Le faux bien qu'elle prÊche est plus dangereux que le mal mÊme, en ce qu'il sÉduit par une apparence de raison, en ce qu'il fait prÉfÉrer l'usage et les maximes du monde, À l'exacte probitÉ, en ce qu'il fait consister la sagesse dans un certain milieu entre le vice et la vertu.[2]

Jean Jacques Rousseau, a M. D'Alembert.

Selina was not less attentive to Lady Eltondale's various lessons on propriety and elegance, than she had been to the instructions of Mademoiselle Omphalie. And though Lady Hammersley's satirical predictions were not yet fulfilled, as to any alteration that had taken place in her mind; yet it was evident, before she had been many weeks at Eltondale, that her general deportment was considerably changed since she had been under the superintendence of the Viscountess. Perhaps no woman ever more thoroughly understood the rules of politeness than did Lady Eltondale; and though a pupil formed entirely in her school would scarcely have failed to acquire, ultimately, that freezing apathy which was one of her own most distinguishing characteristics, yet the refinement of her manners was by no means an unfortunate counterpoise to the natural vivacity of Selina's. If it could have been possible to unite the polished exterior of the one with the unsophisticated mind of the other, it would have formed as perfect a whole, as if the rich and exuberant fancy of a Titian had been harmonized by the chastely correct judgment of a Michael Angelo.

Lady Eltondale had been right in believing, that Mr. Hammersley would not venture to admire the superior charms of Miss Seymour, till they had become current by receiving the die of fashion; and, as he found but little pleasure in the comparatively quiet society at Eltondale, he pleaded an indispensable engagement, and set off for town a few days after Selina's arrival. Nor did Sir Robert and Lady Hammersley protract their stay much longer. Early in January they returned to Bath, and their places at Eltondale were almost immediately filled by other visitors; for Lady Eltondale could never bear to be alone; and though on account of her brother's recent death she forbore giving any very public entertainments, or receiving the most dissipated of her acquaintances, yet a constant succession of parties filled up to her, in some degree, the charm of a winter's seclusion; and the gay and fashionable manners of several of her guests served to introduce Selina to those frivolous amusements, which are generally the outposts to more reprehensible pursuits.

Selina's deep mourning had at first served as an excuse for her declining to partake of the gayer engagements the neighbourhood of Eltondale occasionally afforded. For, notwithstanding the avidity with which she entered into the pleasures by which she was surrounded, she was still sufficiently unlearned in the ways of the world to believe, that, at least where the memory of a parent was concerned, it was not altogether decorous

and having at first received Mrs. Galton's approbation of her forbearance, she resisted in that one instance all Lady Eltondale's arguments and entreaties.—Happy would it have been for her, if she could always have resorted to the counsel of such a friend as Mrs. Galton. Lady Eltondale felt mortified by the unexpected resistance to her wishes, in a point she deemed so trifling; but, however, she compromised the matter with Selina, by prevailing upon her to change her sable dress at the end of three months, and to give up her mourning entirely at the end of six, which term would arrive before their going to London. She at the same time secretly resolved to interrupt, as much as possible, Selina's correspondence with Mrs. Galton, foreseeing it might, in other instances, equally frustrate her intentions and designs:—not that she could exactly define, even to herself, why she was so solicitous not only to supplant Mrs. Galton in Miss Seymour's affection, but also to change even the very character of her niece. She looked upon the engagement between her and Mr. Elton almost as irrevocable; and it was indeed a matter of comparative indifference to her, what was the true character of the woman she was so anxious to make his wife. But the real motive of the Viscountess' conduct, of which she herself was scarcely conscious, was a jealousy of Mrs. Galton's influence over Selina's mind, and an envious hatred produced by the consciousness of her own inferiority to her rival in her niece's affection; and she was perfectly aware that she could by no means so essentially mortify the woman she hated, or lessen the influence she so much dreaded, as by undermining the principles and changing the character Mrs. Galton had taken so much pains and pride in forming.

One morning Lady Eltondale entered the breakfast-room before Selina had returned from her usual early ramble; and as she carelessly tossed over the letters, which were left on the table to be claimed by their owners, her eye rested on one directed to Miss Seymour, in a hand-writing with which she was unacquainted. She had understood from Selina, that she had no correspondent but Mrs. Galton; and her curiosity was not a little roused by perceiving the seal bore the impression of the well-known Mordaunt arms. While she still held the letter in her hand, Selina entered the room;—the Viscountess feeling a momentary embarrassment in being detected so closely examining a letter directed to another, hastily concealed it, resolving to replace it next day. But in error, ce n'est que le premier pas qui coÛte. No person that voluntarily treads on the threshold of vice, can be certain that they will always have it in their power to retrace their steps. Lady Eltondale would probably have shuddered at the idea of deliberately intercepting a letter, and still more of clandestinely perusing it; yet having thus unpremeditatedly possessed herself of the one in question, she could not resist the further temptation of satisfying herself as to the nature of its contents, and accordingly opened it as soon as she found herself alone. It proved to be, as she suspected, a letter from Augustus. In truth, the expression of Selina's countenance, the last evening they had spent together, had never faded from his "mind's eye." With all the tenacity of a lover's memory, he called to remembrance every look, every word that seemed to flatter his fond wishes; and then, with all the subtlety of a lover's rhetoric, he persuaded himself that no duty he owed to the memory of Sir Henry forbad his endeavouring at least to retain whatever share of Selina's good opinion he already possessed; though he was still determined so far to respect the expressed wish of the Baronet, as not to precipitate a declaration of his own attachment, till Selina had an opportunity of fully understanding her own heart, and making her selection between him and Mr. Elton. Thus compromising between his passion and his principles, he addressed Selina in the character of trustee to her estate, and profiting by the excuse which that situation afforded him, conjured Selina to point out in what way he could be of most use; expressing his anxiety to be of service to her, in the warmest terms that passion under the mask of friendship could suggest.

Had this letter then reached Selina, it would have spared her many hours of future sorrow. But Lady Eltondale determined it should not do so. Her penetration too soon discovered its real import;—she perceived

and, with her usual sophistry, persuading herself that the end sanctified the means, she congratulated herself on the steps she had taken, and believed her laudable anxiety for the welfare of her step-son justified her treacherous conduct to her orphan niece. She was not long in deciding on the best measures to prevent a continuation of a correspondence so dangerous to her favourite scheme; and enclosing the letter back to Mordaunt, wrote the following note in the envelope:

"Lady Eltondale presents her compliments to Mr. Mordaunt, and her best thanks for his polite offers of service, which, however, she begs to decline as Mr. Elton is expected to return to England immediately, who will of course superintend himself the management of all Miss Seymour's estates. Lady Eltondale returns Mr. Mordaunt's letter, as perhaps he may, at a future time, wish to refer to it on the subject of Wilson's farm, upon which Miss Seymour, in her present delicate situation, feels no wish either to correspond or decide."

It would be impossible to describe the mortification and disappointment this laconic epistle occasioned Augustus. He felt justly indignant at the manner in which his proffered kindness had been rejected; and considered the insult in no slight degree aggravated by the circumstance of Selina permitting a third person to convey her own unfeeling reply. In one moment the bright vision of hope and joy, that had flitted before him, dissolved in air; and, from the delighted contemplation of all her charms, he sunk in an instant into the opposite extreme, and equally exaggerated all her failings. He recalled to mind Mr. Temple's observations, which now seemed absolutely prophetic; and, passing rapidly from one passion to another, upbraided her not only with the foibles she really possessed, but even with those errors that were as yet but anticipated. By degrees, however, the storm subsided. He so often repeated to himself that she was now perfectly indifferent to him, that he flattered himself it was really the case; and he determined thenceforward only to consider her as the wife of Mr. Elton, believing that appellation would act as a talisman, to prevent a return of a passion he had now persuaded himself was perfectly hopeless.

While Augustus, in his retirement at Oxford, was thus endeavouring to extinguish feelings that were only a source of regret; and while Mrs. Galton was consoling herself as much as possible for her separation from her beloved child, by renewing old friendships, and forming new acquaintances at Bath, Selina was, by degrees, becoming more familiarized with the levity, duplicity, and frivolity, which were daily exemplified in the manners of Lady Eltondale and her different visitors. At length the time approached for their removal to London: an early day in April was fixed for their journey, which Selina anticipated with all the delight of a young vivacious girl, that at last found herself on the confines of a new world of pleasure, the enjoyments of which were yet untasted, and its sorrows unsuspected.

When the moment of their departure actually came, she gave way to unmixed feelings of joy. She laughed, sung, and frolicked round the room like a sportive child, and yet she could scarcely define her own emotions. She was hardly conscious that her pleasure, in a great degree, arose from the silently cherished hope of seeing Augustus. She had felt surprised, and even hurt, at his not having, as she supposed, made any inquiry after her, during her four months' stay at Eltondale. But she had always felt an unaccountable unwillingness to mention his name to Lady Eltondale; nor did she even to herself confess how much the expectation of seeing him once more contributed to the pleasure she anticipated from her visit to London.

The future was now opened to her view like an extended horizon, shining in all the luxury of light, which, while the intervening masses of the ground lay concealed, depicted no object in its natural colours, but touching here and there some prominent beauty with its most resplendent rays, confounded all the rest in one undistinguishable mass of brilliancy. As they were stepping into the carriage, a letter from Mr. Elton was delivered to Lord Eltondale. Little did Selina imagine she had any reason to be interested in the packet his Lordship so anxiously perused; and even had she been aware of the mention made in it of herself, it would scarcely have had power to withdraw her thoughts from the nearer, and therefore with her more powerful attraction.

To the Viscount Eltondale.

Paris, April 3.

I beg you will, my dear father, accept my best thanks for your last kind letter, though I must remark, that your affectionate solicitude for my happiness makes you over anxious to promote it. I confess I was more surprised than pleased to find, that, without in the least consulting my inclinations, you had entered into an engagement to contract Miss Seymour to me! Pardon me, my Lord; but had you and Sir Henry Seymour been employed in assisting each other to match your carriage horses instead of your children, less ceremony could scarcely have been used. You dilate much on Miss Seymour's beauty and fortune:—I am no cynic; yet, strange to say, the one is nearly as indifferent to me as the other. However if I find, on becoming acquainted with the character of the young lady in question, I can esteem and love her, I shall not object to her beauty or her riches, but shall duly appreciate the honour she would confer on me in making me her husband. But till I can judge for myself, I feel I have a right to demand, that neither you nor Lady Eltondale will do aught to compromise my honour in this affair. In a word, these are not times to risk the well-being of one so young and lovely, by a match of mere convenience: unless I can feel for the "innocent charming" Selina, Lady Eltondale so eloquently describes, all the attachment she merits, I will never have the cruelty to unite myself to her. Her orphan state sanctifies her in my eyes. Had she a father or brother to watch over her welfare, I might, perhaps, be less scrupulous; for, as it regards myself, it is a matter of perfect indifference to me whom I marry now—my hopes are frustrated, my spirits depressed, and I feel it a mere mockery to mention happiness and marriage together. Perhaps some ten years hence, when "I have forgot myself to stone," I may sacrifice the remnant of my joyless existence to family interests.

"As all my prospects of felicity in private life are blasted, I turn with more avidity to that course of public usefulness, which alone can now afford me satisfaction. Every thing has been sacrificed to it.

"I wish to obtain your consent to my remaining some time longer in this capital, to continue a course of inquiry I have entered into on points of great political importance, and to profit by the acquaintance of some public characters, who may aid me in my pursuits. I am grieved at what you tell me about the mortgage on Eltondale. Would my joining you in a bond be of any use?—If so, command me."

As the rest of Mr. Elton's letter was on law business, it could be of no interest except to the person to whom it was addressed.