Mrs. C. J. Newby

O, envy! hide thy bosom, hide it deep:
A thousand snakes, with black envenomed mouths,
Rest there, and hiss, and feed through all thy heart!

Pollok.

Caroline had no sooner returned from the ride, which had been to her full of disappointment, than she went to her mother, and begged her to find a remedy for, what she termed, their dependent's insolence. Mrs. Villars attempted, but in vain, to parry her angry threats—for Caroline was a stranger to the early discipline, which makes a person submit to what is right, for right's sake—and her mother's doctrine of expediency was too deeply engrafted in her disposition, to allow of her adopting any other rule of conduct. Why she imagined that her cousin stood in her way, she scarcely knew herself, except that she felt by instinct, that there was a superiority about her, which placed herself in a lower position. She had never, either, forgiven her resistance of her first attempts to humble her to what she deemed her fit position in the family—and though she had since abstained from any such open attack, her anger had not been the less strong, because it smouldered in silence.

She was conscious that she appeared to less advantage in contrast to Mabel, and she now resolved to remove her. This she boldly declared to her mother, in violent terms, refusing to listen to any excuses, for, what she termed, her bold behaviour—and the latter saw, with horror, that she had raised, in her own family, by careful culture, a power of evil, which was urging her still further in the path of sin and fraud.

To do her justice, she never began with the intention of doing wrong—she always believed herself led on by circumstances, and compelled by expediency. The remembrance of purer thoughts, shared with her more romantic sister, rose to check her at every step, though seldom strong enough to restrain her altogether.

But it was not so with her daughter—she had no such hallowed nursery recollections—she had often heard her mother's praises of her beauty, but never her prayers for her purity—and, with strong, unrelenting terms, she demanded, what her mother wished, but feared to do?

Mrs. Villars was afraid to refuse, and yet did not know how to gratify her—for how could she send Mabel away without repaying her money? She felt she could not dare to tell her husband, that she had spent such a sum in trifles, which she had now forgotten, or, in the purchase of fashions, which had long grown old; she did not even dare to tell Caroline, that she had been guilty of such meanness. It was impossible to decide; and anxious to gain time, she dismissed her daughter with promises and caresses, hoping to discover some method of evading the annoyances which menaced her.

But as time passed on, they only thickened round her—while Caroline became daily more impatient of delay.

From the first day of his introduction to Mabel, Mr. Stokes never appeared to lose sight of her—the slightest chance of meeting was sufficient to bring him to the most unlikely places; and Maria was too shrewd to be ignorant of the nature of his attentions—for there was too much seriousness about them to be easily mistaken, and she watched his movements with bitterness.

Caroline no sooner perceived this, than she hastened to sympathise with her, with more warmth than she had ever before displayed; while she still further fired her jealousy, by artful remarks upon Mabel's beauty and prudery, two qualities which Maria had never possessed, and led her, with little difficulty, to join in begging their mother to get rid of her as soon as possible.

Indeed, with some shew of reason, for spite of every drawback, furnished by circumstances, they, little knowing the one sorrow of her heart, imagined her at the height of her triumph, and secretly rejoicing over them.

Clair still continued to seek her society—and she, perceiving, at once, from the frankness of his manner, that they met on different terms, rather encouraged his visits—for, in her close attendance upon Lucy, she believed that she perceived a secret regard for him, mingling with all her actions and feelings, forming a part even of her very errors. Much then as she had lately learnt to esteem Clair, she could not help cherishing the hope, that the altered girl might find in him a supporter in her new ideas of life, while she, with all the grace which had charmed his laughing hours, might, in his graver moments, become now a fit companion.

With these thoughts, though she felt the indelicacy of forwarding such a scheme by any direct means, she encouraged his intimacy with the family, that he might have an opportunity of judging for himself of the alteration which had taken place in Lucy's character.

This required but very little coloring, to be set down as coquetry; but when accused of it, she only laughed, and told them to wait, and see.

Nor was this all. Mr. Morley, who seemed to haunt his nephew, like his shadow, sometimes condescended to bestow some marks of high favor on Mabel, and as Mrs. Villars seldom acted herself without some covert motive, she easily believed that the pleasure with which Mabel received those transitory attentions, was rather caused by her hopes of eventual advantage; for as Hargrave had said, that a large landed property still remained, and as he had no children, the question of what was to become of it at his death, might be one which she was answering to her own satisfaction.

Still the money difficulty remained strong as ever, and made her evade all the schemes of her two daughters, till she perceived that her niece was gaining ground in the favor of all around her; and, though unaware of it herself, was becoming the great attraction of the house. This was an evil which must be checked, and she thought again and again, till, at length, an idea occurred to her, which, though she, at first, rejected, she finally adopted, reasoning with herself, that the interests of her dear children required every sacrifice.

One other difficulty also remained in the affection of Mr. Villars, which rendered him deaf to every insinuation against her—indeed, on the contrary, he remarked, with pleasure, her returning animation of spirits, and took every opportunity of introducing her—thus helping her popularity, to his wife's great annoyance.

To gain her husband, therefore, became a point of importance, as she wished to remove Mabel, at least, with an appearance of kindness; and after many a struggle with her better-self, she resolved to make a bolder attempt, and, choosing one wet afternoon, she went down to the library, to settle some money matters. Mr Villars, too glad to bring his wife to anything so steady as accounts, which she generally avoided, willingly gave her his attention, though to do so, he had to lay down a page of his book, and forget a brilliant idea.

She did not, however, give very much time to figures, and soon managed to enter upon her real business; and when she closed the book, over which they had been looking, she said, with one of her sweetest looks, and she really did look well when she liked—

"My dear, I wish to talk to you about something which is very much on my mind."

"Well, my dear, say anything you like, I have plenty of time."

"You know, then, how kind and good you have been to me in allowing me to bring my niece here—I do assure you I have felt it deeply, though I have never said anything about it before, it was so like you. Well, now I think it is time to carry out my original intention, and relieve you of the burden, by providing for her in some way. Now, I was thinking if I could get her a place as companion or governess, what an excellent thing it would be for her."

"My love," said her husband, "make yourself perfectly easy; your niece is no burden to me; she is perfectly welcome here, as long as she needs a home—and with regard to her pocket-money, let her fare as the other girls do."

Here, thinking he had settled the matter to the perfect satisfaction of all parties, he took up his book.

"But, my dear," began his wife, and he laid it down again, "consider how unjustly this would be acting; to lead her on with false hopes, when, eventually, she must be unprovided for. How much better to inure her to work when she is young. Indeed, her dear mother entreated me to see to it, and how can I neglect her wishes?"

"Depend upon it, Caroline, your sister would, when thinking of her orphan child, gladly have exchanged a life of hardships, for one of comfort and repose. Why did you not assure her that I would take care of her?—you know I am neither parsimonious nor poor."

"Ah! but, indeed, I should be more satisfied if I did as I promised."

"You would wrong yourself and me—do not think of it."

"But you must see what a drawback she is to our daughters settling; and, really, for their sakes, poor things, it is to be thought of. I am getting quite anxious about them, having all four out together, and she makes a fifth. Not that I mean, for an instant, to say that she is more beautiful, or has a better figure, or does anything better than they do; for her voice wants a good deal of tuition—but she has an artful way of doing things, which makes her get on, and persuades every one to like her; why, the very servants would rather do anything for her, than any one else. And, only think of her mock modesty, pretending not to care how she looked, and attracting more attention all the time, when she went out riding with that old hat, which hung so long in the passage. Really, her airs require a little pulling down."

"Caroline," said Mr. Villars, much vexed at the altered tone of her argument. "I never approved of the plan of depreciating others when they stand in our way, and I once hoped that our daughters—possessing every natural endowment—would not need such a false elevation. Surely they can be admired on their own account, and not simply because there is no one else to admire. Johnson says, 'Every man ought to aim at eminence, not by pulling others down, but by raising himself; and enjoy the pleasure of superiority, whether imaginary or real, without interrupting others in the same felicity.'"

"I am afraid," replied Mrs. Villars, who had listened with some impatience to this quotation, "such moralizing will not get us on in life—the world requires management, at least, I have always found so, and, therefore, I do think that we are not doing our duty by our children, in letting this girl always outshine them. I am sure no parent would be further from such a wish than yourself."

"But I do not see how doing a wrong thing can serve them. You spoke, just now, of the necessity of Mabel's supporting herself, eventually, but if she is admired, as you say, and as I think she deserves to be, why not give her the chance of being married; she can have but one husband after all."

"Only one husband!" repeated Mrs. Villars, "why she acts as if she wanted twenty. How can you tell what is going on, shut up here with your books? First, there is Clair, who paid such attentions to Lucy at Aston; see how she treats him now she has got him on her books—why just on, and just off, ready for any emergency."

"I never saw anything improper in her conduct, indeed, I was pleased with the respect he paid her, seemingly apart from love or pique."

"Why one would think that you sat down here and invented people's conduct as you wished it to be; but surely, love, you must have seen the very pointed attentions Henry paid Caroline, before that insinuating girl came to the house?"

"No, indeed, I never knew anything more than you told me, and, for my own part, I never saw anything like attentions even."

"You never see anything, I declare, but I tell you he did, though you do seem to doubt it—you should see how she manoeuvres to appear angelic in his eyes. More artfulness I never met with; so cheerful, so forgiving, and so everything, when she likes, that really it is quite provoking. Poor Caroline says she cannot bear it."

"Why does she not imitate the rival she cannot outshine, for she has sufficient natural grace and talent to make her fascinating. Oh! Caroline, I fear there was something wanting in our children's education."

Perhaps she agreed with him, for she did not stop to argue the point, but continued in the same tone.

"I do declare this is not all, and you shall know what she is; of that I am determined. There is Mr. Stokes, whom I expected to come forward for Maria, has taken to dangle after her, and she has found the art of pleasing him too, poor silly man, by always pretending to avoid his attentions, and, as if this was not enough, she puts another iron in the fire, for safety, and tries to make a fool of Mr. Morley, poor old man. Why, if this goes on, we shall be the laughing-stock of the place."

"There can be nothing ridiculous," replied Mr. Villars, "in protecting an orphan niece, without home or friends. I cannot believe that Mabel tries at anything of the kind, nor do I believe, that if my daughters act properly, she could hurt them if she did try."

"But," said she, entreatingly, "you will consent, won't you, dear, to let her take a governess's place, for a time at least, only till Caroline is married?"

"I will not, indeed, consent to anything unjust. There is a certain prejudice existing in society against the position held by a governess, and I should think it most injurious to her interests if I allowed her to assume it, unless I meant to neglect her altogether. Do not, I entreat you, let a mistaken love for your children, make you neglect what you owe to yourself. Remember, that, as the sister of Mrs. Lesly, you owe something to poor Mabel; and you cannot offer, as an excuse for refusing her a refuge, that I am unable or unwilling to allow you to go to the lengths of even romantic generosity. We owe her much for the good she has done our Lucy."

"What! In making her a prude and a saint; there is an end of her chance of settling, I see clearly—"

"I do not see why, for there is nothing exaggerated about her tone of feeling—but I know we always differed in the management of our children; I have grieved enough over it, but it is now too late to remedy our mistakes, we can only trust to circumstances; they, with Mabel's assistance, have worked a striking change in Lucy. There, let us say no more about it, you would be sorry to do an unkind thing, I know."

Saying this in a tone of more than usual decision, he left the room, thinking sadly over the selfishness of his wife and family, which this conversation had laid so openly before him.

No sooner had he left the house, than Caroline and Maria went to the library, anxious to hear the success of the interview. Poor Mrs. Villars stood like a culprit before them, when obliged to confess that their papa had gone, with the understanding that the matter was ended, and Mabel was to remain. The mother and children seemed to have changed places.

"Well, I did think you would have managed better than that," said Maria.

"I do not think you half tried," said Caroline.

"Try yourself, then," retorted her mother.

"That, indeed, I will not; you brought the evil into the house, and it is but fair that you should have the pain of removing it."

"Well, well, my dears, I will do my best, only do not be so angry with me—go and get ready for dinner, there's dear children, I will try again."

"Soon then, if you do at all," said Caroline.

"Yes, very soon, dear, impetuous girl."

Satisfied with this promise, they went to prepare for dinner.

Unfortunately, as it happened, Mr. Villars was met, not far from his own door, by Mr. Stokes, who skilfully managed to get him to ask him in to dinner. That he had but one object in doing so, was evident, by the pointed attentions he paid to Mabel; and, in the evening, having managed to get her to play a game of chess—he kept her over it for an hour or two, refusing to see any of her mistakes, or to take any of the pieces she carefully threw in his way. She grew more and more impatient, when she saw that he was bent upon keeping her; and when she had been nearly three hours over the game, she begged him to allow her to give it him.

"On one condition," he replied, "that you will allow me to give you any thing I like in return; this, for instance," he continued in the same low key, glancing down significantly at the large strong hand which rested carelessly on the chess-board.

"No no," said Mabel, blushing from her neck to her forehead; "I gave you the game, but I will never take any thing in return."

The last few words were said with decision, and point, though covered by the appearance of jest, as she rose and left the table. Maria saw every thing, and marked well the expression of Mr. Stokes's face, so serious, so unlike his usual jocular tone.

"It will be too late," she said to herself again and again, "if I do not take care, but I will trust to my wits still." Mr. Stokes soon afterwards took his leave.

Before they went to rest, the mother and sisters found an opportunity of talking over Mabel's coquetry—and so far strengthened themselves in the idea of the necessity of removing her, that Mrs. Villars determined to do so, whatever came of it.