Godolphin, Complete. Эдвард Бульвер-Литтон

when Lord Erpingham was to arrive at Wendover Castle; and at length came the day itself. Naturally anxious to enjoy as exclusively as possible the company of her son the first day of his return from so long an absence, Lady Erpingham had asked no one to meet him. The earl’s heavy travelling-carriage at length rolled clattering up the court-yard; and in a few minutes a tall man, in the prime of life, and borrowing some favourable effect as to person from the large cloak of velvet and furs which hung round him, entered the room, and Lady Erpingham embraced her son. The kind and familiar manner with which he answered her inquiries and congratulations was somewhat changed when he suddenly perceived Constance. Lord Erpingham was a cold man, and, like most cold men, ashamed of the evidence of affection. He greeted Constance very quietly; and, as she thought, slightly: but his eyes turned to her far more often than any friend of Lord Erpingham’s might ever have remarked those large round hazel eyes turn to any one before.

      When the earl withdrew to adjust his toilet for dinner, Lady Erpingham, as she wiped her eyes, could not help exclaiming to Constance, “Is he not handsome? What a figure!”

      Constance was a little addicted to flattery where she liked the one who was to be flattered, and she assented readily enough to the maternal remark. Hitherto, however, she had not observed anything more in Lord Erpingham than his height and his cloak: as he re-entered and led her to the dining-room she took a better, though still but a casual, survey.

      Lord Erpingham was that sort of person of whom men always say, “What a prodigiously fine fellow!” He was above six feet high, stout in proportion: not, indeed, accurately formed, nor graceful in bearing, but quite as much so as a man of six feet high need be. He had a manly complexion of brown, yellow, and red. His whiskers were exceedingly large, black, and well arranged. His eyes, as I have before said, were round, large, and hazel; they were also unmeaning. His teeth were good; and his nose, neither aquiline nor Grecian, was yet a very showy nose upon the whole. All the maidservants admired him; and you felt, in looking at him, that it was a pity our army should lose so good a grenadier.

      Lord Erpingham was a Whig of the old school: he thought the Tory boroughs ought to be thrown open. He was generally considered a sensible man. He had read Blackstone, Montesquieu, Cowper’s Poems, and The Rambler; and he was always heard with great attention in the House of Lords. In his moral character he was a bon Vivant, as far as wine is concerned; for choice eating he cared nothing. He was good-natured, but close; brave enough to fight a duel, if necessary; and religious enough to go to church once a week—in the country.

      So far Lord Erpingham might seem modelled from one of Sir Walter’s heroes: we must reverse the medal, and show the points in which he differed from those patterns of propriety.

      Like the generality of his class, he was peculiarly loose in his notions of women, though not ardent in pursuit of them. His amours had been among opera-dancers, “because,” as he was wont to say, “there was no d—d bore with them.” Lord Erpingham was always considered a high-minded man. People chose him as an umpire in quarrels; and told a story (which was not true) of his having held some state office for a whole year, and insisted on returning the emoluments.

      Such was Robert Earl of Erpingham. During dinner, at which he displayed, to his mother’s great delight, a most excellent appetite, he listened, as well as he might, considering the more legitimate occupation of the time and season, to Lady Erpingham’s recitals of county history; her long answers to his brief inquiries whether old friends were dead and young ones married; and his countenance brightened up to an expression of interest—almost of intelligence—when he was told that birds were said to be plentiful. As the servants left the room, and Lord Erpingham took his first glass of claret, the conversation fell upon Percy Godolphin.

      “He has been staying with us a whole fortnight,” said Lady Erpingham; “and, by the by, he said he had met you in Italy, and mentioned your name as it deserved.”

      “Indeed! And did he really condescend to praise me?” said Lord Erpingham, with eagerness; for there was that about Godolphin, and his reputation for fastidiousness, which gave a rarity and a value to his praise, at least to lordly ears. “Ah! he’s a queer fellow; he led a very singular life in Italy.”

      “So I have always heard,” said Lady Erpingham. “But of what description? was he very wild?”

      “No, not exactly: there was a good deal of mystery about him: he saw very few English, and those were chiefly men who played high. He was said to have a great deal of learning and so forth.”

      “Oh! then he was surrounded, I suppose, by those medalists and picture-sellers, and other impostors, who live upon such of our countrymen as think themselves blessed with a taste or afflicted with a genius,” said Lady Erpingham; who, having lived with the wits and orators of the time, had caught mechanically their way of rounding a period.

      “Far from it!” returned the earl. “Godolphin is much too deep a fellow for that; he’s not easily taken in, I assure you. I confess I don’t like him the worse for that,” added the close noble. “But he lived with the Italian doctors and men of science; and encouraged, in particular, one strange fellow who affected sorcery, I fancy, or something very like it. Godolphin resided in a very lonely spot at Rome: and I believe laboratories, and caldrons, and all sorts of devilish things, were always at work there—at least so people said.”

      “And yet,” said Constance, “you thought him too sensible to be easily taken in?”

      “Indeed I do, Miss Vernon; and the proof of it is, that no man has less fortune or is made more of. He plays, it is true, but only occasionally; though as a player at games of skill—piquet, billiards, whist,—he has no equal, unless it be Saville. But then Saville, entre noun, is suspected of playing unfairly.”

      “And you are quite sure,” said the placid Lady Erpingham, “that Mr. Godolphin is only indebted to skill for his success?”

      Constance darted a glance of fire at the speaker.

      “Why, faith, I believe so! No one ever accused him of a single shabby, or even suspicious trick; and indeed, as I said before, no one was ever more sought after in society, though he shuns it; and he’s devilish right, for it’s a cursed bore!”

      “My dear Robert! at your age!” exclaimed the mother. “But,” continued the earl, turning to Constance,—“but, Miss Vernon, a man may have his weak point; and the cunning Italian may have hit on Godolphin’s, clever as he is in general; though, for my part, I will tell you frankly, I think he only encouraged him to mystify and perplex people, just to get talked of—vanity, in short. He’s a good-looking fellow that Godolphin—eh?” continued the earl, in the tone of a man who meant you to deny what he asserted.

      “Oh, beautiful!” said Lady Erpingham. “Such a countenance!”

      “Deuced pale, though!—eh?—and not the best of figures: thin, narrow-shouldered, eh—eh?”

      Godolphin’s proportions were faultless; but your strapping heroes think of a moderate-sized man as mathematicians define a point—declare that he has no length nor breadth whatsoever.

      “What say you, Constance?” asked Lady Erpingham, meaningly.

      Constance felt the meaning, and replied calmly, that Mr. Godolphin appeared to her handsomer than any one she had seen lately.

      Lord Erpingham played with his neckcloth, and Lady Erpingham rose to leave the room. “D—d fine girl!” said the earl, as he shut the door upon Constance;—“but d—d sharp!” added he, as he resettled himself on his chair.

      CHAPTER XVII

CONSTANCE AT HER TOILET.—HER FEELINGS.—HER CHARACTER OF BEAUTY DESCRIBED.—THE BALL.—THE DUCHESS OF WINSTOUN AND HER DAUGHTER.—AN INDUCTION FROM THE NATURE OF FEMALE RIVALRIES.—JEALOUSY IN A LOVER.—IMPERTINENCE RETORTED.—LISTENERS NEVER HEAR GOOD OF THEMSELVES.—REMARKS ON THE AMUSEMENTS OF A PUBLIC ASSEMBLY.—THE SUPPER.—THE FALSENESS OF SEEMING GAIETY.—VARIOUS REFLECTIONS, NEW AND TRUE.—WHAT PASSES BETWEEN GODOLPHIN AND CONSTANCE

      It was the evening of the ball to be given in honour of Lord Erpingham’s arrival. Constance, dressed for conquest, sat alone in her dressing-room.