Page:Once a Week, Series 1, Volume II Dec 1859 to June 1860.pdf/347

 334 “Looking out on a beautiful lawn, and the moon, and all sorts of trees, I must now tell you about the ladies here.

“Conning undid me to-night. While Conning remains unattached, Conning is likely to be serviceable. If Evan would only give her a crumb, she would be his most faithful dog. I fear he cannot be induced, and Conning will be snapped up by somebody else. You know how susceptible she is behind her primness—she will be of no use on earth, and I shall find excuse to send her back immediately. After all, her appearance here was all that was wanted.

“Mrs. Melville and her dreadful juvenile are here, as you may imagine—the complete Englishwoman. I smile on her, but I could laugh. To see the crow'sfeet under her eyes on her white skin, and those ringlets, is really too ridiculous. Then there is a Miss Carrington, Lady Jocelyn’s cousin, aged thirty-two—if she has not tampered with the register of her birth. I should think her equal to it. Between dark and fair. Always in love with some man, Conning tells me she hears. Rose’s maid, Polly, hinted the same. She has a little money.

“But my sympathies have been excited by a little cripple—a niece of Lady Jocelyn’s, and the favourite grand-daughter of the rich old Mrs. Bonner—also here—Juliana Bonner. Her age must be twenty. You would take her for ten. In spite of her immense expectations, the Jocelyns hate her. They can hardly be civil to her. It is the poor child’s temper. She has already begun to watch dear Evan—certainly the handsomest of the men here as yet, though, I grant you, they are well-grown men, these Jocelyns, for an untravelled Englishwoman. I fear, dear Harriet, we have been dreadfully deceived about Rose. The poor child has not, in her own right, much more than a tenth part of what we supposed, I fear. It was that Mrs. Melville. I have had occasion to notice her quiet boasts here. She said this morning, ‘When Mel is in the Ministry'—he is not yet in Parliament! I feel quite angry with the woman, and she is not so cordial as she might be. I have her profile very frequently while I am conversing with her.

“With Grandmama Bonner I am excellent good friends,—venerable silver hair, high caps, &c. More of this most interesting Juliana Bonner by-and-by. It is clear to me that Rose’s fortune is calculated upon the dear invalid’s death! Is not that harrowing? It shocks me to think of it.

“Then there is Mrs. Shorne. She is a Jocelyn —and such a history! She married a wealthy manufacturer—bartered her blood for his money, and he failed, and here she resides, a bankrupt widow, petitioning any man that may be willing for his love and a decent home. And—I say in charity.

“Mrs. Shorne comes here to-morrow. She is at present with—guess, my dear!—with Lady Roseley. Do not be alarmed. I have met Lady Roseley. She heard Evan’s name, and by that and the likeness I saw she knew, at once, and I saw a truce in her eyes. She gave me a tacit assurance of it—she was engaged to dine here yesterday, and put it off—probably to grant us time for composure. If she comes I do not fear her. Besides, has she not reasons? Providence may have designed her for a staunch ally—I will not say, confederate.

“Would that Providence had fixed this beautiful mansion five hundred miles from L, though it were in a desolate region! And that reminds me of the Madre. She is in health. She always will be overbearingly robust till the day we are bereft of her. There was some secret in the house when I was there, which I did not trouble to penetrate. That little Jane F was there—not improved.

“Pray be firm about Torquay. Estates mortgaged, but hopes of saving a remnant of the property for poor Evan! Third son! Don’t commit yourself there. We dare not baronetise him. You need not speak it—imply. More can be done that way.

“And remember, dear Harriet, that you must manage Andrew so that we may positively promise his vote to the Ministry on all questions when Parliament next assembles. I understood from Lord Livelyston, that Andrew’s vote would be thought much of. A most amusing nobleman, though he pledged himself to nothing! But we are above such a thing as a commercial transaction. He must countenance Silva. Women, my dear, have sent out armies—why not fleets? Do not spare me your utmost aid in my extremity, my dearest sister.

“As for Strike, I refuse to speak of him. He is insufferable, and next to useless. How can one talk with any confidence of relationship with a Major of Marines? When I reflect on what he is, and his conduct to Caroline, I have inscrutable longings to slap his face. Tell dear Carry her husband’s friend—the chairman or something of that wonderful company of Strike’s—you know—the Duke of Belfield is coming here. He is a blood-relation of the Elburnes, therefore of the Jocelyns. It will not matter at all. Breweries, I find, are quite in esteem in your England. It was highly commendable in his Grace to visit you. Did he come to see the Major of Marines? Caroline is certainly the loveliest woman I ever beheld, and I forgive her now the pangs of jealousy she used to make me feel.

“Andrew, I hope, has received the most kind invitation of the Jocelyns. He must come. Melville must talk with him about the votes of his abominable brother in Fallowfield. We must elect Melville and have the family indebted to us. But pray be careful that Andrew speaks not a word to his odious brother about our location here. It would set him dead against these hospitable Jocelyns. It will perhaps be as well, dear Harriet, if you do not accompany Andrew. You would not be able to account for him quite thoroughly. Do as you like—I do but advise, and you know I may be trusted—for all our sakes, dear one! Adieu! Heaven bless your babes!”

The night passes, and the Countess pursues:

“Awakened by your fresh note from a dream of Evan on horseback, and a multitude hailing him