CHAPTER XVII

That contrast of the hardened and mature,

The calm brow brooding o'er the project dark,

With the clear loving heart, and spirit pure

Of youth,--I love, yet, hating, love to mark!

H. FLETCHER.

On the forenoon of the day after the ball, the carriage of William

Brandon, packed and prepared, was at the door of his abode at Bath;

meanwhile the lawyer was closeted with his brother.

“My dear Joseph,” said the barrister, “I do not leave you without being

fully sensible of your kindness evinced to me, both in coming hither,

contrary to your habits, and accompanying me everywhere, despite of your

tastes.”

“Mention it not, my dear William,” said the kind-hearted squire, “for

your delightful society is to me the most agreeable (and that's what I

can say of very few people like you; for, for my own part, I generally

find the cleverest men the most unpleasant) in the world! And I think

lawyers in particular (very different, indeed, from your tribe you are!)

perfectly intolerable!”

“I have now,” said Brandon, who with his usual nervous quickness of

action was walking with rapid strides to and fro the apartment, and

scarcely noted his brother's compliment,--“I have now another favour

to request of you. Consider this house and these servants yours for the

next month or two at least. Don't interrupt me,--it is no compliment,--I

speak for our family benefit.” And then seating himself next to his

brother's armchair, for a fit of the gout made the squire a close

prisoner, Brandon unfolded to his brother his cherished scheme of

marrying Lucy to Lord Mauleverer. Notwithstanding the constancy of the

earl's attentions to the heiress, the honest squire had never dreamed

of their palpable object; and he was overpowered with surprise when he

heard the lawyer's expectations.

“But, my dear brother,” he began, “so great a match for my Lucy, the

Lord-Lieutenant of the Coun--”

“And what of that?” cried Brandon, proudly, and interrupting his

brother. “Is not the race of Brandon, which has matched its scions with

royalty, far nobler than that of the upstart stock of Mauleverer? What

is there presumptuous in the hope that the descendant of the Earls of

Suffolk should regild a faded name with some of the precious dust of the

quondam silversmiths of London? Besides,” he continued, after a pause,

“Lucy will be rich, very rich, and before two years my rank may possibly

be of the same order as Mauleverer's!”

The squire stared; and Brandon, not giving him time to answer, resumed.

It is needless to detail the conversation; suffice it to say that

the artful barrister did not leave his brother till he had gained his

point,--till Joseph Brandon had promised to remain at Bath in possession

of the house and establishment of his brother; to throw no impediment on

the suit of Mauleverer; to cultivate society, as before; and above

all, not to alarm Lucy, who evidently did not yet favour Mauleverer

exclusively, by hinting to her the hopes and expectations of her uncle

and father. Brandon, now taking leave of his brother, mounted to the

drawing-room in search of Lucy. He found her leaning over the gilt cage

of one of her feathered favourites, and speaking to the little inmate

in that pretty and playful language in which all thoughts, innocent yet

fond, should be clothed. So beautiful did Lucy seem, as she was thus

engaged in her girlish and caressing employment, and so utterly unlike

one meet to be the instrument of ambitious designs, and the sacrifice of

worldly calculations, that Brandon paused, suddenly smitten at heart,

as he beheld her. He was not, however, slow in recovering himself; he

approached. “Happy he,” said the man of the world, “for whom caresses

and words like these are reserved!”

Lucy turned. “It is ill!” she said, pointing to the bird, which sat with

its feathers stiff and erect, mute and heedless even of that voice which

was as musical as its own.

“Poor prisoner!” said Brandon; “even gilt cages and sweet tones cannot

compensate to thee for the loss of the air and the wild woods!”

“But,” said Lucy, anxiously, “it is not confinement which makes it ill!

If you think so, I will release it instantly.”

“How long have you had it?” asked Brandon.

“For three years!” said Lucy.

“And is it your chief favourite?”

“Yes; it does not sing so prettily as the other, but it is far more

sensible, and so affectionate!”

“Can you release it then?” asked Brandon, smiling. “Would it not be

better to see it die in your custody than to let it live and to see it

no more?”

“Oh, no, no!” said Lucy, eagerly; “when I love any one, anything, I wish

that to be happy, not me!”

As she said this, she took the bird from the cage; and bearing it to

the open window, kissed it, and held it on her hand in the air. The poor

bird turned a languid and sickly eye around it, as if the sight of the

crowded houses and busy streets presented nothing familiar or inviting;

and it was not till Lucy with a tender courage shook it gently from her,

that it availed itself of the proffered liberty. It flew first to

an opposite balcony; and then recovering from a short and as it were

surprised pause, took a brief circuit above the houses; and after

disappearing for a few minutes, flew back, circled the window, and

re-entering, settled once more on the fair form of its mistress and

nestled into her bosom.

Lucy covered it with kisses. “You see it will not leave me!” said she.

“Who can?” said the uncle, warmly, charmed for the moment from every

thought but that of kindness for the young and soft creature before

him,--“who can,” he repeated with a sigh, “but an old and withered

ascetic like myself? I must leave you indeed; see, my carriage is at

the door! Will my beautiful niece, among the gayeties that surround her,

condescend now and then to remember the crabbed lawyer, and assure him

by a line of her happiness and health? Though I rarely write any notes

but those upon cases, you, at least, may be sure of an answer. And tell

me, Lucy, if there be in all this city one so foolish as to think that

these idle gems, useful only as a vent for my pride in you, can add a

single charm to a beauty above all ornament?”

So saying, Brandon produced a leathern case; and touching a spring, the

imperial flash of diamonds, which would have made glad many a patrician

heart, broke dazzlingly on Lucy's eyes.

“No thanks, Lucy,” said Brandon, in answer to his niece's disclaiming

and shrinking gratitude; “I do honour to myself, not you; and now bless

you, my dear girl. Farewell! Should any occasion present itself in which

you require an immediate adviser, at once kind and wise, I beseech you,

my dearest Lucy, as a parting request, to have no scruples in consulting

Lord Mauleverer. Besides his friendship for me, he is much interested

in you, and you may consult him with the more safety and assurance;

because” (and the lawyer smiled) “he is perhaps the only man in the

world whom my Lucy could not make in love with her. His gallantry may

appear adulation, but it is never akin to love. Promise me that you will

not hesitate in this.”

Lucy gave the promise readily; and Brandon continued in a careless tone:

“I hear that you danced last night with a young gentleman whom no one

knew, and whose companions bore a very strange appearance. In a place

like Bath, society is too mixed not to render the greatest caution

in forming acquaintances absolutely necessary. You must pardon me, my

dearest niece, if I remark that a young lady owes it not only to

herself but to her relations to observe the most rigid circumspection of

conduct. This is a wicked world, and the peach-like bloom of character

is easily rubbed away. In these points Mauleverer can be of great use to

you. His knowledge of character, his penetration into men, and his tact

in manners are unerring. Pray, be guided by him; whomsoever he warns

you against, you may be sure is unworthy of your acquaintance. God bless

you! You will write to me often and frankly, dear Lucy; tell me all that

happens to you,--all that interests, nay, all that displeases.”

Brandon then, who had seemingly disregarded the blushes with which

during his speech Lucy's cheeks had been spread, folded his niece in his

arms, and hurried, as if to hide his feelings, into his carriage. When

the horses had turned the street, he directed the postilions to stop at

Lord Mauleverer's. “Now,” said he to himself, “if I can get this clever

coxcomb to second my schemes, and play according to my game and not

according to his own vanity, I shall have a knight of the garter for my

nephew-in-law!”

Meanwhile Lucy, all in tears, for she loved her uncle greatly, ran down

to the squire to show him Brandon's magnificent present.

“Ah,” said the squire, with a sigh, “few men were born with more good,

generous, and great qualities (pity only that his chief desire was to

get on in the world; for my part, I think no motive makes greater and

more cold-hearted rogues) than my brother William!”