr. Grant should ever know it had taken place. 
 Alarmed at the threat which was contained in Sir 
 Colin's concluding paragraph, that the whole affair 
 should be divulged without delay, she instantly sat 
 down to compose a polite and peremptory refusal. Ma- 
 tilda began with expressing her conviction that if he 
 had a little longer delayed the declaration of his senti- 
 ments. Sir Colin must have discovered that the qualities 
 he had supposed her to possess, which might render her 
 a suitable companion, were entirely the result of his 
 own imagination ; which conviction might have prevented 
 his feeling any regret on being assured that no cir- 
 cumstance could ever render it possible for her to accept 
 his addresses. With many expressions of regret that 
 her own inconsiderate conduct should have unintention- 
 ally appeared like an encouragement of his preference, 
 and with sincere good wishes for his future happiness, 
 though she was not herself capable of contributing to 
 it, Matilda then hastily concluded, and folded up her 
 important despatch. 
 
 Daylight had dawned before this *' heavy task" was 
 done ; and, happy that her adventures for the night 
 appeared at last to be terminated, she felt so utterly 
 exhausted by the complicated feelings which had suc- 
 cessively assailed her, that she instantly retired and 
 fell into a broken and agitated slumber. 
 
 The first sound which awoke Matilda next morning 
 was the gong giving notice that it wanted but half an 
 hour to breakfast ; and being accustomed to employ 
 more than double that time in her morning duties, she 
 hastily arose, and hurried through her toilet, having 
 first rung for a housemaid, to whom she intrusted the 
 care of instantly conveying her letter to Sir Colin's 
 valet^ adding the most urgent instructions for its being 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 351 
 
 delivered without delay. Matilda hastened down with 
 all possible dispatch to breakfast, where the whole party 
 was already assembled in its usual state of joyous ex- 
 citement. No place remained vacant, except a chair 
 between Sir Alfred Douglas and Sir Colin, of which 
 she reluctantly took possession, feeling the more un- 
 willing to place herself there, because it was precisely 
 opposite to Eleanor and Mr. Grant, whose satirical eyes 
 were instantly fixed on her, with looks of sparkling 
 animation and humour, after which they exchanged a 
 momentary glance of intelligence as Matilda took her 
 seat, and broke off a conference in which they had been 
 previously engaged, and which was so suddenly termi- 
 nated on her entrance, that she could not but feel a 
 vague apprehension of having been its object. 
 
 " The late Miss Howard \" said Eleanor reproachfully. 
 " Has any thing extraordinary occurred to detain you 
 so long ? We were afraid you had eloped this morning ; 
 and Sir Colin, too, has only this minute appeared." 
 
 Matilda's countenance instantly assumed its deepest 
 hue of pink, and she tried to avoid further notice by 
 making no reply." 
 
 " You were probably writing letters," observed Mr. 
 Grant. " That is a favourite excuse with ladies." 
 
 " I envy your coiTespondent, Miss Howard," said 
 Major Foley. 
 
 " Ah I perhaps, poor fellow ! he may be more de- 
 serving of pity," sighed Mr. Grant, sentimentally. 
 
 " You should not leap at conclusions !" cried Eleanor, 
 with marked emphasis. " But I really wonder that 
 Mr. Grant is ever listened to, when others, greatly his 
 superiors, can scarcely obtain the slightest attention." 
 
 Matilda started when she recognised these well- 
 known words, and again her colour rose to crimson ; but 
 
352 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 she remained silent while suffering from a feeling of 
 emharrassment greater than she had ever known before. 
 A pause ensued which appeared endless, while she was 
 conscious that Eleanor's laughing eyes were maliciously 
 bent on her with a look which she dared not venture to 
 encounter. The case seemed desperate, for an alarming 
 conjecture flashed into her mind that Sir Colin's letter, 
 and her own, had been seen in some way by her cousin, 
 and she wondered he did not already feel conscious of 
 these allusions to them ; but, on the contrary, Matilda 
 saw, with increasing surprise, that her self-satisfied 
 admirer was composedly stirring his tea, and scarcely 
 attending to what passed. 
 
 " You seem all to be spell-bound, like the seven 
 sleepers !" exclaimed Eleanor, delighted with the sen- 
 sation she had occasioned. " The first who speaks dies ! 
 Matilda, do you know the game of ' What is my thought 
 like V Pray favour us with yours !" 
 
 Before Miss Howard could reply, she was surprised 
 to find a new direction given to the conversation by Sir 
 Alfred, who rarely addressed any except the person 
 next him, and that generally in an under-tone, but who 
 now broke forth in a voice which attracted general 
 notice. 
 
 *' There is a purpose of marriage between Henry 
 Douglas, commonly called Marquis of Dumbartonshire, 
 and Lady Amelia Arundel ! If any one here present 
 knows any just cause or impediment" — 
 
 " Nonsense ! " interrupted Eleanor, eagerly. " You 
 must be quizzing. Sir Alfred ! I never saw you indulge 
 us with a bit of gossip before I" 
 
 " That cuts you out of a very good thing, Douglas I" 
 said Mr. Grant, laughing. " While your Most Noble 
 cousin was cruizing in his yacht, many a sleepless night 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 353 
 
 you must have enjoyed, thinking how easily a single blast 
 in the Bay of Biscay might make you a marquis ! I 
 should have rehearsed my maiden speech for the House 
 of Lords pretty frequently before now in your place." 
 
 " I know it cannot be true," said Lady Susan ; " be- 
 cause Lady Emilia told me, last time we talked of him, 
 that he looked like a monkey just escaped from his 
 chains ; and when I said that most people thought him 
 rather fascinating, she replied that he might do then 
 for most people but not for her. It is certainly some 
 mistake !" 
 
 " If his own hand and seal can give authenticity to 
 the report, my intelligence is credible, but signatures 
 are sometimes taken great liberties with, Miss Fitz- 
 Patrick. My cousin was quite as decided in his denial 
 of the marriage to me ten days ago ; but not from any 
 apprehension of an impediment on the lady's part, as 
 Dumbartonshire often declared that he would be ac- 
 cepted by any girl in London, if he merely wrote her a 
 note." 
 
 " How I admire modest merit I But let me tell you. 
 Sir Alfred, there are instances recently on record, where 
 gentlemen equally confident of success have been told 
 that ' no circumstances can ever render it possible for 
 their addresses to be acceptable I' " 
 
 Matilda stole an alarmed look towards Sir Colin, 
 hoping to bespeak Eleanor's forbearance on his account, 
 if not on her own ; but she was astonished to perceive 
 him insinuating his butter-toast into his mouth with 
 perfect nonchalance. " How well he carries it off I" 
 thought she. '' What would I not give for the same 
 enviable command of countenance !" 
 
 " I am much entertained," continued Eleanor, in a 
 tone of pique, " at Lord Dumbartonshire's assurance ! 
 
354 BIODERN SOCIETY" ; oM, 
 
 I know nothing of London yet^ but his note would have 
 been protested in Scotland often ; I can answer for that !" 
 
 " Gentlemen must speak in this confident tone to 
 each other/' observed Major Foley, bowing ; '^ but it is a 
 mere flourish of trumpets to cover their retreat, as we 
 all know that, nine times out of ten, they are refused." 
 
 " Yes ! of course," added Eleanor, laughing. " I 
 have always fancied, Sir Alfred, that you were born to 
 sing through life the gay old song — 
 ' I care for nobody, 
 And nobody cares for me.'" 
 
 " That remains to be proved," replied he, in a low 
 tone, which seemed only meant to reach Matilda, who 
 instinctively coloured when he looked at her ; but Elea- 
 nor's ready ear at the same time caught the tone of 
 manly feeling in which these few words were spoken, 
 and she dropped her eyes with an air of gratified vanity. 
 
 " Douglas !" cried Mr. Grant, " positively this morn- 
 ing I begin not to despair of seeing you, some rainy 
 day, what I have always ardently wished, ' desperately 
 and hopelessly in love !' " 
 
 " Thank you ! there is no saying what we may all 
 come to at last ; for I think," said Sir Alfred, still con- 
 templating his letters, " some bridegroom has gone 
 mad, and bit all my acquaintances." 
 
 " Pray indulge us with your budget !" exclaimed 
 Miss Charlotte, eagerly. " My whole crop of London 
 correspondents has failed this year, like Sir Richard's 
 turnip-field, and I am most wretchedly in the dark 
 about what goes on in the matrimonial world." 
 
 " You should apply to the clerk of St. George's, 
 Hanover Square," answered Sir Alfred. " He is better 
 informed than most people on these subjects." 
 
 " Present company excepted !" interrupted Eleanor^ 
 
tHE March of intellect. 35^ 
 
 \vith an intelligent eye on Matilda. "■ And I trust they 
 may be Accepted also, which is a bon-mot of which you 
 cannot yet perceive the merit." 
 
 " That puts me in mind of a case in point," began Sir 
 
 Colin, deliberately. " My friend' 
 
 " Sir Jonathan Fowler !" inten-upted Mr. Grant. 
 " He is one of the cleverest men on earth ! Did you 
 meet him, Fletcher, during your residence in Sweden, 
 or the Orkneys ?" ^ 
 
 " I never visited either of these places, and am much 
 too comfortable at home to think of travelling now." 
 *' Or of changing your situation in any way ?" 
 " Why, there's no saying !" answered Sir Colin, with 
 an encouraging nod to Matilda. " Marriage is a lottery, 
 
 and" 
 
 " You and I have always drawn blanks as yet, 
 Fletcher I" added Mr. Grant, in a condoling voice. " We 
 have both been very ill-used by the ladies !" 
 
 " Speak for yourself!" replied Sir Colin, indignantly. 
 " I never yet put it in any lady's power to refuse me, so 
 I must not complain of their cruelty." 
 
 "What an inexorable bachelor you are, Fletcher!" 
 exclaimed Sir Richard, laughing. 
 
 Matilda's eyes were gradually opened, during the pro- 
 gress of this dialogue, and she plainly perceived that 
 Eleanor had taken advantage of her being so completely 
 unsophisticated in society, to impose upon her credulity 
 with a counterfeit letter. From the moment that an 
 idea of such a thing being possible dawned upon her 
 mind, the whole became so obvious, that she wondered 
 at her own stupidity in not detecting the imposture at 
 once ; but she had never before heard of such a trick 
 being played, and the borrowing of any person's seal and 
 signature was rather beyond the limits of what she 
 
356 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 would have considered a legitimate hoax. But still she 
 could not help being amused at the ingenuity with 
 which it had been done ; and feeling almost as if she 
 deserved to sufiPer for not having detected the conspiracy. 
 During an eclat de rire, occasioned by a lively sally of 
 Mr. Grant's, Sir Alfred said to her, in an under tone, 
 '' Miss Howard, you will easily believe that I had no 
 share in this legerdemain of your cousin's, but it will 
 be an incessant annoyance till the jest is worn thread- 
 bare, unless you brave it out boldly." 
 
 Matilda gave Sir Alfred a grateful smile for his timely 
 hint ; and as the opposite party still levelled all their 
 strokes of humour at her, she resolved to shew him that 
 it was not thrown away. 
 
 " Mr. Grant," said she, in her usual animated tone, 
 " you should have got my epistle franked last night, in- 
 stead of ruining me in postage ! Unluckily this morn- 
 ing I omitted to put the answer under your cover ; but 
 fortunately it seems to have reached the proper destina- 
 tion ; and, though ' private and confidential' was not 
 marked on the outside — you must have perceived that 
 it ought to have been. I therefore appeal from Mr. 
 Grant in a laughing mood to Mr. Grant in a serious one, 
 whether it would be quite right to make my blunder 
 more public, or to let it reach the person who is chiefly 
 injured by this inadvertence of mine." 
 
 The gentleman thus addressed held up his plate, in 
 imitation of a fan, assuming at the same time a comical 
 expression of dismay, while his accomplices covered 
 their faces with their handkerchiefs, and burst into a 
 peal of laughter. 
 
 " Well ! in my whole life I never saw people so easily 
 amused," observed Sir Colin, with a bewildered look ; 
 " that seems to me a very sensible remark of Miss 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 357 
 
 Howard's. I have known very unpleasant blunders 
 made about letters often, and could relate several re- 
 markable instances of the kind. You may laugh, Grant, 
 being not much a man of letters yourself, but" 
 
 " Capital, Sir Colin ! — capital I" echoed the whole 
 party, glad of an excuse to indulge their irresistible in- 
 clination to laugh, and feeling confident that he would 
 be surprised at no excess of risibility after a jest of his 
 own. 
 
 " I envy you that brilliant sally, Fletcher I" said Mr. 
 Grant, recovering his gravity ; " it is new and original ! 
 Pray, allow me the use of it for a week or two — I shall 
 sport the man of letters on the hustings to-morrow, and 
 establish my reputation as a wit on the spot." 
 
 " The story I was about to relate," continued the 
 baronet, in his usual persevering tone, " is very remark- 
 able, and not at all generally known" 
 
 " Ah, Sir Colin I" interrupted Eleanor, " we all con- 
 sider you a perfect Arabian knight. Every body allows 
 you to be the greatest story- teller living." 
 
 " I shall trace its origin," continued he, " to shew 
 how authentic the particulars are ; but they must only 
 be mentioned among friends, so let me beg these cir- 
 cumstances may go no farther." 
 
 " We are all quite upon honour," replied Mr. Grant, 
 gravely ; ** and if you will believe me, Fletcher, I never 
 do, by any chance, repeat a story of yours. At the same 
 time, it does appear unlucky that no one has ever yet 
 acted Bos well to your Johnson. What an incredible loss 
 it would be to the world if we finally lost all record of 
 the innumerable ' laughable circumstances, remarkable 
 incidents, and authentic facts' with which the lumber- 
 room of your memory is stored !" 
 
 " Very true ; and it seems astonishing to me how 
 
358 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY : OR, 
 
 authors contrive to get so much leisure/' replied the 
 Baronet, in a tone of superiority ; "for my own part, I 
 have sometimes intended to write such a book as Bos- 
 wells Johnson, but the only difficulty is to find time." 
 
 ^' Fancy ! ' The Diary and Recollections of Sir Colin 
 Fletcher!'" said Eleanor, laughing. 
 
 " Edited by his disconsolate widow !" added Mr. 
 Grant, with a sly look at Matilda. " That is the fashion 
 now, Sir Colin. You must marr}', and then we shall 
 have the gratification of knowing, that a month after 
 your decease, Lady Fletcher will be seated at her wri- 
 ting-desk, in deep mourning, correcting the press, with 
 a pen in one hand, and a pocket-handkerchief in the 
 other." 
 
 " What a remarkably good hand you write, Matilda !" 
 observed Eleanor, looking archly at her cousin, as they 
 rose to leave the breakfast- room. " I took a copy of your 
 letter this morning, that it may be ready for the next 
 baronet who presumes, like Sir Colin." 
 
 '' Notice, to all w^hom it may concern," said Sir 
 Richard, '' what is all this nonsense you are talking to- 
 day, Eleanor ?" 
 
 "^ Only that your niece has refused a certain gentle- 
 man, with the most barbarous cruelty ! I wonder how 
 you could be so hard-hearted, Matilda, for it really is 
 not in my nature, and if Sir Colin had only proposed to 
 me" 
 
 " Eleanor, this subject does not admit of discussion. 
 My foolish credulity has brought his name into circum- 
 stances where he never w^ould have placed it himself, 
 and let me entreat that the mistake may now be forgotten. 
 You have had quite as good a laugh as the joke deserves, 
 and you owe me a little forbearance, after all my suffer- 
 ings last night. A proposal and an apparition, both in 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 359 
 
 one afternoon, form an accumulation of horrors more 
 than any ordinary brain could have stood, and I really 
 do not promise to survive such another night." 
 
 " An apparition ! !" exclaimed Eleanor, with breathless 
 eagerness ; " what can you mean I tell me all about it 
 instantly ! I know nothing of this ! Sir Alfred, pray 
 close the shutters, that we may enjoy it in perfection !" 
 
 Matilda now gave an animated and amusing sketch 
 of her midnight progress from Miss Fitz -Patrick s room 
 to her own, embellished with a retrospect of the tradi- 
 tions with which Eleanor had prepared her mind to be 
 superstitious ; and she ended by candidly acknowledg- 
 ing the nervous fears which had at last so nearly got 
 the better of her. 
 
 '^ And after all !" said Eleanor, in a tone of disap- 
 pointment, " it was only Pauline, who stupidly lost her 
 way, after depositing the letter. She had been charged, 
 on pain of deaths not to let you see her. How provoking ! 
 that a commencement which might have done honour to 
 Mrs. Radchffe ends in so paltry a manner. By the 
 way, I am surprised that it never occurred to me till 
 this instant, that we might attempt a ghost upon you, 
 Matilda. It might be admirably got up in the old lum- 
 ber-room." 
 
 " Pray never try so dangerous an experiment on any 
 one, Eleanor ! The result has sometimes been worse 
 than death, and entailed endless regret on those who 
 attempted it. I could not be answerable for my own 
 nerves, because there is a degree of latent superstition in 
 every mind, which may be excited by circumstances."' 
 
 '^ I make no rash promises !" answered Eleanor, with 
 a mischievous laugh. 
 
 *' Miss Fitz-Patrick !' said Sir Alfred, " if I thought 
 that we were liable to such terrifying visitations as have 
 
 k 
 
360 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 been described, nothing should induce me to remain here 
 after dusk ; and I must obtain a solemn assurance that 
 no one more supernatural than yourself shall be exhi- 
 bited while I remain, or we must take advantage of what 
 little daylight is remaining to hasten homewards. I am 
 particularly afraid of ghosts !" 
 
 There was a humorous expression in the dark eye of 
 Sir Alfred when he made this assertion, which shewed 
 Matilda that what he said was on her account, and she 
 felt gratified at the unobtrusive attention with which he 
 seemed constantly on the watch to assist her in the many 
 little embarrassments which she frequently encoun- 
 tered. 
 
 *^ If I abstain from an apparition, then, Sir Alfred," 
 asked Eleanor, ^^ will you escort us this morning to the 
 Fairy Bridge ? It is well worth seeing, on account of its 
 extraordinary beauty, being the highest single arch in 
 Scotland." 
 
 "Indeed I" replied Sir Alfred, sitting down to wTite 
 a letter. " I shall try to recollect the loftiest arch I ever 
 saw, and add a foot or two." 
 
 " But you have not heard the most important part of 
 my story," continued Eleanor. " Thomas the Rhymer 
 once prophesied that any gentleman who ventures to 
 throw himself over, shall find below the richest and 
 most beautiful young lady in the world, glittering with 
 jewels." 
 
 '-'■ What temptation could there be to take such a leap, 
 while you remain at the top ?" replied he, continuing to 
 write ; "unless we go over hand in hand, I could have no 
 security for the prophecy being fulfilled." Eleanor gave 
 a triumphant glance at Matilda, as if to ask whether a 
 doubt could remain on her mind of Sir Alfred's par- 
 tiality. 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 
 
 361 
 
 " Now, Sir Alfred, do bestir yourself, and come while 
 the morning is so bright. We shall offer you a carte 
 blanche as to terms — a cigar, and the privilege of total 
 silence — my footman to carry a camp-stool, and I intend 
 to hand you over the stiles myself.' 
 
 *' Thank you,' replied Sir Alfred, continuing to write ; 
 *^ I am like the Frenchman who said, when he reached 
 the summit of a misty hill, ' Aimez vouz les heautes de 
 la 7iature ? p>ur moi,je les ahhorre !' As far as the eye 
 can reach from this window, I am ready to admire 
 any thing you please ; but unless this ottoman could be 
 metamorphosed into a palanquin, I do not mean to 
 leave it, till the world is better aired. Pray take my 
 good wishes along with you, however." 
 
 "As much as to say, what a happy riddance you all 
 are !" said Eleanor, retreating towards the door. 
 
 " Not all," replied Sir Alfred, looking for a moment 
 at Matilda, but Eleanor heard only the tone of sensibi- 
 lity in which this ambiguous sentence was uttered ; and 
 turning to her cousin, as they crossed the staircase to- 
 gether, she said, '' Now, Matilda, can you doubt his 
 sentiments any longer? Did you observe what Sir 
 Alfred said about leaping over the bridge ? — That was 
 very decided." 
 
 " But, Eleanor, his rallying tone evidently shewed 
 that it was merely in jest ! — I shall never again volun- 
 teer my opinion upon this subject; but when you ask it 
 now, let me assure you of my candid and conscientious 
 belief that his sentiments are entirely misunderstood." 
 
 " There are none so blind as those who Avill not see ! 
 You were always very obstinate, Matilda, but I shall 
 convince you some day, and that will be one of my 
 greatest pleasures, when Sir Alfred declares himself 
 
362 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY : OR, 
 
 How delightfully odd and eccentric lie is ! — but I cannot 
 make up my mind whether he would suit me or not." 
 
 " Then try, if possible, to think that he would not !" 
 said Matilda earnestly. " My dear Eleanor, I appeal to 
 your own knowledge of me Avhether I would deceive you, 
 or prefer my interest to yours, if both were at stake ; 
 but it would be unlike our former friendship not to tell 
 you fairly my real opinion, that in appearing to prefer 
 Sir Alfred to Mr. Grant, you are mistaking your happi- 
 ness, as well as your real feelings." 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 
 
 363 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 What spirits were theirs, what wit, and what whim, 
 Now breaking a jest, and now breaking a limb — 
 Now wrangling and grumbling, to keep up the ball — 
 Now teasing and vexing, yet laughing at all ! 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 During their walk to the Fairy Glen, Eleanor con- 
 trived that her cousin should again fall a victim to the 
 prosing propensities of Sir Colin, while she proceeded at 
 some distance herself, with a numerous train of attend- 
 ants. Matilda had little notice to spare for any one, as 
 her thoughts were pleasingly engrossed with tracing the 
 almost imperceptible attentions by which Sir Alfred 
 contrived to testify how continually she occupied his 
 mind. It filled her with surprise, at the same time, to 
 consider how greatly he seemed embarrassed after any 
 unusual exhibition of his feelings towards herself, and 
 how instantly he became reserved when there was a 
 chance of his being remarked. " What can it all 
 mean ?" was the question which forced itself upon her 
 thoughts in a thousand difi*erent shapes, as she proceed- 
 ed along the path in deep, though agreeable medita- 
 tion. 
 
 Meantime, Sir Colin's voice flowed on in an uninter- 
 rupted stream, while, a propos to an accidental remark 
 on the extreme coldness of the day, he gave Matilda an 
 elaborate description of all the gi-eatcoats he had used 
 during many successive winters ; and by the time they 
 
364 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 were nearly worn out, the subject happily diverged into 
 a dissertation on coughs and colds, when the Baronet 
 treated her to an account of a violent rheumatism which 
 he had very nearly caught, about twenty years before, 
 owing to a window having been left open at night, 
 though he fortunately discovered the mistake in time to 
 have it closed before retiring to bed. 
 
 Sir Colin was charmed with the silent interest which 
 Matilda manifested in the dangers he had passed. Her 
 large bright eyes were intently fixed on him, and he was 
 not aware that their usual intelligent expression was 
 wanting, for whenever he appealed to her, and asked 
 whether what he related was not " wonderful, fortunate, 
 or remarkable," she almost unconsciously echoed his 
 words, with a preliminary adjective, giving additional 
 emphasis to his expression. Matilda had on no previous 
 occasion thus completely lost the command of her atten- 
 tion, but Sir Colin was filled with admiration of her 
 good sense. He had never before met with so judicious 
 a young lady ! so conversable ! so companionable ! so 
 easily amused, and so highly intelligent I " How su- 
 perior to her cousin !" thought he, " whose flippant 
 manner spoils conversation entirely ! If Miss Howard 
 continues to play her cards as well, there is no saying 
 what may be the consequence ! She knows what she 
 is about !" 
 
 But Matilda was very far from " knowing what she 
 was about." The varied scenery of her extensive walk 
 was, for the first time, unmarked by her eye, the impe- 
 diments in her path were now mechanically surmounted, 
 and the incessant hum of Sir Colin's voice became only 
 obvious to her senses when he paused for a reply, while 
 she rapidly traced over her whole intercourse with Sir 
 Alfred — The peculiar interest he had testified on their 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 365 
 
 first meeting at Barnard Castle — the deep attention he 
 paid to all she said — the assistance and protection he 
 was constantly on the alert to afford her in Eleanor's 
 society, and the ambiguous expressions either of love or 
 of friendship, Avhich he had long taken every opportu- 
 nity of addressing to her. There was lately even a tone 
 of diffidence in his manner of speaking to her, far differ- 
 ent from his aspect of cold indifference to others, which 
 rendered the contrast only stronger ; and as this change 
 occurred to the remembrance of Matilda, her colour 
 became brighter, and she walked with a more elastic 
 step than before. " But Eleanor has remarked nothing 
 of all this!" thought she with a sudden revulsion of 
 feeling; " and who is so observant as she is, if there 
 had been any truth in all I have fancied ! No ! I will 
 not plunge myself into the dark abyss of disappointed 
 affection and unavailing regret, by allowing vanity, 
 even for this one hour, to deceive me. The customs of 
 society warrant all the attention Sir Alfred has yet 
 shown me, and I must not imitate Eleanor in miscon- 
 struing his meaning." 
 
 Matilda's reveries were interrupted by the party in 
 advance suddenly coming to a dead pause, and she was 
 instantly restored to the consciousness of Sir CoHns 
 presence by hearing him conclude his loud oration with 
 a remark which was intended to be quite new and ori- 
 ginal. 
 
 " So you see. Miss Howard, nothing can be more 
 dangerous than a draught of air." 
 
 " What is it that gives a cold, cures a cold, and pays 
 the doctor V asked Mr. Grant, wheeling suddenly 
 round. '' Do you give it up, Fletcher ? — a draft." 
 
 '' As for curing a cold," began Sir Colin, deliberately, 
 '' there's nothing equal to" 
 
3G6 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 " Leaping over a three pair of stairs' window ! That 
 is what I always recommend to my friends, for it saves 
 such a fortune in lozenges." 
 
 " Now, good people ! here is the cottage of old Janet, 
 which I brought you to admire/' cried Eleanor, round- 
 ing an angle in the glen, and displaying, with evident 
 exultation, a scene which nature and art seemed to rival 
 each other in embellisliing. The sunbeams played gaily 
 through the inmost depths of a lovely valley, and 
 streamed along the bright edges of every tree and 
 bramble, which glittered with the silver brightness of a 
 clear hard frost. The distant mountains were covered 
 with patches of snow, varied by the dark face of many 
 a rough gigantic precipice. The river danced merrily 
 along over a bed of granite, and after rushing and 
 tumbling through massy blocks of stone, it suddenly 
 shot over the highest pinnacle of the rock, and fell in 
 one vast arch of foam into the dark and fathomless 
 basin beneath. 
 
 Contrasted with the bolder features of this gorgeous 
 landscape stood Gowanbank, a lovely rustic cottage, 
 which seemed formed to become the abode of peace and 
 contentment. It crowned a sloping bank which rose 
 from the margin of the stream; a little white paling 
 surrounded the garden, wdiich was fancifully planted 
 with groups of evergreens, the varnished and sombre 
 leaves of which were tipped with golden light, and 
 edged with fringes of snow. Every bough, and every 
 rock, was hung with WTeaths of sparkling icicles, which 
 were illuminated by a thousand prismatic hues, rivalling 
 the tints of a rainbow ; and the deep overhanging roof 
 of the cottage had so sheltered the southern wall, that 
 it still bloomed with the scarlet blossoms of the pyrus 
 japonica. 
 
THE MARCH OF I INTELLECT. 367 
 
 " Now for a sonnet or a fugitive piece of some kind, 
 Mr. Grant I" said Eleanor: "you ougiit to Le an elo- 
 quent improvisator e, having resided so much in Italy." 
 
 *' Indeed, Miss Fitz-Patrick, I possess the finest 
 poetical vein in the world I It has but one little defect, 
 that the moment feelings should be put into words, the 
 whole evaporates ! I have a thousand times seized a 
 sheet of paper, feeling precisely like Byron or Moore, 
 but invariably, after writing a large emphatic oh I at 
 the top of a page, I have been obliged to desist." 
 
 " How very unlucky ! for I was planning what a good 
 amusement it would be, if our large party were to set 
 about writing a Christmas Annual. You must each send 
 a contribution, and I shall sit for the frontispiece myself. 
 Sir Colin's story must be limited to twenty pages ; Mr. 
 Grant may throw in a few comic sketches ; and Major 
 Foley shall court the muses." 
 
 " I can be at no loss for a subject," said he, with a 
 gratified bow. 
 
 " That is precisely what I intended you to say ! Cap- 
 tain M'Tartan must toss up some good shipwrecks for 
 us, and be sure to invent a splendid storm." 
 
 "■ If a leaf of my log-book can be of any service, you 
 are welcome ; but otherwise, I never speak of the shop 
 upon shore, and would rather wave the subject. Besides, 
 I may perhaps publish a volume myself to be called 
 ^ Dulse and Tangle, or Yarns at Sea,' dedicated to the 
 First Lord of the Admiralty, whoever that may be." 
 
 " Colonel Pendarvis ! we shall accept any of your ad- 
 ventures which have not already enlivened the United 
 Service Journal. By the way, I must make an excep- 
 tion of your trip to Calcutta, because nothing new can 
 ever be said about India. My receipt for a book upon 
 that subject would describe them all. Begin with a 
 
368 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 tiger hunt, then follows a suttee : a visit to a rajah, two 
 or three serpents, plenty of currie, and an escape from 
 an alligator." 
 
 '* One might quite as generally characterise all de- 
 scriptions of savage countries, which are invariable repe- 
 titions of the same thing," said Mr. Grant. " Whether 
 the subject be New Zealand, Polynesia, Greenland, the 
 South Pole, or the North, you may bind them up in 
 alternate pages without being found out. Describe the 
 universal outcry for glass beads and knives, the filthi- 
 ness of the natives, their thievish propensities, their 
 wonder at first seeing a ship, some detestable particulars 
 of the food they eat, and a great deal about the author's 
 gentlemanlike horror at observing them use their fingers, 
 as if these poor creatures ought to starve until they 
 had silver forks, — and the whole is wound up with a 
 tremendous picture of cruelty, depravity, vice, and su- 
 perstition." 
 
 ''There is but one use in reading such representa- 
 tions," said Matilda, colouring, for she felt it an eflrbrt to 
 say any thing out of keeping with the general tone of 
 the conversation. "■ They render us more anxious to 
 encourage those who visit distant lands, and encounter 
 all that misery, in order to substitute knowledge for 
 ignorance, virtue for vice, and the light of Christian 
 hope for the darkness of vain superstition. It is a noble 
 endeavour, and should be nobly encouraged." 
 
 " Now for a subscription book \" cried Eleanor sati- 
 rically. " I like the new fashion of penny collectors best. 
 This is not the first time, I assure you all, that my cou- 
 sin has been reduced to beggary ; for she attacked me 
 two days ago to assist in making out a trousseau for the 
 daughter of that old woman who lives at Gowanbank, 
 and who was married, I believe, this morning. Her gis- 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 369 
 
 ter Nanny may supply Martha with ornaments, for I 
 am sure she has taken plenty of mine I" 
 
 '' You are not sure, Eleanor," whispered Matilda, 
 indignantly. '^ No one can be sure ; and till it is proved 
 we have no right to say so. They are in great distress," 
 added she with emotion. 
 
 " Ah ! that is her best apology," said the heiress ; " she 
 was very pretty and very poor ; so it was, as Mrs. Gordon 
 said, a great temptation." 
 
 " I did not allude to her poverty, Eleanor I she is 
 poor, but I could be answerable for Nanny's honesty, as 
 well as for her mother's ; and they yet hope to see these 
 calumnies refuted. With respect to pecuniary difficul- 
 ties, they have nothing now to complain of, for old 
 Janet told Dr. Murray that a gentleman from Barnard 
 Castle, who accidentally heard their story, called yester- 
 day on horseback, and after remaining there some time, 
 left a very liberal donation, which will enable Martha 
 and William to begin the world in some comfort." 
 
 " Now ! who could that be ? — from Barnard Castle, 
 did you say ? A charitable incognito ! how very ro- 
 mantic ! — Mr. Grant, do not assume that look of amiable 
 consciousness, for I never even suspected you I — Colonel 
 Pendarvis ? no ! — Major Foley ? impossible I — Ah, Sir 
 Colin I you are precisely the sort of person to do good 
 by stealth, and ' blush to find it fame.' " 
 
 *' I have not gone near a cottage for seven years, 
 except to light my cigar. Miss Fitz-Patrick ! but there 
 was a curious incident that occurred to me in the village 
 of Nettleton, which may enliven us while we stand 
 here " 
 
 " Stop, Sir Colin I we must investigate Matilda's 
 story before you gain a hearing. One at a time, gentle- 
 
370 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 men, if you please, as the countryman said to a quack 
 doctor, when he and his donkey both brayed at once." 
 
 '• Miss Fitz-Patrick ! you have rather spoiled that 
 circumstance ; it was " 
 
 *' How dare you say so, Sir Colin ! — Tell me that I 
 have improved or invented a story, and still hope to be 
 forgiven ; but to hint that I can possibly spoil one is an 
 unpardonable affront. I shall not listen to a word you say 
 for three weeks, so now consider yourself in Coventry " 
 
 *' Eleanor," whispered Matilda, slipping her arm into 
 Miss Fitz-Patrick's, and drawing her aside — '' dear Elea- 
 nor ! your laughter at this moment goes to my very 
 heart ; for it would be difficult to conceive the state of 
 heart-breaking grief in which that poor old woman has 
 lately been weeping beside her once cheerful fireside. 
 Give the subject a moment's serious thought. I cannot 
 be so near without stealing over for an instant to inquire 
 about Janet. There is a confused report that something 
 very distressing occurred at their wedding to-day, but I 
 cannot understand what it was, for the ceremony was to 
 take place at Dr. Murray's, where neither Nanny nor 
 her mother intended to be present, and the young couple 
 went immediately afterwards to the village of Clanpibroch. 
 I shall never be missed by the party here ; but let mc 
 take a kind and compassionate message from you, Eleanor, 
 to cheer their hearts, for they greatly need it. May I say 
 that your judgment of Nanny shall be suspended till a 
 fair, candid, and open investigation is made into her con- 
 duct? for that is what Dr. Murray promises to bring about 
 without delay, and to which he says you consented." 
 
 " Did I ? The less done in that way the better for 
 Nanny, I suspect ! but she has completely hoodwinked 
 that good excellent man, by her plausible stories ; and 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 371 
 
 we must really get him to hear the truth from Mrs. 
 Gordon and Pauline." 
 
 " Eleanor!" said Matilda, taking her hand, while the 
 tears gathered in her eyes, " you were not always so 
 reckless of other people's misery as now I I remember 
 the time when we wept together, because Nanny was 
 thought to be dying, and our dear aunt Olivia could 
 scarcely console us. It would have been better for that 
 poor girl to have been cut off then, if her future years 
 are to be darkened by disgrace and misery." 
 
 Matilda spoke with all the eloquence of intense feeling ; 
 and she had touched the right cord at last. Few people 
 whose hearts are recently hardened by worldly prosperity 
 can recall the tender emotions of their own childhood 
 without sentiments of regret, and without having their 
 benumbed feelings softened for a moment by observing 
 the contrast of former and present character. 
 
 " Matilda, you are right ! I begin to fear that my 
 conduct has been rash and hasty in this business. Poor 
 Nanny ! every thing most precious in life to her is at 
 stake. She certainly was a good, excellent creature 
 long ago. But I dare not think of it all at present. I 
 see it now, as I ought to have done from the first. She 
 may possibly be innocent, and then indeed I have been 
 criminally careless. Ah I Matilda, you are always the 
 same, and if our dear aunt could look back, she would 
 see you unchanged ; but oh what would she think of 
 me ?" Eleanor walked rapidly on for a few steps, and 
 seemed scarcely able to refrain from bursting into tears. 
 " These thoughts sometimes shoot across my mind, 
 Matilda, but I dare not let them remain. Do what 
 you like for poor Nanny ; take all the responsibility 
 from me if you can. Bring her back to Barnard Castle 
 when you like, and tell her we shall thoroughly and 
 
372 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 heartily investigate the whole affair. Miserable as it 
 would make me in one respect to find her innocent, I 
 shall most truly rejoice at it, and do all that money can 
 do — which is not a little — to make up for what she has 
 suffered." 
 
 " Thank you, dear Eleanor, — a thousand thanks," 
 answered Matilda, accompanying her cousin, who hast- 
 ily rejoined the party, as if afraid to trust herself longer 
 on the subject, which had evidently affected her more 
 than she wished to acknowledge. A moment afterwards 
 she was talking in her usual tone of careless vivacity. 
 
 " Mr. Grant, I see you are trying to imitate the Irish 
 beggar we met last night ; but, as papa's valet said, 
 when he saw the eclipse of the sun, ' it is quite a failure, 
 sir ;' even with all my love of giving alms, you would 
 never beguile me of a single sous." 
 
 " Allow me to differ from the last speaker ! I could 
 bet any sum on being able to maintain myself for a 
 month, with no other resource than the credulity of a 
 benevolent public. What do you say, Miss Howard ?" 
 
 " Your tone is much too whining and professional. 
 I have an instinctive perception of impostors, and could 
 almost pledge myself to detect one any where. The 
 Irishman, for instance, whom you describe, seems to be 
 half knave and half fool, but I should certainly not like 
 to meet such a fortune-hunter on the road when I was 
 alone, for if ever he got any thing from me it would be 
 fear rather than charity that extorted it." 
 
 " Ah ! Matilda is easily moved, and not a bit wiser 
 than other people," said Eleanor, laughing ; "you would 
 have parted with half-a-crown, as I did yesterday, if 
 you had seen poor Paddy — though I am certain it went 
 straight to the ale-house, or assisted to buy lemons for 
 his fillet of veal." 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 373 
 
 '' If I had thought so, neither force nor fraud should 
 have got a shilling out of me," replied Matilda, smiling, 
 while she gradually slackened her space, and dropped 
 behind the other pedestrians. At length having caught 
 a favourable opportunity, she left them entirely, and 
 hastened over a rustic bridge which led to the cottage. 
 
374 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 The bursting heart, the tearless eye, 
 The cold and torpid frame, 
 The smother'd groan, the broken sigh, 
 The grief she dare not name. 
 
 When Matilda swung open a little white gate, which 
 led through the garden to Gowanbank, and saw the 
 whole landscape brilliantly lighted up with a sheet of 
 sunshine^, she remembered her first visits there in au- 
 tumn^ when the placid old w^onian always met her with 
 a smiling welcome at the door, and Martha used to sus- 
 pend her labours, with many expressions of pleasure, and 
 gratitude for the kindness she shewed them in coming. 
 Often formerly had Matilda lingered on that threshold, 
 to breathe the fragrant air, as it wafted the perfume of 
 various flowers which then profusely decorated the little 
 enclosure ; but the wind had passed over them, and they 
 were gone as though they had never been, while thus 
 it was also with the peace and cheerfulness which once 
 reigned within those walls. 
 
 Sad as were Matilda's anticipations of the scene which 
 awaited her in the cottage, she was far from being pre- 
 pared for the sight of such utter desolation as that which 
 caught her eye when she entered. Old Janet was alone, 
 seated upon a low stool, with her face buried in her hands, 
 and bowed down almost to her knees, the very image of 
 feebleness and misery. Her spinning-wheel, the busy 
 hum of vs^hich had seldom before been silent, now stood 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 3/5 
 
 idle and neglected ; the furniture, usually so clean and 
 polished, looked dusty and disordered ; the fire had 
 nearly gone out, and her breakfast, Avhich seemed to 
 have been long since prepared, lay untouched by her 
 side. How impressive is the silence of extreme grief ! 
 Matilda stood for a moment immoveable at the door with 
 surprise at the sight of such unexpected distress, and 
 then gently advancing to the old woman, she took her 
 by the hand, which was cold as death. Janet feebly re- 
 turned the pressure of Miss Howard's fingers, and looked 
 up with an expression of momentary wonder, showing 
 a face so haggard, so shrunk, so cold and disconsolate, 
 that Matilda started with astonishment ; but peeing her 
 unable to speak, she postponed all inquiries for the 
 present, and with characteristic activity, gathered the 
 remaining embers of the fire together, and relighted 
 them into a cheerful blaze. She then boiled the kettle 
 afresh, and a-fter preparing some tea, tried to rouse once 
 more the old woman's attention, by entreating her to 
 take some. 
 
 There is a magnetic power in the accents of real kind- 
 ness which reaches to the inmost recesses of mental 
 suffering, and the voice of pity and commiseration in 
 which Matilda addressed old Janet, spoke instant peace 
 to her mind. She looked at first bewildered and faint, 
 but gradually revived to a greater appearance of con- 
 sciousness, while her sympathizing visitor continued to 
 administer refreshment to her exhausted frame. Matil- 
 da could not but wonder to find old Janet so entirely 
 deserted ; but seeing her still unable to speak, she at 
 length insisted on supporting her tottering frame to 
 bed, which with some difficulty she succeeded in doing. 
 Having now done every thing for her bodily comfort, 
 
376 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 Miss Howard ventured to begin a cautious and tender 
 inquiry into the cause of such unaccountable distress. 
 
 " Janet, I fear you are unwell to-day ?"' 
 
 " Almost in eternity," repHed the old woman, feebly, 
 while she turned on Matilda a countenance as perfectly 
 white and as rigid as if she had been already dead. 
 
 " You seem very poorly indeed, Janet ; I never saw 
 you unfit to work before ; and why are none of the 
 neighbours here — or Nanny ?" 
 
 " They are all gone to look for her," replied she, in a 
 hoarse deep voice, and speaking with great eifort, for 
 the old woman became frightfully agitated. " Oh, Miss 
 Howard," added she, covering her face with her hands, 
 '* have you not heard yet ? My poor Nanny ! we thought 
 she had not known the hour of Matty's wedding — that 
 she did not wish to see it — but when all was over, and 
 they came out of Dr. Murray's house, she suddenly ap- 
 peared. Her mind was gone, but yet she gave them 
 her blessing. She wished them happiness — she spoke 
 to them both, and then rushed out of sight. No eye 
 has seen her since. They tried to stop Nanny, but she 
 fled as if a spectre had pursued, and none could speed 
 like her. I saw her bonnet brought home from the 
 river, but that sweet face, which was the pride of my 
 heart, we never shall look upon again. Oh I why did 
 she ever leave me I " 
 
 A burst of grief choked the old woman's utterance, 
 and she sobbed aloud. Who can look upon the tears of 
 helpless age, and not weep also ? Matilda's whole heart 
 was melted with pity for the afflicted mother, and she 
 shuddered to think of Nanny's probable fate. Even 
 Eleanor had a place in her thoughts at this moment, 
 when she reflected on all the remorse that might await 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 377 
 
 her for causing so much wretchedness. Matilda's tongue 
 seemed to be chained when she gazed on the intense 
 agony of old Janet, and tried to think what might be 
 said to console her. She longed to jfly for Dr. Murray, 
 whose words would have more experience and authority 
 than lier own ; but yet she could not go, without first 
 using her best endeavours to soothe and alleviate such 
 heart-rending sorrow. She did not now take that tone 
 of admonition and superiority with which most people 
 in the height of prosperity can teach others how they 
 ought to bear sudden calamity and anguish of spirit. 
 She did not deal out sentences, nor attempt the slightest 
 exhibition of good sense — but Matilda had a heart to 
 feel, and she felt and knew what would be the effect of 
 every word on the suffering mind she desired to com- 
 fort. She did not forget that it was to an aged Christian 
 she spoke, whose afflictions might obscure the bright- 
 ness of her hope for a moment ; but who needed only to 
 be reminded of the inheritance which awaited her, rather 
 than to be taught a due estimate of its unspeakable 
 worth. 
 
 *' This is a sorrowful hour indeed, Janet," she said in 
 a tone of heart-felt sympathy. " You may well say, like 
 Naomi, ' the Almighty hath dealt very bitterly with 
 me.' I trust, however, that instead of being like Ra- 
 chel who refused to be comforted, you are spared to be 
 an example of that power which can support us under 
 the severest calamities. I weep myself, Janet, to think 
 of your affliction, and what must you feel — oh ! how 
 great are the sorrows that this world can bring ! — but 
 we are sinners, and have cause to be thankful, whatever 
 is laid on us, so long as we are not eternally condemned. 
 Think how short a time any of us have to mourn, and 
 how soon you will be in the presence of that Great Be- 
 
378 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 ing, in a better world, who lias always been with you on 
 earth." 
 
 '* Yes, Miss Howard, death seems neither so strange 
 nor so distant as it used to do ; and oh ! it will be wel- 
 come now. I am in the dark strait, when grief has 
 struck me to the heart, and resignation has scarcely yet 
 been granted. Age and grey-hairs, sickness and infir- 
 mity, have all been gathering round me for years, and 
 my heart was still supported and cheerful — but my 
 child — my poor Nanny ; she has destroyed herself, and 
 how can I ever know peace again ! My sorrow is the 
 only one that religion does not cure, because the more 
 I think, the worse it seems, that she should have died 
 in a way wdiich religion forbids. Every step that 
 approaches my door this day, seems to bring me the last 
 awfal tidings, or perhaps to be the sound of those who 
 are bearing in her lifeless body" 
 
 " We are not certain of tlie worst yet. She may 
 possibly be saved. Let us cling to hope, and remember 
 that Nanny was quite unconscious of what she did — her 
 intellects have certainly been wandering for some time 
 past." 
 
 " She was deeply tried, Miss Howard ; she was dis- 
 graced and desperate. Oh ! it comforts me to hear you 
 still speak of hope. No one would say this morning 
 that they had any. She flew straight to the river, which 
 is deep and rapid. If I could but see Nanny once again 
 — if I could but hear that she was cleared of all the evil 
 that has been said — my eyes would close on every earthly 
 concern in thankfulness and peace." 
 
 " We may trust, Janet, that her former companions 
 who raised these stories, will now be shocked at the 
 mischief they have done, and repent sufficiently to 
 make them confess her innocence. Miss Fitz-Patrick 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 379 
 
 has already resolved to investigate the whole affair, and 
 though justice is sometimes reserved for a better world, 
 still I hope that even now your daughter's character 
 will be cleared." 
 
 " You are right, my good young lady — either now or 
 hereafter the truth will be known ; and why should I be 
 impatient ! My days on earth will be few, and they 
 must not be wasted in vain lamentation. That dear 
 child is taken from me, probably to make life less desir- 
 able, when its close is so near — and death less a subject 
 of regret. I have a great work to do, for I must pre- 
 pare to suffer and to die, not as those who have no hope ; 
 and though nature feels, and my heart seems broken 
 for Nanny, yet the Christian may believe, in such an 
 hour of extremity, that this sorrow is the last which 
 shall come throughout an endless eternity." 
 
 IMatilda thought, from Janet's altered appearance, 
 that indeed she had not long to endure, whatever the 
 result of her suspense might be ; and having extended 
 her visit to the utmost possible limit, she now prepared 
 to \vithdraw, especially after having been relieved by 
 the entrance of a neighbour, who had hastene~d back 
 from his unsuccessful search. Before departing, how- 
 ever, she read the 12tli chapter of Hebrews, which has 
 been for ages the consolation of successive generations, 
 while they have mourned and wept in this world of changes. 
 An expression of resignation and peace gradually stole 
 over the old woman's countenance as Matilda proceeded, 
 far different from the ghastly and haggard look which it 
 had worn when she entered ; and, at the conclusion, Janet 
 slowly and solemnly raised herself in the bed, and pro- 
 nounced a devout blessing on her young and lovely visitor. 
 "^ Now," added she, " I shall endeavour patiently to await 
 the time, when it shall be my turn, like the grass, to be 
 
380 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 cut down ; and though she, who was as the flower of the 
 grass, is fallen before me, yet the word of the Lord 
 endureth, and shall be my portion for ever. It comforts 
 the heart of a poor, helpless being like me, Miss How- 
 ard, that there are rich and precious blessings which 
 ray prayers may bring down on one whom I have no 
 other way to serve, and many and constant shall they 
 be for you. Farewell, my kind young friend ; you leave 
 me as well as I shall be on this side of eternity ; and 
 probably our next meeting will take place where uncer- 
 tainty and sorrow will be for ever at an end. Grief 
 and sickness are our best apprenticeship for death." 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 381 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 I am unable, yonder beggar cries. 
 
 To stand or go. If he says true, he lies. 
 
 DONN] 
 
 A HEAVY fall of snow had come on while Matilda 
 remained at Gowanbank, but the weather now cleared 
 up into the very beau ideal of a winter day — bright, 
 cold, and clear. The air was like ice, the pure, unsul- 
 lied snow lay thickly over the buried fields, and a cloud- 
 less sunshine threw the broad shadows of the overhang- 
 ing branches along her path 
 
 She looked upon the glittering landscape around, and 
 experienced that rapturous pleasure of existence, which, 
 independent of every other cause, often exhilarates the 
 spirits amidst such scenes of natural beauty, and gives a 
 sensation of happiness which can scarcely be traced to 
 its source. Every thing seemed new and delightful. 
 The blue ethereal sky, in its matchless splendour, pro- 
 claimed the glory of him who has stretched the heavens 
 as a span, and the pure untrodden snow reminded her, 
 by its dazzling whiteness, of those garments in which 
 glorified saints shall at length be clothed. It would be 
 as easy for our bodies to exist without the beating 
 pulse within, as for our minds to live in a rehgious state 
 without meditation ; and Matilda now reflected, in as- 
 tonishment, how much her thoughts were lately occupied, 
 and almost engrossed, with the amusements and petty 
 
382 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 interests of the little circle in which she had recently 
 mingled. Excepting Sir Alfred, and, she could not 
 hut add, with a smile of partial indulgence, an excep- 
 tion also in favour of Mr. Grant, the visitors then at 
 Barnard Castle seemed, in their conduct, to resemble a 
 number of spoiled and not very amiable children, in their 
 continual necessity for restless excitement, their exag- 
 gerated views of every little vexation v.hich interrupted 
 present gratification, their total regardiessness of each 
 other's real feelings, and their almost undisguised desire 
 of pre-eminence and distinction. The Miss Cliffords 
 gloried in testifying openly an abhorrence of Captain 
 M'Tartan and Mr. Armstrong, as if they had been 
 themselves the highest caste of Brahmins thrown into 
 contact with a couple of Pariahs from the desert ; while 
 Colonel Pendarvis and Major Foley lived in a perpetual 
 horror of Miss Marabout and Miss Murray, whom they 
 pricked their ears and shyed at, as one of their own 
 hunters w^ould have done at a donkey on the road, and 
 whom they classed together as a couple of undistin- 
 guishable old maids. Lord De Mainbury, at the same 
 time, looked down on the Major and the Colonel, as 
 mere soldiers of fortune, who could scarcely keep a 
 tolerable stud ; and Lord Alderby despised Lord De 
 Mainbury, as a man of yesterday, while he constantl}' 
 whispered some old family tradition about his Lord- 
 ship's grandfather having once been butler at Alderby 
 Forest. Matilda wondered to think that all this was 
 considered the highest refinement of good-breeding, and 
 she could not but reflect how inferior the dancing- mas- 
 ter and the school of fashion are to that school of the 
 heart which taught how the feelings of the most insig- 
 nificant are to be treated with respect, and how each 
 should consider another better than himself; but reli- 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 383 
 
 gion is intended to eradicate entirely that selfishness 
 which it is the utmost effort of mere good manners to 
 conceal, and which many who profess to be perfectly 
 .well-bred do not even attempt to hide. Matilda had 
 often remarked that many people will treat such as are 
 decidedly their inferiors with kindness and condescen- 
 sion, while the whole weight of their exclusiveness and 
 repulsive hauteur is reserved for those who approach the 
 nearest to themselves in rank and station, because then 
 comes the struggle for that pre-eminence which they 
 are anxious to assert ; and even with some Avho affect 
 to act on Christian principle, it becomes a salvo to their 
 own consciences, if they stoop gracefully to encourage 
 those who are far removed from themselves, and, at the 
 same time, rudely elbow off such as they come in imme- 
 diate contact with. 
 
 Something similar is occasionally felt even by Christians 
 in respect to the doctrine and conduct of those with whom 
 they associate — the nearer that any one approaches to 
 their own standard, the more narrowly do they scan 
 deficiencies ; and while they can look with pity and 
 indulgence on many who are near the threshold, there 
 is a feeling of rivalship which too often steals into the 
 sentiments with which those are observed who seem as 
 far advanced as themselves. ''How trifling all those 
 vain competitions appear, now that I am removed from 
 the scene of them I" thought Matilda ; '' and it is pro- 
 bably with such feelings as I here contemplate the last 
 few days, that, in a future life, we shall all look back on 
 the scenes and the pleasures which are now so enticing ! 
 The most important events in life will then appear to 
 have been insignificant, except in so far as they served 
 to lead us on in our Christian course, and the greatest 
 
384 3I0DERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 pleasure we have ever known will seem but a dream of 
 folly, except such as were consistent with religion.' 
 
 Her steps seemed as light as the falling snow, while 
 Matilda advanced speedily homewards, and rapidly en- 
 tered a long narrow lane which led towards the approach. 
 A few foot-marks in the centre pointed out the path, and 
 shewed that others had preceded her there during that 
 morning, or else the air of profound solitude which per- 
 vaded the whole scene might have made it appear as if 
 there were not another being in the world but herself. 
 The massy stems of the beech- trees, like a long colo- 
 nade of pillars, rose in majestic dignity on each side, 
 throwing their long branches out till they met over- 
 head, and were curiously interlaced in the distance, like 
 a Gothic window of some ancient cathedral. The re- 
 splendent snow glittering like sunshine on marble, 
 stretched as far as her eye could reach, and the dazzling 
 beams of a setting sun reposed on the far distant moun- 
 tains, and shed a glow of ruddy light over the horizon. 
 The air was perfectly still, and not a sound could be 
 heard but her own footstep on the crisp, unyielding 
 frost, until she was suddenly startled from her agree- 
 able meditations by the loud rough voice of a beggar 
 who emerged from behind a hedge, and, to her no 
 small alarm, addressed her. His appearance, which 
 seemed by no means prepossessing, answered com- 
 pletely to the description she had already heard from 
 Eleanor. He was dressed in a long, loose greatcoat, 
 such as is usually worn by the country people in that 
 neighbourhood ; a large handkerchief, which covered his 
 earSj was tied over the rag of a hat with which his head 
 was adorned. His face seemed begrimmed with snuif, 
 and one of his eyes was fast closed . up, which gave a 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 385 
 
 strange, unnatural contortion to his whole features. He 
 looked athletic, though evidently very lame, and his 
 accent was Irish. 
 
 ' " Och ! long life to your honour, and many of them, 
 madam," said he, coming up to her, in a tone of hu- 
 mour, which called an irresistible smile into Matilda's 
 countenance. " Sure you'll be after giving something 
 to a poor distressed cratur, who has nine starving chil- 
 der, besides myself, and not a drop of comfort for any of 
 us ! Give me a tinpenny, and, by your lave, you'll never 
 be a farthing the poorer." 
 
 Matilda could not help being amused at the degoge 
 air with which he addressed her, and the look of Irish 
 humour which ghttered in his only eye ; but she hur- 
 ried on without answering, being a determined enemy 
 to imposture. 
 
 " It*s you that have the face of charity and goodness, 
 ma'am ! sure you'll not belie such looks ! — winter would 
 turn to summer at the sight of ye ! Indeed, Miss, we 
 are in very indolent circumstances." 
 
 " I can give you nothing at present," replied Matilda, 
 trying to look very stern and decided. '' Call at Bar- 
 nard Castle to-morrow, and perhaps Sir Richard may 
 have your case inquired into.'* 
 
 " But a lady like yourself wouldn't be after walking 
 without a purse entirely ! and you'll give something as 
 a token of respect. A poor boy such as I, wouldn't be 
 after returning empty-handed as he came out ; and 
 throth, it's not an hour since I dreamt that one like 
 yourself came by. Didn't I see you as plain as my 
 staff, taking a shilling out to give me, and return tlie 
 purse into your bag ?" 
 
 " You know," answiered Matilda, hurrying rapidly 
 on, " dreams go by contraries." 
 
386 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 " Then it's the purse you'll give me, and the shilling 
 you'll keep ! och, but that hates the world. By the 
 stick in ray hand, I'd cut a throat any day for half a& 
 much I" cried the beggar in an ecstasy of gratitude ; 
 '' you're a lady every inch of you ! The purse then, if 
 you plase, ma'am, and thanks t'ye !" 
 
 He held out his hand with an air more like command 
 than entreaty, and Matilda began less and less to like 
 her persevering companion. " We must examine inta 
 your claims," said she, hurriedly ; '^ I never give to peo- 
 ple who beg on the high-road." 
 
 *' Och, honey ! is it into your parlour that I must 
 come? And for character, I'd refer you to Paddy 
 O'Connar from Kilkenny. No ! — he's been in jail this 
 month past — the drink makes fools of us all. Then 
 there's Jerry Sullivan, but he's gone beyond seas ; just 
 a trifle of money he lifted ! We're all tarred with the 
 same stick ; but youll hear the very best of me from 
 myself, and who knows better? I'm mortal sober always ? 
 and haven't tasted above three glasses to-day ; but I'll 
 drink your health this afternoon with the two shilHngs 
 you're going to give me ; and may you never die while 
 you live." 
 
 Matilda really vdshed it had been less against all prin- 
 ciple and conscience to bestow something on the poor 
 man, whose reckless audacity had a degree of humour 
 along with it, which diverted her in spite of considerable 
 alarm which she felt at their being so completely alone. 
 
 " Troth, ma'am," added he in a piteous tone, " you 
 don't know what I may be reduced to, if something is 
 not given me soon." 
 
 '^ To what ?" asked Matilda, rather relenting. 
 
 " To work, ma'am ! Bestow a trifle on me any how, 
 for I wouldn't wish to rob you." 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 387 
 
 There was something sinister in the villain's eye 
 when he said this, which greatly intimidated Matilda, 
 who expected the next instant that he would snatch 
 away her bag, or perhaps even produce a pistol. She 
 quickened her steps, but became more and more alarm- 
 ed on discovering that he walked faster also ; and his 
 lameness, which had been at first so conspicuous, became 
 scarcely perceptible. If he had been walking for a wager, 
 it would have been impossible to keep up better with 
 her accelerated pace. At length a sharp turn in the lane 
 disclosed another long, straight path, of nearly half a 
 mile in extent, about the centre of which Matilda des- 
 cried the distant appearance of a gentleman. Instantly, 
 with the speed of thought, she darted forward, and 
 knowing that few people could ever keep up with her 
 rapidity, she flew on for protection towards the figure 
 in advance. No sooner did the Irishman observe her 
 intention to take flight, than he started forward, evi-' 
 dently desirous to impede her progress, and when she 
 quickly eluded his intention, he loudly vociferated for 
 her to stop. Ten-or now gave wings to Matilda's feet, 
 which scarcely touched the ground, so that long after 
 the beggar had ceased his pursuit, she continued to fly, 
 thinking she still heard the sound of his footsteps, and 
 his loud calls on her to return. She even fancied, for a 
 moment, that her own name was reiterated in the dis- 
 tant air, and that a noise like laughter echoed behind, 
 but all this only gave fresh impetus to her speed. The 
 next moment, panting, breathless, and faint, Matilda 
 overtook the person whose form at a distance had en- 
 couraged her to attempt an escape, and grasping his 
 arm with convulsive energy, she could not articulate a 
 word, but stood for some moments gasping to recover 
 herself. At length, having raised her head to look at 
 
388 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 this unintentional deliverer, she suddenly encountered 
 the astonished gaze of Sir Alfred Douglas. If fear had 
 already deprived Matilda of utterance, agitation now 
 completely overpowered her. The scene she had lately 
 gone through at Gowanbank, the panic which had seized 
 her about the Irishman, and the confusion of having in- 
 truded so unexpectedly on Sir Alfred, altogether com- 
 bined to agitate her nerves so powerfully, that every at- 
 tempt to articulate only ended in a convulsive quiver of 
 the lips. She pointed backwards on the path which had 
 so lately been the scene of her flight, but not a trace wa& 
 left of the miscreant who had alarmed her, and overcome 
 with the shock, she leaned against a tree and burst into 
 tears. 
 
 After anxiously surveying the surrounding country, 
 where nothing appeared visible but a wild waste of 
 snow — and after pausing some moments in the evident 
 hope of an explanation, which Matilda's increasing agi- 
 tation rendered every moment more improbable, Sir Al- 
 fred at length turned to her with a look of respectful 
 interest, but at the same time he spoke with good hu- 
 moured raillery, while still gazing all round, in obvious- 
 perplexity and surprise. 
 
 " Pray, Miss Howard, what planet have you dropped 
 from ? It is said that talking of friends always brings 
 them into one's presence ; but if thinking had the same 
 effect, you would never be absent from me. I am con- 
 cerned to observe how much you have been frightened ; 
 tell me what I can do ? Show me any tangible foe to 
 exercise my valour on^ — I am ready to shed the last drop 
 of my blood, and so forth — but rub my eyes as I may, 
 there is really nothing to be seen. It can scarcely be our 
 old enemy the ghost, in such broad daylight ! Above 
 all things, do not treat me to a fainting fit, as I have no 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 389 
 
 turn for nervous complaints, and could scarcely find a 
 drop of water within three miles at least I" 
 
 ' Matilda could not help smiling, and made a vain 
 attempt to speak, hut her voice died away in inarticu- 
 late whispers. Sir Alfred now hecame seriously embar- 
 rassed and distressed. He took her hand with a look of 
 real sympathy, and anxiously watched Matilda's coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 " It is only a trifle," said she> attempting to laugh, 
 but still unable to finish her sentence. 
 
 ^' Can any thing be a trifle, that relates to you ?" re- 
 plied he, in a tone which only increased her confusion ; 
 but at length, by a powerful effort, she so far recovered 
 as to begin some hurried explanation in broken sen- 
 tences, of all that had occurred during the morning, 
 when, having accidentally looked round, and giving a 
 sudden exclamation of alarm, she pointed to a neigh- 
 bouring hedge, pver which the beggar's head had for a 
 moment become visible, though he instantly afterwards 
 vanished. Sir Alfred did, however, catch a momentary 
 glimpse of him likewise, and rushing forward, he 
 sprung over the fence, and seized the Irishman by the 
 collar. Matilda's first impulse would have been to 
 resume her flight, but terror chained her to the spot, an 
 xigitated spectator of the scene. She felt amazed at the 
 agility and strength of Sir Alfred, who usually appeared 
 so inert ; and temporary suspense terminated in the 
 most animated sensation of pleasure, when she saw her 
 unexpected champion wrest the miscreant's stick out of 
 his hand, and at once overpower him. 
 
 " 1*11 bet ten to one you don't do that again, Sir Al- 
 fred !" exclaimed a voice that seemed familiar to Ma- 
 tilda's ears. "■ You took me at a complete disadvantage, 
 for I was more overcome with surprise than even by 
 
390 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY : OR. 
 
 your extraorclinaiy prowess. Do indulge me with ano- 
 ther round, Douglas, and let Miss Howard be bottle- 
 holder !" 
 
 " Grant, your idea of a jest is rather different from 
 mine \" replied Sir Alfred, with as little appearance of 
 surprise as if he had known him all along. A distant 
 laugh was immediately afterwards heard approaching, 
 and Eleanor appeared rapidly advancing with the rest of 
 her party, and exclaiming in a tone of triumphant pleasure, 
 " Well, this is really beyond my hopes ! Matilda is 
 so easily duped, that there is no glory in imposing upon 
 her I but you, Sir Alfred ! Who could have expected 
 it ? Mr. Grant I give you great credit for executing 
 my plan so admirably. The giant has turned into a 
 wind-mill. It is the best joke, without exception, that 
 I ever sav/ I" 
 
 " Then you have been unfortunate, for I never knew 
 a worse," replied Sir Alfred, looking at the pale counte- 
 nance of Matilda, who was doing her utmost to get up 
 a laugh . " Some people will sacrifice more for a bad 
 jest than I would ever do for a good one. Miss Howard, 
 let me hope that you have not suffered materially from 
 this amusing little yew d' esprit ?" 
 
 " Not at all !" answered Matilda, in a tremulous 
 voice, while her limbs shook so that she could scarcely 
 stand. " I shall recover in a moment. How stupid of 
 me not to see the whole at once ! I am quite well 
 now." 
 
 '' Allows me to differ .'" said Sir Alfred. " You are 
 still very nervous, and I must insist on your taking my 
 arm." 
 
 " With great pleasure," replied she, colouring and 
 smiling. 
 
 " I wish it had been my hand that you are so willing 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 391 
 
 to accept/' added Sir Alfred, in an under tone ; and 
 when Matilda looked up 'for a moment, his eyes were 
 fixed upon her with a look of penetrating interest. 
 " Miss Howard," added he, in an altered voice, " I 
 trust you will believe me incapable of lightly alluding 
 to a subject which is of sacred importance to m€, and in 
 which my whole future happiness may yet be at stake. 
 I know not what interest it may hereafter have for you, 
 but it involves every earthly hope of my own existence. 
 Time will enable me to explain the circumstances which 
 have involved me for the present in a situation of 
 embarrassment, in which my conduct has been such as 
 might have been misconstrued by any one less candid 
 and generous than yourself. I could not even dare to 
 say so much as I have done, were it not for the fear that 
 you may attribute that reserve to inclination, which is 
 only tlie result of temporary necessity." 
 
 Matilda suddenly recollected at this moment what 
 Miss Marabout had said respecting a promise of Sir 
 Alfred's to his mother, on the subject of at least post- 
 poning any declar.ition or engagement ; and without 
 pausing to analyze the emotions to which this remem- 
 brance gave rise, she made a hurried and agitated reply. 
 Sir Alfred then led the conversation into a new chan- 
 nel, involving an interesting discussion of various sub- 
 jects, wherein that similarity and diversity of opinion 
 was elicited between the parties which gives its highest 
 zest to conversation, leading them on insensibly to the 
 development of those sacred principles and engrossing 
 interests in which both were so deeply versed. 
 
 " Mr. Grant !" said Eleanor, looking sarcastically 
 after Matilda, '' my cousin has got up a perfect scene on 
 this occasion ! You should really assist in supporting 
 her home I" 
 
392 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 " No ! no ! I have performed my part to please 
 you, but it went too far. When once I get into the 
 spirit of any thing there is no stopping me. I once 
 acted Mad Tom on the summit of Dover Cliff, and if 
 Douglas had not seized hold of me in time, would have 
 fairly leaped over in the enthusiasm of the moment. 
 But positively, Miss Fitz-Patrick, I am afraid of your 
 cousin, she is so very fascinating. Such perfect naivete 
 and good humour, with so much talent and principle, 
 have altogether captivated me, and I would propose to 
 her to-morrow, if you can give me a single peg to hang 
 a hope upon." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Eleanor, changing colour, and with 
 a look of angry surprise. " It was scarcely necessary 
 to tell me this ! I thought you had known the world 
 better, Mr. Grant, than to entertain one lady with a 
 rhapsody on the charms of another !" 
 
 '^ Ah I Miss Fitz-Patrick ! we understand each other 
 now, and you acted very fairly long since, by putting 
 me on my guard in good time against presumption. 
 You know very well that I went through all the agonies 
 of death for you last year, and how hard a struggle it 
 cost me to fly away on the wings of disappointment. 
 As Don Whiskerandos says, however, ' One can't stay 
 dying here for ever I' and I should not have ventured 
 to your enchanted castle at all if there had been the 
 least apprehension of troubling you with a relapse. 
 My present case is equally hopeless, unfortunate man 
 that I am I for every one may see how completely Sir 
 Alfred is devoted to Miss Howard, and there probably 
 exists not a man living who presumes to imagine he 
 could rival him." 
 
 '' You are in jest, IVIr. Grant !" exclaimed Eleanor, 
 angrily, for every word he had said spoke daggers to her 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 393 
 
 vanity. " Sir Alfred cares no more for my cousin than 
 for. Miss Marabout." 
 
 " Pray convince me of that, for I shall be most willing 
 to believe it. Indeed, Miss Fitz -Patrick, there are not 
 two Matilda Howards in the world, or I might be 
 happy ; but as it is now, my friend Douglas deserves 
 her, and you may depend upon it they understand each 
 other." 
 
 Eleanor walked rapidly on, in evident agitation, and 
 preserved an unbroken silence for some time, while Mr. 
 Grant endeavoured to seem unconscious of it, and sung, 
 in the most beautiful cadences of his melodious voice, 
 the air of " One struggle more !" suiting the tune to 
 the words, for it gradually deepened into melancholy, 
 till the sound at length died away entirely, and, for the 
 first time in their lives, Eleanor and her ci-devant lover 
 pursued their course without speaking. Mr. Grant had 
 long wished for an opportunity of communicating to 
 Miss Fitz-Patrick his conjecture respecting Sir Alfred's 
 attachment, because, in his anxious solicitude for her 
 happiness, he observed the increasing interest she took 
 in his friend's society, and could not but apprehend that 
 it might be dangerous to her peace ; for, greatly valuing, 
 as he did, the high character and brilliant talents of Sir 
 Alfred, he thought it impossible to over-estimate the 
 admiration and attachment which he ought to excite. 
 
 Nothing could be a greater mistake, however, than 
 the conjecture of Mr. Grant with respect to Eleanor's 
 real feelings. Her vanity would have become deeply 
 wounded, could she have been convinced that Sir Alfred 
 viewed her with indifference ; but to imagine for a mo- 
 ment that he also preferred Matilda, was so revolting to 
 her wishes, that she could not allow it to be possible, 
 though the suggestion renewed in her mind that rank- 
 
•# 
 
 394 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 ling feeling of jealousy which had long burned fiercely 
 within her breast, and occasioned actual misery to herself, 
 while it destroyed every emotion towards her cousin but 
 dislike. Painful, nevertheless, and corroding as was the 
 state of her mind on this subject, Mr. Grant little ima- 
 gined how greatly he erred in attributing to disappoint- 
 ment, on account of his friend, the sudden paleness of 
 Eleanor's cheek, and the unnatural hectic which suc- 
 ceeded it. No one could appreciate more highly than 
 JMiss Fitz-Patrick did the noble appearance and high 
 reputation of Sir Alfred. That which gave its richest 
 embellishment to both, his unswerving principle and his 
 deep devotion of mind, she could neither know nor 
 yalue, — yet she saw him the object of universal respect 
 and admiration ; she knew him to be gifted with every 
 thing that gives grace or dignity to high station ; and 
 she had long considered it as a triumph which she must 
 one day achieve, to see Sir Alfred at her feet. To gain 
 such a victory Eleanor never paused to consider how far 
 her own happiness or his might be involved in the enter- 
 prise ; but her feelings were in reality no more than many 
 young and enthusiastic minds must frequently experi- 
 ence in the presence of any one whose distinguished con- 
 duct has gained him pre-eminence in the world. The 
 sentiment of profound interest and admiration with which 
 she regarded him might have been transferred, almost 
 unaltered, to the first celebrated poet or applauded ora- 
 tor, or successful hero whom she accidentally met ; — it 
 was even with a modification of the same feeling that she 
 admired and endeavoured to please Dr. Murray, for 
 vanity alone rendered her desirous to gain a supreme 
 interest with one whom e\try other person was seeking 
 to attract. But there was a deeper sentiment in the 
 breast of Miss Fitz-Patrick, which had long been 
 
THE MARCH OP INTELLECT. 
 
 395 
 
 smothered, but which now made itself heard with a 
 voice that could not be stilled. Never till this moment 
 had she doubted the constancy and the fervency of Mr. 
 Grant's attachment, nor that the day would come when 
 she should be called on to choose between him and his 
 friend. If ever she became wearied and disgusted by 
 the officious assiduities of her self-interested lovers, who, 
 she was conscious, were admirers more of her estate than 
 of herself, she had long been accustomed to recur with 
 her earliest feelings of regard to Mr. Grant's unalterable 
 iaffection, for it was impossible to know him, and to 
 doubt its entire disinterestedness. The frank and open- 
 hearted disposition of her former lover, his graceful 
 manners and high tone of independence and good feel- 
 ing, had long since made an indelible impression on her 
 heart; and there had been a degree of considerate 
 kindness in his tone and manner of late, partaking 
 more of the friend than of the lover, which she had attri- 
 buted to diffidence, while it pleased and gratified her. 
 Unaccustomed to restraint or to self-examination, Miss 
 Fitz-Patrick went on recklessly following the bent of 
 every wayward and fantastic caprice, but forgetful that 
 the destiny of her whole future life might be involved in 
 the impression which her conduct conveyed at a time 
 when she was thus thinking only of instant gratification. 
 While Eleanor felt surprised and shocked to discover Mr. 
 Grant's estrangement, she could not but remember now 
 a thousand instances in which her own careless indif- 
 ference and heedless vivacity must have given him a full 
 conviction that the alteration was mutual. Whatever 
 Eleanor actually possessed she became indifferent to, and 
 saw only its defects, — but uncertainty always brought 
 forth its real worth ; and above all, her lover now ap- 
 peared to the utmost advantage in her eyes when he was 
 
396 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 irretrievably lost ; every evidence of his altered feelings 
 enhanced beyond measure the merit and the value of her 
 liberated captive ; and when he spoke of his former ad- 
 miration in a careless tone, which showed how entirely 
 it was considered as a " tale of other times," she no longer 
 thought of his small property and uncertain inheritance, 
 but she felt the inestimable value of his long-tried attach- 
 ment ; and she for the first time became fully aware of 
 the place he occupied in her affections. 
 
 To conceal these thoughts from every one, and espe- 
 cially from Mr. Grant, became now Eleanor's first object ; 
 and no one who observed her brilliant spirits during that 
 evening and the following day, could have suspected the 
 aching void which she felt within her heart, the loathing 
 with which she viewed all that had hitherto dazzled or 
 delighted her, and the melancholy depression which she 
 vainly endeavoured to conquer. Life seemed to Eleanor 
 for the time like a dreary farce, in which she must act her 
 part with spirit, on account of the spectators, to whom her 
 own private feelings were indifferent and unknown. Mr. 
 Grant alone perceived the change, which he attributed 
 entirely to the discovery of Sir Alfred's previous at- 
 tachment, though Eleanor still disbelieved that, and 
 saw nothing in his conduct towards Matilda to disprove 
 her own opinion. She had no conception of strong feel- 
 ing which was not displayed ; and in the silent interest 
 with which Sir Alfred attended to all Matilda said, and 
 in the unobtrusive attentions which accidentally fell 
 under her notice, she acknowledged no apprehensions 
 to herself of a deeper sentiment than the most ordinary 
 civility. 
 
 Mr. Grant redoubled his assiduities to Eleanor, with a 
 friendly desire to divert her thoughts from Sir Alfred, 
 whom he fancied that she observed with a degree of 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 397 
 
 anxious interest, the motive for which he entirely mis- 
 conceived. There was more of gravity and feeling than 
 usual towards her, on account of his consciousness that 
 she was suffering, — he blamed himself for not having 
 sooner put Eleanor on her guard ; and never did his 
 powers of entertainment and fascination come out with 
 greater effect than on the first evening when Miss Fitz- 
 Patrick became conscious that she had lost him for ever. 
 
398 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 At church, with meek and unaffected grace, 
 His looks adorned the venerable place; 
 Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway, 
 And fools, who came to scoff, remain'd to pray. 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 '• No muffins — and cold rolls for breakfast ! — that is 
 a sure indication of its being Sunday," cried Eleanor, 
 next morning, with a forced attempt at vivacity, " I 
 am always more hungry to-day than any other day in 
 the week, one has so little to do. If any body proposes 
 going to church this bleak snowy morning, I must order 
 the carriage at twelve, and our pew may be recommend- 
 ed as the best of all places for cultivating coughs, colds, 
 rheumatisms, influenzas, and all the ills flesh is heir to. 
 — Lady Susan ! No, by the way, this is your letter- 
 writing day. I always know when to expect a line, if 
 you are in my debt. Lady Montague I with that cold, 
 it is out of the question. Young ladies ! Charlotte 
 Clifibrd I your weekly headache has come on. Well 
 then, the noes have it, and we may read prayers in the 
 library, with Miss Marabout for chaplain." 
 
 Miss Fitz-Patrick cautiously shunned looking towards 
 her cousin, who felt conscious of the intended omission. 
 Her colour rose, but she carefully avoided appearing to 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 399 
 
 notice the oversight, and continued calmly conversing 
 with Mr. Grant, who had previously addressed her. 
 
 *' Stop, Miss Fitz-Patrick, we have not heen polled 
 yet," said he, turning hastily round ; '^ here is one vote, 
 I am certain, on the opposite side." 
 
 '^ Oh, no," whispered Matilda, anxiously, for she al- 
 ready anticipated the pleasure of steahng off and pro- 
 ceeding alone to Gaelfield ; " I have a conveyance of my 
 own which takes me always to church and back again. 
 It is the safest and most wholesome diligence in the 
 world, which Eleanor knows I constantly use from pre- 
 ference, in all weathers, and on all occasions." 
 
 '^ You don't mean to walk ! — it would be impossible 
 to get through the snow without stilts to-day." 
 
 '' And yet many who are much more delicate than I 
 am will make the effort. You have no idea, Mr. Grant, 
 what frail old creatures will come tottering to church 
 this morning — what numbers will rise from beds of sick- 
 ness to go there, and what hundreds have learned from 
 Dr. Murray to forget present inconvenience, while seek- 
 ing to avoid future misery. If I had not a paramount 
 interest of my own in frequenting church, I would even 
 go to-day for the pleasure of sympathizing with others 
 in the joy it gives many to attend. Poor Old Janet 
 said yesterday that it was the only remaining happiness 
 which she could feel it possible to enjoy in this world ; 
 and for my own part, I hope and believe it will survive 
 all others." 
 
 "This is the first time. Miss Howard, that I ever 
 thought you had a tolerable opinion of me," replied Mr. 
 Grant, in a voice between jest and earnest ; '^ you only 
 speak seriously to those who are in some degree to be 
 trusted, and in whom you take an interest. I must have 
 
400 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 always appeared a mere Tom Fool in your eyes, for I 
 deserved nothing better ; and yet when we are together 
 
 I have occasionally felt ; but it is no matter now ;" 
 
 added he, in a tone of agitation, and, turning suddenly 
 round, he looked at Sir Alfred for a moment in silence. 
 '' No, I would make no change, if it had even been 
 possible. I do not wish it. With all my faults, let me 
 never be selfish." 
 
 '' Grant, my good fellow, what were you soliloquizing 
 there for with such a tragical look ?" said Sir Alfred, 
 taking his arm as they left +he breakfast-room ; " I hope 
 it was the rehearsal of such an oration for the hustings 
 as shall resound throughout the universe next Tuesday ?" 
 
 " I was thinking, Douglas, of a different election, in 
 which your success is still more to be envied ; but on 
 both you shall have my warmest and most hearty con- 
 gratulations." 
 
 " Do not feel too sure of my requiring them on either 
 occasion," said Sir Alfred with emotion. '^ You are 
 aware. Grant, that I have no concealments from a friend 
 like yourself, and that I am still bound to remain in un- 
 certainty with respect to Miss Howard's sentiments." 
 
 '^ Can you seriously mean to express any doubt of 
 success V asked Mr. Grant, in a tone of incredulity. 
 " It is not like you, Douglas, to affect such a thing." 
 
 '' If my acceptance were an affair that rested merely 
 on the ordinary calculations of prudence and eligibility, 
 I might be as confident as you expect ; but where prin- 
 ciple and inclination are alone likely to be consulted, 
 you might feel, Grant, if you were as deeply attached as 
 I am, what suspense and diffidence mean." 
 
 " Say what you will, I only wish my prospects were 
 as happy and as securely founded as yours, Douglas ; 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 401 
 
 but it is enough to have a friend whose prosperity is as 
 dear to me as my own. Many an hour of good counsel 
 you have w^asted on me, but the day has come when I 
 begin to perceive its full value, and to think that my 
 time, talents, and opportunities such as they are, might 
 be put out to better interest than they have ever brought 
 me yet." 
 
 Sir Alfred clasped his friend's hand in his own with 
 emotion, while he looked earnestly and seriously in his 
 countenance. " Grant I there was but one thing want- 
 ing to the perfect unity of our friendship. I always 
 believed that this hour would arrive. Let us talk toge- 
 ther alone, for I have much to say. Perhaps you will 
 walk with me to church ?" 
 
 " If it rained icebergs I will." 
 
 Matilda paused before entering the church, to admire, 
 as she had often done before, a degree of neatness un- 
 usual in country churchyards, which often gave her 
 pleasuije as she passed. Miss Murray had once described 
 the disorder in which she originally found it, with long 
 rank grass, and nettles waving in neglected luxuriance 
 over the departed fathers of the congregation ; a few 
 wretched unwholesome sheep pasturing amidst the graves, 
 while the broken and dilapidated wall admitted children 
 and dogs from the village to play their noisy gambols 
 amidst broken and ruinous tomb-stones, which it was a 
 favourite amusement with the boys to deface. Dr. Mur- 
 ray often saw occasion to lament such irreverence for the 
 dead in other places, but it was one of his earliest acts 
 at Gaelfield to assert that respect which is due from 
 human beings towards each other, even in their last 
 stage of humiliation and decay. He considered that 
 the universal feeling, even among savage nations, of 
 
402 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 veneration for their deceased friends and parents, was 
 one of the few natural impulses which is really respect- 
 able, and ought to be encouraged. He could admire no 
 enlightened M'isdom that raised men above those little 
 sympathies and tendernesses of nature, and without long 
 delay he abolished the use of churchyard mutton in his 
 parish — repaired the wall, mowed down the grass, re- 
 erected many prostrate tomb-stones, and restored to the 
 whole scene that air of silent and solemn dignity suited 
 to the awful habitation of the dead. 
 
 Matilda was seated in church for some time before the 
 service began, and watched with agreeable interest the 
 gathering of a very numerous congregation, whose coun- 
 tenances wore an expression of salutary seriousness which 
 harmonized with the reflections of her own mind, and 
 made her conscious that the pleasure of sympathy is in- 
 deed a welcome auxiliary to that of devotion, while our 
 prayers are mingled with those of others in the public 
 worship of God. Her heart expanded with joy and 
 peace when she considered herself placed there to enjoy 
 the rich moral and intellectual feast, to which all who 
 are willing may consider themselves invited guests ; and 
 she could not but think what infinite wisdom there 
 is in the appointment of a stated period, when the 
 busiest, the most ignorant, the most careless, and the 
 most difiident may, in a moment, without effort, with- 
 out difiiculty, without being ashamed, or even conspi- 
 cuous, enjoy the advice and the entire concentrated 
 knowledge and experience of such a man as Dr. Murray, 
 whose whole existence was devoted to seeking out those 
 truths which could be told them in an hour ; and Matilda 
 reflected with what despair men might have often drop- 
 ped down on the threshold of religion, if their own unas- 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 403 
 
 sisted efforts had been the only human means by which 
 the powerful convictions of conscience must be followed 
 up. Day by day Dr. Murray repeated over the simplest 
 truths to his people Like a mother teaching her child 
 his simple hymn, which she rehearses again and again 
 without making perceptible progress, till at length he 
 is found to be thoroughly, though gradually versed in his 
 lesson, so the venerable pastor constantly reverted to 
 first principles. He varied his explanations also by a 
 profusion of apt illustrations, by the mention of appro- 
 priate incidents, by allusions to circumstances of general 
 interest in the congregation, and by quoting largely 
 from other theologians ; at the same time. Dr. Murray 
 never mentioned from the pulpit any names, however 
 eminent, which are not recorded in Holy Scripture, for 
 he considered that no authority should be so honoured, 
 from the seat of ministerial instruction, except such as 
 are divinely appointed. 
 
 When the service was about to commence, Matilda 
 heard a step advancing along the gallery, which proved 
 to be that of Sir Alfred, who placed himself in an oppo- 
 site corner of the pew, and without giving even a tran- 
 sient glance around, he opened the large Bible which 
 lay before him. Mr. Grant followed, and, with charac- 
 teristic rapidity threw himself into a seat, instinctively 
 passed his fingers through his hair, looked at his watch, 
 and then folding his arms, he fell into a profound, and 
 evidently very serious meditation. 
 
 Dr. Murray's deep, melodious voice broke the solemn 
 silence which prevailed, and as he proceeded in the ser- 
 vice, intense attention might' be traced in every counte- 
 nance. So absorbing was the interest with which 
 Matilda listened, that she at once forgot there was 
 
404 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 another individual in the sacred edifice but herself and 
 the preacher^ while every word seemed to be directed 
 immediately to her own conscience. The energy of Dr. 
 Murray's address, which was always skilfully aimed 
 at the heartj consisted not in vehemence of gesticulation, 
 or in rhetorical display, but there was an impressive 
 dignity in his manner, and a power in the modulations 
 of his richly toned voice, which enchained the most 
 wandering mind, while his profound vein of thought, 
 his forcible arguments, and his awful views of life, in 
 all its hopes, its fears, and its responsibilities, evinced 
 that a full conviction rested on his own mind of the 
 tremendous importance attached to those subjects on 
 which he treated, and that, whether he described the 
 terrors of the law or the hopes of the Gospel, his language 
 was that of a heart filled with reverence towards God, 
 and with love towards man. Dr. Murray made a rule 
 to avoid prolixity in his sermons. Every thing he did 
 was upon reflection and principle, rather than from im- 
 pulse ; and as his object was " by any means to win 
 some," he considered that infirmities of age, restlessness 
 in childhood, and languor from indisposition, limited the 
 power of attention in many; while, even to the most 
 devout of his people, ample leisure was desirable at 
 home to digest what they had heard, by meditation and 
 prayer. Many unskilful attendants on the sick have 
 imagined that if, by administering a small dose of 
 medicine, they diminished the evil, an unlimited appli- 
 cation would produce instant recovery ; but, as Baxter 
 says, '^ it is safer to feed your flock like chickens than 
 to cram them like turkeys." Dr. Murray, therefore, 
 was never heard to boast of having found it impossible 
 to stop, because, on all occasions, he avoided vain repe- 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 405 
 
 titions, and never grudged the additional trouble which 
 Paley complained that it cost him, to " make his sermons 
 short." 
 
 When the numerous congregation at Gaelfield silently 
 dispersed, without having dissipated their serious im- 
 pressions by any whispered gossiping, or irreverent 
 criticisms of the sermon, Matilda rose also to depart, 
 and found Sir Alfred, with his companion, waiting for 
 her near the church-door. 
 
 " You evaded us in coming here. Miss Howard," 
 said Mr. Grant, reproachfully. " I could scarcely have 
 overtaken such rapid movements at a gallop ; but there 
 is no chance of escape now, unless by taking actual flight 
 in the fashion of yesterday." 
 
 " No inducement shall make me do that again, Mr. 
 Grant, because it is only an old friend with a new face 
 that I would avoid," replied Matilda, giving him one of 
 her sweetest smiles, " We have all enjoyed the plea- 
 sure of hearing such important truths to-day that it 
 would be impossible to think on other subjects, and 
 there could be no greater gratification to me than in 
 discussing them as we go homewards." 
 
 " It would be difficult, indeed, I may add almost sin- 
 ful, to estrange our thoughts from what has been said. 
 The impression should last for ever," replied Mr. Grant, 
 beginning immediately afterwards a conversation which 
 continued, with increasing interest, until the party at 
 length reached that long green lane where Matilda met 
 with her adventure on the preceding day. Sir Alfred then 
 paused in the middle of a sentence, and looked at Mr. 
 Grant " Miss Howard," added he, " we visited a 
 friend of yours this morning, who is very desirous to 
 see you soon. I made a rash promise, perhaps over- 
 estimating my own influence, in venturing to engage 
 
406 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 that you would accompany Mr. Grant and myself to see 
 her now." 
 
 " A friend of mine ? — It must have been a mistake 
 for Eleanor I" 
 
 "I rather believe not/' replied Sir Alfred, smiling 
 to Mr. Grant. " We know of several, but the one in 
 question was praising you with great eloquence to-day." 
 
 " Ah ! then you need not add another word ! It 
 must have been good, excellent Miss Murray, who has 
 a kind opinion of every one." 
 
 " Still wrong ! I should never have remembered the 
 panegyric of so indiscriminate an admirer. ' They who 
 dare not censure scarce can praise.' Our friend to-day 
 was one who experiences little cause to think well of the 
 world in general, but she said much of you, and more 
 than you would wish any one to believe." 
 
 ^' Sir Alfred, you are infected with Eleanor's genius 
 for passing a jest upon me, but I am become very cun- 
 ning and suspicious, particularly as friends and admi- 
 rers of mine are not very abundant anywhere." 
 
 " Not even in the village ?" asked Sir Alfred, archly. 
 *' Are you going to deny being on visiting terms at the 
 house of that unfortunate old woman whose daughter 
 disappeared so strangely ?" 
 
 "' I guessed right, then, yesterday ! It was you who 
 acted so generously towards poor Janet !'' exclaimed 
 Matilda, with a brilliant look of surprise and pleasure. 
 
 " Your own experience testifies, Miss Howard, that 
 there is no happiness on earth equal to that of promoting 
 it in others, and therefore we cannot allow you to mo- 
 nopolize a privilege which all ought to share. Let us, 
 then, accompany you now, and though this is the first 
 time we have gone to such scenes together, I trust it 
 will not be the last." 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 407 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Nor those blest hours on idle trifles waste, 
 Which all who lavish shall lament at last. 
 
 Hymn. 
 
 " What untidy weather this is !" exclaimed Eleanor, 
 next morning, after breakfast, while she flitted from 
 window to window in the library, as if she hoped at 
 some one of them to discover more sunshine than the 
 rest displayed; but each presented an unbroken winding- 
 sheet of snow, which looked as if it might defy a sum- 
 mer's heat, while an incessant fall of large downy flakes 
 were to be seen, lounging lazily down, as if they meant 
 to settle for weeks. Some of the largest were eagerly 
 pointed out by Lord Alderby and Colonel Pendarvis, 
 who traced their slow, dignified descent^ and betted 
 largely on the relative rapidity of their fall, while Major 
 Foley acted as umpire. 
 
 " Are you trying to discover, my Lord, whether that 
 red spot on the sky means to pass for the sun or the 
 moon V asked Eleanor, looking wearily out ; " or per- 
 haps watching to take a lesson how winter powders his 
 wig, in case of ever growing old, and feeling obliged to 
 wear one ?" 
 
 '' I was thinking rather of becoming young again, 
 than of getting old, Miss Fitz-Patrick, for we are trying 
 a new pastime. One of my favourite amusements in 
 travelling, is something on the same plan. We have 
 generally a bet who shall see the greatest number of 
 
408 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 living animals upon his own side of the carriage. A 
 donkey counts four, a turkey-cock two, a peacock five, 
 and a cat looking in at a window is always game ! Pen- 
 darvis and I once amused ourselves the who^e way to 
 London with no other resource, when we were going up 
 to attend our duties in Parliament !" 
 
 A transient expression of contempt passed over 
 Eleanor's beautiful countenance, and with a look of 
 unconquerable dejection she dropped into a seat. The 
 gentlemen instantly gathered round her in evident 
 certainty of being entertained by her lively sallies and 
 amusing caprices, but the young heiress felt for once 
 incapable of exertion. To conceal the spiritless tone of 
 her mind, she immediately opened a large box, contain- 
 ing innumerable alphabets printed on little squares of 
 ivory, and spread them out on the table, desiring each 
 individual to select the letters which formed any word, 
 and having shaken them miscellaneously together, to 
 exchange them with some one else of the party, who 
 must exhibit his talent by the quickness with which he 
 discovered what was meant. Matilda watched Eleanor 
 transposing and puzzling over the letters edisarp, 
 which had been presented to her with so sentimental a 
 sigh by Major Foley, that it would not have been diffi- 
 cult to guess from his countenance he intended to 
 express Despair. Sir Colin and Lord Alderby were in 
 agonies of uncertainty over a handful of letters, which 
 Miss Fitz-Patrick had laughingly reached them, while 
 Sir Alfred continued perse veringly, though with a look 
 of sly humour, to decline many importunate invitations 
 to join in the amusement. 
 
 '' Amusement ! that word must have a different 
 meaning in the dictionary from what I had ever ima- 
 gined." 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 409 
 
 " Do try, Sir Alfred I You are afraid of being thought 
 stupid, but we shall be very indulgent at first. It would 
 entertain you beyond measure ; and I do enjoy a little 
 diverting nonsense occasionally." 
 
 " I rather prefer diverting sense/' replied he, looking 
 at Matilda for an instant, and then resuming his book. 
 
 " Here is a very easy word, and exactly characteristic 
 of yourself ! Now let us see a laudable curiosity to as- 
 certain what that is !" 
 
 " Excuse me ; I have really no genius for spelling ; it 
 is an accomplishment that never could be taught me. If 
 you will believe it, Miss Fitz-Patrick, I always spell Phi- 
 losopher beginning with F, and capricious with a K." 
 
 " That is the more surprising, since the last word is 
 so appropriate to yourself; but it would be unpardon- 
 able to lose this opportunity of improvement. I shall 
 undertake to teach you unimpeachable spelling in six 
 lessons." 
 
 " Indeed you have no conception how desperate the 
 case is ; I was always of opinion with Sir William Cur- 
 tis, who hated the three R's in education, Reading, 
 Riting, and Rithmetic." 
 
 " There are no symptoms of your antipathy to read- 
 ing," answered Eleanor, looking with an air of pique at 
 Sir Alfred's book. '* I shall wiite a volume to-morrow, 
 if you will promise to sit dozing and mooning over it all 
 day, as you do often with that little volume which seems 
 to live in yom* pocket. I have the worst opinion of 
 books bound in white parchment ; they are all as old 
 and dry as a Herculaneum Manuscript. I only wish 
 they ^ere equally inaccessible." 
 
 " Then, pray. Miss Fitz-Patrick, if you were conde- 
 scending enough to undertake the regulation of my 
 studies, what would be prescribed ?" 
 
410 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 " A very light diet at first, to clear your brain from 
 the clouds of Greek and Latin, with which it is at pre- 
 sent darkened. But d-propos — that reminds me, Sir 
 Alfred, what a very untoward pupil you w^ere formerly. 
 I recollect once, at Douglas Priory, making you posi- 
 tively promise to read Lady Ashton's new novel, ' The 
 Marchioness,' and being actually so obliging as to find it 
 for you in the library. Afterwards, whenever we called 
 on Lady Amelia, I used to discover the first volume, with 
 your mark still in it ; and though I several times slipped 
 it a few pages backwards to teaze and puzzle you, I 
 question whether the trick was ever even suspected." 
 
 " That accounts for its having appeared so insuffer- 
 ably tedious The very recollection of that book puts me 
 to sleep. It was the only novel in fashionable life that 
 I ever travelled through ; and luckily for myself, I never 
 knew originals for any one of the characters. It was 
 full of false sentiment, bad morality, and ideas only fit 
 for milliners' apprentices." 
 
 "You forget. Sir Alfred, that I recommended the 
 work as an especial favourite ; but there is no improving 
 your taste." 
 
 " Very true ; it is an absolute waste of time to attempt 
 it. You may say. Miss Fitz-Patrick, as my old tutor 
 used to do, that I must be allowed to ' hang as I grow ;' 
 but perhaps Miss Howard will exercise her spelling in- 
 stead of me. It has been rumoured that her education, 
 like mine, was deficient on that score. As Dogberry 
 says, ' reading and writing come by nature.' " 
 
 Matilda had been almost unconsciously standing beside 
 Eleanor, with an air of graceful negligence, while she 
 listened to the preceding dialogue ; but her cousin con- 
 stantly shunned for the last three days having any inter- 
 course with her which could be decently avoided, she 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 411 
 
 therefore coloured and looked confused at being thus 
 unexpectedly brought into prominent notice. 
 
 '* Are you there, Matilda ?" said Eleanor in a tone of 
 marked indifference ; and, without adding another syl- 
 lable, she instantly busied herself with the alphabets, and 
 pushed towards Lord De Mainbury a confused mis 
 cellany of letters which ought to constitute the word 
 DISINTERESTED. His Lordship instantly assumed an 
 attitude of deep attention ; but though he sat for nearly 
 an hour, bestowing upon the subject his undivided ob- 
 servation, and such intense study as might have solved 
 a problem in mathematics, or revealed what is the square 
 of a circle, he never was able to ascertain the oracular 
 word with which Miss Fitz-Patrick had favoured him. 
 
 " I wish some fairy, as bright as yourself, would give 
 these a touch of her wand !" said he, looking com- 
 pletely bewildered. "But all their enchantments have 
 been stolen away by one fair lady who shall be name- 
 less." 
 
 Matilda thought she had never witnessed such an 
 outlay of time bringing in so small a return of enter- 
 tainment in proportion. She looked round to ascer- 
 tain what resources might be adopted by others of 
 the party. Lady Susan was rushing through the last 
 new novel. The Miss Montagues were exhibiting 
 their graceful figures in a game at battledore and shut- 
 tlecock in the entrance-hall, where frequent exclama- 
 tions of interest were made, evidently to attract notice. 
 Miss Marabout was in a lounging attitude on the 
 ottoman, near which she had drawn a large table, sur- 
 rounded by a wreath of the newest annuals, while she 
 tried with all her might to laugh at the one commonly 
 called "Comic!' Her seat commanded an excellent 
 view of two splendid mirrors, into which she stole hasty 
 
412 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY ; OlE, 
 
 glances whenever a smile had heen called up, because it 
 gave her an opportunity of studying expression, and of 
 seeing her teeth, which were still tolerable. Miss Char- 
 lotte Clifford, with an air of great importance, placed 
 herself at the pianoforte, and opened her small miniature 
 music-book, decorated with a gold lock, in which were 
 four " treasures" of songs. The words seemed much as 
 usual, and the air nothing particular, but still they were 
 new — not another young lady in the world had a copy — 
 and they could not be had ! So terrified was she for their 
 becoming common, that none of her friends might even 
 be allowed to turn the leaves over when she sung, from an 
 apprehension that the words might be stolen, and Mr. 
 Grant now made her adopt a redoubled degree of watch- 
 fulness. He had contrived, with great quickness, when 
 she was performing the day before, to pick up a verse, from 
 one which she particularly prized, and while Miss Clifford 
 was arranging a music-stool, he stood at the fire with his 
 newspaper, carelessly humming the words, and singing it 
 in such an audible key as to attract her immediate notice. 
 " Where did you get ' Tears and Smiles,' Mr. Grant ?" 
 exclaimed Miss Charlotte, in a voice of alarm. 
 
 " I really forget ; it's an old thing. Was it my groom 
 who sung it ? or the dairymaid ? — I can easily obtain a 
 copy for you, however, or write something else quite as 
 good. You know. Miss Clifford, it is a proverb, when 
 any thing is totally worthless, that it might be sold for 
 an old song." 
 
 Sir Richard strolled about the room, fretting and grum- 
 bling at the weather, while he prophesied that this heavy 
 snow-storm would stop the post for three weeks at least. 
 After having exhausted every advertisement and para- 
 graph in the Times and Morning Post, he turned to 
 his daughter, saying, " Eleanor, I once observed, in 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 413 
 
 some of the uninhabited bedrooms, newspapers dangling 
 in front of the grates, to keep off dust, but I beg you 
 will have them all carefully collected for me now. In 
 this remote corner it is necessary to husband our re- 
 sources of information and amusement." 
 
 " To the curious in newspapers ! Well, papa, your 
 idea is ingenious, and there are several well-lined trunks 
 up stairs, which shall be added to your store." 
 
 '^ Life is a poor affair at best, but quite unbearable in 
 the country without a billiard table ! We must order 
 one immediately, Eleanor. All the green meadows in 
 Inverness-shire are not equal to a smooth field of green 
 baize, fenced in with mahogany." 
 
 " Ask Alderby to stoop in a horizontal position — his 
 green coat is an acre in breadth, and with the pockets 
 would do admirably," whispered Mr. Grant to Eleanor. 
 *' We can easily provide cues, and make Sir Richard 
 happy at once, for his Lordship would do any thing to 
 oblige you." 
 
 " My windows mttled all last night like an old post- 
 chaise ! " pursued the Baronet, fretfully, *' and to-day, I 
 would literally have to be dug out of the snow, if we 
 ventured near the stable. The ministry may be changed 
 and restored again before our post arrives, and Parlia- 
 ment be dissolved sooner than the snow. Gentlemen, 
 would any of you like to have the shutters closed, and a 
 bowl of punch ? I wish, Fletcher, that Harlequin's 
 wand could transform your inkstand into one — the seal- 
 ing-wax might be metamorphosed into cigars also, and 
 day into night." 
 
 Matilda, seeing Sir Colin clear his throat for a long 
 story, determined on stealing off* to the solitary enjoy- 
 ment of her own numerous occupations, and was amused 
 as she left the room, to hear Lady Montague ask her 
 
414 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 daughters, in a tone of importance, whether they had 
 any message for a numerous constellation of peeresses, 
 whom she announced her intention of writing to that 
 day, while they returned the usual unsatisfactory an- 
 swer on such appeals being made, " nothing but our 
 kind remembrances " It often astonished Miss How- 
 ard to observe a rational being, whose whole thoughts 
 and actions were concentrated on one object so entirely 
 as those of Lady Montague. In her intercourse with 
 her own family, or with strangers, even with shopkeepers 
 and servants, the desire never was absent for a single 
 instant, to " keep up her own consequence !" To this 
 every domestic pleasure, every exercise of her affections, 
 and every amusement was made subservient. '' If I could 
 but acquire the same singleness of purpose in seeking 
 for higher attainments in holiness !" thought Matilda, 
 with a feeling of self-reproach, as she drew in a chair at 
 her own fireside, and thought over the whole scene she 
 had (^uitted with sentiments of surprise at that listless 
 ennui which most of the party had exhibited. '■ How 
 truly Dr. Murray observed, that nothing desirable can 
 be obtained without vigorous exertion, for I perceive 
 that even those who seek merely for amusement must 
 fail, if they pursue it indolently. The effort is the ac- 
 tual pleasure on all occasions. If a sportsman could be 
 supplied with as many brace of birds on the 12th of 
 August as he chose to name, where would be his enjoy- 
 ment ? If an author saw his books ready made to his 
 wish, what satisfaction would they give him ? I can ima- 
 gine myself placed suddenly in possession of every earthly 
 blessing that could be named, and if they be granted 
 without limit and without difficulty, they could confer 
 no happiness. Let the keenest collector of pictures be 
 told that he shall receive them in cart-loads whenever 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 415 
 
 he desires it — let the greatest miser be told that any 
 number of thousands he chooses to name shall be found 
 ready at his bank — or even those who follow the nobler 
 pursuit of fame, let it be supposed that every eye is 
 fastened on them when they pass, and every ear listens 
 entranced when they speak, still the certainty and the 
 abundance of all these gifts would render them disgust- 
 ing We must have suspense, uncertainty, and diffi- 
 culty, as a zest to success ; and, like Alexander the Great, 
 who gave away every worldly possession for the pleasure 
 of exertion, and the promises of hope, I think the Chris- 
 tian must feel that not only is hope the best part of 
 every temporal object, but the worthlessness of all pre- 
 sent possessions without it, is a strong emblem how 
 little we should gain if the whole world were our own, 
 without that hope which reaches beyond it, and can 
 never be fully realized here. There is an aching void in 
 every heart, until the love of God be implanted within, 
 and then every affection and desire has an ample field 
 for exercise. 
 
 Matilda resolutely detached her thoughts from any 
 subject of immediate interest which would have natu- 
 rally engrossed them ; she felt how true it is, that " en 
 songeant qiion doit ouhlier, en sen souvient ;" and being 
 accustomed to exercise a despotic government over her 
 own mind, she opened some of her favourite books, the 
 gifts of Lady Olivia, and became so completely absorbed 
 in the study, that it caused a start of surprise when the 
 gong sounded some hours afterwards for luncheon. When 
 Matilda hastened into the drawingroom, Miss Clifford 
 had reached her final cadence, Miss Marabout performed 
 her parting smile over the Comic Annual — the Miss 
 Montagues replaced the little ornamental purses which 
 they were working into small mother-of-pearl work- 
 
416 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 boxes, and the wliole party seemed reviving with the 
 prospect of at last finding something to do. Sir Alfred 
 stood at the window, discussing with Sir Richard and 
 Mr. Grant some arrangements for his election on the 
 following day, when Eleanor, who thought herself pri- 
 vileged to inten'upt any conference, joined the trio, 
 and exclaimed, looking out at the snow, which was now 
 falling in almost a solid mass, and undulating in grace- 
 ful wreaths along the park — " What a delightful day 
 this is. Sir Alfred!" 
 
 " Charming indeed ! — suppose we try a walk?" 
 
 " Agreed — 1 have the greatest mind to take you at 
 your w^ord " 
 
 " 1 shall certainly venture as far as the stables soon ; 
 so if you choose to come I can't help it." 
 
 " How very pressing ! It is impossible to resist such 
 importunity ; therefore my Esquimaux boots and ermine 
 pelisse shall be in requisition after luncheon." 
 
 " Before, if you please. My horse always expects me 
 precisely at three, and I would not disappoint Vesuvius 
 on any consideration." 
 
 " But luncheon has been already announced, and this 
 is the only time of day when I ever feel hungry," re- 
 plied Eleanor, who, according to the etiquette of young 
 ladies, professed always a ravenous appetite in the fore- 
 noon, and an utter incapacity of eating at all other 
 meals ; '^ I should die of exhaustion in an hour without 
 taking something to support nature." 
 
 " Then our engagement is broken off," replied Sir 
 Alfred, escaping towards the door ; " I am not a good 
 waiter." 
 
 " But_, stop a moment. You ought to remain, for 
 papa has ordered his favourite dish this morning — a pie 
 of singed sheep's head ! " 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 417 
 
 " Can you suppose. Miss Fitz-Patrick, that I would 
 remain in the house with such a thing !" replied he, af- 
 fecting a look of disgust, and accomplishing his retreat. 
 Sir Alfred was soon after seen proceeding from the 
 stables, where he scarcely stopped a moment, and walk- 
 ing rapidly over a neighbouring eminence, clothed in a 
 large Macintosh cloak, boots in which he might have 
 waded dry shod through the Spey, and his hat already 
 covered with a canopy of snow. 
 
 " Now, where can he be going ? " cried Eleanor ; 
 " Sir Alfred must have mistaken his way, for that road 
 lead.s only to Gowanbank, and one or two wretched little 
 cottages. I. shall certainly have my jest upon his visit- 
 ing acquaintances at Middenditch, and his leaving a 
 card for Mrs. Muckleraith." 
 
 *^ Well, Miss Howard," said Mr. Armstrong, ap- 
 proaching Matilda with an appearance of easy and 
 rather patronising familiarity, " it would be bad policy 
 to lose your ship for a pennyworth of tar. Have you 
 thought better of what I dropped lately ?" 
 
 " Not more than could be helped," replied she, dryly; 
 " I neither wish to consider nor to discuss a subject that 
 is without remedy." 
 
 " But there is a remedy in my power, if you make it 
 worth while to produce certain documents which might 
 be forthcoming." 
 
 " Mr. Armstrong I if it is not worth while to act 
 honourably for conscience sake, you shall have no infe- 
 rior inducement from me. A man who could suppress 
 papers which ought to have been produced, might also 
 be capable of counterfeiting them." 
 
 " You '11 repent of this. Miss Howard. I only wish 
 that it were possible to be revenged on Miss Fitz-Patrick 
 without serving you," said he angrily, leaving the room. 
 
418 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY I OR. 
 
 where he had been entirely unnoticed all morning either 
 by Eleanor or any of her visitors. 
 
 The day of Sir Alfred's election was at length ushered 
 in by such a continued snow-storm, that the gentlemen 
 had some difficulty in reaching the scene of action, and 
 Eleanor was unwillingly obliged to relinquish her hopes 
 of seeing the member chaired. Asa dinner was to be 
 given at the neighbouring town, whence Sir Richard and 
 his party were not expected home till late in the even- 
 ing, the ladies dined early, and dispersed to their rooms, 
 having agreed, by way of variety, to have good appetites^ 
 and to take a severe tea at ten o'clock, when their 
 friends from the hustings promised to attend also. 
 
 On Matilda coming down at the appointed hour, she 
 was surprised to find a brilliantly illuminated room, de- 
 corated with a profusion of blue ribbons and flowers, 
 while all the ladies were ornamented with the same 
 colour. Some of them wore scarfs, and others had large 
 conspicuous bows mingled with their hair, while each 
 carried an artificial bouquet of blue convolvolus and 
 forget-me-nots. Eleanor was radiant with animation, 
 pouring out the tea, and singing with great vivacity. 
 
 He promised to buy me a bunch of blue ribbons, 
 To tie up my bonnie brown hair. 
 
 " Ah, Matilda 1" said she, carelessly, "did I ifot tell 
 you our intention of doing honour to Sir Alfred by wear- 
 ing his colours ? But the omission scarcely signifies, 
 because you are sure at any rate to be in blue stockings." 
 
 '' No, Eleanor," replied Matilda, " I only wear that 
 colour in my eyes, which you do not." 
 
 " I see what you mean," cried the heiress, laughing ; 
 " Mr Grant was talking a great deal of his nonsense to 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 
 
 419 
 
 Sir .Mfred this morning about his choosing blue in com- 
 pliment to some fair lady, and, of course, you have since 
 been comparing ' les yeux bleus et fioirs,' to the no small 
 disadvantage of the last." 
 
 Nothing could be more rapturous than the congratu- 
 lations with which Sir Alfred and his friends were soon 
 after received, when they entered the room, announcing 
 complete success. The carriage-and-four had driven 
 up to the gate, covered with favours and surrounded by 
 outriders, most of whom were constituents from the 
 n^ghbourhood, who accompanied him to testify their 
 respect, and who now dispersed. Mr. Grant instantly 
 proceeded to give a picturesque and amusing description 
 of the whole scene, commemorating all the jests cracked, 
 and the glasses broken with amazing humour, while he 
 took off most effectively the oratory of several spokes- 
 men who had that day professed themselves, with every 
 appearance of veracity, " unaccustomed to public speak- 
 ing." Matilda forgot her own indignation at Eleanor's 
 malicious remarks and omissions, in the amusement with 
 which she now listened to Mr. Grant's lively sallieSj who 
 gave a diverting account of a deputation which he had 
 headed to the opposite party, on which embassy Colonel 
 Pendarvis mentioned that he had been forcibly de- 
 tained to enliven a very dull circle. On his return to 
 do duty for Sir Alfred, Sir Richard laughingly related 
 that an unaccountable omission having been made in the 
 list of toasts, where '^ the Croupier" was entirely omit- 
 ted, Mr. Grant got up, and after a long and appropriate 
 panegyric, proposed his own health, which had been 
 immediately drunk with enthusiasm. 
 
 It was universally whispered that Sir Alfred made an 
 appearance brilliant beyond example, but no one felt at 
 liberty to venture the remark within his own hearing. 
 
420 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 because every individual present knew his unaffected 
 desire to shun observation, and that pre-eminent as his 
 talents were when occasion offered for their exercise, 
 yet he chose to wear them almost constantly under a 
 domino in general society. Sir Alfred, however^ entered 
 into the humour of this evening with more liveliness 
 than he had ever before displayed^ and his dry, sarcastic 
 remarks^ and ready wit, formed an enlivening accompa- 
 niment to the diverting nonsense of Mr. Grant, and the 
 playful vivacity of Eleanor, who seemed inspired with 
 an extraordinary degree of amusing repartee for the 
 occasion. 
 
 Though the eyes of Sir Alfred were lighted up with 
 animation, yet Matilda could not but be conscious that 
 they softened into a look of interest whenever he ad- 
 dressed herself, and though his voice had now assumed 
 a new tone of vivacity, it became subdued into an ex- 
 pression of sensibility when he spoke to her. The sen- 
 sitive feelings of Matilda told her of an obvious change, 
 and that, for the first time, Sir Alfred adopted the same 
 manner before others which he had so long done when 
 they were alone. He no longer seemed desirous to 
 conceal the preference which had formerly been but 
 hinted. His first eager look when he entered the draw- 
 oing-room searched for Matilda, it was to her that he a 
 once advanced with frankness and animation to claim 
 her congratulations, and to her he now invariably turn- 
 ed with a desire to ascertain how she felt interested by 
 all that passed, while he looked with evident admiration 
 at the sparkling smile and dazzling colour which a se- 
 cret consciousness of his own attention called into her 
 countenance. 
 
 Eleanor at length proposed music, and played, by way 
 of commencement, the " Blue Bells of Scotland/' while 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT- 421 
 
 Matilda proceeded, as had been her usual custom lately, 
 to the library with Sir Richard, where with the door open 
 to catch a distant sound of the piano, he liked her to 
 read the Times and Standard, as she had long ago 
 insisted on supplying the place of his spectacles occa- 
 sionally, and he now preferred hearing her always to the 
 use of his own not very available eyes. On this occa- 
 sion, however, his niece had scarcely been seated, and 
 begun a few preliminary remarks of her own, when Sir 
 Richard looked restlessly round, and then started up, 
 saying, with a good-humoured laugh and an air of 
 exquisite enjoyment, 
 
 " Many thanks, ray dear girl, for your obliging 
 intentions, but we must be better employed to-night. 
 I have promised to relinquish my seat this evening, and 
 not to hear one word, because a friend of mine is impatient 
 to obtain an audience himself." 
 
 Matilda scarcely looked round before Sir Richard had 
 vanished, and Sir Alfred Douglas stood in his place. 
 There was agitation and embarrassment in his manner, 
 but yet the expression paramount in his countenance 
 seemed to be pleasure, which might be traced in his 
 heightened colour and animated smile, when he seated 
 himself beside Matilda, whose cheek became pale and 
 red alternately with surprise and agitation. 
 
 " You have not honoured me by wearing the true 
 blue, Miss Howard ! — It is most appropriate to my 
 own feelings at this moment, being the colour of hope, 
 and also of the uncertain sky," said Sir Alfred, looking 
 earnestly at Matilda. " Must I consider you as an 
 enemy ?" 
 
 " Oh impossible I that is to say, at least, — I — I was 
 not aware — no one told me it was customary — or — or 
 expected" 
 
422 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 " Miss Howard, T never read any novel yet which 
 could have held together for a single volume, if the par- 
 ties had only stated their grievances with ordinary can 
 dour, or if some trumpery secret had not been kept, 
 which ought to have been told ; allow me, therefore, to 
 mention, that Miss Fitz-Patrick herself suggested the 
 idea of sporting the blue cockade, or I should never have 
 presumed to ask it, and she even permitted me the ho- 
 nour of ordering from one of my principal constituents 
 in the borough, his whole assortment of scarfs and rib- 
 bons, which she assured me should be worn by all who 
 were friendly to my cause. The natural inference, there- 
 fore on this occasion might have been very unfavourable 
 to my hopes ; but yet, Miss Howard, I did not allow 
 myself to be discouraged. Was I wrong ? Would you 
 have refused to wear my colours had you known that the 
 greatest pleasure I looked for on returning has been to 
 see you in them V 
 
 Matilda hastily drew off her glove, and, with a mo- 
 dest smile, pointed to the turquoise ring which she 
 usually wore. 
 
 ^' That emblem is, indeed, sufficient," said Sir Alfred, 
 suddenly seizing the beautiful hand which she had un- 
 covered, and carrying it to his lips. '^ One small token 
 of good- will from Matilda Howard would be more dear 
 to me than that of all the world besides. Do not with- 
 draw this precious hand till you have promised to bestow 
 it upon me for ever." 
 
 Matilda started in astonishment, and gently drew 
 back, with involuntary confusion, at a declaration so 
 instantaneous, but no reply was necessary, for Sir Alfred 
 continued to speak with agitation and rapidity. " No 
 heart can conceive, Miss Howard, with what impatience 
 this moment has been longed for, when I might at last 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 423 
 
 divulge my whole feelings^, and ask if they are returned. 
 Sir Francis knew my secret long since, but I had been 
 surprised into a promise that for one year these hopes 
 should be hid from yourself. My fortune was ample, 
 but the wealth of Croesus can scarcely satisfy a parent's 
 ambition. Mine saw only one external difference between 
 you and your cousin — she imagined it possible I might 
 change I She did not know that there is nothing tran- 
 sient or capricious in my attachment, which principle 
 and inclination have rooted with a depth and firmness 
 never to be altered. Aware that this election must 
 bring me into your cousin's society here, my mother 
 made it her last request that the contest should be 
 finished before my heart became known to you. Could I 
 refuse ? She meant it in kindness, yet who could conceive 
 the difficulty it entailed on me ! I did not even foresee it 
 myself ! The apprehension never entered my thoughts, 
 that we might be in the same house, — that I should see 
 you continually, an object of admiration to others — that 
 I should be obliged to veil my own heart, and pursue an 
 equivocal line of conduct, and that with the perpetual 
 fear of being misinterpreted, I should still be obliged to 
 keep silence. But such silence as mine could scarcely 
 be mistaken for insensibility," added Sir Alfred, with a 
 Conscious smile. " I can scarcely claim the merit of 
 having preserved it, — you must have understood me. 
 You must have seen that from the very first day we met, 
 my honour was pledged, — that time had not effaced the 
 impression you once made on my heart, and that absence 
 could not diminish it. Let me hope, since I was not 
 then repulsed, you will listen to me favourably now. I 
 do not ask you to speak. I see you cannot ; but my 
 desire is to be allowed an opportunity, — an early oppor- 
 tunity to plead my own cause, — to explain myself more 
 
424 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY I OR, 
 
 fully^ — to tell you that my utmost endeavour in life 
 would be to merit your affection." 
 
 Sir Alfred paused a single moment, and then added 
 in a voice of persuasive eloquence — '' Yet, Matilda, if 
 you could but grant one word or look, to assure me that 
 I have not loved in vain, — that every cherished hope of 
 my heart shall be realized, — that you consent to double 
 all the joys of my future life, and to share in all its sor- 
 rows, let the suspense of months be terminated now, — 
 let hope be changed into certainty, and promise that you 
 will at least endeavour to love me, — that you will one 
 day consent to become mine for ever," 
 
 Matilda looked up for a moment, and words could not 
 express more tenderness and ingenuous modesty than did 
 her young and lovely countenance. With all her natu- 
 ral frankness she placed her hand in Sir Alfred's, and 
 covered her eyes, overpowered with agitation, while 
 she hung her averted head, and tears coursed each 
 other down her cheeks. Sir Alfred clasped Matilda's 
 hand in his own, and there was deep and solemn emotion 
 mingled with the tenderness of his manner, for language 
 would have been feeble compared with the eloquence of 
 silence. He kept the hand which had now become his 
 own, while a pause of some moments ensued ; and he 
 had the delicacy and consideration not even to look at 
 Matilda, while both knew that their feelings were 
 mutually understood. A union of confidence and affec- 
 tion was now established between them, more than that 
 of friendship or love, which time could never dissolve, 
 and which death itself might suspend, but not finally 
 terminate. 
 
 " What are you two about here ?" exclaimed Eleanor, 
 hastening unexpectedly into the library, while Matilda, 
 at the same moment darted off in an opposite direction. 
 
THE MARCH OP INTELLECT. 
 
 425 
 
 " Sir Alfred, I am come to secure your first frank as a 
 trophy, which my correspondent shall return immediate- 
 ly, that it may he framed and hung up in the library, or 
 form the commencement to a splendid collection of au- 
 tographs." 
 
 *^ You shall have all the other nine, Miss Fitz-Pa- 
 trick, but my first frank is previously engaged to go on 
 an embassy of great importance," replied Sir Alfred, 
 rising, while he endeavoured to conceal, by a rallying 
 tone, his own extreme emotion. " Having claimed the 
 kind congratulations of our friends this evening already, 
 I cannot deny myself the pleasure of saying. Miss Fitz- 
 Patrick, that, before long, it is my fervent hope and 
 expectation to receive as many good wishes on an occa- 
 sion of still greater importance, in which the happiness 
 of my life has long been involved." 
 
 Eleanor gazed at Sir Alfred with surprise, and ob- 
 serving how much he seemed agitated, she coloured, and 
 looked down with an air of expectation, not entirely 
 devoid of embarrassment. 
 
 " You must have been long since aware of my ardent 
 attachment," continued Sir Alfred, hurriedly. " It has 
 been obvious to others less interested. Sir Richard 
 mentioned the subject to me this morning, when I was 
 happy enough to obtain his concurrence." 
 
 '* Rather premature," said Eleanor, blushing. 
 
 " My friend Grant also discovered my sentiments 
 long since, and therefore I cannot but wonder that they 
 should have entirely escaped your notice, because it 
 appeared as if every moment must have betrayed me to 
 such penetration as Miss Fitz-Patrick's. All necessity 
 for concealment, however, is now at an end, and it is 
 with pride and pleasure I announce that your cousin 
 
426 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 has this moment pledged her affections to me. Need I 
 say that not a wish of my heart remains ungratified ?" 
 
 For an instant Eleanor turned pale as death. Her 
 lips became compressed, her eyes fixed and dilated, her 
 whole countenance seemed to undergo a momentary con- 
 vulsion. She passed her hand over her face, and re- 
 mained silent. At length pride restored her presence 
 of mind, and making a strong effort of self-command, 
 she turned to Sir Alfred with her usual company- smile, 
 saying, in a slow measured voice, " I wish you both all 
 the happiness that this world can give to any one, but 
 that, I fear, is not much." 
 
 " We expect more — far more," replied he, with an 
 expression in which joy seemed to be chastened for the 
 moment by serious reflection ; " who would not pity 
 any man for gaining the whole world, if he could be 
 satisfied with that ! No, Miss Fitz-Patrick, let us hope 
 that you and I, and my own Matilda, have a better por- 
 tion in view than any earthly blessing can supply." 
 
 Eleanor looked at Sir Alfred with surprise. She had 
 sometimes before seen reason to suspect his religious 
 principles to be deep and influential, but her conjectures 
 were carelessly considered, until now when fully con- 
 firmed. After Eleanor that evening found shelter in 
 the solitude of her own dressing-room, a pang shot 
 through her mind as she recalled these words of Sir 
 Alfred, and compared what she had once been herself 
 in principle and feeling, contrasted with what she was 
 now. 
 
 The early impressions of childhood, so long extin- 
 guished, were for an instant revived, while, breathing a 
 deep sigh of humiliation and regret, she retraced the 
 past. Many a thought, which had slumbered unheeded 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 427 
 
 in Eleanor's mind for years, now forced itself into re- 
 membrance, and wrung her heart in solitary anguish. 
 Religion actually appeared in a new light, when she 
 saw it viewed and acknowledged as the first object in 
 existence by a person of such distinguished considera- 
 tion as Sir Alfred, for it is singular what powerful effect 
 is produced by personally meeting any one highly gifted, 
 and yet under the influence of Divine truth. Eleanor 
 always knew, like every one else, that the greatest as 
 well as the best of men had been Christians — that Mil- 
 ton the first of poets, Newton the chief of philosophers, 
 Addison the most elegant of moral writers, Johnson 
 the profoundest of scholars, Bacon the most learned of 
 statesmen, and a thousand other illustrious names, de- 
 rived their greatest eminence and their only happiness 
 from the profession of a deep and holy veneration for 
 Christianity ; but it was new to her when she beheld 
 one, who possessed every thing in life to render it attrac- 
 tive, and whom she had been accustomed to see the ob- 
 ject of universal admiration and respect, considering the 
 whole as an idle dream, except inasmuch as he was 
 preparing to leave those fleeting objects, and to awake 
 in eternity. 
 
 Miss Fitz-Patrick hastily tore out the camelias from 
 amidst her clustering curls, and sat for hours before a 
 dressing-table, with her fingers passed through her hair, 
 and her eyes and throbbing forehead pressed upon her 
 hands, while her mind strayed in a wild wilderness of 
 tumultuous emotions ; but still, as she tried to collect her 
 scattered faculties, the young heiress could not but re- 
 collect with what incredulity she once listened to the 
 heartfelt opinion of Lady Olivia, that, even in this life 
 people are happy, whatever their circumstances may be, 
 exactly in proportion as their thoughts are devoted to 
 
428 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 God. Those affectionate admonitions of her first and 
 kindest friend had long been overlooked ; and while she 
 thought with bitter regret of them, she also remembered 
 her subsequent treatment of Matilda with keen self- 
 reproach. Memory seemed to have become an enemy 
 which would do nothing but upbraid her, while for a 
 moment she became conscious that had such ingratitude 
 and unkindness been foretold in former years, her ex- 
 clamation would have been like that of Hazael, '^ Is thy 
 servant a dog ?" Her thoughts reached back into the 
 long vista of past days, when nature, feeling, and prin- 
 ciple all combined with the exercise of natural affection 
 to render her happy, and to lead her on in a course of 
 devotion and peace. Eleanor's heart was smitten by the 
 contrast, and a crushing sense of misery weighed down 
 her spirit. The rich gifts of fortune appeared now in 
 their native insignificance compared with those of na- 
 ture ; for friendship, affection, peace, contentment, and 
 cheerfulness, seemed all to have been sacrificed in a mere 
 delirium of vanity, while she felt what a mirage of the 
 desert had misled her. ^' Oh I that it were with me as 
 in the days that are past !" thought she, bitterly ; " but 
 more easily might I gather the scattered leaves of this 
 fallen flower, and restore them to life and beauty, than 
 hope to become the same simple, unsophisticated girl I 
 once was. Nature intended me for better things, and 
 Providence blessed me with peculiar advantages, but all 
 is madly thrown away, and I will not — for I dare not — 
 reflect, or attempt to retrace my steps." 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 
 
 429 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Hearts are not flint, yet flint is rent. 
 Hearts are not steel, yet steel is bent. 
 
 Next morning, before breakfast, Matilda entered 
 Eleanor's room, and, with all her usual tact and delicacy, 
 announced her own happy prospects, as if they had in- 
 deed been like sisters, and that it formed a subject of 
 mutual interest and confidence between them. Not a 
 trace seemed to remain in her memory that her cousin 
 had mistaken the nature of Sir Alfred's intentions, nor 
 did she seem to entertain a suspicion that any thing 
 coifld arise but sympathy and good wishes from the friend 
 of her childhood. Miss Fitz-Patrick was melted and 
 overcome by her cousin's considerate kindness ; but pride 
 still prevailed, and rather than show any emotion liable 
 to be mistaken for regret or disappointment, she answer- 
 ed, during the few moments that Matilda remained, 
 with coldness and constraint, which rendered it a mu- 
 tual relief when the interview was terminated. 
 
 Miss Howard started with surprise to discover, during 
 breakfast, how universally Sir Alfred had announced the 
 news of their engagement, for the usual reserve of his 
 character had apparently vanished, while Sir Richard 
 was evidently rehearsing all the sly allusions, hints, and 
 inuendoes which abound on such occasions. It seemed 
 
430 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 on this day as if the whole party had changed charac- 
 ters. Eleanor was pensive and silent, her spirits were 
 evidently forced, and a slight nervous quiver of thelip gave 
 evidence of internal agitation. Mr. Grant seemed also 
 grave, and glanced occasionally at Eleanor's countenance 
 with an expression almost amounting to pity^ so fully 
 had he been impressed with the idea that Miss Fitz- 
 Patrick was secretly attached to his friend. There 
 appeared a degree of empressement in his attentions 
 now, beyond what he ever testified formerly, but yet 
 Eleanor became thoroughly conscious, that these cares 
 were for her sake entirely, not for his own — that the 
 cloud which agitated his spirits was one in which she 
 had no share, and that, while anxiously desirous to pro- 
 mote her happiness, his feelings were no longer depend- 
 ent on her caprice. It seemed to Eleanor as if every 
 thing in life had been transformed around her, and 
 when, after breakfast. Sir Alfred led Matilda into the 
 library, she hastily retreated to her own room, and in 
 solitary retirement gave vent to every bitter emotion 
 which was at war within her breast, where not a single 
 source of comfort presented itself, to which she might 
 turn for relief, in brooding over past events and pre- 
 sent circumstances. It would have been difficult for 
 any one, and impossible for Eleanor, to analyze her 
 complicated sensations ; but there arose an intense and 
 prevaihng sense of wretchedness in her mind, while 
 silently weeping such tears as are seldom shed but once. 
 For a moment she acknowledged that Matilda merited 
 happiness, while she was herself unfit to be the chosen 
 companion of one so singularly gifted as Sir Alfred, and 
 Eleanor felt humbled by the contrast of her own mind 
 and heart with her cousin's. Yet, while conviction 
 struggled for the mastery over envy and mortified 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 431 
 
 pride, there rankled a feeling deeper than all, which 
 pierced to the inmost recesses of her spirit, when the 
 belief became inevitable that Mr. Grant also had learned 
 to view her with indifference. It always hitherto ap- 
 peared certain to her imagination, that at some time or 
 other there would be a necessity for choosing between 
 Sir Alfred and her former lover, whom she fancied that 
 no circumstances could alienate. Though grander fea- 
 tures of character in the one had dazzled and almost 
 captivated Eleanor for a time, yet in all the supposi- 
 tious scenes with which she frequently beguiled an idle 
 hour, it invariably happened that the preference was 
 given to Mr Grant. She generally caused him to suffer 
 agonies of imaginary suspense, and made the concession 
 of accepting him an obligation which could never be 
 sufficiently appreciated ; but still an interview had been 
 so frequently rehearsed, and arranged on her own 
 pattern, that it seemed incredible to think it might not 
 perhaps take place in actual reality. If any thing 
 more trying than another could have been added to 
 present mortification, it was the consciousness of Matilda 
 being preferred ; and in remembering her own ungene- 
 rous conduct to her cousin, she thought of it all with 
 shame and contrition, while the very possibility of mak- 
 ing any acknowledgment or reparation seemed now out 
 of the question. 
 
 Eleanor's mind was thus tortured by vain regrets and 
 temporary remorse, when these painful ruminations were 
 interrupted by the announcement that Dr. Murray had 
 called, requesting to see her immediately, and alone. 
 Any thing seemed to promise relief from the wretched 
 state of her present thoughts, and she desired that he 
 should be ushered into her own boudoir, where they had 
 occasionally met already on parish business. 
 
432 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 There appeared an unwonted expression of melan- 
 choly gravity in the eye of Dr. Murray as he entered 
 Eleanor's presence, and his step was lingering and slow, 
 as if unwilling to hasten the time when he must speak. 
 Having observed, after a friendly greeting on both sides, 
 that Miss Fitz-Patrick seemed unusually languid and 
 pale, he took her by the hand with a look of benevolent 
 interest, saying he feared she had suffered materially 
 from her recent perilous adventure on the ice. 
 
 '^ Oh, dear no ! It was scarcely worth mentioning. 
 I might be in danger for a few minutes, but with so 
 many friends near, and such prompt assistance, there 
 could be little cause for serious apprehension." 
 
 '^ Miss Fitz Patrick !" replied he, still preserving a 
 look of unwonted seriousness, " the issues of life and of 
 death are in the hands of Him by whose providential 
 care you were then preserved. Had that alarming ac- 
 cident been foreseen, without its merciful conclusion also 
 becoming know^n, think how fervent would have been 
 your prayers for that safety which now seems a matter 
 of course. It is seldom that our thankfulness, after any 
 interposition of this kind, bears a due proportion to the 
 anxiety which we previously felt ; but as the servant of 
 Him to whom you owe every hour of existence, and the 
 many blessings which render it precious, I should claim 
 and expect to see the most heartfelt gratitude. There 
 is much to make life enticing to you. Miss Fitz-Patrick, 
 but there is yet more to make death alarming, when we 
 consider how readily you acknowledge that the rich 
 bounties of Providence have only served to estrange you 
 from the Giver. I could have wished, I had almost 
 believed that, when snatched, as it were, from the bor- 
 ders of the grave, you might have considered seriously 
 that important purpose for which a new lease of life had 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 433 
 
 been granted. Of that, however, let us speak hereafter ; 
 but the business on which I come this morning calls for 
 urgent haste. You are aware, Miss Fitz- Patrick, that 
 the unfortunate young girl who was a short time in your 
 service is now no more" 
 
 " Dead ?" interrupted she, turning pale, and sinking 
 into a seat. " Surely, Dr. Murray, you cannot mean to 
 say she is actually dead ?" 
 
 The venerable clergyman mournfully shook his head, 
 while Eleanor sat for a moment transfixed with amaze- 
 ment, and then, burying her face on the arm of the sofa, 
 she remained silent during several minutes. 
 
 " She is supposed to have drowned herself some days 
 ago,*' added Dr. Murray, in a subdued voice, and with 
 evident emotion. " We may trust that the poor girl 
 was not a responsible being at that time, for there is 
 unquestionable evidence of her mind having been in a 
 state of frightful delirium, brought on by distress. It 
 is deeply to be deplored that more caution was not used 
 before her being abandoned to such extreme suffering ; 
 and, on the part of Nanny's aged mother, who seems now 
 at the point of death, I come to you, Miss Fitz-Patrick, 
 this morning. The only remaining wish of old Janet's 
 heart is, that her daughter's character may be cleared 
 before she expires. The poor woman clings to her be- 
 lief of Nanny's innocence, but she wishes to die in the 
 knowledge of it. Her last request then is, that you will 
 now investigate those accusations against her child, in 
 the hope that I may return, before her eyes are closed 
 for ever, with the consoling assurance that all is done 
 that can be done to clear the memory of her departed 
 daughter from infamy." 
 
 " Dr. Murray," said Eleanor, rising, and speaking with 
 great effort, " it appears to me this morning, as if, in 
 
 u 
 
434 MODERN SOCIETY ; OB, 
 
 the language of David, I might say, < My sins have 
 found me out !' Never till this moment did I duly re- 
 flect upon my conduct to that girl — but novr — I see it 
 as you see it. I dare not take time to consider that, 
 nor any one of the thousand things which are crowding 
 into my mind. To you, Dr. Murray, who would not 
 speak with confidence ? I shall do so hereafter, when 
 you will be benevolently interested for one who little 
 deserves it from you, or from any person. Of all the 
 tortures it would be possible to endure, I believe the 
 greatest might be, to read over my past life as it was, 
 and to be told by my own heart and conscience what it 
 ought to have been — to see the unnecessary perplexities 
 I have plunged into — the friends I have alienated — the 
 unknown miseries I have occasioned — and the opportu- 
 nities of doing good that I have missed. Oh ! Dr. Mur- 
 ray, I cannot but think, when in a future world all this 
 is revealed to us at once, how the very best will stand 
 speechless and amazed. Through infinite mercy it is 
 never too late for repentance here, and certainly it can 
 never be too soon. I shall at least show one proof of 
 readiness to make any reparation in my power to the 
 unfortunate mother. Poor Nanny ! she is beyond the 
 reach of all that compunction and sorrow could suggest; 
 but I shall accompany you to Gowanbank myself Mean- 
 while this is no time to speak, for I must act. Let us 
 consult my father what immediate steps shall be taken." 
 Eleanor instantly rung the bell, and sent a message 
 for Sir Richard; but on being informed that he had gone 
 out, she requested to see Mr. Grant, whom, as a justice 
 of the peace, she at onc6 resolved to consult. No sooner 
 did he obey her summons, than with perfect candour, 
 and no extenuation, she hastily recapitulated every cir- 
 cumstance relating to Nanny, taking upon herself the 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 
 
 435 
 
 ■wliole blame, and ending by an earnest entreaty to both 
 gentlemen, that whatever plan occurred for immediate 
 investigation, might be instantly put in action. A hectic 
 spot burned on Eleanor's cheek, while the rest of her 
 countenance remained pale as marble — there was the 
 hurry and rapidity of nervous excitement in her manner 
 — her lips were strongly compressed to conceal emotion, 
 and her eye spoke a language of grief and anxiety so 
 unknown there before, that Mr. Grant felt surprised and 
 affected to observe so sudden a change. 
 
 Dr. Murray first suggested that Mrs. Gordon might be 
 desired to assemble the servants, which was done without 
 delay in the library, where they had on a former occa- 
 sion been summoned to family prayers, and therefore 
 all attended without hesitation or uneasiness. ^ Eleanor 
 then hastened into the drawingroom, and passing by 
 Miss Marabout in silence, she advanced to her cousin, 
 who was standing at a window with Sir Alfred, and, un- 
 able to speak, she took Miss Howard by the hand and 
 made a sign for her to follow ; Matilda asked no question, 
 she did not even express by a look the astonishment 
 which it was impossible notsto feel at observing Elcanor^s 
 agitated manner, but assuming an external appearance 
 of composure, she took her cousin affectionately by the 
 arm, and accompanied her in silence to the library, where 
 they sat down together in an obscure corner, while she 
 looked round with wonder and apprehension to ascertain 
 the cause of Eleanor's distress. 
 
 Dr. ]\Iumiy then approached to where the servants 
 were placed, and passing his mild benevolent eye along 
 the line in which they stood, he fixed it with penetra- 
 ting earnestness on Pauline, and a solemn pause ensued. 
 It now became evident to all, that they were assembled 
 on no ordinary occasion, while the increasing agitation 
 
436 MODERN SOCIETY ; ORy 
 
 of Eleanor, and a look of grave and anxious interest on 
 the countenance of Mr. Grantj confirmed their conjec- 
 tures, and caused a general impression of awe. 
 
 '' I am come, my friends/' said Dr. Murray, *' with a 
 message to you all from the chamber of death. A fel- 
 low-creature, now laid in the last agonies of expiring 
 nature, whom each of us has known, asks for one last 
 gleam of earthly comfort from you. Age and infirmity, 
 sickness and grief, are doing their worst upon her, and 
 yet I w^ould rather at this moment take her place than 
 be the person who would willingly cause such affliction, 
 and who would withhold consolation. AH the sorrows 
 of life, and all the sufferings of death, are as nothing 
 compared with remorse ; and if repentance be delayed 
 for a few hours it may come too late. That young and 
 blooming girl who so lately stood amongst you is now 
 no more. In desperation and sorrow she has hurried to 
 that awful tribunal where we shall speedily meet ; and 
 I would ask, whether in that hour, when the secrets of 
 all hearts shall be laid open, none of you will see cause 
 to lament having occasioned the wretchedness which has 
 ended thus fatally. If it be so, you must either repent 
 of it in this world, or repent throughout a hopeless eter- 
 nity. Nanny is beyond the reach either of malice or kind- 
 ness—our very prayers can no longer avail her — and the 
 place that once knew her shall know her no more. Yet 
 the brokenhearted mother seeks for peace, and would 
 find it, were she only assured that her child never became 
 the guilty criminal which has been said — that she did 
 not forget the principles of her early days, and that be- 
 fore she lost her reason, she was incapable of flagrantly 
 violating conscience. That her heart had been allured 
 into vanity — that her mind was unstable, and that her 
 last act is one which every Christian must shudder to 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 437 
 
 contemplate, the dying woman feels ready to acknow- 
 ledge ; yet she cherishes a hope that you might excul- 
 pate this poor girl's memory from any more aggravated 
 crime. Is there one amongst you, then, who will say 
 whether the most trifling circumstance can be mentioned 
 which might give peace to her expiring parent ? If you 
 are moved by the thought of a mother's agony — if you 
 are touched by the remembrance of her young and lovely 
 daughter, brought at once to shame, insanity, and death 
 — I solemnly adjure you to confess whether private 
 malice, or personal guilt, induced you to blast the good 
 name of this unfortunate girl, or whether you believe 
 any one else to have done so falsely ?" 
 
 Silence reigned throughout the room for some mi- 
 nutes, while every eye instinctively turned on Paulina ; 
 but though she trembled and became pale at the men- 
 tion of Nanny's death, it seemed evident that nothing 
 which had been said reached her feelings. Unable to 
 look any person in the face, she stole a furtive glance 
 around, and fixing her eyes on vacancy, preserved an 
 impenetrable obduracy of appearance. 
 
 " If confession were made now," continued Dr. Mur- 
 ray, " we might deal leniently with those who gave 
 such voluntary evidence of repentance — but when legal 
 measures are once resorted to, as they shall be, we owe 
 it to public justice, that the law, in all its terrors, be 
 fully enforced. Many articles of value belonging to 
 Miss Fitz- Patrick are still amissing. Mr. Grant is ready 
 to give a warrant that the house shall be searched — and 
 before a single individual leaves this room it must be 
 done. Let me now appeal to each person separately, 
 whether any thing can be remembered or confessed, to 
 bring out the real truth," 
 
 Dr. Murray then began with Mrs. Gordon, and went 
 
438 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 regularly along the lire^, patiently and perseyeringly 
 asking every individual what might be remembered 
 which bore upon the subject in question, and whether, 
 as far as her knowledge extended, she believed Nanny 
 to have been guilty of stealing the articles in question, 
 or not. 
 
 ' ' Pauline !" said he, solemnly, when her turn came, 
 while his eye seemed to read her very thoughts, " you, 
 who ought to know most on this subject, say nothing ! 
 Tell me truly, and you shall never have reason to regret 
 the confession, — was Nanny falsely accused ?" 
 
 With a strong effort Pauline looked up, but her eye 
 fell beneath his penetrating gaze, her voice quivered 
 inaudibly, and, in an instant more, she fainted. Mea- 
 sures were immediately taken for her restoration, while 
 Dr. Murray proceeded with his inquiries. One of the 
 housemaids had twice seen Pauline, late at night, near 
 a flower-stand, where some of the missing ornaments 
 were afterwards discovered; while at that untimely hour, 
 she professed to have been sent by Miss Fitz- Patrick 
 to cut the geraniums. Sir Richard's valet, with many 
 expressions of contrition for having maliciously concealed 
 the circumstance so long, acknowledged that he had met 
 her dressed in the shawl which Nanny was accused of 
 wearing on that evening ; and another maid produced a 
 skeleton key which had been found on the floor of the 
 lady's-maid's room, a short time previously, and it tal- 
 lied exactly with that of Sir Richard's cabinet. Still, 
 on recovering, Pauline strenuously denied all know- 
 ledge of the robbery, and even smiled when the threat 
 was repeated of having a strict search immediately in- 
 stituted. Not a doubt could remain on the mind of any 
 one present that she was guilty, but Matilda almost 
 despaired of the truth being elicited at this time ; and 
 
THE MARCH OP INTELLECT. 439 
 
 Eleanor covered her face wdth her hands in agonized 
 conviction of her maid's criminality, and yet completely 
 at a loss how to proceed. Dr. Murray himself paused, 
 in silent perplexity, when Mr. Grant unexpectedly walk- 
 ed forward, assuming in his countenance an expression 
 of tremendous import. 
 
 " Pauline I" he said, with grave severity, " I am a 
 magistrate of this county. If immediate confession is 
 not made where those jewels are concealed, I shall make 
 you disgorge your ill-gotten gains, like a leech on a 
 plate of salt." 
 
 This oration, so suited to the capacity of his audience, 
 had an instant and powerful effect. The guilty woman 
 rushed for protection to Mrs. Gordon, who sternly threw 
 her off with angry reproaches, hoping she might be in- 
 stantly consigned to justice. Alarmed and overcome, 
 she then requested that some person would accompany 
 her to an old tool-house in the garden, where, beneath 
 several sacks of seeds, appeared a small box, containing 
 not only all the trinkets which were missing, but a 
 quantity of money in silver. Pauline afterwards fully 
 confessed the perfect innocence of Nanny, and her own 
 criminality, declaring that her first irresistible induce- 
 ment to steal, originated from Miss Fitz-Patrick's care- 
 lessness, who left money frequently loose in her dress- 
 ing-box, or carried it in a reticule, to which any one 
 could have constant access. 
 
 No sooner was Eleanor convinced of Nanny's inno- 
 cence, than she insisted on accompanying Dr. Murray and 
 Mr. Grant to Gowanbank. It seemed a relief to act 
 rather than to think; and, leaning on Matilda, she walked 
 there in silent meditation. No sooner did Miss Fitz- 
 Patrick reach the cottage, than without losing a moment, 
 or in the slightest degree palliating her own conduct. 
 
440 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR 
 
 she shortly and hurriedly related to Martha, and to the 
 aged sufferer herself, all that had passed, earnestly and 
 repeatedly assuring them that Nanny's character seemed 
 fully exculpated now in the eyes of every one. Matilda 
 felt alarmed to observe the convulsive workings of old 
 Janet's countenance while she listened, and the death- 
 like hue of her cheek ; but Eleanor, invariably the crea- 
 ture of impulse, could not be stopped, until, having 
 reached the conclusion of all that could be said, she sat 
 down by the bedside and burst into tears. 
 
 " Now, Janet," added she, in a faltering voice, 
 *' Nanny can never grant me pardon in this world, — but 
 will you ? — I have caused her death, — I have hastened 
 yours, — and embittered the remainder of my own days, 
 — but still, as a Christian, forgive me, — pray for me, — 
 ask that I may receive such mercy as I never showed, 
 that my whole heart may be changed, until I abhor my- 
 self, even more than I do now. Speak without delay, 
 and give me the only consolation which a 'remembrance 
 of this hour can ever afford." 
 
 The old woman feebly moved her hands, and a prayer 
 trembled on her lips, which seemed to be one of thank- 
 fulness and praise. 
 
 " All is peace !" she said, in a voice of calm resig- 
 nation — " My sight has failed, — my strength is fast de- 
 parting, — and my voice will soon be heard no more ; but 
 I would speak comfort to you w^hile breath remains. 
 There are no distinctions now, — worldly honours, and 
 worldly afflictions accompany us to the borders of eter- 
 nity, but they leave us there. O think. Miss Fitz- 
 Patrick, when this hour shall come, will all the enjoy- 
 ments of life prepare you to meet it, as sorrow has pre- 
 pared me ? — Then do not regret that my cup of trial 
 has been full, — nor that an event like this makes you 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 441 
 
 pause to reflect. What are we all so busy and anxious 
 about ? — This is the end of all I" 
 
 Janet now raised herself on the bed, and held out her 
 hand, apparently intending to give Eleanor her blessing, 
 when a deep sob stopped her utterance, she shuddered, 
 and suddenly her jaw stiffened, her eyes fixed, and in the 
 very act of supplication she expired. 
 
 When it became evident that all was over, Mr. Grant 
 led Eleanor, overpowered by the shock, into another 
 room, where, after some time, Dr. Murray followed, leav- 
 ing Martha and William to pay the last duties. Ever 
 ready to take an opportunity of impressing on his 
 people how short a passage this life is to eternity. Dr. 
 Murray proposed, before leaving Gowanbank, that they 
 should all unite in prayer; and seeing that Eleanor's 
 conscience needed not now to be awakened, he carefully 
 avoided whatever might be peculiarly painful to her feel- 
 ings. It was his rule in addressing the hearts of others, 
 never so much as to remember what were their indivi- 
 dual offences, but to set before all men alike the guilt 
 and danger of every human soul, as well as the absolute 
 necessity of repentance, faith, and sanctification. On 
 this occasion his prayer and address were deeply affect- 
 ing, so that Eleanor, unable to speak, took the arm of Mr^ 
 Grant, and left the cottage in melancholy silence. Ob- 
 serving when they reached home the setting sun shed- 
 ding its refulgence on distant clouds, and hill tops, she 
 paused, and for the first time addressed her companion. 
 
 " On such an evening as this, Mr. Grant, my mother 
 died ; and it would have been well for myself and others 
 if I had not survived ! There was sorrow then, but it 
 was without a sting of self-reproach. She departed in 
 the blessed hope of rising again, and pointed to that glo- 
 rious sun as the daily memorial of our death and resur- 
 
442 
 
 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 rection. Many a day it has shone brightly on me since ; 
 but you know and have seen, what a change it has wit- 
 nessed on me, and that, forgetful of every serious thought, 
 I have lived for the present hour as if this were my eter- 
 nal home. I could wish, even now, that my sun had set 
 like that old woman's, with the same certainty of rising 
 again in glory." 
 
 During that evening Matilda kept close beside Elea- 
 nor, and vainly tried to engage her in conversation, for 
 she answered absently and indifferently, though with 
 none of the harshness or sarcasm of manner which had 
 appeared there formerly. A cloud seemed to have come 
 over all the party, most of whom were to disperse next 
 morning, and Miss Fitz-Patrick rose at last, with un- 
 disguised satisfaction, when she found it was time to 
 retire. Unwilling to dwell on all the painful subjects 
 which assailed her mind, and having never been accus- 
 tomed to hold serious communion with herself, she dis- 
 missed her maid, and hurried to bed, eagerly seeking for 
 that repose which might bring temporary oblivion from 
 self-reproach ; but sleep was denied to her agitated 
 nerves. 
 
 After having tossed in feverish restlessness during se- 
 veral hours, Miss Fitz-Patrick struck her repeater, for the 
 twentieth time, and found that it was three o'clock. 
 The smouldering ashes were expiring in the grate, and 
 a dim rushlight feebly sent its checkered shadows 
 around — all was still and silent as the grave, when 
 Eleanor's attention became suddenly and fearfully at- 
 tracted towards the door of a distant closet. It seemed 
 to be slowly opening, and a tall, female figure appeared 
 there. Emerging from the obscurity, she noiselessly 
 approached towards the fire, where, silently stooping 
 over its dying embers, she extended her fingers above 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 443 
 
 them, as if for warmth, while her hair fell in large, 
 dishevelled masses upon her face and shoulders. Petri- 
 fied with horror and amazement, Eleanor seemed neither 
 to move nor breathe, but became stiffened with fear. 
 Half-raised on her elbow, and transfixed to the spot, 
 her eyes were fastened on the strange apparition with 
 more than mortal apprehension. It seemed to Eleanor's 
 alarmed imagination as if a lifetime elapsed while she 
 gazed with awe at this mysterious and motionless figure. 
 Unable to endure suspense any longer, she at length, by 
 a powerful effort of resolution, stretched out her hand 
 to the bell, and rung it with almost frantic violence. 
 Instantly a fearful shriek arose, while the object of her 
 terror sprung forward towards the bed, and, bursting 
 into a wild hysterical laugh, she fell on her knees 
 before Eleanor, who recognised, with astonishment and 
 dismay, the haggard countenance of Nanny. 
 
 When, in reply to a loud and repeated summons from 
 Miss Fitz-Patrick's bell, several servants rushed into 
 the room, they found her stretched on the bed in a 
 fainting fit, while, fixed and motionless as a corpse by 
 her side, stood the unfortunate maniac, her hands 
 clasped, her eyes glazed, and her features sharpened 
 with suffering. How she had stolen into the house, 
 or where she had subsisted during the period of her 
 disappearance, could never be afterwards discovered, 
 but her wasted figure and emaciated countenance bore 
 melancholy testimony how greatly she had endured. 
 
 Nanny was instantly removed, and medical attendance 
 summoned, while Matilda devoted herself to the care of 
 her cousin, whose feverish pulse and agitated appearance 
 were such as to cause extreme solicitude. Miss Fitz- 
 Patrick lay for several hours with her eyes half-closed, 
 and every effort to soothe or restore her seemed vain. 
 
444 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR^ 
 
 She sighed often and deeply without speaking, and only 
 once turned feehlj to Matilda, and took her hy the 
 hand, •whispering, in accents of emotion, " Let us he 
 thankful that, at least, she is not dead !" Miss Howard 
 pressed her hand, and kissed her clieck, in token of 
 sympathy, hut she again relapsed into painful, and evi- 
 dently affecting rumination. 
 
 On the following day. Miss Mun*ay, who had heard 
 of Nanny's unexpected restoration, arrived at Barnard 
 Castle, and ohtained leave for her being immediately 
 conveyed to Gaelfield, where, under careful superintend- 
 ence, she entertained a sanguine hope of bringing her 
 hack to composure and recollection. Mean time, Elea- 
 nor requested to see Miss Murray, and a long conversa- 
 tion ensued. Miss Fitz-Patrick then felt the influence 
 of a mind which, though feeble in itself, had been 
 strengthened by Divine teaching, and by Christian 
 consistency. She wondered to think that her aged 
 companion could have ever appeared otherwise than 
 venerable, and deserving of the highest respect, while 
 she listened to her clear views of Gospel truth, and to 
 her gentle, admonitory hints for the future. Her heart 
 seemed to be melted with sorrow and remorse, which 
 were expressed with a degree of freedom and candour, 
 which could not have been shown to any one less expe- 
 rienced, or less indulgent, and Miss Fitz-Patrick found 
 relief from having any friend to whom her mind might 
 be so unreservedly opened. 
 
 At length Eleanor suddenly announced an intention 
 of rising to join her friends in the drawing-room, though 
 every imaginable persuasion was used to prevent her 
 She seemed actuated by some powerful influence, and 
 merely said, in answer to Matilda's entreaties, " I shall 
 exert for to-day — many of our visitors are to leave this 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 445 
 
 house — and after that nothing will remain for me in 
 the world that is worth a thought. I may then reap 
 all the misery that I have sown, and even you must 
 allow it is deserved." 
 
 There w^as fever in Eleanor's eye, and hectic on her 
 cheek, when she appeared, and it seemed vain to attempt 
 any disguise of the deep despondency which weighed on 
 her spirits. She neither eat nor spoke during luncheon, 
 while her visitors seemed at a loss how to act. Lady 
 Montague and her daughters were now about to take 
 their final departure, and Mrs ClijBford had an engage- 
 ment to be absent for some days. Sir Richard, mean 
 time, stood at the fire in vehement altercation with 
 Colonel Pendarvis, on discovering that his britchska 
 had arrived at the door to carry off himself and Major 
 Foley. Their leave of absence was within a week of 
 being out, but still the hospitable Baronet tried to drive 
 a hard bargain for that additional period, gradually 
 letting down his demand on their time, like a Dutch 
 auction, till he promised at last to be satisfied with one 
 day more ; but even that was denied him. Eleanor seem- 
 ed scarcely conscious of what passed, but the gallant 
 Colonel had offered her, on the previous evening, to 
 settle at Barnard Castle for life, and findinoj that the 
 proposal was not duly appreciated by the heiress, he 
 could not remain another hour. For a somewhat simi- 
 lar reason, Lord Alderby also eluded Sir Richard's 
 vigilance, and, feeling exceedingly ill-treated, left Bar- 
 nard castle during the previous day, without assigning 
 any reason, or even taking leave, which gave the Baro- 
 net a shrew^d suspicion of what had occurred, and 
 extended that conjecture throughout the minds of all 
 who observed his Lordship's sudden exit. 
 
 Mr. Grant stood at a window alone, Avatching the 
 
446 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 process of packing Colonel Pendarvis's carriage, and 
 humming the tune of " Go where glory waits thee," 
 when Eleanor rose from table and joined him. 
 
 " I understand," she said, " that you also leave us 
 to-day I and my father mentions, Mr. Grant, that you 
 have some idea of returning to the continent !" 
 
 " Yes ! I intend exploring Greece once more, and 
 
 getting up a little sublime melancholy there, after the 
 
 pattern of Lord Byron. 
 
 'Dejected, sad, and lone, and blighted, 
 More than this I scarce can die !' 
 
 <' It is well, Mr. Grant, when you can jest upon grief, 
 for then it must be lighter than mine. I have lately 
 caused such suffering as it makes me tremble to con- 
 template, and whatever be my own share now, is deserved. 
 I cannot, however, take leave of one who has so long 
 
 continued my my friend, without saying, that if 
 
 ever we meet again, such a change will have taken 
 place as all who knew me lately, and could yet continue 
 to feel any interest in me, must have desired." 
 
 '' Let me candidly acknowledge. Miss Fitz -Patrick, 
 that in some respects I have thought you spoiled by pros- 
 perity, but when our cup is full it is very apt to intoxi- 
 cate the strongest head. I dare not even answer for my 
 own, if Sir Evan were to give me a step. Concerning 
 the alteration you threaten us with, why, long before 
 my return you will probably, like all young ladies, have 
 changed your situation for better or for worse ; there- 
 fore, as an old and very sincere friend, my fervent 
 hope is, that whoever may be happy enough to obtain 
 the preference, shall prove himself deserving of you — 
 not on account of his rank, his wealth, or his property, 
 but for his disinterested attachment to yourself." 
 
 '' No, Mr. Grant, that can never be now," replied 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 447 
 
 Eleanor, in a tone of deep emotion, which it was impos- 
 sible to misunderstand. " I long since alienated the 
 only person on earth who might have answered your 
 description, or who could have ever been truly preferred. 
 While I live, no other shall supply that place." 
 
 Before Mr. Grant could answer, or look round, Elea- 
 nor vanished, and, while he was yet retracing with 
 surprise the few words she had said, and the undisguised 
 agitation with which she had spoken, Sir Richard im- 
 patiently beckoned him to join in an excursion to the 
 stable. There, for the fiftieth time, an elaborate dis- 
 cussion ensued upon martingales and patent bridles, 
 fast trotting and leaping, spavins and broken knees. 
 
 *' I'll tell you what it is, Grant !" cried the Baronet, 
 seeing his companion's eye vacantly fixed for several 
 minutes on a dead wall opposite, '* you are calculating 
 the height of that fence, but Mad Tom could clear it 
 perfectly I As for your own chesnut, Harum Scarum, 
 he would go over with his legs tied ! and I'd lay a bet 
 that any bullock in my park could do the same. For 
 a standing leap, we might back one of those clumsy 
 animals against the most thoroughbred hunter in your 
 stud." 
 
 It is wonderful how ignorant people remain of what is 
 really passing in the minds of their associates. Sir 
 Richard concluded a long interview with Mr. Grant, and 
 set out for his ride of some hours, perfectly satisfied that 
 his companion's whole heart had been in their recent 
 discussion, while the other slowly and thoughtfully re- 
 turned towards Barnard Castle, to prepare for immediate 
 departure. 
 
 Mean time Eleanor re-entered the drawingroom, 
 having, by a great effort, rallied her spirits sufficiently 
 to bid adieu to her departing guests. She was convers- 
 
448 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 ing witli Miss Charlotte Clifford on Mr. Grant's en- 
 trance, and though the colour rushed into her face, and 
 receded as instantly again when he approached, she 
 resolutely conquered all external agitation, and affected 
 a tone of extraordinary vivacity. 
 
 *' Really those incessant leave-takings are too much 
 for human nature," said she, forcing a laugh. " Poor 
 Sir Colin's last farewell nearly overset "ine. His old 
 story about Sir Evan telling his guests that visitors 
 are like fish, good the first day, tolerable the second, and 
 not to be endured the third ; which served as the pre- 
 face to an elaborate apology for having paid so long a 
 visitation here, while I was evidently expected to answer, 
 as of course I did, that he had been the life of the com- 
 pany !" 
 
 " Fletcher's existence at home must be very strange," 
 observed Mr. Grant. *' I never yet called at his house 
 without being shown into the drawingroora, where he 
 is to be found seated on a chair, with his back to the 
 window, his arms folded, his legs crossed, and not a 
 thing to see or to do. Not a book, nor an inkstand, nor 
 a newspaper — neither dog, cat, nor bird, to enliven 
 solitude." 
 
 "His thoughts must be less intolerable to himself 
 than those of some people I know," replied Eleanor, 
 mournfully ; " but, after all, such a life reminds one of a 
 wild beast in a menagerie, more than of a rational 
 being, who has talents and affections to exercise. It is 
 wonderful to what a level men sometimes degrade 
 themselves, not merely to animal, but actually to vege- 
 table life." 
 
 '^ Yet in society no one is more sociably inclined than 
 Sir Colin, which causes one to wonder the more how he 
 makes it out alone !' said Mr. Grant. " Every thing 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 449 
 
 that passes through his mind must be spoken to the 
 first listener, for he has no power of mental reflection. 
 If he has met an acquaintance, or mislaid a letter, or 
 been annoyed with his valet, or traced a figure in the 
 clouds, or a face in the fire, it must all be communi- 
 cated at our club to the nearest person. One of Sir 
 Colin's most unbearable inflictions, however, remains to 
 be noticed. AVhen any person, on whose good-nature 
 he can entirely depend, happens to be particularly 
 busy, perhaps scribbling some troublesome letter of con- 
 dolence or congratulation, or reading a book of more 
 than ordinary interest, his great delight is, on these oc- 
 casions, to plant himself close by, newspaper in hand, 
 while he intrudes little paragraphs on their notice per- 
 petually. I watched Miss Howard suflfering under the 
 infliction this morning, in passing through the library, 
 and it might have made an owl die of laughing. She 
 seemed writing against time to catch the post — we all 
 know that her letters are not of everyday interest, and 
 she had evidently secured a swarm of franks from Sir 
 Alfred, who was writing also. Sir Colin began with call- 
 ing your cousin's attention to an alarming fire in a gas 
 manufactory, where happily no lives w^ere lost — then 
 followed the particulars of an unfortunate climbing-boy 
 sticking in a chimney, and of an Irish murder, with all 
 the usual circumstances, — he next proceeded to several 
 advertising panegyrics upon new books, and was in full 
 career through the prospectus of a Newcastle railway, 
 when Martin paraded in with the post-bag for letters. 
 I observed Miss Howard hurriedly seal the only cover 
 she had time to fill, while Sir Alfred quietly stole away 
 the remaining franks, altered their dates for to-morrow, 
 and silently replaced them. Nothing could be more bril' 
 
450 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 liant than your cousin's smile of surprise, when she 
 found the covers all transformed so unexpectedly." 
 
 It was a strong proof of Eleanor's being greatly 
 changed, that she neither seemed piqued nor displeased 
 at the termination of Mr. Grant's narrative, but spoke 
 of Sir Alfred's engagement to Matilda with an appear- 
 ance of such real satisfaction, that it became obvious how 
 mistaken any conjecture must have been which supposed 
 that she had been herself attached to him. Lady Mon- 
 tague and Mrs. Clifford now successively bid her fare- 
 well, but as the hour of Mr. Grant's intended departure 
 approached, Eleanor's countenance became paler, while 
 she still kept up the farce of remarkable vivacity. 
 
 '' Quite a small select party I" cried she, entering 
 the library with Mr. Grant, to join Sir Alfred and Ma- 
 tilda. " We are reduced now to a mere whist party ! — 
 If ever a dummy is wanted, I shall be sure of Mr. Arm- 
 strong, who seems as stationary by our fireside as the 
 fender, and fully more inanimate. We hear often in 
 Scotland of a self-contained house, but he is the only in- 
 stance I know of a self-contained man ! It is astonishing, 
 that in the inventory of fixtures belonging to this house, 
 he was omitted ! I often wonder what brought Mr. Arm- 
 strong here, and still more, whether any thing will ever 
 take him away !" 
 
 " A chaise and pair shall this very night," said the 
 gentleman in question, emerging from the deep embra- 
 sure of a window, in which he had been reading ; '^ but. 
 Miss Fitz- Patrick, it will be one of the darkest days in 
 your life when I leave this house." 
 
 " Then I shall have little reason to lament a want of 
 sunshine," replied Eleanor, sarcastically. *^' Mr. Arm- 
 strong, you have been in the habit of using expressions 
 towards me lately which are entirely unwaiTantable — 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 451 
 
 As the friend of Sir Philip, and as my father's guest, 
 I regret that you should have heard remarks which it 
 would give me pleasure to recall, but not on account of 
 any threat or insinuation of your own, because nothing 
 you say or do can be of the slightest importance to me." 
 
 « No ! — indeed ! !" cried Mr. Armstrong, ironically ; 
 and then changing his tone to one of intolerable anger, 
 he added, grinding his clenched teeth together, "per- 
 haps. Miss Fitz- Patrick, I could alter your opinion 
 upon that subject. Possibly you may not be a fixture 
 here very long yourself I" 
 
 Eleanor eyed him with a look of cold incredulity and 
 contempt, then sitting down to the harp, she carelessly 
 sung a few bars of Rode's variations, apparently for- 
 getting the very existence of her infuriated guest. Mr. 
 Armstrong looked at her for some moments with rising 
 fury. Suddenly wheeling round, he then darted out of 
 the room, and as quickly returned, carrying a large 
 packet in his hand. 
 
 "There!" cried he, hurling it on the table with 
 frightful vehemence, '^ You will have it so, and you de- 
 serve it ! My brother was your uncle's agent, employed 
 to draw up that will. He did so only two months before 
 Sir Philip died, and it was written in order to cut you 
 off. Miss Fitz-Patrick. Your satirical wit had not even 
 spared him, and he found it out. That deed was dic- 
 tated in a whirlwind of passion. Sir Philip forgot to 
 insert those legacies to friends which he certainly intend- 
 ed, and which were recorded in his previous settlement. 
 My brother produced only that will which was to bene- 
 fit himself and me. On returning from the Continent, 
 I was unwilling to stain his memory by revealing this. 
 It seemed probable, also, that Miss Howard, who now 
 succeeds to every thing, would have engaged to compeu- 
 
452 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 state my own losses in doing so, but she played her cards 
 better. And now. Miss Fitz-Patrick !" added Mr. 
 Armstrong, with a look of bitter vengeance, which 
 seemed an ample repayment for the disgrace of his pre- 
 vious confession, " I know from Miss Marabout all you 
 have said of me. She, too, abhors your satirical temper, 
 and suffers from it. I told her that an ample revenge 
 was in my power. Are you satisfied that it is so ? — read 
 that, and say whether I can do nothing of importance to 
 you ?" 
 
 ''Silence, Mr. Armstrong I" said Sir Alfred, rising 
 wqth an air of authority, w^hile lightning flashed in 
 his eye. " This must not be ! — you are in no state of 
 mind to address Miss Fitz-Patrick ! — leave the room 
 instantly !" 
 
 Saying these words, he calmly proceeded towards the 
 door with an air of commanding dignity, and throwing 
 it open, made a signal for Mr. Armstrong to depart. 
 
 " Give me my papers then," cried the enraged man, 
 rising, however, to obey a mandate which he saw it 
 would be impossible to resist ; " I must take back that 
 packet !" 
 
 " No !" replied Eleanor, with a look of stern resolution, 
 ''these papers belong to me. Come what may from 
 them, justice shall be done, and it is not in your option 
 now, Mr. Armstrong, either to bestow or to withhold it. 
 There are witnesses enough here to my having retained 
 this packet ; and, Mr. Grant, I consign it to you, re- 
 questing instantly, and without a moment's delay, to be 
 apprised of its nature and contents." 
 
 " Surely not now. Miss Fitz-Patrick ? wait till Sir 
 Richard returns. Let your father's agent communicate 
 with this person. It is no fit business, apparently, for us 
 to enter on." 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 453 
 
 " I never could endure suspense/' answered Eleanor, 
 with a slight hysterical laugh, as Sir Alfred closed the 
 door on Mr. Armstrong. " When once resolved to un- 
 dergo any thing, if it were the amputation of a limb, 
 every moment seems an age till it is done." 
 
 '' Miss Fitz -Patrick," said Sir Alfred, preparing to 
 leave the room, " let me advise you to postpone all in- 
 vestigation at present. Be not rash or imprudent ; you 
 have a parent and guardians to act for you, and in all 
 probability this may turn out to be some malicious fa- 
 brication to serve the purposes of immediate revenge." 
 
 <^ No, Sir Alfred, I fear it is not. On various occa- 
 sions hints and innuendoes have been dropped by Mr. 
 Armstrong, which lead me to suppose that he fully 
 believes his own statement. Neither my father nor I 
 could understand his meaning, but now it has become 
 plain enough. Let me entreat you to remain." 
 
 " Not if you intend to proceed without Sir Richard's 
 presence. It is due to him, as your father and guardian, 
 to be apprised of the circumstance before those seals are 
 broken. I need scarcely remind your cousin, too, that 
 as a party whose interests are apparently involved in 
 this business, she would do better not hastily to enter 
 upon it." 
 
 Miss Fitz-Patrick answered only with a gesture of 
 impatience, and eagerly tore the envelope asunder, while 
 Sir Alfred withdrew, accompanied by Matilda, as she 
 felt the propriety and delicacy of his suggestion, though 
 sympathy for Eleanor would have otherwise induced her 
 to remain. 
 
 '^ Mr. Grant," said the heiress, unfolding an enormous 
 sheet of parchment, formally drawn up, and methodically 
 sealed with several signatures crowded at the bottom of 
 every page, *^ what am I to think of this ? " 
 
454 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR9 
 
 ^^ Do not ask me, Miss Fitz- Patrick," he replied, 
 looking away with an expression of grave regret. 
 
 " It would have been well for me, Mr. Grant, and you 
 know it, if I had never succeeded to this property," said 
 Eleanor, mournfully. " No one can ever imagine all 
 that it has cost me ! my peace of mind, the affection 
 of those who loved me most, and every better disposition 
 that I once possessed* Can you fear, then, to say that I 
 must lose it ? The wretched girl Nanny, who is now 
 perhaps dying, scarcely felt more misery than I do, 
 for she was free from self-reproach — but when I look at 
 her — when I see Matilda, and — and — think of others 
 who have loved me, whom I might have made happy, 
 and who are deservedly estranged, I do feel reckless of 
 any future evil, and it almost appears as if I wished to 
 see justice dealt upon myself. Perhaps when sorrow 
 and humiliation are heaped upon me, I may merit them 
 less by bearing them aright. What can any external 
 privation be now, when I can say, from the agonizing 
 experience of my own inward feelings, ' a wounded spirit 
 who can bear ! ' You saw the old woman expire with 
 words of forgiveness on her lips, but could I forgive my- 
 self? You watched her daughter delirious with grief 
 and shame, and while my senses remain can I forget 
 it ? You observe every day, every hour, my generous 
 cousin's considerate attention, but does not that only 
 heap coals of fire on my head ? These are sorrows I — 
 yet those which strike the deepest can never be told to 
 any earthly friend ! Time, talents, opportunities lost ! 
 — all the impressions of my early days ! — all the better 
 hopes that might have cheered me now ! It seems 
 strange, Mr. Grant, why this should be said to you, but 
 old friendship may justify confidence, and my feelings 
 could never be either concealed or controlled. If there 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 
 
 455 
 
 were a Protestant nunnery in this country, my state of 
 mind would fit me to enter it now, and abjure the world 
 for ever." 
 
 " Miss Fitz-Patrick ! " said Mr. Grant, looking up, 
 from a state of profound reflection, " I have heard your 
 sentiments with the deepest emotion, and let me trust 
 that, in return, you will listen to mine. "We have 
 known each other from the time, when as a lovely and 
 playful child, you appeared to my youthful fancy like a 
 bright vision of almost celestial beauty. I have con- 
 templated your gradual progress with rising interest, 
 though often, I will acknowledge, of late with feelings 
 of regret. Who would not have lamented the destroying 
 influence of flattery and indulgence on such talents and 
 dispositions as have seldom been equalled ? It is impos- 
 sible to say, Miss Fitz-Patrick, when I first began to love 
 you. It was my misfortune to do so then, with a degree 
 of ardour and enthusiasm which made your very faults be- 
 come dear to me. You know all. You know that though 
 my attachment had never been declared, it was deep 
 and strong as any earthly feeling has ever been. Your 
 sudden acquisition of wealth raised for the time a barrier 
 between us, because, young and inexperienced as you 
 were, I would not take advantage of our previous inti- 
 macy to establish any claim upon your affection. What 
 my sufi^erings were in departing, no heart need attempt 
 to conceive, for that would be impossible ! — where honour 
 and principle are at stake, they must be preserved, 
 though life itself be the sacrifice I I returned, Miss 
 Fitz-Patrick, and found you, as might have been feared, 
 the spoiled child of fortune, whom, as you then were, I 
 could view with indiff*erence. My spirit is proud and 
 independent. I would not be obliged even to you. Miss 
 Howard was ill-treated, and it appeared unquestionable 
 
456 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 that the heart which could be so ungenerous to such a 
 friend might be equally so to a lover. It is impossible 
 for me to know whether, under any circumstances, I 
 could have ever become acceptable to you. I do not 
 even ask the question now, for what has been said is 
 premature ; but were that change to happen w^hich may 
 render others indifferent, it might revive jnany feelings 
 of former days. The chief source of your altered dis- 
 position will then be removed — the barrier which first 
 divided us would fall — and then, Eleanor Fitz-Patrick, 
 I would ask to hear my fate. — As we are at present, I 
 know it already." 
 
 He was about to withdraw, and had reached the 
 door, when Eleanor, in a scarcely audible voice, called 
 him back. 
 
 " Mr. Grant!" she said, colouring deeply, and ex- 
 tending her hand towards him, '^ I would rejoice in the 
 loss of every earthly possession if it restored your affec- 
 tion to what it was." 
 
 " Be mine, then, Eleanor ! " said he, suddenly clasp- 
 ing her in his arms ; " and come what may, we shall 
 be happy." 
 
 Mean time Matilda had proceeded with Sir Alfred 
 to the enjoyment of a walk by the river side ; and as 
 nothing increases the power of pleasing so much as a 
 consciousness of success, her conversation never before 
 appeared so richly embellished with the rare fascination 
 of deep feeling, united to right principle, while she 
 spoke, without effort or disguise, every passing senti- 
 ment of her mind. 
 
 " Matilda ! " said Sir Alfred, after many mutual 
 anticipations of happiness, " I have purchased lately a 
 small addition to my property near Douglas-Priory, to 
 which it is my impatient desire that you shall accom- 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 457 
 
 pany me soon. Try if it he possible to guess where I 
 thought you could be most easily induced to go ?" 
 
 " Can you mean Ashgrove ?" exclaimed Matilda, 
 colouring with eagerness and animation. '' Oh ! what 
 happiness I" added she, observing the smile with which 
 Sir Alfred betrayed that her conjecture was right. 
 " My utmost wishes are indeed fulfilled, and that place 
 will be doubly dear to me now, as a remembrance of 
 your considerate attention." 
 
 "Let us hope that I shall always be able to read 
 your wishes, and to anticipate them as successfully. I 
 know your love for Ashgrove so well, Matilda, that if I 
 had brought a bottle of water from the rivulet that 
 dashes past the windows, or even picked the mud off 
 my chariot wheels there, you would have preserved it as 
 a relic." 
 
 " Yes ! our earliest associations are always delightful I 
 I have travelled in many lovely scenes since the happy 
 days that I passed there, but at Ashgrove and Douglas 
 Priory such remembrances are connected with every 
 shrub, and every tree, that, in my thoughts, the sun is 
 brighter, the air is purer, and the birds sing more sweetly 
 amidst those woods than elsewhere. In the words of 
 your own favourite song — 
 
 ' The last rays of feeling and life must depart, 
 
 Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.' " 
 
 " It pleases me to think, Matilda, that we shall visit 
 together the early home where all those amiable quali- 
 ties were first implanted, which shall form the happiness 
 of my future life. This world has much to give us now, — 
 it may have much to take away hereafter, but we shall 
 not forget under any circumstances to prepare for a hap- 
 
 X 
 
458 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 pier state, where friendship and affection, founded like 
 ours, shall at last become perfect in its nature, and un- 
 ending in its duration." 
 
 " The desire of my heart is, Sir Alfred, to be indeed 
 all that you think me, and all that you can continue to 
 love ; but after having so long accustomed myself to 
 banish you from my thoughts, how strange it seems that 
 what was always so difficulty and sometimes impossible, 
 is no longer necessary." 
 
 *^ And yet, Matilda, with every pleasure of life there 
 comes a duty ; and for my own part, I now feel that in 
 the purest and holiest affections of our nature, there may 
 be a danger of excess. It seems, as if in every future 
 hour even sorrow itself might be banished by your pre- 
 lEence ; for I need scarcely say that my attachments 
 diverge into few channels, and are all the deeper where 
 they flow; but while mutual confidence and love are 
 strengthened by the lapse of years, let it still be our care 
 to live not only for each other, but for the best interests 
 of all around us, and-for the glory of Him to whom our 
 whole hearts belong." 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 459 
 
 CHAPTEK XXIII. 
 
 Yet ev'ry sorrow cuts a cord, 
 And urges us to rise. 
 
 " Sudden joys, like griefs, confound at first." Thus 
 it appeared in the experience of Matilda, while seated 
 at the window of her own room, in agitated and pleasing 
 meditation respecting the happy prospects which had 
 suddenly brightened on her path ; for still she had that 
 feeling always attendant on great and unexpected events, 
 that they can scarcely be real. It softens the blighting 
 anguish of recent sorrow when our hearts refuse to cre- 
 dit what our senses have too surely announced, — and it 
 moderates the first intoxication of pleasure when the 
 fulfilment of hope seems yet but ^ dream of fancy. It 
 is long before even happiness itself can make us happy ; 
 but for the first time Matilda now felt at liberty to think, 
 to hope, and to feel as her heart directed, while the 
 expectation of present happiness was sanctified and 
 enhanced by many serious anticipations of duties and 
 trials, in which she should no longer have to act or to 
 sufier alone, and of the mutual confidence and sympathy 
 with which she might hereafter hope to give and to 
 receive encouragement in the difficult and dangerous 
 struggle of Christian attainment. The remembrance of 
 her probable succession scarcely crossed Matilda's mind; 
 for nothing seemed worth a thought connected with 
 worldly objects, but the consciousness of Sir Alfred's 
 attachment, and the recollection of all he had said during 
 
460 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 their recent interview^ "vvhile he traced out the origin and 
 progress of his affection, shewing how justly he all along 
 appreciated her motives of action^ and how thoroughly 
 his preference had been founded on principle, and con- 
 firmed by perfect esteem, added to youthful enthusiasm. 
 
 Matilda's mind was yet agitated by emotions unlike 
 the glassy smoothness and tranquillity of its ordinary 
 state, when her attention became slightly attracted by a 
 gentle tap at the door. Before she could speak it was 
 slowly opened, and Matilda, looking hastily round, be- 
 held Eleanor standing near the threshold. Her cheek 
 was pale, her eyes were downcast, her whole counte- 
 nance convulsed, and while her lips quivered with a vain 
 attempt to speak, it was evident that she had not voice 
 to articulate the words which died away inaudibly on 
 her lips. Matilda rushed forward and threw her arms 
 round her cousin, embracing Eleanor with the most fer- 
 vent and heartfelt expressions of affection and endear- 
 ment, while tears fell thick and fast from the eyes of 
 both. 
 
 " Matilda I" sobbed Eleanor, " I repulsed your affec- 
 tion, and insulted your feelings, while you were in my 
 power ; and now, when it can never be repaired — when 
 it should have been your turn to retaliate, I come for 
 pardon. Will you believe that my repentance is sincere ? 
 Can you forget the past, and love me as formerly ? I 
 know your generous mind, and that you will neither say 
 a word, nor think a thought, that could hurt my feel- 
 ings. Oh, Matilda \" added she, burying her face on 
 her cousin's shoulder, and weeping without control, 
 " say that you forgive m6 — that you do not suppose the 
 discovery of this day causes my distress — that all your 
 injuries are buiied in oblivion — that, for the sake of our 
 early attachment, and of the departed friend who blessed 
 
THE MAIICH OP INTELLECT. 461 
 
 US both, you will believe my repentance, though late, to 
 be sincere. Our situations are changed — let me learn 
 from your kindness a continual lesson how I ought to 
 have treated you — let me humbly endeavour to acquire 
 the same spirit with which you bore every trial, and let 
 our future lives teach me in what way I might have 
 better deserved your friendship." 
 
 Eleanor spoke with such rapidity and vehemence 
 that all Matilda's attempts at interruption were vain, 
 but she still riveted her arms round her cousin, and 
 wept like herself. 
 
 " Dear — dear Eleanor/' said she, warmly, '^ if there 
 are any trifles in our past intercourse, which either of 
 us might wish to forget, we must think and speak of 
 them no more." 
 
 " You may forget — but I never shall I — oh no, I^fa- 
 tilda ! let me remember them for ever I Any bitterness 
 which may be mingled hereafter in my cup of sorrow, 
 must be received with an humble remembrance that I 
 was tried by prosperity, and that it would have corrupt- 
 ed and destroyed me." 
 
 " Indeed, dear Eleanor, this is a dangerous test to us 
 all ! and while we mourn for the insignificant oversights 
 which may occur in an earthly friendship, how deeply 
 should we both lament to think of our Omnipotent bene- 
 factor and friend, who has loaded us with so many bene- 
 fits, and whom we are still so prone to forget. Towards 
 Him only, dearest Eleanor, you can never overestimate 
 the penitence that we owe." 
 
 " True, Matilda I and all has been done as you wish. 
 I made confession to God before another thought was 
 permitted to dwell in my mind, praying that He would 
 grant me that true, deep, and influential repentance 
 which shall never need to be repented of Once already 
 
462 MODEKN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 I experienced the deceitfulness of my own heart when 
 my mother died ; and a few tears of penitence seemed 
 then an undoubted evidence of conversion, — even yet, 
 Matilda, can I hope that, though pierced to the heart 
 with a consciousness of sin, better feelings will arise ? 
 Alas ! perhaps the weeds may be rooted out, and only 
 a blank remain." 
 
 "Eleanor I we were both often taught that every soul 
 which shall be saved is twice created, — first with the 
 love of this world supremely governing our hearts, while 
 it produces an aversion to every devout feeling, — and 
 afterwards the Holy Spirit changes all this into peni- 
 tence, belief, and obedience. We might wonder some- 
 times at the wide devastation of sorrow in every house 
 and in every heart, were it not evident that affliction is 
 the most ordinary means by which grace is ordained to 
 sanctify nature. Moses entered a cloud before he was 
 permitted near access id God. David confesses that 
 before he was afflicted he went astray ; the prodigal son 
 would have lived always estranged from Iiis father's house 
 but for sorrow ; and as Elijah was carried to heaven in 
 a chariot of fire, it seems generally some fiery trial by 
 which our hearts are first elevated above this world, I 
 remember hearing of a good divine who said on his death- 
 bed, that he never attained to perfect peace until he felt 
 thoroughly convinced that there was ' no happiness for 
 him in this world.' While building upon any mere 
 worldly foundation, we do but build upon a wave ; how 
 thankful then should we be for any chastisement that 
 shows its real instability I" 
 
 ^' Yes, Matilda I it is the privilege of established 
 Christians to know for certain, that all the gifts bestowed 
 upon them are a blessing sent from God ; and all that 
 are taken away are likewise an advantage, for they are 
 
THE MARCH OP INTELLECT. 463 
 
 given or withheld by Infinite goodness, as well as Infi- 
 nitfe wisdom. 
 
 ' Who sees not Providence supremely wise, 
 Alike in what he gives, and what denies ?' 
 
 Now, Matilda, tell me, for the time is fitting, what was 
 that message from our beloved aunt which you once so 
 affectionately importuned me to hear ? She first taught 
 us, that God's mercies do not flow most on the shallow, 
 sparkling channel of prosperity, and how truly it has 
 been so with me ! I did experience yesterday that pro- 
 digious capabihty of wretchedness which lives within 
 the corrupted heart of man, while seeking rest, and 
 finding none ; but now the iron band which chained my 
 better feelings appears to have suddenly burst, the 
 cloud has passed from my eyes, and, by the shock of 
 many events which have crowded on me, I seem at once 
 restored and in my right mind !" 
 
 " Then, indeed, the prayer of Aunt Olivia is an- 
 swered and you are happy, Eleanor!" said Matilda, 
 again embracing her cousin. " How often we are en- 
 joined to * watch and pray I' but those who pray and 
 watch for the answer, cannot long continue to doubt how 
 greatly the intercessions of the righteous prevail. We 
 are both living evidences that the effect of his people's 
 supplication is not limited to their own individual hap- 
 piness, nor to the term of their lives, but that, in the 
 experience of devout Christians, that promise shall be 
 realized, — ' I will bless you, and ye shall be a blessing.' 
 Above all things, Eleanor, we must persevere in prayer, 
 which is so essential and so powerful an assistance in 
 life, that it was truly remarked, — * We cannot possibly 
 both continue to pray and continue to sin.' The strength 
 of our earthly attachments will also be an additional 
 
464 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 motive to ardour in the cultivation of holiness. Every 
 thought and feeling of our hearts should originate in 
 one common source, and return, like the sun's rays, to 
 one glorious centre ; for what does our frail, transitory 
 life possess^ to give it interest or dignity, hut that only 
 ohject which should he dear to our hearts — the glory of 
 God, which leads us, as our sole means of promoting it, 
 to he diligent and persevering in our desire for the salva- 
 tion of ourselves and others? Dr. Murray once told 
 me, that if ever he indulged a momentary carelessness 
 respecting the salvation of his people, he had hut to 
 imagine, for one moment, the day of judgment, and the 
 look of mute despair with which a condemned soul shall 
 hear the sentence of his Maker. An expression of 
 speechless anguish then seems turned on himself, and 
 he feels as if to rescue one single fellow- creature from 
 such unending wretchedness would be worth the sacri- 
 fice of every earthly joy. It was this feeling of com- 
 passion, carried to a Divine extent, which caused the 
 Son of God to pity our lost condition, and to die that 
 we might be enabled to shun such anguish ; and there 
 is not one human soul among the thousands in heaven 
 who had not sinned beyond all hope of pardon, except 
 through that sacrifice and propitiation of our crucified 
 Saviour." 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 465 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 How vainlj^, through infinite trouble and strife, * 
 
 The many their labours employ ! 
 Since all that is truly delightful in life, 
 Is what all, if they please, may enjoy. 
 
 *' Matilda," said Eleanor, taking her cousin by the 
 hand, when their interview was nearly over, '^ I trust 
 we shall both live to see the permanence of my present 
 feelings and resolutions, though it is easy to feel a desire 
 for holiness, but^ oh, how difficult to attain it ! During 
 the next year I have resolved to live in retirement and 
 meditation, while pursuing such a course of reading as 
 our adviser and friend, Dr. Murray, may suggest. 
 Mean while," added she, losing the paleness of her 
 cheek in a deep glow of carnation, "it is Mr. Grant's 
 intention to travel on the Continent. He has been 
 urgent with me to accompany him there, but my heart 
 must not yet be trusted with happiness. You know, 
 Matilda, how truly he was preferred to all others ; and 
 my father having consented, I shall soon exchange the 
 gilded misery which lately cheated me of real peace, for 
 a moderate fortune, and as much earthly happiness as 
 can exist along with the remembrance, which shall 
 remain for ever, of past follies, and of worse than these, 
 ingratitude, selfishness, and sin." 
 
 When Matilda proceeded on her way to the saloon, 
 before dinner, she was called by Sir Richard into his 
 sitting room, and her heart sunk with apprehension 
 
466 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 respecting what he might say of the recent discovery hy 
 Mr. Armstrong ; but he held out his hand to her with 
 an expression of kindness^, though of extreme gravity. 
 
 " My dear girl, this has been a surprise to us all I 
 You need not be told that it is as great to me as to any 
 one. I shall, of course, defend your cousin's claims with 
 all the energy in m^y power ; but if Sir Philip's subse- 
 'quent settlement be found good, then I shall yield without 
 regret to one who is scarcely less dear to me than Eleanor 
 herself You deserve my affection, but prosperity tries 
 us all, and no doubt your head will become as giddy on 
 the pinnacle as your cousin's. "VYe must allow, e7itre 
 nous, that she was rather spoiled. Be ready to start 
 with us for Edinburgh to-morrow, and in every sense, 
 I think your father will meet with a surprise." 
 
 On the following week, Mr. Armstrong's packet being 
 put into the hands of counsel, all the ingenuity of man 
 could not discover a doubt of Sir Philip's last- will being 
 valid. For once there seemed no occasion to complain 
 in Scotland of " the law's delay." Matilda Howard was 
 not destined, like many, to grow old in seeking for her 
 rights, and after lingering in weariness and suspense 
 till she outlived the possibility of enjoying them, to re- 
 ceive what is called justice, in being allowed to bequeath 
 for others the possession of that which ought to have 
 embellished her own existence. After a short period 
 of uncertainty, she received a visit from Sir Richard, to 
 announce, in terms of affection and kindness, that Elea- 
 nor's claim was, by the concurrent advice of the Solicitor- 
 general and many other legal advisers, finally relin- 
 quished. 
 
 Every event happens unexpectedly, and even those 
 which we have daily considered for years, come when 
 least anticipated, and cause the same astonishment as if 
 
THE MARC^ OF INTELLECT. 467 
 
 tliey never were supposed possible. Mr. Grant had been 
 thinking rather less than usual about the state of Sir 
 Evan's health, vrhen one morning, about this time, he 
 received letters sealed with black, to announce that a 
 sudden fit of apoplexy carried him off one day while sit- 
 ting after dinner. As he had been struck speechless at 
 once, no opportunity occurred of acknowledging any 
 marriage to the mother of his children, a manoeuvre 
 which he always proposed to execute at the last moment, 
 thus intending to continue her dependence on his hu- 
 mours while he lived, and still to enjoy his cherished 
 desire of vengeance on his nephew. Mr. Grant could 
 scarcely be expected to drop a tear over his uncle's me- 
 mory, before he blotted him out for ever ; but he hastened 
 to pay Sir Evan's remains, all the decencies of respect, 
 and to make a liberal provision for his numerous and 
 dependent family, each of whom were subsequently es- 
 tablished in a profession. 
 
 Before setting out to attend the funeral, Mr. Grant 
 requested an interview with Miss Fitz-Patrick, and 
 pleaded his own cause with impassioned eloquence and 
 genuine good feeling, till he at length extorted from her 
 the promise he asked. Eleanor consented that the re- 
 tirement and privacy to which she had devoted the fol- 
 lowing year, should be found at Clanpibroch Castle, 
 where he assured her that the counsels of Sir Alfred and 
 the convictions of his own mind, prepared him to occupy 
 his future life in seeking that great object of Christian 
 hope which had now attained its supreme value in the 
 eyes of both. 
 
 Every reader of newspapers must have observed, in 
 the Morning Post of Thursday last, the announcement 
 of two marriages in high life, by the Rev. Dr. Murray 
 of Gaelfield, Sir Thomas Grant, Bart, of Clanpibroch 
 
468 MODERN SOCIETY ; OR, 
 
 Castle^ Inverness-shIre, to Miss Eleanor Fitz-Patrick ; 
 and Sir Alfred Douglas, Bart, of Douglas Priory, in 
 Mid-Lothian, and Bowmont Manor, in Yorkshire, to 
 Miss Howard, the lovely and accomplished heiress of 
 Barnard Castle. Among the company present we ob- 
 served Lady Susan Danvers, Lady and the Misses Mon- 
 tague, Hon. Mrs. Clifford, Miss C. and Miss A. Clifford, 
 Miss Murray, Miss Porson, Hon. Col. Pendarvis, Major 
 Foley, Sir C. Fletcher, Captain ^I'Tartan, and a nume- 
 rous party of distinguished friends. 
 
 Among the on-dlts in society it is currently reported 
 that Lady Susan Danvers once listened herself into the 
 good graces of Sir Colin Fletcher with such persevering 
 patience, that, though a single yawn would have ruined 
 her prospects for ever, he actually, with much circum- 
 locution, came at last to the point. The fair lady, having 
 long had a ready-made attachment at the service of any 
 very eligible match that offered, was found propitious 
 on the present occasion, and lawyers and milliners are 
 already in the full activity of preparation. 
 
 Captain M'Tartan was the only man at the Senior 
 United Service Club who perceived much cause for 
 astonishment, when he one day found himself unexpect- 
 edly promoted to be an admiral, and honoured with a 
 Guelphic ribbon, in consequence of his spirited conduct 
 on board the " Champion, 74," of which particulars 
 were given in his despatches, dated the 15tli September. 
 Sir Donald M'Tartan, having been little on shore, is 
 firmly persuaded that every young lady has much the 
 same characteristics — that they are all good-tempered, 
 lively, fond of music, dress, and gaiety— ready to marry 
 the first man who asks them, and so smitten with epau- 
 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 469 
 
 letteSj that they will admire one on naval-blue shoulders 
 when not to be seen upon scarlet. Since he became an 
 admiral, Miss Charlotte Clifford, who, to the certain 
 knowledge of her numerous confidantes, had already- 
 refused or discouraged every other gentleman living, 
 seemed in danger of finding it necessary to be in love 
 with Sir Donald, when, to her great surprise, he an- 
 nounced an engagement to Miss Adelaide Montague. 
 
 Major Foley, having been quartered in Ireland lately 
 with his regiment, was filled with dismay one morning 
 to find that his little, well-turned compliments, and 
 trifling civilities, were carefully registered in the heart 
 and in the head of a fair Hibernian, possessing, among 
 other irresistible recommendations, a squadron of bro- 
 thers. Having been assured by them in strong terms 
 of the pleasure with which they all anticipate a nearer 
 connexion, he has found it impossible to disappoint 
 them, and the marriage will take place at Tipperary 
 without delay. 
 
 Colonel Pendarvis succeeded lately to Yorkton Abbey 
 and the accumu.ated hoards of that avaricious old aunt, 
 respecting whose penurious habits it had formerly been 
 his apiusement to relate so many anecdotes ; but, with 
 the estate, he seems to have unexpectedly inherited all 
 her saving propensities ; and the very customs which he 
 criticised in her have been, almost without exception, 
 adopted by himself, while they are observed with ridi- 
 cule and contempt by his younger brothers. 
 
 Nanny Muckleraith is at last restored to perfect com- 
 posure and peace of mind. She can bear to see Martha 
 the happy wife of William Grey. She has even learned 
 to rejoice in their contentment ; while she devotes her 
 own time to the charge of a school lately established in 
 the village of Cianpibroch, where in useful and active 
 
470 MODERN SOCIETY. 
 
 employment she finds a degree of happiness never expe- 
 rienced before. The only fault her scholars .find with 
 their teacher is on account of her being extremely rigid 
 about discouraging all excesses in dress, and invariably 
 confiscating the necklaces of glass beads and the gilt 
 ear-rings in which the girls delight to adorn themselves. 
 
 Dr. Murray, it is whispered, will probably be Mode- 
 rator of the General Assembly next year ; and as no 
 event of equal importance ever occurred before in the 
 annals of his sister's life, he has found occasion to exercise 
 the most indulgent forbearance in sufi*ering a multitude 
 of pleasing anticipations and active preparatory measures, 
 with which she is already persecuting his few hours of 
 leisure. 
 
 Mr. Armstrong is commissioned, by a friend who en- 
 tertains the highest opinion of his taste and judgment, 
 to choose some first-rate pictures abroad, for which first- 
 rate prices will, of course, be exacted ; and he has lately 
 been exhibiting one or two " perfect gems" in London, 
 which the Duke of Cairngorum and other connoisseurs 
 pronounce to be chef-d'oeuvres, beyond all price. 
 
 Miss Marabout and Miss Person are both at present 
 looking out for situations as "finishing governesses," 
 having each obtained the most satisfactory testimonials 
 from a variety of distinguished families, to whom refer- 
 ences can be given. Both profess to teach all the usual 
 branches of education, music, drawing, and languages, 
 besides every kind of useless or useful knowledge, and 
 also, as Miss Marabout expresses herself — 
 
 " Principles of course." 
 
 Edinburgh : Printed by Balfour & Jack, Niddry Street 
 
WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHORESS. 
 
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