Maria Edgeworth

“ Every body in France thinks now,” said M. de Connal, taking a pinch of snuff with a very pensive air.
“Every body in France thinks now!” repeated Ormond.
“Every man of a certain rank, that is to say.”
“That is to say, of your rank,” said Ormond.
“Nay, I don’t give myself as an example; but—you may judge—I own I am surprised to find myself philosophizing here in the Black Islands—but one philosophizes every where.” “And you would have more time for it here, I should suppose, than in Paris?”
“Time, my dear sir—no such thing! Time is merely in idea; but Tais-toi Jean Jacques! ”

“ I pity you from my soul—I’m rash myself. Send the surgeon to me when he has seen the fellow. Depend upon me, if the worst come to the worst, there’s nothing in the world I would not do to serve you,” said Sir Ulick: “so keep up your spirits, my boy—we’ll contrive to bring you through—at the worst, it will only be manslaughter.”
Ormond wrung Sir Ulick’s hand—thanked him for his kindness; but repeated, “it will be murder—it will be murder—my own conscience tells me so! If he die, give me up to justice.”
“You’ll think better of it before morning,” said Sir Ulick, as he left Ormond. ”

“ Ormond,” said Lady Annaly, “I am sorry to hear that Ireland is in danger of being ruined by your means.”
“By my means!” said Ormond, in great surprise; “I beg your ladyship’s pardon for repeating your words, but I really cannot understand them.”
“Nor I neither; but by the time you have lived as long as I have in the world,” said Lady Annaly, “you will not be so much surprised as you now seem, my good sir, at hearing people say what you do not understand. I am told that Ireland will be undone by means of a protégé of yours, of the name of Tommy Dun—not Dun Scotus.” ”

“ Sir Ulick saw and seized the advantage: he had almost despaired of accomplishing his purpose—now was the critical instant.
“Harry Ormond,” said he, “would you make Florence Annaly feel to the quick—would you make her repent in sackcloth and ashes—would you make her pine for you, ay! till her very heart is sick?”
“Would I? to be sure—show me how!—only show me how!” cried Ormond.
“Look ye, Harry! to have and to hold a woman—trust me, for I have had and held many—to have and to hold a woman, you must first show her that you can, if you will, fling her from you—ay! ”

“ Ormond’s self-love was, he knew not how, flattered. Without effort, it seemed to be the object of every body to make Paris agreeable to him; and they convinced him that he would find it the most charming place in the world—without any disparagement to his own country, to which all solid honours and advantages were left undisputed. The ladies, whom he had thought so little captivating at first view, at the theatre, were all charming on farther acquaintance: so full of vivacity, and something so flattering in their manner, that it put a stranger at once at his ease. ”

“ Poor Peggy blushed the deepest crimson.
“I understand it all now,” said Marcus—“I understand you now, Harry.”
Ormond’s anger rose, and with a look of high disdain, he replied, “You understand me, now! No, nor ever will, nor ever can. Our minds are unintelligible to each other.”
Then turning from him, Ormond walked away with indignant speed.
“Peggy, don’t I see something like a cow yonder, getting her bread at my expense?” said Sir Ulick, directing Peggy’s eye to a gap in the hedge by the road-side. “Whose cow is that at the top of the ditch, half through my hedge?” ”

“ Montenero,” said I, “why—why did not you tell all this sooner? What pain you would have spared me!”
“Had I spared you the pain, you would never have enjoyed the delight; had I spared you the trial, you would never have had the triumph—the triumph, did I say? Better than all triumph, this sober certainty of your own integrity. If, like Lord Mowbray—but peace be to the dead! and forgiveness to his faults. My daughter was determined never to marry any man who could be induced to sacrifice religion and principle to interest or to passion. ”

“ It is not to your honour, above all, that I can open my heart.”
A suspicion of the truth now flashed across Ormond’s mind—he was determined to know whether it was the truth or not.
“I’ll not leave you, till I know what’s the matter,” said he.
“Then none will know that till I die,” said Moriarty; adding, after a little pause, “there’s no knowing what’s wrong withinside of a man till he is opened.”
“But alive, Moriarty, if the heart is in the case only,” said Ormond, “a man can open himself to a friend.” ”

“ Paris!—Did I not tell you well?—And you felt it well yourself—you lost your head, I saw that, at first sight of her à la Françoise—the best proof of your taste and sensibilité—she has infinite sensibility too!—interesting, and at the height, what you English call the tip-top, of the fashion here.”
“So it appears, indeed,” said Ormond, “by the crowd of admirers I see round Madame de Connal.”
“Admirers! yes, adorers, you may say—encore, if you added lovers, you would not be much wrong; dying for love—éperdument épris! ”

“ Well, I believe you are right as an Englishwoman, my dear Lady Millicent; and I am clear, at all events, that you are right, as a woman, to blush so eloquently with virtuous indignation:—Lady Annaly herself could not have spoken and looked the thing better.”
“So I was just thinking,” said Ormond.
“Only the difference, Harry, between a young and an elderly woman,” said Sir Ulick. “Truths divine come mended from the lips of youth and beauty.” ”

“ There were, besides, in her manner and countenance, indications of perfect sweetness of temper, a sort of feminine gentleness and softness which art cannot feign nor affectation counterfeit; a gentleness which, while it is the charm of female manners, is perfectly consistent with true spirit, and with the higher or the stronger qualities of the mind. All I had seen of Miss Montenero in this first visit inspired me with the most ardent desire to see more. Here was a woman who could fill my whole soul; who could at once touch my heart and my imagination. ”

“ I have had a great deal of experience, and from all I have observed, it appears to me, that far the greatest part of our happiness or misery in life depends upon ourselves.”
Ormond stopped short, and listened with the eagerness of one of quick feeling and quick capacity, who seizes an idea that is new to him, and the truth and value of which he at once appreciates. For the first time in his life he heard good sense from the voice of benevolence—he anxiously desired that she should go on speaking, and stood in such an attitude of attentive deference as fully marked that wish. ”

“ Ormond meantime breathed more freely, and recovered from his tremors. Madame de Connal, surrounded by adorers, and shining in the salon, was not so dangerous as Dora, half fainting in the boudoir; nor had any words that wit or sentiment could devise power to please or touch him so much as the “Harry Ormond!” which had burst naturally from Dora’s lips. Now he began almost to doubt whether nature or art prevailed. Now he felt himself safe at least, since he saw that it was only the coquette of the Black Islands transformed into the coquette of the Hotel de Connal. ”

“ Lord Mowbray and I were both attentive, and so was Miss Montenero. When she observed that our attention was fixed, and when there was a pause in the conversation in which her low voice could be distinctly heard, she, conquering her extreme timidity, and with a calmness that astonished us all, said, that she did not pretend to be a judge of what gentlemen might think right or wrong about duels, but that for her own part she had formed a resolution—an unalterable resolution, never to marry a man who had fought a duel in which he had been the challenger. ”

“ When she revived, her manner was this day so peculiarly engaging, and the tones of her voice so soft and winning, that it required all Ormond’s resolution to refrain from declaring his passion. Now, for the first time, he conceived a hope that he might make himself agreeable to her; that he might, in time, soothe her grief, and restore her to happiness. Her expressions were all delicately careful to imply nothing but friendship—but a woman’s friendship insensibly leads to love. ”

“ Now that I have the fortune of a gentleman, it would be so much the more conspicuous, more scandalous—now that I have every way the means, I will, by the blessing of Heaven, and with the help of kind friends, make myself something more and something better than I am.”
“Gad! you are a fine fellow, Harry Ormond,” cried Sir Ulick: “I remember having once, at your age, such feelings and notions myself.”
“Very unlike the first thoughts and feelings many young men would have on coming into unexpected possession of a fortune,” said Dr. Cambray. ”

“ So, when a horse naturally violent, and half trained to the curb, takes fright, or takes offence, and, starting, throws his master, away he gallops; enraged the more by the falling bridle, he rears, plunges, curvets, and lashes out behind at broken girth or imaginary pursuer.
“Good Heavens! what is the matter with you, my dear boy?—what has happened?” cried Sir Ulick, the moment he saw him; for the disorder of Ormond’s mind appeared strongly in his face and gestures—still more strongly in his words. ”

“ He dreaded that people would value him, or think that he valued himself, for his newly acquired fortune, instead of his good qualities: he feared that he should be flattered; and he feared that he should like flattery. In the midst of all these various and contradictory apprehensions, he would perhaps have been awkward and miserable, had he been introduced into society by one who had less knowledge of the world, or less knowledge of the human heart, than Sir Ulick O’Shane possessed. Sir Ulick treated him as if he had always lived in good company. ”

“ Ormond’s heart on this point was often with King Corny, when his head was forced to be with Sir Herbert; but, by degrees, head and heart came together. He became practically convinced that justice is the virtue that works best for a constancy, and best serves every body’s interest in time and in turn. Ormond now often said to himself, “Sir Herbert Annaly is but a few years older than I am; by the time I am of his age, why should not I become as useful, and make as many human beings happy as he does?” ”

“ You know my principles of toleration—you know my habits; and though between man and wife a difference of religion may be in most cases a formidable obstacle to happiness, yet permit me to hope—”
“I cannot permit you to hope,” interrupted Mr. Montenero. “You are mistaken as to the nature of the obstacle. A difference of religion would be a most formidable objection, I grant; but we need not enter upon that subject—that is not the obstacle to which I allude.”
“Then of what nature can it be? Some base slander—Lord Mowbray—Nothing shall prevent me!” cried I, starting up furiously. ”

“ Repeating her good wishes to Ormond she bade him adieu, while he was too much overpowered with his sense of gratitude to return her thanks.
“Since there exists a being, and such a being, interested for me, I must be worth something—and I will make myself worth something more: I will begin from this moment, I am resolved, to improve; and who knows but in the end I may become every thing that is good? I don’t want to be great.”
Though this resolution was not steadily adhered to, though it was for a time counteracted by circumstances, it was never afterwards entirely forgotten. ”

“ Ormond took his own share of the blame so frankly and with so good a grace, and described with such truth the agony he had been thrown into by the sight of the kneeling figure in regimentals, that Lady Annaly could not help comforting him by the assurance that Florence had, at the same moment, been sufficiently alarmed by the rearing of his horse at the sight of the flapping window-blind.
“The kneeling gentleman,” said Lady Annaly, “whom you thought at the height of joy and glory, was at that moment in the depths of despair. So ill do the passions see what is even before their eyes!” ”

“ But, my dear doctor, do you think Lady Annaly—do you think Sir Herbert wish it to be?”
“I really cannot tell:—I know only that he is a particular friend of Sir Herbert, and that I have heard Lady Annaly speak of him as being a young man of excellent character and high honour, for whom she has a great regard.”
Ormond sighed.
“Heaven forgive me that sigh!” said he: “I thought I never should be brought so low as to sigh at bearing of any man’s excellent character and high honour: but I certainly wish Colonel Albemarle had never been born. Heaven preserve me from envy and jealousy!” ”

“ Harrington, you have given proofs that your matured reason and your humanity have been able to control and master your imagination and your antipathies. To this power over yourself you owe many of your virtues, and all the strength of character, and, I will say it, the sanity of mind, my son, without which Berenice—”
“I will see—I will hear Fowler this instant,” cried I. “So far I will conquer myself; but you will allow that this is a just antipathy. Surely I have reason to hate her.”
“She is guilty, but penitent; she suffers and must suffer. Her mistress refuses ever to see her more. ”

“ Connal then, throwing himself back in his chair, burst out a laughing, and turning to Ormond, the only person in the room, said, “Could you have conceived this?”
“Conceived what, sir?” said Ormond.
“Conceived this King Corny’s capacity for belief? What!—believe that I will settle in his Black Islands!—I!—As well believe me to be half marble, half man, like the unfortunate in the Black Islands of the Arabian Tales. Settle in the Black Islands!—No: could you conceive a man on earth could be found so simple as to credit such a thing?” ”

“ Now that he could marry Dora, now that her father expected that he should, he was not clear that he wished it himself. Quick as obstacles vanished, objections recurred: faults which he had formerly seen so strongly, which of late compassion had veiled from his view, reappeared; the softness of manner, the improvement of temper, caused by love, might be transient as passion. Then her coquetry—her frivolity. She was not that superior kind of woman which his imagination had painted, or which his judgment could approve of in a wife. ”

“ Harry Ormond thought it hard to bear unmerited reproach and suspicion; found it painful to endure the altered eye of his once kind and always generous, and to him always dear, friend and benefactor. But Ormond had given a solemn promise to White Connal never to mention any thing that had passed between them to O’Shane; and he could not therefore explain these circumstances of the quarrel. Conscious that he was doing right, he kept his promise to the person he hated and despised, at the hazard, at the certainty, of displeasing the man he most loved in the world ”

“ Ormond had no concern with the affairs of the nation, nor with the future fate of any thing he beheld: he was only a spectator, a foreigner; and his business was, according to Mademoiselle’s maxim, to enjoy to-day and to reflect to-morrow. His enjoyment of this day was complete: he not only admired, but was admired. In the vast crowd he was distinguished: some nobleman of note asked who he was—another observed l’air noble—another exclaimed, “ Le bel Anglois!” and his fortune was made at Paris; especially as a friend of Madame du Barry’s asked where he bought his embroidery. ”

“ Oh, my poor Dora!”
As King Corny heaved a heartfelt sigh, very difficult to force from his anti-sentimental bosom, Harry Ormond, with a plate of meat in his hand, whistling to his dog to follow him, ran down the steps.
“Leave feeding that dog, and come here to me, Harry,” said O’Shane, “and answer me truly such questions as I shall ask.”
“Truly—if I answer at all,” said Harry.
“Answer you must, when I ask you: every man, every gentleman, must answer in all honour for what he does.” ”

“ At Sir Ulick’s house in town every window-shutter was closed. Ormond rang and knocked in vain—not that he wished to see Sir Ulick—no, he would not have intruded on his misery for the world; but Ormond longed to inquire from the servants how things were with him. No servant could be seen. Ormond went to Sir Ulick’s bank. Such crowds of people filled the street that it was with the utmost difficulty and after a great working of elbows, that in an hour or two he made his way to one of the barred windows. ”

“ He could not help congratulating Sir Herbert, and warmly expressing a wish that he might himself, in the whole course of his life, do half as much good as Sir Herbert had already effected. “You will do a great deal more,” said Sir Herbert: “you will have a great deal more time. I must make the best of the little—probably the very little time I shall have: while I yet live, let me not live in vain.”
“Yet live,” said Ormond; “I hope—I trust—you will live many years to be happy, and to make others so: your strength seems quite re-established—you have all the appearance of health.” ”

“ The altered look and tone of tartness in which this question was asked produced as sudden a change in Harry’s conviction. He hesitatingly answered, “I am—”
“He is,” said Sheelah, confidently.
“I did not ask your opinion, Sheelah: I can judge for myself,” said Dora. “Your words tell me one thing, sir, and your looks another,” said she, turning to Ormond; “which am I to believe, pray?”
“Oh! believe the young man any way, sure,” said Sheelah; “silence speaks best for him.”
“Best against him, in my opinion,” said Dora.
“Dora, will you hear me?” Ormond began. ”

“ Dora’s name, a thought of Dora, never came in question between Mr. Connal and me, upon my honour.”
“Your honour!” repeated Cornelius, with a severe look—severe more in its sorrow than its anger. “O Harry Ormond! what signifies whether the name was mentioned? You know she was the thing—the cause of offence. Stop! I charge you—equivocate no more. If a lie’s beneath a gentleman, an equivocation is doubly beneath a man.” ”

“ Radiant with benevolent pleasure, she went to announce the glad tidings.
“Oh! if she is not beautiful!” cried Sheelah, clasping her hands.
Ormond felt it so warmly, and his looks expressed his feelings so strongly, that Florence, suddenly abashed, could scarcely finish her speech.
If Mrs. M’Crule had been present, she might again have cried “Oh! ho!” but she had retreated, too much discomfited, by the disappointments of hatred, to stay even to embarrass the progress of love. Love had made of late rapid progress. ”

“ Dora’s aunt, an aunt by the mother’s side, a maiden aunt, who had never before been at the Black Islands, and whom Ormond had never seen, was to accompany Dora on her return to Corny Castle: our young hero had settled it in his head that this aunt must be something like Aunt Ellenor in Sir Charles Grandison; a stiff-backed, prim, precise, old-fashioned looking aunt. Never was man’s astonishment more visible in his countenance than was that of Harry Ormond on the first sight of Dora’s aunt. ”

“ While the worldly young men guarded themselves with circumspect self-love against every external appearance of folly, Harry was completely unguarded: they lived cheaply upon borrowed wisdom; he profited dearly, but permanently, by his own experience.
“My dear boy,” said Sir Ulick, “are you aware that his Excellency the Lord Lieutenant is coming to Castle Hermitage to-morrow?”
“Yes, sir; so I heard you say,” replied Harry. “What sort of a man is he?”
“Man!” repeated Sir Ulick, smiling. “In the first place, he is a very great man, and may be of great service to you.” ”