The Absentee

M >> Maria Edgeworth >> The Absentee


'You need not beg it--I shall not inquire--I have no curiosity--none,'
said she, in a passive, dejected tone; 'that is not what I am thinking
of in the least. I know there are invincible obstacles; I wish it to
be so. But, if invincible, you who have so much sense, honour, and
virtue--'

'I hope, my dear cousin, that I have honour and virtue. But there are
temptations to which no wise, no good man will expose himself. Innocent
creature! you do not know the power of love. I rejoice that you have
always thought it impossible--think so still--it will save you from--all
I must endure. Think of me but as your cousin, your friend--give your
heart to some happier man. As your friend, your true friend, I conjure
you, give your heart to some more fortunate man. Marry, if you can feel
love--marry, and be happy. Honour! virtue! Yes, I have both, and I will
not forfeit them. Yes, I will merit your esteem and my own--by actions,
not words; and I give you the strongest proof, by tearing myself from
you at this moment. Farewell!'

'The carriage at the door, Miss Nugent, and my lady calling for you,'
said her maid. 'Here's your key, ma'am, and here's your gloves, my dear
ma'am.'

'The carriage at the door, Miss Nugent, said Lady Clonbrony's woman,
coming eagerly with parcels in her hand, as Miss Nugent passed her and
ran downstairs; 'and I don't know where I laid my lady's NUMBRELLA, for
my life--do your Anne?'

'No, indeed--but I know here's my own young lady's watch that she
has left. Bless me! I never knew her to forget anything on a journey
before.'

'Then she is going to be married, as sure as my name's Le Maistre, and
to my Lord Colambre; for he has been here this hour, to my certain Bible
knowledge. Oh, you'll see, she will be Lady Colambre?

'I wish she may, with all my heart said Anne; 'but I must run
down--they're waiting.'

'Oh no,' said Mrs. le Maistre, seizing Anne's arm, and holding her fast;
'stay--you may safely--for they're all kissing and taking leave, and all
that, you know; and my lady is talking on about Mr. Soho, and giving a
hundred directions about legs of TABLES, and so forth, I warrant--she's
always an hour after she's ready before she gets in--and I'm looking for
the NUMBRELLA. So stay, and tell me--Mrs. Petito wrote over word it was
to be Lady Isabel; and then a contradiction came--it was turned into
the youngest of the Killpatricks; and now here he's in Miss Nugent's
dressing-room to the last moment. Now, in my opinion, that am not
censorious, this does not look so pretty; but, according to my verdict,
he is only making a fool of Miss Nugent, like the rest; and his lordship
seems too like what you might call a male COCKET, or a masculine jilt.'

'No more like a masculine jilt than yourself, Mrs. le Maistre,' cried
Anne, taking fire. 'And my young lady is not a lady to be made a fool
of, I promise you; nor is my lord likely to make a fool of any woman.'

'Bless us all! that's no great praise for any young nobleman. Miss
Anne.'

'Mrs. le Maistre! Mrs. le Maistre! are you above?' cried a footman from
the bottom of the stairs; 'my lady's calling for you.'

'Very well! very well!' said sharp Mrs. le Maistre; 'very well! and
if she is--manners, sir!--Come up for one, can't you, and don't stand
bawling at the bottom of the stairs, as if one had no ears to be saved.
I'm coming as fast as I conveniently can.' Mrs. le Maistre stood in the
doorway, so as to fill it up, and prevent Anne from passing.

'Miss Anne! Miss Anne! Mrs. le Maistre!' cried another footman; 'my
lady's in the carriage, and Miss Nugent.'

'Miss Nugent!--is she?' cried Mrs. le Maistre, running downstairs,
followed by Anne. 'Now, for the world in pocket-pieces wouldn't I have
missed seeing him hand Miss Nugent in; for by that I could have judged
definitively.'

'My lord, I beg pardon!--I'm AFEARD I'm late,' said Mrs. le Maistre, as
she passed Lord Colambre, who was standing motionless in the hall. 'I
beg a thousand pardons; but I was hunting high and low, for my lady's
NUMBRELLA.'

Lord Colambre did not hear or heed her; his eyes were fixed, and they
never moved.

Lord Clonbrony was at the open carriage-door, kneeling on the step,
and receiving Lady Clonbrony's 'more last words' for Mr. Soho. The two
waiting-maids stood together on the steps.

'Look at our young lord, how he stands,' whispered Mrs. le Maistre to
Anne, 'the image of despair! And she, the picture of death!--I don't
know what to think.'

'Nor I; but don't stare if you can help it,' said Anne. 'Get in, get in,
Mrs. le Maistre,' added she, as Lord Clonbrony now rose from the step,
and made way for them.

'Ay, in with you--in with you, Mrs. le Maistre,' said Lord Clonbrony.
'Good-bye to you, Anne, and take care of your young mistress at Buxton;
let me see her blooming when we meet again; I don't half like her looks,
and I never thought Buxton agreed with her.'

'Buxton never did anybody harm,' said Lady Clonbrony; 'and as to bloom,
I'm sure, if Grace has not bloom enough in her cheeks this moment to
please you, I don't know what you'd have, my dear lord--Rouge?--Shut the
door, John! Oh, stay!--Colambre! Where upon earth's Colambre?' cried her
ladyship, stretching from the farthest side of the coach to the window.
'Colambre!'

Colambre was forced to appear.

'Colambre, my dear! I forgot to say that, if anything detains you longer
than Wednesday se'nnight, I beg you will not fail to write, or I shall
be miserable.'

'I will write; at all events, my dearest mother, you shall hear from
me.'

'Then I shall be quite happy. Go on!'

The carriage drove on.

'I do believe Colambre's ill; I never saw a man look so ill in my
life--did you, Grace?--as he did the minute we drove on. He should take
advice. I've a mind, cried Lady Clonbrony, laying her hand on the cord
to stop the coachman--'I've a mind to turn about, tell him so, and ask
what is the matter with him.'

'Better not!' said Miss Nugent; 'he will write to you, and tell you--if
anything is the matter with him. Better go on now to Buxton!' continued
she, scarcely able to speak. Lady Clonbrony let go the cord.

'But what is the matter with you, my dear Grace? for you are certainly
going to die too!'

'I will tell you--as soon as I can; but don't ask me now, my dear aunt!'

'Grace, Grace! pull the cord!' cried Lady Clonbrony--'Mr. Salisbury's
phaeton!--Mr. Salisbury, I'm happy to see you! We're on our way to
Buxton--as I told you.'

'So am I,' said Mr. Salisbury. 'I hope to be there before your ladyship;
will you honour me with any commands!--of course, I will see that
everything is ready for your reception.'

Her ladyship had not any commands. Mr. Salisbury drove on rapidly.

Lady Clonbrony's ideas had now taken the Salisbury channel.

'You didn't know that Mr. Salisbury was going to Buxton to meet you, did
you, Grace?' said Lady Clonbrony.

'No, indeed, I did not!' said Miss Nugent; 'and I am very sorry for it.'

'Young ladies, as Mrs. Broadhurst says, "never know, or at least never
tell, what they are sorry or glad for,"' replied Lady Clonbrony. 'At
all events, Grace, my love, it has brought the fine bloom back to your
cheeks; and I own I am satisfied.'



CHAPTER XV

'Gone! for ever gone from me!' said Lord Colambre to himself, as the
carriage drove away. 'Never shall I see her more--never WILL I see her
more, till she is married.'

Lord Colambre went to his own room, locked the door, and was relieved
in some degree by the sense of privacy; by the feeling that he could
now indulge his reflections undisturbed. He had consolation--he had
done what was honourable--he had transgressed no duty, abandoned no
principle--he had not injured the happiness of any human being--he had
not, to gratify himself, hazarded the peace of the woman he loved--he
had not sought to win her heart. Of her innocent, her warm, susceptible
heart, he might perhaps have robbed her--he knew it--but he had left it
untouched, he hoped entire, in her own power, to bless with it hereafter
some man worthy of her. In the hope that she might be happy, Lord
Colambre felt relief; and in the consciousness that he had made his
parents happy, he rejoiced. But, as soon as his mind turned that way
for consolation, came the bitter concomitant reflection, that his mother
must be disappointed in her hopes of his accompanying her home, and of
his living with her in Ireland; she would be miserable when she should
hear that he was going abroad into the army--and yet it must be so--and
he must write, and tell her so. 'The sooner this difficulty is off my
mind, the sooner this painful letter is written, the better,' thought
he. 'It must be done--I will do it immediately.'

He snatched up his pen, and began a letter.

My dear mother--Miss Nugent--'

He was interrupted by a knock at his door.

'A gentleman below, my lord,' said a servant, 'who wishes to see you.'

I cannot see any gentleman. Did you say I was at home?'

'No, my lord; I said you was not at home; for I thought you would not
choose to be at home, and your own man was not in the way for me to
ask--so I denied you; but the gentleman would not be denied; he said
I must come and see if you was at home. So, as he spoke as if he was
a gentleman not used to be denied, I thought it might be somebody of
consequence, and I showed him into the front drawing-room. I think he
said he was sure you'd be at home for a friend from Ireland.'

'A friend from Ireland! Why did not you tell me that sooner?' said Lord
Colambre, rising, and running downstairs. 'Sir James Brooke, I daresay.'

No, not Sir James Brooke; but one he was almost as glad to see--Count
O'Halloran!

'My dear count! the greater pleasure for being unexpected.'

'I came to London but yesterday,' said the count; 'but I could not be
here a day, without doing myself the honour of paying my respects to
Lord Colambre.'

'You do me not only honour, but pleasure, my dear count. People when
they like one another, always find each other out, and contrive to meet
even in London.'

'You are too polite to ask what brought such a superannuated militaire
as I am,' said the count, 'from his retirement into this gay world
again. A relation of mine, who is one of our Ministry, knew that I
had some maps, and plans, and charts, which might be serviceable in an
expedition they are planning. I might have trusted my charts across
the channel, without coming myself to convoy them, you will say. But
my relation fancied--young relations, you know, if they are good for
anything, are apt to overvalue the heads of old relations--fancied that
mine was worth bringing all the way from Halloran Castle to London, to
consult with TETE-A-TETE. So you know, when this was signified to me by
a letter from the secretary in office, PRIVATE, MOST CONFIDENTIAL, what
could I do, but do myself the honour to obey? For though honour's voice
cannot provoke the silent dust, yet "flattery soothes the dull cold ear
of AGE."--But enough, and too much of myself,' said the count: 'tell
me, my dear lord, something of yourself. I do not think England seems to
agree with you so well as Ireland; for, excuse me, in point of health,
you don't look like the same man I saw some weeks ago.'

'My mind has been ill at ease of late,' said Lord Colambre.

'Ay, there's the thing! The body pays for the mind--but those who
have feeling minds, pain and pleasure altogether computed, have the
advantage; or at least they think so; for they would not change with
those who have them not, were they to gain by the bargain the most
robust body that the most selfish coxcomb, or the heaviest dunce extant,
ever boasted. For instance, would you now, my lord, at this moment
change altogether with Major Benson, or Captain Williamson, or even our
friend, 'Eh, really now, "pon honour"--would you!--I'm glad to see you
smile.'

'I thank you for making me smile, for I assure you I want it. I wish--if
you would not think me encroaching upon your politeness and kindness in
honouring me with this visit--You see,' continued he, opening the doors
of the back drawing-room, and pointing to large packages--'you see we
are all preparing for a march; my mother has left town half an hour
ago--my father engaged to dine abroad--only I at home--and, in this
state of confusion, could I even venture to ask Count O'Halloran to
stay and dine with me, without being able to offer him Irish ortolans or
Irish plums--in short, will you let me rob you of two or three hours
of your time? I am anxious to have your opinion on a subject of some
importance to me, and on one where you are peculiarly qualified to judge
and decide for me.'

'My dear lord, frankly, I have nothing half so good or so agreeable to
do with my time; command my hours. I have already told you how much it
flatters me to be consulted by the most helpless clerk in office; how
much more about the private concerns of an enlightened young--friend,
will Lord Colambre permit me to say? I hope so; for though the length of
our acquaintance might not justify the word, yet regard and intimacy are
not always in proportion to the time people have known each other, but
to their mutual perception of certain attaching qualities, a certain
similarity and suitableness of character.'

The good count, seeing that Lord Colambre was in much distress of
mind, did all he could to soothe him by kindness; far from making any
difficulty about giving up a few hours of his time, he seemed to have
no other object in London, and no purpose in life, but to attend to our
hero. To put him at ease, and to give him time to recover and arrange
his thoughts, the count talked of indifferent subjects.

'I think I heard you mention the name of Sir James Brooke.'

'Yes, I expected to have seen him when the servant first mentioned a
friend from Ireland; because Sir James had told me that, as soon as he
could get leave of absence, he would come to England.'

'He is come; is now at his estate is Huntingdonshire; doing, what do
you think? I will give you a leading hint; recollect the seal which
the little De Cresey put into your hands the day you dined at Oranmore.
Faithful to his motto, "Deeds not words," he is this instant, I believe,
at deeds, title-deeds; making out marriage settlements, getting ready to
put his seal to the happy articles.'

'Happy man! I give him joy,' said Lord Colambre; 'happy man! going to be
married to such a woman--daughter of such a mother.'

'Daughter of such a mother! That is indeed a great addition and a great
security to his happiness,' said the count. 'Such a family to marry
into; good from generation to generation; illustrious by character
as well as by genealogy; "all the sons brave, and all the daughters
chaste."'--Lord Colambre with difficulty repressed his feelings.--'if I
could choose, I would rather that a woman I loved were of such a family
than that she had for her dower the mines of Peru.'

'So would I,' cried Lord Colambre.

'I am glad to hear you say so, my lord, and with such energy; so few
young men of the present day look to what I call good connexion. In
marrying, a man does not, to be sure, marry his wife's mother; and yet
a prudent man, when he begins to think of the daughter, would look sharp
at the mother; ay, and back to the grandmother too, and along the whole
female line of ancestry.'

'True--most true--he ought he must.'

'And I have a notion,' said the count, smiling, 'your lordship's
practice has been conformable to your theory.'

'I!--mine!' said Lord Colambre, starling, and looking at the count with
surprise.

'I beg your pardon,' said the count; 'I did not intend to surprise your
confidence. But you forget that I was present, and saw the impression
which was made on your mind by a mother's want of a proper sense of
delicacy and propriety--Lady Dashfort.'

'Oh, Lady Dashfort! she was quite out of my head.'

'And Lady Isabel?--I hope she is quite out of your heart.'

'She never was in it,' said Lord Colambre.

'Only laid siege to it,' said the count. 'Well, I am glad your heart did
not surrender at discretion, or rather without discretion. Then I may
tell you, without fear or preface, that the Lady Isabel, who "talks
of refinement, delicacy, sense," is going to stoop at once, and
marry--Heathcock.'

Lord Colambre was not surprised, but concerned and disgusted, as he
always felt, even when he did not care for the individual, from hearing
anything which tended to lower the female sex in public estimation.

'As to myself,' said he, 'I cannot say I have had an escape, for I don't
think I ever was in much danger.'

'It is difficult to measure danger when it is over--past danger, like
past pain, is soon forgotten,' said the old general. 'At all events, I
rejoice in your present safety.'

'But is she really going to be married to Heathcock?' said Lord
Colambre.

'Positively; they all came over in the same packet with me, and they are
all in town now, buying jewels, and equipages, and horses. Heathcock,
you know, is as good as another man, A PEU PRES, for all those purposes;
his father is dead, and left him a large estate. QUE VOULEZ VOUS? as the
French valet said to me on the occasion. C'EST QUE MONSIEUR EST UN HOMME
DE BIEN: IL A DES BIENS, A CE QU'ON DIT.'

Lord Colambre could not help smiling. 'How they got Heathcock to fall
in love is what puzzles me,' said his lordship. 'I should as soon have
thought of an oyster's falling in love as that being!'

'I own I should have sooner thought,' replied the count, 'Of his falling
in love with an oyster; and so would you, if you had seen him, as I did,
devouring oysters on shipboard.

'Say, can the lovely HEROINE hope to vie With a fat turtle or a ven'son
pie?

But that is not our affair; let the Lady Isabel look to it.'

Dinner was announced; and no farther conversation of any consequence
passed between the count and Lord Colambre till the cloth was removed
and the servants had withdrawn. Then our hero opened on the subject
which was heavy at his heart.

'My dear count--to go back to the BURIAL PLACE OF THE NUGENTS, where my
head was lost the first time I had the pleasure of seeing you--you know,
or, possibly,' said he, smiling, 'you do not know, that I have a cousin
of the name of Nugent?'

'You told me,' replied the count, 'that you had near relations of that
name; but I do not recollect that you mentioned any one in particular.'

'I never named Miss Nugent to you. No! it is not easy to me to talk of
her, and impossible to me to describe her. If you had come one half-hour
sooner this morning, you would have seen her: I know she is exactly
suited to your excellent taste. But it is not at first sight she pleases
most; she gains upon the affections, attaches the heart, and unfolds
upon the judgment. In temper, manners, and good sense, in every quality
a man can or should desire in a wife, I never saw her equal. Yet, there
is an obstacle, an invincible obstacle, the nature of which I cannot
explain to you, that forbids me to think of her as a wife. She lives
with my father and mother: they are returning to Ireland, I wished,
earnestly wished, on many accounts, to have accompanied them, chiefly on
my mother's; but it cannot be. The first thing a man must do is to act
honourably; and, that he may do so, he must keep out of the way of a
temptation which he believes to be above his strength. I will never see
Miss Nugent again till she is married; I must either stay in England,
or go abroad. I have a mind to serve a campaign or two, if I could get
a commission in a regiment going to Spain; but I understand so many
are eager to go at this moment, that it is very difficult to get a
commission in such a regiment.'

'It is difficult,' said the count. 'But,' added he, after thinking for
a moment, 'I have it! I can get the thing done for you, and directly.
Major Benson, in consequence of that affair, you know, about his
mistress, is forced to quit the regiment. When the lieutenant-colonel
came to quarters, and the rest of the officers heard the fact, they
would not keep company with Benson, and would not mess with him. I know
he wants to sell out; and that regiment is to be ordered immediately to
Spain. I will have the thing done for you, if you request it.'

'First, give me your advice, Count O'Halloran; you are well acquainted
with the military profession, with military life. Would you advise me--I
won't speak of myself, because we judge better by general views than by
particular cases--would you advise a young man at present to go into the
army?'

The count was silent for a few minutes, and then replied: 'Since
you seriously ask my opinion, my lord, I must lay aside my own
prepossessions, and endeavour to speak with impartiality. To go into the
army in these days, my lord, is, in my sober opinion, the most absurd
and base, or the wisest and noblest thing a young man can do. To enter
into the army, with the hope of escaping from the application necessary
to acquire knowledge, letters, and science--I run no risk, my lord, in
saying this to you--to go into the army, with the hope of escaping from
knowledge, letters, science, and morality; to wear a red coat and an
epaulette; to be called captain; to figure at a ball; to lounge away
time in country sports, at country quarters, was never, even in times
of peace, creditable; but it is now absurd and base. Submitting to a
certain portion of ennui and contempt, this mode of life for an officer
was formerly practicable--but now cannot be submitted to without utter,
irremediable disgrace. Officers are now, in general, men of education
and information; want of knowledge, sense, manners, must consequently be
immediately detected, ridiculed, and despised in a military man. Of this
we have not long since seen lamentable examples in the raw officers who
have lately disgraced themselves in my neighbourhood in Ireland--that
Major Benson and Captain Williamson. But I will not advert to such
insignificant individuals, such are rare exceptions--I leave them out of
the question--I reason on general principles. The life of an officer is
not now a life of parade, of coxcombical, or of profligate idleness--but
of active service, of continual hardship and danger. All the
descriptions which we see in ancient history of a soldier's
life--descriptions which, in times of peace, appeared like romance--are
now realised; military exploits fill every day's newspapers, every day's
conversation. A martial spirit is now essential to the liberty and
the existence of our own country. In the present state of things,
the military must be the most honourable profession, because the most
useful. Every movement of an army is followed, wherever it goes, by the
public hopes and fears. Every officer must now feel, besides this sense
of collective importance, a belief that his only dependence must be on
his own merit and thus his ambition, his enthusiasm, are raised; and
when once this noble ardour is kindled in the breast, it excites to
exertion, and supports under endurance. But I forget myself,' said the
count, checking his enthusiasm; 'I promised to speak soberly. If I have
said too much, your own good sense, my lord, will correct me, and your
good-nature will forgive the prolixity of an old man, touched upon his
favourite subject--the passion of his youth.'

Lord Colambre, of course, assured the count that he was not tired.
Indeed, the enthusiasm with which this old officer spoke of his
profession, and the high point of view in which he placed it, increased
our hero's desire to serve a campaign abroad. Good sense, politeness,
and experience of the world preserved Count O'Halloran from that foible
with which old officers are commonly reproached, of talking continually
of their own military exploits. Though retired from the world, he had
contrived, by reading the best books, and corresponding with persons of
good information, to keep up with the current of modern affairs; and he
seldom spoke of those in which he had been formerly engaged. He rather
too studiously avoided speaking of himself; and this fear of egotism
diminished the peculiar interest he might have inspired: it disappointed
curiosity, and deprived those with whom he conversed of many
entertaining and instructive anecdotes. However, he sometimes made
exceptions to his general rule in favour of persons who peculiarly
pleased him, and Lord Colambre was of this number.

He this evening, for the first time, spoke to his lordship of the years
he had spent in the Austrian service; told him anecdotes of the emperor;
spoke of many distinguished public characters whom he had known abroad;
of those officers who had been his friends and companions. Among others
he mentioned, with particular regard, a young English officer who had
been at the same time with him in the Austrian service, a gentleman of
the name of Reynolds. The name struck Lord Colambre; it was the name of
the officer who had been the cause of the disgrace of Miss St. Omar--of
Miss Nugent's mother. 'But there are so many Reynoldses.'

He eagerly asked the age--the character of this officer.