CHAPTER I
A LITTLE TOAD
In the dining-room of a small house on the east side of ArlingtonStreet, which at that period--1742--was the Ministerial street, Mr.and Mrs. Northey sat awaiting Sophia. The thin face of the honourablemember for Aldbury wore the same look of severity which it had worn afew weeks earlier on the eventful night when he had found himselfcalled upon to break the ties of years and vote in the final divisionagainst Sir Robert; his figure, as he sat stiffly expecting hissister-in-law, reflected the attitudes of the four crude portraits ofdead Northeys that darkened the walls of the dull little room. Mrs.Northey on the other hand sprawled in her chair with the carelessnessof the fine lady fatigued; she yawned, inspected the lace of hernegligee, and now held a loose end to the light, and now pondered thenumber of a lottery ticket. At length, out of patience, she calledfretfully to Mr. Northey to ring the bell. Fortunately, Sophia enteredat that moment.
"In time, and no more, miss," madam cried with temper. Then as thegirl came forward timidly, "I'll tell you what it is," Mrs. Northeycontinued, "you'll wear red before you're twenty! You have no morecolour than a china figure this morning! What's amiss with you?"
Sophia, flushing under her brother-in-law's eyes, pleaded a headache.
Her sister sniffed. "Eighteen, and the vapours!" she cried scornfully."Lord, it is very evident raking don't suit you! But do you sit downnow, and answer me, child. What did you say to Sir Hervey last night?"
"Nothing," Sophia faltered, her eyes on the floor.
"Oh, nothing!" Mrs. Northey repeated, mimicking her. "Nothing! Andpray, Miss Modesty, what did he say to you?"
"Nothing; or--or at least, nothing of moment," Sophia stammered.
"Of moment! Oh, you know what's of moment, do you? And whose fault wasthat, I'd like to know? Tell me that, miss!"
Sophia, seated stiffly on the chair, her sandalled feet drawn underher, looked downcast and a trifle sullen, but did not answer.
"I ask, whose fault was that?" Mrs. Northey continued impatiently. "Doyou think to sit still all your life, looking at your toes, andwaiting for the man to fall into your lap? Hang you for a natural, ifyou do! It is not that way husbands are got, miss!"
"I don't want a husband, ma'am!" Sophia cried, stung at length intospeech by her sister's coarseness.
"Oh, don't you?" Mrs. Northey retorted. "Don't you, Miss Innocence?Let me tell you, I know what you want. You want to make a fool ofyourself with that beggarly, grinning, broad-shouldered oaf of anIrishman, that's always at your skirts! That's what you want. And hewants your six thousand pounds. Oh, you don't throw dust into myeyes!" Mrs. Northey continued viciously, "I've seen you puling andpining and making Wortley eyes at him these three weeks. Ay, and halfthe town laughing at you. But I'd have you to know, miss, once forall, we are not going to suffer it!"
"My life, I thought we agreed that I should explain matters," Mr.Northey said gently.
"Oh, go on then!" madam cried, and threw herself back in her seat.
"Only because I think you go a little too far, my dear," Mr. Northeysaid, with a cough of warning; "I am sure that we can count onSophia's prudence. You are aware, child," he continued, directlyaddressing himself to her, "that your father's death has imposed on usthe--the charge of your person, and the care of your interests. Thehouse at Cuckfield being closed, and your brother wanting three yearsof full age, your home must necessarily be with us for a time, and wehave a right to expect that you will be guided by us in such plans asare broached for your settlement. Now I think I am right in saying,"Mr. Northey continued, in his best House of Commons manner, "that yoursister has communicated to you the very advantageous proposal withwhich my good friend and colleague at Aldbury, Sir Hervey Coke, hashonoured us? Ahem! Sophia, that is so, is it not? Be good enough toanswer me."
"Yes, sir," Sophia murmured, her eyes glued to the carpet.
"Very good. In that case I am sure that she has not failed to pointout to you also that Sir Hervey is a baronet of an old and respectablefamily, and possessed of a competent estate. That, in a word, thealliance is everything for which we could look on your behalf."
"Yes, sir," Sophia whispered.
"Then, may I ask," Mr. Northey continued, setting a hand on each knee,and regarding her majestically, "in what respect you find the matchnot to your taste? If that be so?"
The young girl slid her foot to and fro, and for a moment did notanswer. Then, "I--I do not wish to marry him," she said, in a lowvoice.
"You do not wish?" Mrs. Northey cried, unable to contain herselflonger. "_You_ do not wish? And why, pray?"
"He's--he's as old as Methuselah!" the girl answered with a suddenspirit of resentment; and she moved her foot more quickly to and fro.
"As old as Methuselah?" Mr. Northey answered, staring at her inunfeigned astonishment; and then, in a tone of triumphant refutation,he continued, "Why, child, what are you dreaming of? He is onlythirty-four! and I am thirty-six."
"Well, at any rate, he is old enough--he is nearly old enough to be myfather!" Sophia muttered rebelliously.
Mrs. Northey could no longer sit by and hear herself flouted. She knewvery well what was intended. She was twenty-nine, Sophia's senior byeleven years, and she felt the imputation that bounded harmlessly offher husband's unconsciousness. "You little toad!" she cried. "Do youthink I do not know what you mean? I tell you, miss, you would smartfor it, if I were your mother! Thirty-four, indeed; and you call himas old as Methuselah! Oh, thank you for nothing, ma'am! I understandyou."
"He's twice as old as I am!" Sophia whimpered, bending before thestorm. And in truth to eighteen thirty-four seems elderly; if not old.
"You! You're a baby!" Mrs. Northey retorted, her face red withpassion. "How any man of sense can look at you or want you passes me!But he does, and if you think we are going to sit by and see our plansthwarted by a chit of a girl of your years, you are mistaken, miss.Sir Hervey's vote, joined to the two county votes which my lordcommands, and to Mr. Northey's seat, will gain my lord a step in thepeerage; and when Coke is married to you, his vote will be ours. Asfor you, you white-faced puling thing, I should like to know who youare that you should not be glad of a good match when it is offeredyou? It is a very small thing to do for your family."
"For _your_ family!" Sophia involuntarily exclaimed; the next momentshe could have bitten off her tongue.
Fortunately a glance from Mr. Northey, who prided himself on hisdiplomacy, stayed the outburst that was on his wife's lips. "Allow me,my dear," he said. "And do you listen to me, Sophia. Apart from hisage, a ridiculous objection which could only come into the mind of aschoolgirl, is there anything else you have to urge against SirHervey?"
"He's as--as grave as death!" Sophia murmured tearfully.
Mr. Northey shrugged his shoulders. "Is that all?" he said.
"Yes, but--but----"
"But what? But what, Sophia?" Mr. Northey repeated, with a fine showof fairness. "I suppose you allow him to be in other respects asuitable match?"
"Yes, but--I do not wish to marry him, sir. That is all."
"In that," Mr. Northey said firmly, "you must be guided by us. We haveyour interests at heart, your best interests. And--and that should beenough for you."
Sophia did not answer, but the manner in which she closed her lips,and kept her gaze fixed steadfastly on the floor, was far from bodingacquiescence. Every feature indeed of her pale face--which only a massof dark brown hair and a pair of the most brilliant and eloquent eyesredeemed from the commonplace--expressed a settled determination. Mrs.Northey, who knew something of her sister's disposition, which wasalso that of the family in general, discerned this, and could restrainherself no longer.
"You naughty girl!" she cried, with something approaching fury. "Doyou think that I don't know what is at the bottom of this? Do youthink I don't know that you are pining and sulking for that hulkingIrish rogue that's the laughing-stock of every company his great feetenter
? Lord, miss, by your leave I'd have you to know we are neitherfools nor blind. I've seen your sighings and oglings, your pinings andsinkings. And so has the town. Ay, you may blush"--in truth, Sophia'scheeks were dyed scarlet--"my naughty madam! Blush you should, thatcan fancy a raw-boned, uncouth Teague a fine woman would be ashamed tohave for a footman. But you shan't have him. You may trust me forthat, as long as there are bars and bolts in this house, miss."
"Sophia," Mr. Northey said in his coldest manner, "I trust that thereis nothing in this? I trust that your sister is misinformed?"
The girl, under the lash of her sister's tongue, had risen from herchair; she tried in vain to recover her composure.
"There was nothing, sir," she cried hysterically. "But afterthis--after the words which my sister has used to me, she has onlyherself to thank if--if I please myself, and take the gentleman shehas named--or any other gentleman."
"Ay, but softly," Mr. Northey rejoined, with a certain unpleasantchill in his tone. "Softly, Sophia, if you please. Are you aware thatif your brother marries under age and without his guardian's consent,he forfeits ten thousand pounds in your favour? And as much more toyour sister? If not, let me tell you that it is so."
Sophia stared at him, but did not answer.
"It is true," Mr. Northey continued, "that your father's will containsno provision for your punishment in the like case. But this clauseproves that he expected his children to be guided by the advice oftheir natural guardians; and for my part, Sophia, I expect you to beso guided. In the meantime, and that there may be no mistake in thematter, understand, if you please, that I forbid you to hold from thismoment any communication with the person who has been named. If Icannot prescribe a match for you, I can at least see that you do notdisgrace your family."
"SIR!" SOPHIA CRIED, HER CHEEKS BURNING]
"Sir!" Sophia cried, her cheeks burning.
But Mr. Northey, a man of slow pulse and the least possibleimagination, returned her fiery look unmoved. "I repeat it," he saidcoldly. "For that and nothing else an alliance with this--this personwould entail. Let there be no misunderstanding on that point. You areinnocent of the world, Sophia, and do not understand thesedistinctions. But I am within the truth when I say that Mr.Hawkesworth is known to be a broken adventurer, moving upon sufferanceamong persons of condition, and owning a character and antecedentsthat would not for a moment sustain inquiry."
"How can that be?" Sophia cried passionately. "It is not known who heis."
"He is not one of us," Mr. Northey answered with dignity. "For therest, you are right in saying that it is not known who he is. I amtold that even the name he bears is not his own."
"No, it is not!" Sophia retorted; and then stood blushing andconvicted, albeit with an exultant light in her eyes. No, his name wasnot his own! She knew that from his own lips; and knew, too, from hisown lips, in what a world of romance he moved, what a future he waspreparing, what a triumph might be, nay, would be, his by-and-by--andmight be hers! But her mouth was sealed; already, indeed, she had saidmore than she had the right to say. When Mr. Northey, surprised by heracquiescence, asked with acerbity how she knew that Hawkesworth wasnot the man's name, and what the man's name was, she stood mute. Wildhorses should not draw that from her.
But it was natural that her brother-in-law should draw hisconclusions, and his brow grew darker. "It is plain, at least, thatyou have admitted him to a degree of intimacy extremely improper," hesaid, with more heat than he had yet exhibited. "I fear, Sophia, thatyou are not so good a girl as I believed. However, from this momentyou will see that you treat him as a stranger. Do you hear me?"
"Yes, sir. Then--then I am not to go with you this evening?"
"This evening! You mean to Vauxhall? And why not, pray?"
"Because--because, if I go I must see him. And if I see him I--I mustspeak to him," Sophia cried, her breast heaving with generousresentment. "I will not pass him by, and let him think me--everythingthat is base!"
For a moment Mr. Northey looked a little nonplussed. Then, "Well, youcan--you can bow to him," he said, pluming himself on his discretionin leaving the rein a trifle slack to begin. "If he force himself uponyou, you will rid yourself of him with as little delay as possible.The mode I leave to you, Sophia; but speech with him I absolutelyforbid. You will obey in that on pain of my most serious displeasure."
"On pain of bread and water, miss!" her sister cried venomously. "Thatwill have more effect, I fancy. Lord, for my part, I should die ofshame if I thought that I had encouraged a nameless Irish rogue notgood enough to ride behind my coach. And all the town to know it."
Rage dried the tears that hung on Sophia's lids. "Is that all?" sheasked, her head high. "I should like to go if that is all you have tosay to me?"
"I think that is all," Mr. Northey answered.
"Then--I may go?"
He appeared to hesitate. For the first time his manner betrayed doubt;he looked at his wife and opened his mouth, then closed it. At length,"Yes, I think so," he said pompously. "And I trust you will regain ourapprobation by doing as we wish, Sophia. I am sorry to say that yourbrother's conduct at Cambridge has not been all that we could desire.I hope that you will see to it, and show yourself more circumspect. Itruly hope that you will not disappoint us. Yes, you may go."
Sophia waited for no second permission. Her heart bursting, her cheeksburning, she hurried from the room, and flew up the stairs to shutherself in her chamber. Here, on the second floor, in a roomconsecrated to thoughts of _him_ and dreams of _him_, where in asecret nook behind the bow-fronted drawer of her toilet table lay thewithered flower he had given her the day he stole her glove, she feltthe full wretchedness of her lot. She would see him no more! Her tearsgushed forth, her bosom heaved at the thought. She would see him nomore! Or worse, she would see him only in public, at a distance;whence his eyes would stab her for a jilt, a flirt, a cold, heartless,worldly creature, unworthy to live in the same world, unworthy tobreathe the same air with Constancy.
And he had been so good to her! He had been so watchful, so assiduous,so delicate, she had fondly, foolishly deemed his court a secret fromall.
The way to her heart had not been difficult. Her father's death hadcast her, a timid country girl, into the vortex of the town, where fora time she had shrunk from the whirl of routs and masquerades, thesmirking beaux and loud-voiced misses, among whom she found herself.She had sat mum and abashed in companies where her coarser sisterruled and ranted; where one had shunned and another had flouted thesilent, pale-faced girl, whose eyes and hair and tall slender shapejust redeemed her from insignificance. Only Mr. Hawkesworth, theIrishman, had discerned in her charms that in a remarkably short timewon his regards and fixed his attentions. Only he, with thesensibility of an unspoiled Irish heart, had penetrated the secret ofher loneliness; and in company had murmured sympathy in her ear, andat the opera, where he had not the entree to her sister's box, hadhung on her looks from afar, speaking more sweetly with his fine eyesthan Monticelli or Amorevoli sang on the stage.
For Sir Hervey, his would-be rival, the taciturn, middle-aged man, whowas Hervey to half the men about town, and Coke to three-fourths ofthe women; who gamed with the same nonchalance with which he made hiscourt--he might be the pink of fashion in his dull mooning way, but hehad nothing that caught her eighteen-year-old fancy. On the contraryhe had a habit of watching her, when Hawkesworth was present, at themere remembrance of which her cheek flamed. For that alone, and in anyevent, she hated him; and would never, never marry him. They might robher of her dear Irishman; they might break her heart--so her thoughtsran to the tremolo of a passionate sob; they might throw her into adecline; but they should never, never compel her to take _him!_ Shewould live on bread and water for a year first. She was fixed, fixed,fixed on that, and would ever remain so.
Meanwhile downstairs the two who remained in the room she had leftkept silence until her footsteps ceased to sound on the stairs. ThenMr. Northey permitted his discontent to appear. "I wish, after all, I
had told her," he said, moving restlessly in his chair. "Hang it,ma'am, do you hear?" he continued, looking irritably at his wife, "Iwish I had taken my own line, and that is a fact."
"Then you wish you had been a fool, Mr. Northey!" the lady answeredwith fine contempt. "Do you think that this silly girl would restcontent, or let us rest, until you had followed her dear brother Tom,and brought him back from his charmer? Not she! And for him, if youare thinking of him, he was always a rude cub, and bound for the dogsone day or other. What does it matter whether he is ruined before heis of age or after? Eh, Mr. Northey?"
"It matters to us," Mr. Northey answered.
"It may matter ten thousand to us, if we mind our own business," hiswife answered coolly. "So do you let him be for a day or two."
"It matters as much to Sophia," he said, trying to find excuses forhimself and his inaction.
"And why not? There will be so much the more to bind Coke to us."
"He has plenty now."
"Much wants more, Mr. Northey."
"Of course the thing may be done already," he argued, striving toconvince himself. "For all we know, the match is made, and 'tis toolate to interfere. Your brother was always wilful; and it is notlikely the woman would let him go for a word. On the other hand----"
"There is no other hand!" she cried, out of patience with hisweakness. "I tell you, let be. Let the boy marry whom he pleases, andwhen he pleases. 'Tis no matter of ours."
"Still I wish this tutor had not written to us."
"If the knot was not tied yesterday, there are persons enough will tieit to-day for half a guinea!" she said. "It is not as if you were hisonly guardian. His father chose another elsewhere. Let him look to it.The girl is charge enough for us; and, for her, she benefits as muchas we do if he's foolish. I wish that were the worst of it. But Iscent danger, Mr. Northey. I am afraid of this great Teague of hers.He's no Irishman if he doesn't scent a fortune a mile off. And oncelet him learn that she is worth sixteen thousand pounds instead of sixthousand, and he'll off with her from under our very noses."
"It's that Irish Register has done the mischief!" Mr. Northey cried,jumping up with an oath. "She's in there, in print!"
"Under her own name?"
"To be sure, as a fortune. And her address."
"Do you mean it, Mr. Northey? Printed in the book, is it?"
"It is; as I say."
"Hang their impudence!" his wife cried in astonishment. "They ought tobe pilloried! But there is just this, we can show the entry to thegirl. And if it don't open her eyes, nothing will. Do you get a copyof the book, Mr. Northey, and we'll show it to her to-morrow, and puther on the notion every Irishman has it by heart. And as soon as wecan we must get her married to Coke. There'll be no certainty tillshe's wedded. 'Twould have been done this fortnight if he were notjust such a mumchance fool as the girl herself. He may look very wise,and the town may think him so. But there's more than looking wantedwith a woman, Mr. Northey; and for what I see he's as big a fool asmany that never saw Pall Mall."
"I have never found him that," Mr. Northey answered with a dry cough.He spoke with reason, for he had more than once, as heir to a peerage,taken on himself to set Sir Hervey right; with so conspicuous a lackof success that he had begun to suspect that his brother member'ssilence was not dulness; nay, that he himself came late into thatsecret. Or why was Coke so well with that great wit and fashionable,Hanbury Williams? With Henry Fox, and my lord Chesterfield? With youngLord Lincoln, the wary quarry of match-making mothers, no less thanwith Tom Hervey, against whom no young virgin, embarking on life,failed of a warning? Mr. Northey knew that in the company of these,and their like, he was no favourite, whilst Coke was at home; and hehid with difficulty a sneaking fear of his colleague.
What a man so highly regarded and so well received saw in a girl who,in Mr. Northey's eyes, appeared every way inferior to her loud, easy,fashionable sister, it passed the honourable member to conceive. Butthe thing was so. Sir Hervey had spoken the three or four words beyondwhich he seldom went--the venture had been made; and now if there wasone thing upon which Mr. Northey's dogged mind was firmly fixed, itwas that an alliance so advantageous should not be lost to the family.
"But Sophia is prudent," he said, combating his own fears. "She hasalways been obedient and--and well-behaved. I am sure she's--she's agood girl, and will see what is right when it is explained to her."
"If she does not, she will see sorrow!" his wife answered truculently.She had neither forgotten nor forgiven the sneer about Methuselah."I'll tell you what it is, Mr. Northey," madam continued, "she takesyou in with her pale, peaky face and her round eyes. But if ever therewas a nasty, obstinate little toad, she is one. And you'll find it outby-and-by. And so will Coke to his cost some day."
"Still you think--we can bend her this time?"
"Oh, she'll marry him!" Mrs. Northey retorted confidently. "I'llanswer for that. But I would not be Coke afterwards."