A DISCOVERY.

“A note for Monsieur,” said the waiter, awaking me at the same time from the soundest sleep and most delightful dream. The billet was thus:—

“If your excellency does not intend to slumber during the next twenty-four hours, it might be as well to remember that we are waiting breakfast. Ever yours,

“Kilkee.”

“It is true, then,” said I—following up the delusion of my dream. “It is true, I am really domesticated once more with the Callonbys. My suit is prospering, and at length the long-sought, long-hoped for moment is come—”

“Well, Harry,” said Kilkee, as he dashed open the door. “Well, Harry, how are you, better than last night, I hope?”

“Oh yes, considerably. In fact, I can’t think what could have been the matter with me; but I felt confoundedly uncomfortable.”

“You did! Why, man, what can you mean; was it not a joke?”

“A joke,” said I, with a start.

“Yes, to be sure. I thought it was only the sequel of the other humbug.”

“The sequel of the other humbug!” Gracious mercy! thought I, getting pale with horror, is it thus he ventures to designate my attachment to his sister?

“Come, come, it’s all over now. What the devil could have persuaded you to push the thing so far?”

“Really, I am so completely in the dark as to your meaning that I only get deeper in mystery by my chance replies. What do you mean?”

“What do I mean! Why, the affair of last night of course. All Munich is full of it, and most fortunately for you, the king has taken it all in the most good-humoured way, and laughs more than any one else about it.”

Oh, then, thought I, I must have done or said something last night during my illness, that I can’t remember now. “Come, Kilkee, out with it. What happened last night, that has served to amuse the good people of Munich? for as I am a true man, I forget all you are alluding to.”

“And don’t remember the Greek Loan—eh?”

“The Greek Loan!”

“And your Excellency’s marked reception by his Majesty? By Jove though, it was the rarest piece of impudence I ever heard of; hoaxing a crowned head, quizzing one of the Lord’s anointed is un peu trop fort.”

“If you really do not wish to render me insane at once, for the love of mercy say, in plain terms, what all this means.”

“Come, come, I see you are incorrigible; but as breakfast is waiting all this time, we shall have your explanations below stairs.”

Before I had time for another question Kilkee passed his arm within mine, and led me along the corridor, pouring out, the entire time a whole rhapsody about the practical joke of my late illness, which he was pleased to say would ring from one end of Europe to the other.

Lord Callonby was alone in the breakfast-room when we entered, and the moment he perceived me called out,

“Eh, Lorrequer, you here still? Why, man, I thought you’d have been over the frontier early this morning?”

“Indeed, my lord, I am not exactly aware of any urgent reason for so rapid a flight.”

“You are not! The devil, you are not. Why, you must surely have known his majesty to be the best tempered man in his dominions then, or you would never have played off such a ruse, though I must say, there never was anything better done. Old Heldersteen, the minister for foreign affairs, is nearly deranged this morning about it—it seems that he was the first that fell into the trap; but seriously speaking, I think it would be better if you got away from this; the king, it is true, has behaved with the best possible good feeling; but—”

“My lord, I have a favour to ask, perhaps, indeed in all likelihood the last I shall ever ask of your lordship, it is this—what are you alluding to all this while, and for what especial reason do you suggest my immediate departure from Munich?”

“Bless my heart and soul—you surely cannot mean to carry the thing on any further—you never can intend to assume your ministerial functions by daylight?”

“My what!—my ministerial functions.”

“Oh no, that were too much—even though his majesty did say—that you were the most agreeable diplomate he had met for a long time.”

“I, a diplomate.”

“You, certainly. Surely you cannot be acting now; why, gracious mercy, Lorrequer! can it be possible that you were not doing it by design, do you really not know in what character you appeared last night?”

“If in any other than that of Harry Lorrequer, my lord, I pledge my honour, I am ignorant.”

“Nor the uniform you wore, don’t you know what it meant?”

“The tailor sent it to my room.”

“Why, man, by Jove, this will kill me,” said Lord Callonby, bursting into a fit of laughter, in which Kilkee, a hitherto silent spectator of our colloquy, joined to such an extent, that I thought he should burst a bloodvessel. “Why man, you went as the Charge d’Affaires.”

“I, the Charge d’Affaires!”

“That you did, and a most successful debut you made of it.”

While shame and confusion covered me from head to foot at the absurd and ludicrous blunder I had been guilty of, the sense of the ridiculous was so strong in me, that I fell upon a sofa and laughed on with the others for full ten minutes.

“Your Excellency is, I am rejoiced to find, in good spirits,” said Lady Callonby, entering and presenting her hand.

“He is so glad to have finished the Greek Loan,” said Lady Catherine, smiling with a half malicious twinkle of the eye. Just at this instant another door opened, and Lady Jane appeared. Luckily for me, the increased mirth of the party, as Lord Callonby informed them of my blunder, prevented their paying any attention to me, for as I half sprung forward toward her, my agitation would have revealed to any observer, the whole state of my feelings. I took her hand which she extended to me, without speaking, and bowing deeply over it, raised my head and looked into her eyes, as if to read at one glance, my fate, and when I let fall her hand, I would not have exchanged my fortune for a kingdom.

“You have heard, Jane, how our friend opened his campaign in Munich last night.”

“Oh, I hope, Mr. Lorrequer, they are only quizzing. You surely could not—”

“Could not. What he could not—what he would not do, is beyond my calculation to make out,” said Kilkee, laughing, “anything in life, from breaking an axletree to hoaxing a king;” I turned, as may be imagined, a deaf ear to this allusion, which really frightened me, not knowing how far Kilkee’s information might lead, nor how he might feel disposed to use it. Lady Jane turned a half reproachful glance at me, as if rebuking my folly; but in the interest she thus took in me, I should not have bartered it for the smile of the proudest queen in Christendom.

Breakfast over, Lord Callonby undertook to explain to the Court the blunder, by which I had unwittingly been betrayed into personating the newly arrived minister, and as the mistake was more of their causing than my own, my excuses were accepted, and when his lordship returned to the hotel, he brought with him an invitation for me to dine at Court in my own unaccredited character. By this time I had been carrying on the siege as briskly as circumstances permitted; Lady Callonby being deeply interested in her newly arrived purchases, and Lady Catherine being good-natured enough to pretend to be so also, left me, at intervals, many opportunities of speaking to Lady Jane.

As I feared that such occasions would not often present themselves, I determined on making the best use of my time, and at once led the conversation towards the goal I aimed at, by asking, “if Lady Jane had completely forgotten the wild cliffs and rocky coast of Clare, amid the tall mountains and glaciered peaks of the Tyrol?”

“Far from it,” she replied. “I have a most clear remembrance of bold Mogher and the rolling swell of the blue Atlantic, and long to feel its spray once more upon my cheek; but then, I knew it in childhood—your acquaintance with it was of a later date, and connected with fewer happy associations.”

“Fewer happy associations—how can you say so? Was it not there the brightest hours of my whole life were passed, was it not there I first met—”

“Kilkee tells me,” said Lady Jane, interrupting me shortly, “that Miss Bingham is extremely pretty.”

This was turning my flank with a vengeance; so I muttered something about differences of tastes, and continued, “I understand my worthy cousin Guy, had the good fortune to make your acquaintance in Paris.”

It was now her turn to blush, which she did deeply, and said nothing.

“He is expected, I believe, in a few days at Munich,” said I, fixing my eyes upon her, and endeavouring to read her thoughts; she blushed more deeply, and the blood at my own heart ran cold, as I thought over all I had heard, and I muttered to myself “she loves him.”

“Mr. Lorrequer, the carriage is waiting, and as we are going to the Gallery this morning, and have much to see, pray let us have your escort.”

“Oh, I am sure,” said Catherine, “his assistance will be considerable—particularly if his knowledge of art only equals his tact in botany. Don’t you think so, Jane?”—But Jane was gone.

They left the room to dress, and I was alone—alone with my anxious, now half despairing thoughts, crowding and rushing upon my beating brain. She loves him, and I have only come to witness her becoming the wife of another. I see it all, too plainly;—my Uncle’s arrival—Lord Callonby’s familiar manner—Jane’s own confession. All—all convince me, that my fate is decided. Now, then, for one last brief explanation, and I leave Munich, never to see her more. Just as I had so spoken, she entered. Her gloves had been forgotten in the room, and she came in not knowing that I was there. What would I not have given at that moment, for the ready witted assurance, the easy self-possession, with which I should have made my advances had my heart not been as deeply engaged as I now felt it. Alas! My courage was gone; there was too much at stake, and I preferred, now, that the time was come, any suspense, any vacillation, to the dreadful certainty of refusal.

These were my first thoughts, as she entered; how they were followed, I cannot say. The same evident confusion of my brain, which I once felt when mounting the breach in a storm-party, now completely beset me; and as then, when death and destruction raged on every side, I held on my way regardless of every obstacle, and forgetting all save the goal before me; so did I now, in the intensity of my excitement, disregard every thing, save the story of my love, which I poured forth with that fervour which truth only can give. But she spoke not,—her averted head,—her cold and tremulous hand, and half-drawn sigh were all that replied to me, as I waited for that one word upon which hung all my fortune. At length her hand, which I scarcely held within my own, was gently withdrawn. She lifted it to her eyes, but still was silent.

“Enough,” said I, “I seek not to pain you more. The daring ambition that prompted me to love you, has met its heaviest retribution. Farewell,—You, Lady Jane, have nothing to reproach yourself with—You never encouraged, you never deceived me. I, and I alone have been to blame, and mine must be the suffering. Adieu, then once more, and now for ever.”

She turned slowly round, and as the handkerchief fell from her hand,—her features were pale as marble,—I saw that she was endeavouring to speak, but could not; and at length, as the colour came slowly back to her cheek, her lips moved, and just as I leaned forward, with a beating heart to hear, her sister came running forward, and suddenly checked herself in her career, as she said, laughingly,—

“Mille pardons, Jane, but his Excellency must take another occasion to explain the quadruple alliance, for mamma has been waiting in the carriage these ten minutes.”

I followed them to the door, placed them in the carriage, and was turning again towards the house, when Lady Callonby said—

“Oh, Mr. Lorrequer, we count upon you—you must not desert us.”

I muttered something about not feeling well.

“And then, perhaps, the Greek loan is engaging your attention,” said Catherine; “or, mayhap, some reciprocity treaty is not prospering.”

The malice of this last sally told, for Jane blushed deeply, and I felt overwhelmed with confusion.

“But pray come—the drive will do you good.”

“Your ladyship will, I am certain, excuse”—

Just as I had got so far, I caught Lady Jane’s eye, for the first time since we had left the drawing-room. What I read there, I could not, for the life of me, say; but, instead of finishing my sentence, I got into the carriage, and drove off, very much to the surprise of Lady Callonby, who, never having studied magnetism, knew very little the cause of my sudden recovery.

The thrill of hope that shot through my heart succeeding so rapidly the dark gloom of my despairing thoughts, buoyed me up, and while I whispered to myself, “all may not yet be lost,” I summoned my best energies to my aid. Luckily for me, I was better qualified to act as cicerone in a gallery than as a guide in a green-house; and with the confidence that knowledge of a subject ever inspires, I rattled away about art and artists, greatly to the edification of Lady Callonby—much to the surprise of Lady Catherine—and, better than all, evidently to the satisfaction of her, to win whose praise I would gladly have risked my life.

“There,” said I, as I placed my fair friend before a delicious little madonna of Carl Dolci—“there is, perhaps, the triumph of colouring—for the downy softness of that cheek—the luscious depth of that blue eye—the waving richness of those sunny locks, all is perfect—fortunately so beautiful a head is not a monopoly, for he painted many copies of this picture.”

“Quite true,” said a voice behind, “and mine at Elton is, I think, if anything, better than this.”

I turned, and beheld my good old uncle, Sir Guy, who was standing beside Lady Callonby. While I welcomed my worthy relative, I could not help casting a glance around to see if Guy were also there, and not perceiving him, my heart beat freely again.

My uncle, it appeared, had just arrived, and lost no time in joining us at the gallery. His manner to me was cordial to a degree; and I perceived that, immediately upon being introduced to Lady Jane, he took considerable pains to observe her, and paid her the most marked attention.

The first moment I could steal unnoticed, I took the opportunity of asking if Guy were come. That one fact were to me all, and upon the answer to my question, I hung with deep anxiety.

“Guy here!—no, not yet. The fact is, Harry, my boy, Guy has not got on here as well as I could have wished. Everything had been arranged among us—Callonby behaved most handsomely—and, as far as regarded myself, I threw no impediment in the way. But still, I don’t know how it was, but Guy did not advance, and the matter now”—

“Pray, how does it stand? Have you any hopes to put all to rights again?”

“Yes, Harry, I think, with your assistance, much may be done.”

“Oh, count upon me by all means,” said I, with a sneering bitterness, that my uncle could not have escaped remarking, had his attention not been drawn off by Lady Callonby.

What have I done—what sin did I meditate before I was born, that I should come into the world branded with failure in all I attempt? Is it not enough that my cousin, my elder by some months, should be rich while I am poor—honoured and titled, while I am unknown and unnoticed?—but is he also to be preferred to me in every station in life? Is there no feeling of the heart so sacred that it must not succumb to primogeniture?

“What a dear old man Sir Guy is,” said Catherine, interrupting my sad reflections, “and how gallant; he is absolutely flirting with Lady Jane.”

And quite true it was. The old gentleman was paying his devoirs with a studied anxiety to please, that went to my very heart as I witnessed it. The remainder of that day to me was a painful and suffering one. My intention of suddenly leaving Munich had been abandoned, why, I knew not. I felt that I was hoping against hope, and that my stay was only to confirm, by the most “damning proof,” how surely I was fated to disappointment. My reasonings all ended in one point. If she really love Guy, then my present attentions can only be a source of unhappiness to her; if she do not, is there any prospect that from the bare fact of my attachment, so proud a family as the Callonbys will suffer their daughter to make a mere “marriage d’inclination?”

There was but one answer to this question, and I had at last the courage to make it: and yet the Callonbys had marked me out for their attentions, and had gone unusually out of their way to inflict injury upon me, if all were meant to end in nothing. If I only could bring myself to think that this was a systematic game adopted by them, to lead to the subsequent arrangement with my cousin!—if I could but satisfy my doubts on this head——What threats of vengeance I muttered, I cannot remember, for I was summoned at that critical moment to attend the party to the palace.

The state of excitement I was in, was an ill preparative for the rigid etiquette of a court dinner. All passed off, however, happily, and the king, by a most good-natured allusion to the blunder of the night before, set me perfectly at ease on that head.

I was placed next to Lady Jane at dinner; and half from wounded pride, half from the momentarily increasing conviction that all was lost, chatted away gaily, without any evidence of a stronger feeling than the mere vicinity of a pretty person is sure to inspire. What success this game was attended with I know not; but the suffering it cost me, I shall never cease to remember. One satisfaction I certainly did experience—she was manifestly piqued, and several times turned towards the person on the other side of her, to avoid the tone of indifference in which I discussed matters that were actually wringing my own heart at the moment. Yet such was the bitterness of my spirit, that I set down this conduct on her part as coquetry; and quite convinced myself that any slight encouragement she might ever have given my attentions, was only meant to indulge a spirit of vanity, by adding another to the list of her conquests.

As the feeling grew upon me, I suppose my manner to her became more palpably cutting, for it ended at last in our discontinuing to speak, and when we retired from the palace, I accompanied her to the carriage in silence, and wished her a cold and distant good night, without any advance to touch her hand at parting—and yet that parting, I had destined for our last.

The greater part of that night I spent in writing letters. One was to Jane herself owning my affection, confessing that even the “rudesse” of my late conduct was the fruit of it, and finally assuring her that failing to win from her any return of my passion, I had resolved never to meet her more—I also wrote a short note to my uncle, thanking him for all he had formerly done in my behalf, but coldly declining for the future, any assistance upon his part, resolving that upon my own efforts alone should I now rest my fortunes. To Lord Callonby I wrote at greater length, recapitulating the history of our early intimacy, and accusing him of encouraging me in expectations, which, as he never intended to confirm them, were fated to prove my ruin. More—much more I said, which to avow, I should gladly shrink from, were it not that I have pledged myself to honesty in these “Confessions,” and as they depict the bitterness and misery of my spirit, I must plead guilty to them here. In a word, I felt myself injured. I saw no outlet for redress, and the only consolation open to my wounded pride and crushed affection, was to show, that if I felt myself a victim, at least I was not a dupe. I set about packing up for the journey, whither, I knew not. My leave was nearly expired, yet I could not bear the thought of rejoining the regiment. My only desire was to leave Munich, and that speedily. When all my arrangements were completed I went down noiselessly to the inn yard to order post-horses by day-break, there to my surprise I found all activity and bustle. Though so late at night, a courier had arrived from England for Lord Callonby, with some important dispatches from the Government; this would, at any other time, have interested me deeply; now I heard the news without a particle of feeling, and I made all the necessary dispositions for my journey, without paying the slightest attention to what was going on about me. I had just finished, when Lord Callonby’s valet came to say, that his lordship wished to see me immediately in his dressing room. Though I would gladly have declined any further interview, I saw no means of escape, and followed the servant to his lordship’s room.

There I found Lord Callonby in his dressing gown and night cap, surrounded by papers, letters, despatch boxes, and red tape-tied parcels, that all bespoke business.

“Lorrequer, sit down, my boy, I have much to say to you, and as we have no time to lose, you must forego a little sleep. Is the door closed? I have just received most important news from England, and to begin,” here his lordship opened a letter and read as follow:—

“My Lord—They are out at last—the majority on Friday increased to forty yesterday evening, when they resigned; the Duke has, meanwhile, assumed the reins till further arrangements can be perfected, and despatches are now preparing to bring all our friends about us. The only rumours as yet are, L___, for the Colonies, H___, to the Foreign Office, W____ President of the Council, and we anxiously hope yourself Viceroy to Ireland. In any case lose no time in coming back to England. The struggle will be a sharp one, as the outs are distracted, and we shall want you much. Ever yours, my dear lord,

“Henry ____.”

“This is much sooner than I looked for, Lorrequer, perhaps almost than I wished; but as it has taken place, we must not decline the battle; now what I wanted with you is this—if I go to Ireland I should like your acceptance of the Private Secretary’s Office. Come, come, no objections; you know that you need not leave the army, you can become unattached, I’ll arrange all that; apropos, this concerns you, it is from the Horse Guards, you need not read it now though, it is merely your gazette to the company; your promotion, however, shall not stop there; however, the important thing I want with you is this, I wish you to start for England to-morrow; circumstances prevent my going from this for a few days. You can see L____ and W____, , and explain all I have to say; I shall write a few letters, and some hints for your own guidance; and as Kilkee never would have head for these matters, I look to your friendship to do it for me.”

Looking only to the post, as the proposal suited my already made resolve to quit Munich, I acceded at once, and assured Lord Callonby that I should be ready in an hour.

“Quite right, Lorrequer, but still I shall not need this, you cannot leave before eleven or twelve o’clock, in fact I have another service to exact at your hands before we part with you; meanwhile, try and get some sleep, you are not likely to know anything of a bed before you reach the Clarendon.” So saying, he hurried me from the room, and as he closed the door, I heard him muttering his satisfaction, that already so far all had been well arranged.