The Wedding Guests: or, the Happiness of Life. A novel

Front matter

THE WEDDING GUESTS; OB, THE HAPPINESS OF LIFE. VOL. I. ' I slept, and dreamed that life was Beauty. I woke, and found that life was Duty.' ' Was then thy dream a shadowy lie ! Toil on, sad soul, courageously 1 And thou shalt And thy dream to be A noon-day light and strength to thee !' THE WEDDING GUESTS; OB, THE HAPPINESS OF LIFE. & P»l, BY MARY C. HUME, AUTHOR of 'THE BRIDESMAID, COUNT STEPHEN, AND OTHER POEMS. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: JOHN W. PARKER AND SON, WEST STRAND. 1857. [THE ItlQHT OF TRANSLATION IS RESERVED.) LONDON : PRINTED BY WERTHEIMER AND CO., CIRCUS PLACE, FINSBURY. DEDICATION TO SOPHIA AUGUSTA COTTRELL. To Thee, friend of many years ! From whom distance hath not parted ; Whom time's changes, griefs, hopes, fears, Have but left the truer-hearted : — In remembrance of the days, Which first taught my heart love's gladness ; Of life's later-trodden ways, Where love holier shone through sadness ; Of the ties so closely twined, Ere on sever'd paths we started ; Of pure hopes yet unresign'd, And of all our dear departed : As a pledge, that ever true To the vows long since recorded, — Still the goal to keep in view — I have journey' d, well rewarded ; That the seeds of truth then sown, — Precious seed borne forth with weeping — 'Neath Heaven's mercy-beams upgrown, Ripen toward the joyful reaping ; That the dreams, dream'd long ago, Dreams of joy and love and beauty, Have borne fruit, e'en here below Nourish' d from the soil of duty ; DEDICATION.

That the heaven-lent staff and guide, Lent when first life's storms assail'd me, Never since, though sorely tried, Hath in joy or sorrow fail'd me: — Thus mine offering I make ! Prizing it no whit less lowly, Though thou prize it, for my sake, More than dear, scarce less than holy. All Fame's triumphs miss'd, no less Love may grant more dear ovation; Crowning, not the poor success, But the worthy aspiration. M. C. H. London, 1856. CONTENTS OF VOLUME I. Chapter I. PAGE THE BRIDE AND THE BRIDESMAIDS . . i Chapter II. THE DAY BEFORE THE WEDDING . .28 Chapter III. THE WEDDING 51 Chapter IV. THE BALL 76 Chapter V. THE ACCIDENT 98 Chapter VI. THE CRISIS ,29 Chapter VII. DAY-DREAMS 157 Chapter VIIL RUINS 175 Chapter IX. LEAVE-TAKINGS CONTENTS OF VOLUME I. Chapter X. PAGE WINTER AND SPRING 215 Chapter XL MR. CARYSFORTS RIDE 241 Chapter XTL CONVALESCENCE 263 Chapter XIII. MAKING FRIENDS 286 Chapter XIV. MEETING AGAIN 310 Chapter XV. JOINED AND PARTED THE WEDDING GUESTS.

Chapter I. The Bride And The Bridesmaids

It is Baptiste and his affianced maiden, With garlands for the bridal laden. Longfellow, from the Gascon. ' rpHERE, Cissy, there is my last,' said Lady Emlyn, throwing one of those delicate concoctions of orange flowers and white satin ribbon, yclept ' favours,' across the table, to her pretty young sis ter, — almost too young she looked for a bride-elect. ' The smallest contributions gratefully accepted V replied a young man, standing so close by Cissy that it was impossible to doubt his being the happy lover. ' There, Cissy, I just wanted this one for that side of my wreath,' he added, arranging it so as to com plete the bridal garland which he had, for the last few minutes, been employed in extemporising. A number of the favours wreathed into her pretty brown curls and braids, and others disposed as shoulder-knots, and clustered on the skirt and bodice of her pretty muslin dress, testified alike to the in dustry of the favour-maker, and the ingenuity of the decorator. vol. r. 1! ' Now come and look at yourself,' he continued, leading her, laughing and blushing, to the nearest pier-glass. ' I don't believe you will look half as well the day after to-morrow.

You had much better take my advice, and send your fine lady's-maid about her business.' ' So I would if I did not care to be fit to be seen,' returned Cissy; 'but ' ' Pit to be seen ! I appeal to you, Lady Emlyn !' But before he could take her hand to lead her into the middle of the room, Cissy escaped towards the open window, though she was, of course, overtaken, before she had gone many steps ; when, after a little make-believe quarrelling, and much laughing and whispering, they proceeded amicably to remove Cissy's adornments, and replace them in the basket from which they had been taken. ' Such a pair of children !' exclaimed Lady Em lyn, watching them with an amused, affectionate smile. ' Such a pair of children, Horace ! We ought not to have let them marry these seven years !' The gentleman addressed as Horace raised himself slightly in the luxurious chaise-longue, from which, though pretending to read, he, too, had been watching the young pair.

He was an elegant-looking man, a year or so older than Lady Emlyn. But she, though really above thirty, might have passed for much younger, her bright eye and smile, and smooth, fair skin, bespeaking health and spirits as brilliant, still, as those of early youth. His face, on the other hand, wore a languid, half-dissatisfied expression, not wholly pleasing, notwithstanding handsome features, and the air of refinement which springs from intellectual tastes and cultivation. He laid down his book as Lady Emlyn spoke ; and, taking a more undis guised survey of the lovers, replied : ' Well, on the whole, I daresay they would have given us more trouble if we had not let them, Louisa !' ' To be sure we should,' said the young Lord Cas tleton. ' We should have had to run away, should we not, Cissy ?

And then Horace would have had to run after us. We must have let you into the secret, Lady Emlyn ; we never could have frightened you ; but I confess I should have enjoyed giving Horace a chase ; he does grow so incredibly lazy !' ' My dear Frederick,' said Mr. Horace Carysfort, rising to his full height, but lounging the next moment against the mantel-piece, as if it were quite too much trouble to stand upright, ' when you are as old as I am, you will wait to exert yourself, too, till you find something worth doing it for; which is just the extent of my laziness.' 'Yes;' said Frederick, laughing, 'but then I will take care that I do find something worth exerting myself for, at least just now and then — won't we, Cissy ?' ' For instance !' said Mr. Carysfort, pointing to the heap of favours by this time restored to their appro priate basket. ' Perhaps I might exert myself so far as that, if I could persuade some charming young lady to stand block for me.

Shall I try Miss For rester when she arrives, Cissy?' ' Florence stand block for you !' exclaimed Cissy, indignantly. ' I should like to hear you only talk of such nonsense to her ! However, I am not afraid of your trying when you see what she is like. ' Why, what is she like ?' asked Horace. 'Not so very ugly that I shall be afraid of her, I hope. I do not think I could take her in to the wedding-breakfast, if she is so very ugly.' ' She is not ugly ; she is very pretty !' said Cissy. ' And you shall not take her in to breakfast, if you talk so of her beforehand.' ' But, why shall I be afraid of her, then ? Why should she not stand block for me, as well as you for Fred?' enquired Horace, with provoking coolness. ' Because Florence is not such a little goose as I am," said Cissy colouring, and almost with tears in her eyes. ' Florence is so sensible and dignified, — no, not exactly dignified, but ' ' In short,' said the young lord, coming to her assistance, 'likely to require more persuasion than Horace could ever exert himself to administer.' ' But a little of some people's persuasion goes a great way, Cissy,' said Mr. Carysfort, affecting a cox combical air ; ' and you have no idea how fascinating I can be when I try.

Let me just show you. You shall be Florence — Miss Forrester, I beg her pardon ! — and here, we say, are the wedding favours, which she will be pensively contemplating ' ' She will never be doing any such nonsense !' cried Cissy. ' Then I shall draw her attention to them,' per sisted Horace, who rarely exerted himself so much for anything as for the sake of teasing his little ' half sister-in-law elect,' as he called her. ' ' Fairest Florence,' I shall say — 'no, forgive me! Miss For rester — these fairy -like favours resemble yourself. Their elegance, their pure, unsullied beauty — the likeness is perfect !

Let me only show you, (then I shall take one up insinuatingly) — permit me, for one moment, my dear Miss Forrester ' ' Just at this moment — when Horace was approach ing Cissy, with one of the favours, repeating, as he did so, ' For one moment only, my dear Miss For rester!'she, watching him, divided between struggling laughter and the indignation she wished to express, and the two others looking laughingly on, — the door was opened by a servant, whose lower-toned an nouncement of Miss Forrester, they were all too engrossed to hear; and before any of them were aware of it, a young lady had advanced into the middle of the room, and stopped short with a look of half-amused embarrassment. ' Florence !' exclaimed Cissy, darting past the discomfited Horace, who retreated almost into the chaise-longue again. ' Dear Florence, I am so glad you are come !' And a burst of merry greeting followed, with introductions which Lady Emlyn tried to begin gravely, but failing egregiously, ended amid fresh merriment. 'It is really no good trying to look grave and proper, dear Florence, when you caught us all like a set of great babies at play, just now,' said she, with the pleasant, cordial smile and tone, which rendered her so universal a favourite. ' Mr. Carysfort is so fond of teasing Cissy, especially about her being so fond of you ; and he was just making believe to shew her, how he should set about persuading you to be as merry and ridiculous as the rest of us.' ' I hope I am not often so ridiculous as I was just now, Miss Forrester,' said Horace, recovering a little from the shock he had sustained, but still looking somewhat annoyed, partly, perhaps, at Lady Emlyn's frank explanation ; ' and if you will pardon me this time, for taking your name in vain, I promise to behave better in future.' 'Indeed,' said Florence, conquering her shyness lest she should be thought to have taken offence, ' I am ready to be as merry and ridiculous as any of you ; and I heard no harm of myself, so have nothing to forgive any one for yet.' ' There, Cissy !' whispered Lord Castleton ; ' She will stand block yet, you will see !' ' She will not !' exclaimed Cissy ; and then looked round in alarm lest Florence should have heard.

But Florence had moved towards the open window, attracted, as a new comer from London could scarcely fail to be, by the lovely prospect of park and gardens, hill and wood, without; and in a few minutes they were all sauntering and chatting in the garden. Cissy went darting and skipping about like any young kitten at play, picking the prettiest flowers she could find to make a nosegay for Florence; her betrothed, of course, in close attendance ; while the others walked and talked more gravely. For Mr. Carysfort was by no means inclined to be thought ' merry and ridiculous,' and Lady Emlyn's ready good nature and tact seconded his wishes. If it must be confessed, she was very anxious he should like Florence (perhaps she might be the least trifle given to match-making, with the kindest pos sible intentions) , and was, therefore, doubly desirous that the little awkwardness of their first meeting should be speedily effaced.

So they walked and talked, and had just sat down upon a shady garden seat, when they were saluted by Sir William Emlyn's cordial voice, enquiring what they meant by smuggling his guest out into the garden in this way, instead of either bringing her to see him in his library, or taking her up-stairs to rest after her journey, like sensible people ? Here upon Florence, confessing, on cross-examination, to some slight degree of fatigue, was carried off to the house by the ladies, and the gentlemen were left to shift for themselves till dinner-time. For, once alone, there was no end to all that had to be said by the ladies, on the absorbing subjects of Cissy's wedding, and Florence's arrival. Louisa and Cissy had to rejoice over Florence, whom they had not now seen for some months ; and to confide to her numberless interesting particulars, such as ladies are wont to confide to each other on such occasions, concerning the engagement, the impending festivities, and the wedding trip.

And Florence, who had not seen the bridegroom elect before, had to submit to an examination as to what she thought of him — not a trying one, fortunately, as he was not only very prepossessing in appearance, but so ob viously devoted as to render it impossible not to like him. Then Florence had to unpack, in order to exhibit her bridesmaid's dress, and the final addi tions to Cissy's trousseau, which she had been com missioned to bring from town ; and then the trousseau itself had to be inspected, and all in the midst of such laughing, kissing, and chattering, as would have been delightful to witness, had there been any disengaged spectator. They were still deep in laces, satins, and orange flowers, in Louisa's dressing-room, when Sir William put his head in at the door, to ask if that was what they called dressing for dinner, or whether they meant to dine upon finery to-day for a change ?

All the ladies declared that Sir William seemed determined to leave them no peace on this particular day, and that they could not have been upstairs ten minutes ; till, on looking at their watches, they frnnd it would be best to discuss that point no further, and, surrendering at discretion, dispersed to their several apartments. Sir William followed the two girls out into the passage, to see, as he said, that they did not go together, as, otherwise, they would certainly never be ready for dinner at all; upon which, Cissy declared that he was growing perfectly tyrannical, and he called her back to re mind her, in a whisper loud enough for Florence to hear, that she might as well begin to practise a a little obedience beforehand. But Cissy protested she never meant to obey a bit! One only said that just for form's sake.

Sir William might tell Frederick so, if he liked ! And off she ran, with the prettiest look and smile of defiance imaginable, and disappeared from the scene. ' Ah !' said Florence, as she shut her door, when the last glimpse of Cissy was lost, ' what a child to be married ! I wonder if she will be happy ? Dear little Cissy.' For Cissy, though neither really little, nor so young, by some years, as she looked, being, in fact, nearly twenty, was one of those pretty, playful creatures, whom everybody always calls little ; and whose childlike manners, and undeveloped minds, render it hard to realize that they have become women in years. Petted and almost idolized by her sister, from her earliest youth, she had never felt the loss of the mother who had died in her infancy ; and Lady Emlyn, having no chfldren, had continued to concentrate upon her, after her own marriage, the same affectionate solicitude as before.

Thus Cissy had known no trouble in her sunshiny life, to force upon her any thought for the future, or knowledge of the realities of life ; and was now fluttering merrily into the most serious of all human engagements, with about as much con ception of its importance, or significance, as a kitten might have been burdened with under similar circumstances. When we reflect on the countless marriages thus thoughtlessly entered on, and those entered on with still more culpable recklessness (for Cissy, at least, was marrying for love, childish and thoughtless love though it were), by the numbers of both sexes, who marry for money, or for position, or for marrying's sake ; for anything, in short, but that which alone justifies marriage — when we look round upon all this, we should be inclined to marvel that ninety nine out of every hundred marriages do not turn out hopelessly miserable, did we not remember what infinitely better care God's Providence is ceaselessly taking of each and all of us, than even the best and wisest can ever take of themselves.

It is not, there fore, surprising, if many are guided to far safer anchorage amid the storms of life, than any to which their own wisdom or forethought could have entitled them. Sir William and Lady Emlyn, however, were not only a happy pair, but, humanly speaking, deserved to be so. From the days when William Emlyn, the tall, sturdy son of the poor curate's widow, had been first permitted to shake down the mulberries and apples in the wealthy rector's garden for the rector's bright little daughter, Louisa, a faithful attachment had grown up with their growth and strengthened with their strength, notwithstanding the apparent hopelessness which precluded its acknowledgment even to each other. As Miss Louisa grew up, indeed, the village gossips — and perhaps the rector himself — set their notions on quite a different lover for her.

The great house of the neighbourhood had, for some years past, been occupied by the twice-widowed Lady Castleton, whose eldest son, Mr. Horace Carysfort, inherited a sufficient fortune from his father to make him quite a great match for Miss Louisa; while the young viscount, some ten years younger than his brother, was by unanimous assent assigned to little Miss Cissy, the pet and plaything of the village. But notwithstanding the intimacy between the two families, years passed on, and no marriage came to pass, to gladden and excite the expectant neighbourhood. William Emlyn had long since been placed in a merchant's counting-house in London, and only appeared at long intervals, for two or three days at a time, to visit his mother and see his old friends ; and Mr. Carysfort's university vacations, first, and then his residences with his mother, alternating with London seasons and continental travellings, passed away one after the other, and matters still stood on the same friendly, but unexciting footing as ever.

Miss Louisa was positively five-and-twenty, and already considered by some alarmists in danger of becoming an old maid, when William Emlyn unex pectedly inherited a baronetcy and a fortune from a distant relative ; and coming down to be congratu lated by his friends — his mother was now dead — proposed and was accepted, on the very night of his arrival, as was known all over the village the next day. Whereupon every one immediately declared, that this was exactly what might have been expected ; and that he, or she, had long felt secretly convinced that a hopeless affection for the absent merchant's clerk, was the true cause of Miss Louisa's coldness to poor Mr. Horace. But, of course, she could not marry them both, and had a right to take whichever she chose. Moreover, Sir William was a baronet, and probably much richer, too, than Mr. Horace, who suddenly fell fifty per cent, in the village sympathies ; whereas the long-absent, but now successful suitor was with equal suddenness discovered to have always been everybody's favourite, and rose to a height of popu larity among his old neighbours, which would greatly have astonished him had he been able to spare time to think about it.

But now arose new perplexities. Instead of rush ing off distractedly to the Continent, or at least to London, to escape from the scene of his rival's success, 'poor Mr. Horace' remained as composedly on the spot, as if there were no rival in the question. And if he suffered at all from the unexpected turn of affairs, it was certainly more for want of knowing how to dispose of the spare hours he had been used to loiter away at the rectory, than from any of those acute pangs of disappointed love, under which the sympathizing community were looking, if not absolutely longing, to see him pine and languish before their eyes. Whether, in fact, Mr. Horace had never entertained any warmer feelings towards Louisa than those of brotherly kindness, so likely to arise in their position of unrestrained intimacy ; or, with the pride and nonchalance partly natural to him, and partly acquired in the world of fashion to which he belonged, had merely refrained from any betrayal of love, which he had the tact to perceive would have met with no response, the village gossips could never decide.

It was clear he intended to behave as if the former were the case, and acted the part of a brother, during the courtship and at the wedding, as naturally as if he had been born to it. Six or seven years had now passed since the marriage, and each found Louisa and her husband, if possible, happier than the preceding one. The life of a country gentleman afforded Sir William full scope for the activity congenial to his energetic and practically benevolent, rather than intellectual mind ; and there was no kinder landlord, more active ma gistrate, or eager politician in the county. Louisa would have been happy with him in any position or circumstances ; but none, perhaps, could have been so entirely suited to her tastes and character as that in which her marriage placed her — as the mistress of a country residence, just fitted for the gratification of her warm-hearted hospitality, in a pleasant and social neighbourhood.

The command, too, of an ample income, enabled her to exercise to all around her, that easy liberality which the kindness of her heart dictated, without entailing those sacrifices of time and personal enjoyment, which might have de manded more energy and steadiness of self-denial, than one who had known so little of trial or suffering in her own life, could perhaps have been expected to possess. The death of their father had early settled the question, whether he could best live alone, or the sisters apart; and transplanted Cissy to Emlyn Priory as her natural home. Nor did the lapse of time weaken old ties of friendship, or diminish the intimacy existing between Mr. Carysfort and his brother, and their old neighbours of the rectory. The brothers, too, by the death of Lady Castleton, had been uprooted from the quiet village neighbourhood in which so many of their early years had been passed • and now that one portion, at least, of the prediction of the village sages was about to be realized, in the marriage of Cissy with the young Viscount, it was to be feared that the prophets might scarcely be enabled to enjoy this triumph of their sagacity, till its actual announcement in the papers should reveal the gratifying event.

Such are the ups and downs of Use ! The match, which had been so long looked forward to, as the crowning glory and the twelvemonths' wonder of the quiet little village of F , took place at last, when it did take place, in a distant county, from whence the gossips of F had small chance of so much as hearing what might be the form and colour of the travelling-carriage, or how many bridesmaids there were at the wedding ! Their estimate of the grandeur of the match might have been somewhat lowered, however, had the humiliating fact reached them, that these latter were but two in number ! Florence Forrester, the one already introduced to our readers, was an intimate friend of Lady Emlyn and Cissy, who were both inclined to believe there was no one like her in the world. And she was, indeed, truly loveable in dis position, gentle and deeply affectionate, but shy in her feelings, and retiring in her manners.

She resided in London with her father, a man who moved much in literary and scientific circles, well calculated to develop her naturally intellectual and studious tastes. Her sisters being both married in India, she had for years past stood in the position of an only child ; and having but little intercourse among young people, her father's friends being chiefly of the older generation, her natural shyness had worn off but little; and only those who knew her intimately even guessed at the intense capacities of affection, and the real superiority of mind, veiled beneath her gentle, unassuming exterior. With her, as with Cissy, little had ever arisen to ruffle the surface of external life ; but the effect on their characters had been very opposite. As much thought and reflection had been crowded into every one of the four or five years of peaceful life, by which Florence was older than Cissy, as would have provided ample mental occupation for the latter, during her whole past nineteen years and a half, and as many more to come ; and the some what dreamy tendency of her mind, encouraged and fostered by circumstances, threatened to render the former, perhaps, too theoretical and speculative, in the absence of such trials as bring theories to book by necessitating their reduction to practice.

She now sat musing over the child-like gaiety and thoughtlessness, doubly strange to a thoughtful mind like hers, with which Cissy was preparing to enter upon married life, till the dinner-bell startled her, just as her meditations had reached the point of wondering whether it would ever be possible for herself, under any circumstances, to contemplate so awfully serious a step, with any approach to con fidence and satisfaction? She thought it, to say the least, very improbable. Who was to be the other bridesmaid ? was one of the first questions asked by Florence herself, when, dinner being over, the party were re-assembled in the drawing-room in that pleasant state of idleness and freedom from restraint, only enjoyable to per fection on a fine summer's evening in the country. There one may sit with open windows, moonlight without and lamplight within, and saunter in and out at will ; talking, not as if talking were a business, which must be energetically performed to keep up the credit of the establishment — as one talks at a party in a London drawing-room — but after a de sultory, agreeable fashion, speaking when one has anything to say, and holding one's tongue if one prefers doing so ; feeling, in short, off duty, and at liberty to enjoy oneself as one likes. ' The other bridesmaid ?

O did I not tell you ?' said Lady Emlyn. ' Helen Montagu ; you must have heard us speak of her, I think.' ' Helen Montagu, of whom Cissy used to be so afraid?' said Florence. ' I remember her name very well, but I did not fancy you were intimate enough to ask her.' ' Well, to say the truth, I hardly thought we were,' returned Lady Emlyn ; ' but there was no one Cissy cared to ask besides you; and William likes Mr. Montagu very much, they are brother-magis trates, and so on ; and he thought it would be but friendly to ask Miss Montagu.' ' And Emlyn likes Miss Montagu very much, too,' said Mr. Carysfort ; ' do not leave that out, Louisa.' ' So I do,' said Sir William, no ways disconcerted by the imputation : ' Helen Montagu is a very fine girl, and a very sensible one ; about the only girl in the neighbourhood worth talking to ; for she can not only talk sense, but knows how to listen besides.' vol. 1. c ' I never quite understood why Cissy should be so afraid of her,' said Florence. 'Oh! she is so clever,' said Cissy, in a tone of alarm. 'Very clever, indeed,' said Lady Emlyn; 'and though we have never seen much of her, — they live a mile or two on the other side of X , too far off to meet very often, — we have always fancied she cared more for clever men and clever books, than for the society of unlearned ladies like Cissy and me.' ' Cissy is a little goose !' said Sir William. ' How should Helen Montagu care for her society, while she looks frightened as soon as a sensible person comes near her?

And the only reason for your not liking her, my dear Louisa, is just your never having seen enough of her. I will answer for your liking her very much, before she has been a week in the house.' 'I dare say you are right, dear William,' said Lady Emlyn, with her sweet smile; 'but I believe I am half a goose, too, for I feel rather afraid myself. She is to stay with us for a little while after the wedding, as well as you,' she added, in explanation to Florence. 'But do you not like her, only because she is clever?' said Florence. *I think that would be rather hard; or is she conceited, or disagreeable .in any way?' 'Oh ! dear no !' said Lady Emlyn, 'and pray do not think I dislike her, dear Florence ; only I know so little of her. I believe many people think her extremely agreeable ; especially gentlemen.' ' Especially gentlemen !' exclaimed Mr. Carysfort. ' That depends on their taste in such matters.