“Like sounds that are no more, past is Erin’s
Strife; and Ingall is returned with his fame.”
Lord Arandale, the eldest brother of Mrs. Montgomery; his lady; their daughter, Lady Susan Morven; their son, Lord Morven; and a nephew, Colonel Morven, had all come from Scotland, on a visit to their relative, and a tour to the lakes.
Mrs. Montgomery, in compliment to these friends, and also for the purpose of affording some little society to her hitherto secluded grand-daughters, had determined, though she never would herself go out again, to see company at home, as before the death of Lady L. In pursuance of this plan, a large and gay party was now assembled in the drawing-room of Lodore House, awaiting the important summons to that very dinner which we have just seen Mrs. Smyth so anxiously preparing. There was also to be a dance in the evening, to which all the neighbouring families for many miles round were invited.
Julia, now about eighteen, according to the account given us in the last chapter by Mrs. Smyth, was endeavouring, for the whim of the thing, to learn from Lady Susan Morven, the Scotch pronunciation of the words of “Auld Lang Syne,” of which she was playing the accompaniment on the harp; Mrs. Montgomery and Lady Arandale were seated on a sofa, engaged in conversation; Lord Arandale was talking politics in a window with Mr. Jackson; Frances, Lord Morven, and Colonel Morven, were standing near the harp, laughing at Julia’s attempts at Scotch; and the rest, in various groupes, were exerting their patience, or their wit, to pass away the time till dinner.
“That is not right,” said Lady Susan, “can’t you say it as I do? We twa ha’e climed aboot the hills.”
Julia recommenced accordingly; “We twa ha’e climed”—— The unfinished sentence died away on her lips, her hands ceased to move on the strings, she arose slowly from her seat, stood some seconds motionless as a statue, her colour mounting gradually, then darted past Frances and the gentlemen. They turned to look after her, and beheld her standing in the centre of the room; her hand in that of an extremely handsome young man, in a travelling dress. The stranger appeared to be about four-and-twenty, but was strikingly like the picture of a lad, some three or four years younger, which hung over the chimney-piece.
In short, it was Edmund. The fleet had returned to England; the Euphrasia wanted repairs, that must require some months for their completion; and our hero had availed himself of the opportunity thus afforded him of visiting Lodore House—setting out without even delaying to write; and while the carriage in which he had arrived, was driving round, he had entered the drawing-room, according to his old custom, from the lawn, by one of the open glass doors. He had been dazzled by the unexpected sight of a large company in rooms so long devoted to mourning and quiet affections, while the first distinct object which had fixed his eyes, (guided possibly by certain sweet sounds,) was the glittering pillar of a harp, the chords of which, were vibrating at the moment in harmony with the tones of a mellow, yet almost infantine voice. A step more, and he beheld, seated at the said harp —— impossible!—it cannot be!—yet it must be, his darling little Julia that was, but transformed from the child she had been when he last saw her, into a seeming woman of perfect beauty, nay, almost majesty; for Julia was not only tall of her age, but as fully rounded as symmetry would permit. She was dressed too, preparatory to the ball of the evening, in a much too fashionable full-dress (she had not yet arrived at choosing for herself) sent from town by a fashionable milliner, who wished to send also a long bill.
It was this artificial costume, in fact, though Edmund was not aware of its power, which had, at first sight, added years to Julia’s apparent age, and inspired our amazed hero with absolute awe of his former playfellow. In the crayon drawing he had of both sisters in one frame, (full-length, age thirteen,) they wore each a frock, without flounce or tucker, and their fair hair loose on their shoulders.
While lost in astonishment, he gazed, yet saw in the well-remembered expression of the soft hazel eyes, so often raised to his in the undisguised fondness of childhood; but it was indeed the same Julia; a vivid recollection of their last meeting in that room, on that very spot, and of the boat-cloak, in the folds of which he had then, without hesitation, wrapped his little favourite, as he clasped her to his heart, presented itself most inopportunely, to his imagination. Now the very retrospect seemed presumption; yet the years that had intervened, were to memory but as hours; while the pressure of the soft hand, which kindly returned that of his, did not at all tend to the regulation of his already confused ideas. Nor, indeed, had he any leisure whatever afforded him for such an undertaking; for Frances, as soon as she had turned and seen the cause of Julia’s emotion, had flown towards him; and Mrs. Montgomery, on hearing Frances’ exclamation of—“Oh, grandmamma, here’s Edmund!” had called him to her; and Mr. Jackson, on catching the same sounds, had left Lord Arandale and his politics, and hastened to greet his young friend. In short, he was surrounded in a moment, and overwhelmed with rejoicings, questionings, congratulations, and, finally, introductions; being presented, in due form, to Lord and Lady Arandale, and all the family party.
The low growl of the gong, preceding its fearful bellowings, was now heard; and Mrs. Montgomery reminded our hero, that the ten minutes it usually sounded was all the time he would have to make his preparations for dinner. He retired accordingly, and changed his travelling dress for one more suitable to the occasion.
On his return to the drawing-room, Julia was still engaged playing Scotch airs, and learning the pronunciation of the words. Without being conscious of the direction he gave his steps, he went as directly towards her, as though he had been the bearer of a message which he was about to deliver. He stopped short, however, when arrived within a pace or two of the harp, where he remained standing. Julia continued playing, but performed very badly; for she was wishing to speak to Edmund in the kind manner that every recollection of her habitual feelings towards him dictated. She had never, on any former occasion, found the least difficulty in expressing those feelings. What an awkward thing it is, she thought, to meet an old friend, after a long absence, before so many strangers!
She returned in a playful manner to the song of “Auld lang syne,” for the sake of the reference the words have to old times, and old friends; but, when she looked up, very innocently, intending, as a sort of friendly welcome, to enforce the application by a kind smile, and met the eyes of Edmund fixed upon her, she looked down, blushed, felt an undefined uneasiness as if she had done something wrong, and did not venture to look up again; though she said to herself, “It is only Edmund!”
Edmund’s gaze was so continued, that Mrs. Montgomery asked him if Julia was much more grown than he expected.
“Yes, ma’am—oh, no!” answered Edmund. “That is, I always thought—that Julia—but—but”—— He coloured and stammered.
“I always thought, myself, she would be tall,” said Mrs. Montgomery; “but you think her more grown than you could have supposed, perhaps?”
“Yes—ma’am—yes—I do,” he replied, glad to be spared the task of translating himself.
Dinner was at this moment announced; and, the next, Edmund heard the words:—“Lady Julia L., allow me——” pronounced by Lord Morven, who, at the same time, presented his arm to Julia. She accepted it, and the couple fell into the rear of the battalion, marching towards the dining-room. Edmund felt an odd sort of sensation, which he did not wait to define, but, offering his arm to Frances, who was busy, declaring that she wanted but half an inch of Julia’s height; he followed with her, and, on taking his seat at the table, between her ladyship and Lady Susan Morven, found himself placed opposite to Julia and Lord Morven.
