CHAPTER II. I know each lane and every alley green, EARLY in July of the year 1825, Henry Waldegrave, who had just attained his one-and-twentieth year, set off with Lord Egmont from his Lordship's house in St. James'ssquare. After a few common-place remarks on the dustiness of the road, and the heat of the day, Lord Egmont fell asleep, and Waldegrave extracted from his pocket the last pamphlet on political economy. On the following day, as they approached Tiverton, Lord Egmont, pointing towards the blue hills of Somersetshire, remarked: "Yonder stretch the Crag Eagle hills. Behind that point is situated Sir Ralph Vivian's now deserted mansion.' "Sir Ralph and Lady Vivian are in Italy, if I mistake not," said Waldegrave. ""Tis true," replied Lord Egmont, "and when they will return heaven knows; my poor sister's health has long been past hope, though she may yet live for many years.” "She "She has no painful disease?" asked Waldegrave. undergoes no very acute suffering, I trust," returned Lord Egmont," and sometimes enjoys long respites from pain. The sudden death of my father, to whom she was tenderly attached, occasioned her to break a blood-vessel; the recurrence of which accident has shattered her constitution." "I remember both her and Sir Ralph well," said Henry ; my cousins Edith and Constance were once two pretty blue-eyed girls. Are they grown coarse and ugly?" "No, they are still very pretty," said Lord Egmont. They were much admired in town this summer; the eldest is to marry Lord Forrester, to whom she has long been at tached; the second, I understand, Sir Ralph designs for Sir Arthur Howard; but she says no,-they tell me." Here the conversation for some time dropped; after which silence Lord Egmont again resumed, "Should you like to represent this county some day, Harry?" "Oh! who would not? but my utmost ambition never reached that point; when I think of the enormous expense in which a former election involved you, I never could wish you to encounter such risk again for my sake." "I have more interest now than I had in those days," said Lord Egmont; "besides, Lord St. Aubrey has privately offered me his assistance. His influence is so great, that few, I think, would venture to oppose our coalition." "Lord St. Aubrey!" said Waldegrave; "but it would be inconsistent in him to bring forward a Whig member." "If he is disposed to shut his eyes to that, surely we can do as much," said Lord Egmont. I do not like to raise expectations which may never be realized; but if Sir E. Picton really thinks of resigning, I know no one who would have a better right to come forward than yourself; a junction between Lord St. Aubrey's interest and mine would render us invulnerable. In the mean time, you should strenuously attend the Exeter balls, and pay your devoirs to the young ladies, not forgetting the fathers and uncles, particularly if freeholders ; then we must have you put in the commission, and send you to the quarter sessions; and at the county meetings, you must cook up some pretty speeches about liberty and reform for the Whigs, covered with a rich sauce-piquante of King and Church to coax the old Tories." "I am afraid I shall make but a bad hand of it,” said Waldegrave; "for of all things I most hate country balls; one loses so much time in going and coming, and one knows nobody there; and for the double-edged speeches which you think so well adapted to the good Devonshire folks, I should never have tact enough, I am sure. 66 "To answer your objections in succession," replied Lord Egmont, smiling, "I should say that the loss of two or three days now and then, to a man of twenty, is not very serious, and on the first occasion you will know the whole county. Your difficulty, too, about speechifying will soon wear off. In the same situation I found that the fever and anxiety of the contest worked me up to those tricks, till the study of character which it afforded became highly interesting. You know the proper study of mankind is man. The human mind, with all its prejudices, perversities, and passions, may be compared to a sea interspersed with shallows, blind rocks, and whirlpools. He who would compass either, must be content to tack backwards and forwards, or sink midway." "I would take honesty for my pilot when I unfurled my sails," said Waldegrave; “and trust to her for bringing me into port." 66 Honesty," said Lord Egmont, "is the only pilot a man should ever take; but you will find even she cannot always run straight against the current of party spirit. If man's life were long enough to show him the errors into which his immature judgment was betrayed, the decadence of his mind in age would render his experience useless. That mode of thinking which has once been familiar to his mind, continues after the state of things which induced it has ceased to exist. As a dog, who on the gentlest pressure opposes the whole resistance of his body, though he care not in reality which way he moves, there is nothing so inflexible as man's opinion when attacked. The mainsprings of action with both are timidity and mistrust. Better to bear those ills we have, Than fly to others that we know not of,' you will find a very operative maxim with most men." "It is a very vexatious maxim, truly," said Waldegrave, that would shut the door against all improvement; but in these days, when the flame of reform burns so fiercely, I hardly wonder that the prudent ones should sometimes take alarm. "They are afraid lest the new light and spirit of their ideas should be too combustible, I suppose," said Lord Egnont; "but your whiggism is not likely to be of a more inflammatory nature than mine, which is of a very innocuous character; and all I would impress on you in your communications with Tories, is, rather to allay than excite their groundless terrors.”~ Waldegrave thanked Lord Egmont, and observing that he was not disposed to protract the conversation, leaned back and pondered the proposition in his mind. Such a proposal would indeed have given him pleasure had it been independent of Lord St. Aubrey's assistance. But there VOL. I.-2 was something in that circumstance peculiarly repugnant to Waldegrave's feelings. Lord St. Aubrey was not generous; he was no man's friend. A disinterested exertion he had never been known to make. What should induce him then to lighten his purse, and compromise his principles for the son of a vile unbeliever in the divine right of kings? Waldegrave knew that his union with Lady Louisa had once been his father's darling hope. Even while he was at Eton, Lord Egmont had represented to him, in all the vivid colouring that a fervent imagination could give, the splendid domain which their joint estates would constitute; wealth that would flow at his command; a beauteous wife, the prize desired of many, whose fine temper and talents would make his life a continual scene of bliss. A separation of three years had obliterated the idea of their union from Waldegrave's mind, to which it had never been recalled by Lord Egmont. To most youths with hearts disengaged, a handsome clever girl, with twenty thousand a-year, would have appeared no very alarming object; but Henry Waldegrave's mind was so peculiarly delicate, that the very idea of a marriage de covenance disgusted him, and Lady Louisa's advances, as he considered them, at the nice age of seventeen, had confirmed his aversion to their union. It was true that he had not seen her for three years, and she might be now much altered. He had fondly hoped that during his long absence some advantageous offer might have been accepted, which would ultimately spare him the pain of opposing Lord Egmont's wishes. His dread of encouraging the treacherous hope, and his reluctance to disappoint one whose life had been devoted to him, alternately tormented Henry, who, desirous yet fearful of explaining his sentiments, continued to watch the progress of their journey in gloomy silence. The return to a happy home after three years absence is a cure for most cares which are not deeply seated, and Waldegrave felt as he drove through the familiar scenes of his childhood that freshness of spirit peculiar to a mind which has never known sorrow. The thick wood of old oak through which they passed was in luxuriant foliage. The sun's horizontal rays shone in spangled patterns on the road, and glanced from stem to stem. Egmont-park never looked so beautiful before. In the drawing-room they found Lady Egmont, whose solicitude for her son was distinguished on these occasions by her promptitude in preparing Egmont-house, as soon as the day of his arrival was fixed. Fondly she folded him in her arms, and then cordially greeted Waldegrave. "Bless me, boy, how fast you are -rising! why I should hardly have known you, so tall, so well grown, and such roses too. Well, 'tis a comfort to see that study has not quite worn you down; but it makes us old folks feel ancient indeed when we find shade under the acorns we planted." "If my growth makes you feel older, dear madam," said Waldegrave," what antiquity must the progress of the woods and lakes since I was here last, give me ?" "Ay, ay," said Lady Egmont; "every thing grows and spreads now till our little world will not be big enough to contain us and our vast schemes; we old ones must clear off to make room for you reformers. I remember when this house did not cover one half of the space it does now; when we could keep it cool in summer and warm in winter. I remember when it would have made your heart glad to hear the sheep's bell tinkling night and day in the meadows there; and such a fine herd of cows as your grandfather kept, all speckled and spotted; there were none like them in all the country round; we had sixteen quarts of milk, every day; and such cheese! why our dairy was famous; and where is it all now? the cows are sent away into coarse pasture, and are good for nothing; while the blessed meadow, which had not its equal in the vale of Taunton, is turned into a great pond for children to drown themselves in, and to kill off the sick by the effluvia and mud. But however," continued she, smiling, "what is done cannot be undone; so we must make the best of a bad job; and as I see your father is very anxious to go down to his dear lake, we must indulge him till dinner is ready." So saying they strolled down to the lake, where Lord Egmont pointed out to Waldegrave all his intended alterations. The following day was enlivened by the arrival of Waldegrave's most intimate friend Edgar Belmore. They had passed through the probations of school together, and in the holydays their friendship had been strengthened among the shades of Egmont-park. Edgar Belmore had been deprived of his parents too early to know the extent of his loss. An only sister and himself |