Lady Montfort

“ Excellent, sterling John Montfort! Such a pleasure to be with him! Such a joy to feel that I can make a home for him!"
"Gone!" echoed Margaret, looking up in dismay. "Why, surely it is not train time!"
"An early train, my love," the lady explained. "Your dear uncle felt obliged to start an hour earlier than usual, he explained to me. These busy men! And how are you occupying yourself, my dear? Ah! buttonholes? Most necessary! But, my love, you are working these the wrong way!"
"No, I think not," said Margaret. "This is the way I have always made them, Cousin Sophronia." ”

“ It is one of the hopes that keep me alive. What a woman! You may count yourself fortunate in having such a friend. I do. I am not particularly fond of female society. Women chatter too much. But I prefer the society of a first-rate woman to that of any man; and Lady Montfort is a first-rate woman—I think the greatest since Louise of Savoy ”

“ It was described to me as a family seat, but when I looked into the matter, I found that Lord Beaumaris was more powerful than Lord Montfort.”
“I thought that Lady Montfort was irresistible,” said Imogene; “she carries all before her in society.”
“Society and politics have much to do with each other, but they are not identical. In the present case, Lady Montfort is powerless.” ”

“ Myra was kind to her as well as courteous, and, when the stream of arriving guests had somewhat ceased, sought her out and spoke to her; and then put her arm in hers, walked with her for a moment, and introduced her to one or two great personages, who had previously intimated their wish or their consent to that effect. Lady Montfort was not one of these. When parties are equal, and the struggle for power is intense, society loses much of its sympathy and softness. ”

“ His daughter, Lady Alice de Montfort, was extremely like him in general appearance. Tall and elegant in carriage, her profuse raven tresses were gathered in silken bands, and from thence fell over her shoulders well-nigh to her girdle. Her face was pale; her features regular, as though chiselled. A pair of lustrous dark eyes glowed from between darker lashes, proclaiming her southern extraction. She was indeed a model of queenly beauty. ”

“ I want it settled before Easter. I must go down to my lord then, and even before; and I should like to see this settled before we separate.”
“Why does not Montfort come up to town?” said Lord Roehampton. “He is wanted.”
“Well,” said Lady Montfort, with half a sigh, “it is no use talking about it. He will not come. Our society bores him, and he must be amused. I write to him every day, and sometimes twice a day, and pass my life in collecting things to interest him. ”

“ Women have a quick appreciation of beauty in their own sex; and women who are themselves beautiful, not the least. Irresistibly Lady Montfort felt attracted towards that innocent countenance so lively in its mirth, and yet so softly gay. Sir Isaac, who had hitherto lain perdu, watching the movements of a thrush amidst a holly-bush, now started up with a bark. Waife rose; Sophy turned half in flight. ”

“ It took several crusts to satisfy Miss Sophronia at breakfast. Afterwards she sallied out into the garden, where Mr. Montfort was enjoying his morning cigar, with Margaret at his side. "You dear child," said the sprightly lady, "run now and amuse yourself, or attend to any little duties you may have set yourself. So important, I always say, for the young to be regular in everything they do. I am sure you agree with me, dearest John. I will be your uncle's companion, my love; that is my duty and my pleasure now. I must see your roses, John! No one in the world loves roses as I do. ”

“ The courtly father pressed his hand; the amiable and refined mother smiled upon him; the daughters, pretty, and natural as the air, treated him as if they were sisters, and even the eldest son, who generally hates you, after a little stiffness, announced in a tone never questioned under the family roof, that “Ferrars was a first-rate shot.”
And so a month rolled on; immensely happy, as any man who has loved, and loved in a beautiful scene, alone can understand. One morning Lady Montfort said to him, “I must go up to London about my house. ”

“ Margaret went into the house; there was no place for her, for the lady was leaning on Mr. Montfort's arm, chattering gaily in his ear. Margaret was conscious of an unpleasant sensation which was entirely new to her. [64] She had always been with people she liked. Rita had often distressed her, but still she was most lovable, with all her faults. Cousin Sophronia was—not—lovable, the girl said to herself.
It was a relief to visit the kitchen, and find Frances beaming over her bread-pan. The good woman hailed Margaret with delight, and received her timid suggestions as to dinner with enthusiasm. ”

“ Montfort (enraged) —"There is but one faith in the world, the Catholic faith! All who refuse to enter the pale of the Church deserve death. If the Lady of Lavaur should persist in her detestable creed, she will perish in the flames of the pyre!"
Karvel—"I know not whether you have any children. But you have a wife. Your mother still lives or has died. Think of her, you pious servant of the Church! Montfort, unconquerable warrior, you certainly loved your mother?" ”

“ You are the only person who really cares for my clothes, Margaret, and [79] they are the only interest I have in the world."
"I wish you wouldn't talk so!" said Margaret, colouring. "You don't mean it, and why will you say it?"
"I do mean it!" said the beautiful lady. "I mean every word of it. There's nothing else to care for, except you, you dear little old-fashioned thing. I like you, because you are quaint and truthful. Have you seen my pink pearl? You are not half observant, that's the trouble with you, Margaret Montfort." ”

“ Don't have me on your mind in the least, [49] my dear cousin; I shall soon be absolutely at home. Enjoy your walk, both of you! After to-day, I shall always be with you, I hope. I ordered tea an hour earlier, as I dined early, and I knew you would not mind. Good-bye!" and the lady nodded, and smiled herself into the house.
Margaret went for her hat in silence, and in silence she and her uncle walked along. Mr. Montfort was smoking, not in his usual calm and dignified manner, but in short, fierce puffs; smoking fast and violently. ”

“ De Montfort was quite a gentleman.
"Which is just what he is not," said the lady, who bore Mrs. Marchbold's deprecatory stare with the most complete indifference. "He is not quite a gentleman, and my brother the vicar knows that very well; but he is a clever, amusing man, and his reading will help on the society. ”

“ Now you have new toys,—Sophronia Montfort, I suppose, and a sweet plaything she is! and you pay no further attention to me. Deny it if you can!" [213]
Margaret did not attempt to deny it; she was too absolutely truthful not to feel a certain grain of fact in the lady's accusation. Life was opening fuller and broader upon her every day; how could she think of lace bed-spreads, with three children constantly in her mind, to think and plan and puzzle for? To say nothing of Uncle John and all the rest. ”

“ I considered it my duty, my sacred duty, to see what you wrote."
"You seem to know little about the ways of gentle people!" cried Margaret, unable for once to restrain herself. Her uncle laid his [256] hand on her arm. "Steady, little woman!" he said. His quiet, warning voice brought the angry girl to herself, the more quickly that she knew his sympathy was all with her.
"I—I should not have said that, Cousin Sophronia," she said. "I beg your pardon! Good-bye!"
She could not say more; she stood still, with burning cheeks, while Mr. Montfort helped the lady into the carriage. ”

“ That was Alianora de Montfort, daughter of Earl Simon of Leicester, that bold baron that headed the lords against the King; and her mother was the King’s own sister, the Lady Alianora. She was fifteen months older than our little Lady, and being youngest of all, the two used to play together. A sweet child she was, too; but not like my own little Lady—there never was a child like her.”
“What was she like, Aunt?”
“Tell me what the angels are like in Heaven, and thou shalt hear then. She is an angel now—she hath been one these three-and-twenty years. ”

“ Peyton, they frighten me! Why, this diamond—I never saw such a diamond. It's as big as a pea."
"Imperfect!" said the lady. "A flaw in it, you see; but the colour is good, and it does just as well for a plaything, though I don't like flawed things, as a rule. This sapphire is a good one,—deep, you see; I like a deep sapphire."
"This light one is nearer your eyes," said Margaret, taking up a lovely clear blue stone.
"Flatterer! People used to say that once; a long time ago. Heigh ho, Margaret, don't ever grow old! Take poison, or throw yourself out of the window, but don't grow old. ”

“ Behold dem all.”
“Dost call thyself a jeweller?” asked Lady Foljambe, with a laugh. “Why, thou art jeweller, silversmith, girdler, forcer-maker, and cutler.”
“Dame, I am all men to please my customers,” answered the little jeweller, obsequiously. “Will your Ladyship look? Ah, de beautiful tings!”
“Art thou Englishman?”
“Ah! no, Madame, I am a Breton. I come from Hennebon.”
A sudden flash of suspicious uneasiness lighted up the eyes of the Countess of Montfort’s gaoler. Yet had the man meant mischief, he would scarcely have been so communicative. ”

“ Montfort, sternly. "Have you everything you want for the journey?" [255]
"Everything, I think, dear John. Ah! well, good-bye, Margaret! It has been a blow to find that you do not love me, my dear, as I have loved you, but we must bear our burdens."
"What do you—what can you mean, Cousin Sophronia?" asked Margaret, turning crimson. "I am sure I have tried—"
"Ah! well, my dear, one gives oneself away," said the lady. "You said in your letter to your cousin,—I recall the precise words—'I have tried to love her, but I cannot succeed.' Yes; very painful to one who has a heart like mine ”

“ Peyton. And how have you been?"
Mrs. Peyton leaned back on her pillows, with a little laugh. "Who cares how I have been?" she said, lightly. "What does it matter how I have been? Tell me some news, Margaret. I must have news. You are alive, you move, and have your being; tell me something that will make me feel alive, too."
Margaret looked at the lady, and thought she looked very much alive. She was a vision [78] of rose colour, from the silk jacket fluttering with ribbons, to the pink satin that shimmered through the lace bed-spread. ”

“ Peyton's eyebrows was gone, and her beautiful face wore a look of contentment that was not common to it.
"Go away now!" the lady murmured. "You have straightened me out again. Be thankful for that little silver voice of yours, child! You can do more good with it in the world than you know. I really think you are one of the few good persons who are not odious. Go now! Good-bye!"
Margaret went away, thinking, as she had often thought before, how like her Cousin Rita this fair lady was. "Only Rita has a great, great deal more heart!" she said to herself. ”

“ Margaret, my love, I shall always think of you most tenderly, believe me, in spite of everything. It is impossible for me to harbour resentment. No, my child, I shall always love you as a sister. I have taken the old vinaigrette with me, as a little souvenir of you; I knew it would give you pleasure to have me use it. Bless you! And, John, if you want me to look up some good servants for you, I know of an excellent woman who would be the very thing—" [257]
"Willis!" said Mr. Montfort again. "You'll miss that train, Sophronia, if you don't,—bon voyage!" ”

“ Basil shied his cap into a bush with a joyous whoop, then snatched off his brother's and threw that after it. Merton grappled him with a shout, and they rolled over and over at the feet of their sister, who bent down and pummelled them both with might and main, shrieking with excitement. As Margaret gazed aghast, preparing to fly and interfere, she heard a quiet laugh behind her, and turning, saw Mr. Montfort looking over her shoulder.
"Battle, Murder, and Sudden Death!" he said. "Separate them? On no account, my dear! They have been shut up for hours, and their muscles need stretching. ”

“ No one shall know; I never speak of it; I am the grave, for silence. Do not—do not tell your uncle, Margaret, how you have seen me suffer. Do not betray my momentary weakness!"
"Certainly not!" said Margaret, heartily. "I will not say a word, Cousin Sophronia, of course!"
"He would wish to know!" said Miss Sophronia, smothering a sob into a sigh. "John Montfort would be furious if he thought I was ill-treated, and we were concealing it from him. He is a lion when once roused. Ah! I should be sorry for that woman. But forgiveness is a duty, my dear, and I forgive. See! I am myself again. ”

“ I shall be—we can hardly say a mother, can we, my dear? but an elder sister, to you, too. Oh, we shall be [47] very happy, I am sure. The drawing-room carpets are looking very shabby, John. I am ready to go over the dear old house from top to bottom, and make it over new; of course you did not feel like making any changes while dear Aunt Faith was with you. Such a mistake, I always say, to shake the aged out of their ruts. Yes! so wise of you! and who is in the neighbourhood, John?"
"I hardly know," said Mr. Montfort. "You know I live rather a hermit life, Sophronia. Mrs. Peyton is here ”