Part 44 (2/2)
”Excuse me,” replied her Ladys.h.i.+p, ”I shall do no such thing. In the first place, there happens to be no joke in the matter. I'm certain, seriously certain, or certainly serious, which you like, that you may be d.u.c.h.ess of Altamont, if you please. It could be no common admiration that prompted his Grace to an original and spontaneous effusion of it. I have met with him before, and never suspected that he had an innate idea in his head. I certainly never heard him utter anything half so brilliant before--it seemed quite like the effect of inspiration.”
”But I cannot conceive, even were it as you say, why my mother should be so displeased about it. She surely cannot suppose me so silly as to be elated by the unmeaning admiration of anyone, or so meanly aspiring as to marry a man I could not love, merely because he is a Duke. She was incapable of such a thing herself, she cannot then suspect me.”
”It seems as impossible to make you enter into the characters of your mother and sister as it would be to teach them to comprehend yours, and far be it from me to act as interpreter betwixt your understandings. If you can't even imagine such things as prejudice, narrow-mindedness, envy, hatred, and malice, your ignorance is bliss, and you had better remain in it. But you may take my word for one thing, and that is, that 'tis a much wiser thing to resist tyranny than to submit to it. Your patient Grizzles make nothing of it, except in little books: in real life they become perfect pack-horses, saddled with the whole offences of the family. Such will you become unless you pluck up spirit and dash out. Marry the Duke, and drive over the necks of all your relations; that's my advice to you.”
”And you may rest a.s.sured that when I follow your advice it shall be in whole not in part.”
”Well, situated so detestably as you are, I rather think the best thing you could do would be to make yourself d.u.c.h.ess of Altamont. How disdainful you look! Come, tell me honestly now, would you really refuse to be Your Grace, with ninety thousand a year, and remain simple Mary Douglas, pa.s.sing rich with perhaps forty?”
”Unquestionably,” said Mary.
”What! you really pretend to say you would not marry the Duke of Altamont?” cried Lady Emily. ”Not that I would take him myself; but as you and I, though the best of friends, differ widely in our sentiments on most subjects, I should really like to know how it happens that we coincide in this one. Very different reasons, I daresay, lead to the same conclusion; but I shall generously give you the advantage of hearing mine first. I shall say nothing of being engaged--I shall even banish that idea from my thoughts; but were I free as air--unloving and unloved--I would refuse the Duke of Altamont; first, because he: is old--no, first, because he is stupid; second, because he is formal; third, because he swallows all Lady Matilda's flummery; fourth, because he is more than double my age; fifth, because he is not handsome; and, to sum up the whole in the sixth, he wants that inimitable _Je ne scais quoi_ which I consider as a necessary ingredient in the matrimonial cup.
I shall not, in addition to these defects, dwell upon his unmeaning stare, his formal bow, his little senseless simper, etc. etc. etc. All these enormities, and many more of the same stamp, I shall pa.s.s by, as I have no doubt they had their due effect upon you as well as me; but then I am not like you, under the torments of Lady Juliana's authority. Were that the case, I should certainly think it a blessing to become d.u.c.h.ess of anybody to-morrow.”
”And can you really imagine,” said Mary, ”that for the sake of shaking off a parent's authority I would impose upon myself chains still heavier, and even more binding? Can you suppose I would so far forfeit my honour and truth as that I would swear to love, honour, and obey, where I could feel neither love nor respect, and where cold constrained obedience would be all of my duty I could hope to fulfil?”
”Love!”
exclaimed Lady Emily; ”can I credit my ears? Love! did you say I thought that had only been for naughty ones, such as me; and that saints like you would have married for anything and everything but love! Prudence, I thought, had been the word with you proper ladies--a prudent marriage! Come, confess, is not that the climax of virtue in the creed of your school?”
”I never learnt the creed of any school,” said Mary, ”nor ever heard anyone's sentiments on the subject, except my dear Mrs. Douglas's.”
”Well, I should like to hear your oracle's opinion, if you can give it in shorthand.”
”She warned me there was a pa.s.sion which was very fas.h.i.+onable, and which I should hear a great deal of, both in conversation and books, that was the result of indulged fancy, warm imaginations, and ill-regulated minds; that many had fallen into its snares, deceived by its glowing colours and alluring name; that--”
”A very good sermon, indeed!” interrupted Lady Emily; ”but, no offence to Mrs. Douglas, I think I could preach a better myself. Love is a pa.s.sion that has been much talked of, often described, and little understood. Cupid has many counterfeits going about the world, who pa.s.s very well with those whose minds are capable of pa.s.sion, but not of love. These Birmingham Cupids have many votaries amongst boarding-school misses, militia officers, and milliners 'apprentices; who marry upon the mutual faith of blue eyes and scarlet coats; have dirty houses and squalling children, and hate each other most delectably. Then there is another species for more refined souls, which owes its birth to the works of Rousseau, Goethe, Cottin, etc. Its success depends very much upon rocks, woods, and waterfalls; and it generally ends daggers, pistols, or poison. But there, I think, Lindore would be more eloquent than me, so I shall leave it for him to discuss that chapter with you.
But, to return to your own immediate concerns. Pray, are you then positively prohibited from falling in love? Did Mrs. Douglas only dress up a scarecrow to frighten you, or had she the candour to show you Love himself in all his majesty?”
”She told me,” said Mary, ”that there was a love which even the wisest and most virtuous need not blush to entertain--the love of a virtuous object, founded upon esteem, and heightened by similarity of tastes and sympathy of feelings, into a pure and devoted attachment: unless I feel all this, I shall never fancy myself in love.”
”Humph! I can't say much as to the similarity of tastes and sympathy of souls between the Duke and you, but surely you might contrive to feel some love and esteem for a coronet and ninety thousand a year.”
”Suppose I did,” said Mary, with a smile, ”the next point is to honour; and surely he is as unlikely to excite that sentiment as the other. Honour---”
”I can't have a second sermon upon honour. 'Can honour take away the grief of a wound?' as Falstaff says. Love is the only subject I care to preach about; though, unlike many young ladies, we can talk about other things too; but as to this Duke, _I_ certainly 'had rather live on cheese and garlic, in a windmill far, than feed on cakes, and have him talk to me in any summer-house in Christendom;' and now I have had Mrs.
Douglas's second-hand sentiments upon the subject, I should like to hear your own.”
”I have never thought much upon the subject,” said Mary; ”my sentiments are therefore all at second-hand, but I shall repeat to you what I think is not love, and what is.” And she repeated these pretty and well-known lines:--
CARELESS AND FAITHFUL LOVE.
To sigh--yet feel no pain; To weep-yet scarce know why; To sport an hour with beauty's chain, Then throw it idly by; To kneel at many a shrine, Yet lay the heart on none; To think all other charms divine But those we just have won:-- This is love-careless love-- Such as kindleth hearts that rove.
To keep one sacred flame Through life, unchill'd, unmov'd; To love in wint'ry age the same That first in youth we loved; To feel that we adore With such refined excess, That though the heart would break with more, We could not love with less:-- This is love--faithful love-- Such as saints might feel above.
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