Professions; a novel

Front matter

30, Welbeck Street, July, 1852. MR. NEWBY'S NEW NOVELS. % tlie |5im In Three Volumes. GABRIELLA WITHERINGTON. By the Author of "Treachery." In Three Volumes. THE TIDE OF LIFE. By Miss LAURA JEWRY, Author of " The Cup and the Lip." In Three Volumes. THE BRIDE ELECT. By the Author of " The Jilt," " Courtship and Wedlock," &c. In Three Volumes. A NEW NOVEL. By the Author of " The Young Doctor," " Sir Arthur Bouverie," &c. Now 'ready, in Three Vols. Svo. THE BARONET'S FAMILY. By Miss A. BEALE, Author of " The Vale of the Towey." " The ' Baronet's Family ' is a novel of a very exalted character ; it teaches us, through examples of struggling merit, high self-denial, and firm faith, what healing and healthy influences reverses bring. Miss Beale reminds us of Miss Mitford, and is in every respect equal to that talented authoress.

A better or more interesting novel has not been published for a long time." — Evening Post. f æ wmimm mm ©Mum The importance of possessing A FINE SET OF TEETH is uni versally acknowledged by all who attach the due value to Personal Advan tage., and tbe blessings of health. A regular, firm, and pearly row of teeth ever insures favourable impressions ; while the indispensable agencies which they fulfil in respect to the functions of health, demand our utmost care and attention in their preservation. Disorders of the Teeth, however slightly regarded, are inevitably at tended with evils which affect the whole system. Whatever renders mastica tion painful or imperfect, not only lessens our relish and enjoyment of food, but also prevents that perfect comminution and mixture of it with the saliva which is indispensable to perfect digestion ; and hence arise an endless train of diseases of the stomach, while at the same time the body is deprived of its wonted nourishment, and the whole system languishes in a state of discomfort and disease.

Perhaps among all the disagreeable consequences that follow fast the decay of the Teeth, an impure breath must be the most mortifying to its possessor, as it is the most generally offensive in society. The Decay of the Teeth arises from various causes ; but principally it may be attributed to early neglect, ill health, or the use of Tooth-Psnrslars, containing mineral and other deleterious acids, which give a momentary whiteness to the teeth, while they corrode the enamel,' — The extreme preva lence of this last cause is too well known to need comment. To this fact, indeed, is principally to be attributed the long Botanical Research which happily terminated by the most felicitous discovery ever given to the world for the Preservation of the Teeth, Gums, and Breath, viz. : — ROWLANDS' ODONTO, OR PEARL DENTIFRICE, A White Powder, prepared with unusual care from Oriental Herbs, transmitted to this country at great expense, and as cleanly in applica tion as felicitous in result.

Chapter I

"Won't it be charming, dear aunt," said Helen Murray, a Uandsome girl of eighteen, " to go witU tbe Browns to tbe sea-side ? It is very kind of them to think of me. I only hope we really shall go, Aunt Melbourne." " Why do you doubt it, my love ?" asked Mrs. Melbourne, as she looked up from her writing table, and with a peculiar smile awaited Helen's reply. " Now I know very well what that VOL. I. B PROFESSIONS. Mrs. Melbourne soon recovered her self, and Helen had just resumed her seat at the harp, when the sound of carriage wheels was heard, and a hand some Clarence stopped at the gate of their cottage. Helen ran to the window. "The Browns, I declare, dear aunt," she exclaimed. " No doubt they are come at last to settle the day of our going to Hastings. How very kind." The next minute Mrs. Brown was shown into the room.

She embraced Helen, and warmly shook hands with Mrs. Melbourne. She was gorgeously dressed. Her gown was of such rich material, and so capacious, that the cottage doors would scarcely admit it, as the figure it encircled wTas of con siderable dimensions. Mrs. Brown was about fifty, but she really looked ten years younger, and in dress and manners she was quite a girl. She was not ill-looking, though every feature was in itself plain, and her com- PROFESSIONS. plexion would have been intolerable but for the aid of art, that tinged the yellow with the roses' hue. There was some thing frank and hearty about this lady that gained her friends, and had she been tolerably lady-like, she might have gone through the world with more credit to herself. Her vulgarity was often annoying, particularly where she considered herself intimate, as she did at Mrs. Melbourne's. Her company man ners were not much better, at least they were as far removed from those of a gentlewoman, but they were less trouble some.

Enough, however, of description. Mrs. Brown wiU have no difficulty in displaying her own character, and it wiU be fuUy developed in the progress of our history. She soon fell into her usual style of conversation — she talked away of her neighbours, of her parties, of her girls, and her boys. Helen sat on the pin nacle of expectation and hope, and PROFESSIONS. found it difficult to go on with the work she had taken up. At last there was a pause, and Helen ventured to say, " Where is Matilda to-day, and why did not Henrietta come with you, Mrs. Brown ?" " I am sure I don't know, Miss Murray," said Mrs. Brown. " They had some plan of their own for this morning, I suppose. They never tell me what they are going to do, and as long as their father is satisfied with them, I shall not complain. Ned Archer came this morning and wanted to ride with them, but Matilda looked shy on him, and said she had promised to walk to Hereford to call at the deanery, so Ned Archer was huffed, and rode off;" and Mrs. Brown laughed aloud.

She then hoped dear Mrs. Melbourne would soon come and stay with her at the Knoll, and turning to Helen, she said, " The girls want to have you, dear, very much. I will come again soon, PROFESSIONS. 7 and then we will arrange a day for sending the carriage." " And shall we go to Hastings soon, do you think, Mrs. Brown ?" asked Miss Murray. " Heaven knows," replied the lady, shrugging her shoulders. " John teUs me he can't leave the office." Helen looked more amused than disappointed, and Mrs. Brown could not but perceive it. "WeU, Helen," she continued, "We will see about it. Depend upon it we wiU go somehow, and you shall be of our party ; and you, too, my dear Mrs. Melbourne — the sea airwill do you good in every way. But you must first come to us for a few weeks, and I will, in the meantime, send you some grapes, and the girls will bring you flowers" — and the important lady affectionately kissed the aunt and niece and drove off to call on Lady Crawford, who had visited her because Sir Charles Crawford had a PROFESSIONS. suit pending, of which Mr. Brown had the management, and Sir Charles had desired his lady to be civil to the wife of his lawyer.

Mr. Brown was a shrewd man of bnsiness, with excellent abilities, but his education had been of a very secon dary order, and he had never been able to acquire gentlemanlike manners and habits, though of late years the nature of his business, and his increasing for tune procured him an entrance into good society. Every one liked Mr. Brown, and every one considered him a man of strict honour. His house was frequented by the best society the neighbourhood afforded, and his dinners were pronounced the very best in the world. Some few families held back from associating with the Browns, calling them upstarts and vulgar — and others went as seldom as possible, not quite approving of the flirty off-hand manners of Mrs. Brown and her daughters. But, PROFESSIONS. 9 generally speaking, Mrs. Brown con trived to visit every one, and her "ways and means" for the accomplishment of this would have done credit to a Chan ceUor of the Exchequer.

As soon as this said lady had driven away from Mayfield Cottage, for so Mrs. Melbourne's ivy-covered house was caUed, Helen Murray eagerly asked her aunt if she thought the flowers, the fruit, the few weeks' visit, the journey to Hastings, were each and aU to end in professions. " I hope not, my dear girl," said Mrs. Melbourne, " for your sake ; but set not your heart on any of these pleasant things. I did so for years, dear Helen, but knowing the fallacy of such promises, I am anxious you should only receive them as they are meant, merely a mode of being agreeable for the moment, and the next to be forgot ten." " WeU, aunt, I detest professions, b PROFESSIONS. and every one who makes them," ex claimed Helen. "That is too strong a feeling, my love," replied her aunt. " Detest no one, though it is very allowable, and proper too, to disUke their faults.

Let it be a caution to you, Helen, to avoid such. We may always learn something from others, and quite as much, in my opinion, from their failings, as we can from their virtues." " There is no danger, Aunt Mel bourne," said Helen, looking very grave, " that I shall ever promise what I do not intend to perform. You have too care fully educated me for that, and too early instilled into me the love of truth and the hatred of the despicable vice of lying." " I do not suppose, Helen," said Mrs. Melbourne, " that Mrs. Brown, or any other of our professing acquaintance, wilfuUy tell an untruth ; at least, it is not a premeditated one. It is too much PROFESSIONS. 11 the custom of society to aUow of over strained expressions of regard and plea sure, so that hyperbole has become the common mode of speaking, and is no longer confined to the language of books.

It is a bad style in every sense, and one, I am sure, you will carefully avoid." " I wish, Aunt Melbourne, we were not so intimate with the Browns," said Helen. " And why so, my love ? " asked Mrs. Melbourne. " Because, " replied Helen, " I like them less every time I see them." " And yet," remarked her aunt, " you will be a little disappointed if you do not go with them to Hastings." " Yes," said Helen, " but on the whole it will be as well, perhaps, that I should not." " Why do you think so ?" inquired her aunt. Helen blushed and said, " I hope I am not wrong, Aunt Melbourne, but I PROFESSIONS. always feel ashamed of acknowledging my intimacy with Mrs. Brown to those who hold themselves aloof from her parties ; nay, even to those who go to the Knoll much more than I do. She is certainly very vulgar, dear aunt."

" There can be no doubt about it, my love," said Mrs. Melbourne. "Cir cumstances threw me much into her society at one time of my life, but I never could find pleasure in the intimacy that naturally arose, and I had some difficulty in managing myself so as not to offend or hurt Mrs. Brown's feelings. However, I contrived to keep friends with her always, and your uncle, wdio knew Mr. Brown's worth, was de sirous I should do so. No ill conse quences could arise from it ; it was merely an annoyance. One great satis faction attending it has been that I have often found an opportunity of defending her upon many points, as I believe her to have a good heart and a kind dis- PROFESSIONS. position. But now, my dear Helen, that you are older, and that I cannot ahvays be at your side, I am very desirous that you should not be so much with the Browns.

It is not, dear girl, that I cannot trust you. It is that the world is very apt, and properly so, to judge of people by their com panions, particularly the very young ; so, if you meet my wishes, it will be as weU for us to withdraw ourselves, by degrees, from the Browns. Since my affliction I have never stayed there, you know, and it is easy to avoid it." "Yes, dear aunt, but what am I to do ?" asked Helen. " Time wiU decide that for you, my love, and in a way, perhaps, that may cause you a little pique," repUed Mrs. Melbourne. " What do you mean, Aunt Mel bourne ?" said Helen, proudly. " I mean, love, that though you think yourself equal to, nay, superior to the PROFESSIONS. Browns, that Mrs. Brown would deem you quite unworthy the honour of be coming her daughter — and she has fears on that head, or I am much mistaken," said Mrs. Melbourne.

Helen Murray looked very indignant, and quickly said, "Aunt Melbourne, you don't suppose I would condescend to listen to young Brown for a moment. No, indeed. He was very well as a boy, an Etonian, but now — I would sooner die an old maid than have Jack, as his sisters call him." " Gently, my love," said her aunt, walking up to her angry Uttle niece, who looked remarkably handsome in her pet, "if you are so violent, I shall sus pect your vanity is wounded ; if not, this warm little heart" — and Mrs. Melbourne placed her hand on it. " Come, my love, let us waste no more time on this topic. It only wants half an hour to dinner, and I promised Letty we would be punctual, as she is going to visit the PROFESSIONS. 15 poor woman who was so much hurt, as soon as we have dined, and these autumnal evenings close in early."

The aunt and niece separated, and when dinner was announced by the good Letty, they entered their little cheerful dining room, which was brightened by a glowing fire, and they sat down to a weU-spread and neatly arranged table. And here it will be proper to leave them, and to give a short sketch of their characters and circumstances. PROFESSIONS.

Chapter II

Mrs. Melbourne was a widow. Her husband had been dead a twelvemonth at the time our history commences. He had held the living of Mayfield for fifteen years, and, on his death, which was sudden, Mrs. Melbourne had re moved from the vicarage to a small cottage on the outskirts of the village. Her inclinations led her to remain in a place where she was known and PROFESSIONS. 17 greatly beloved ; from prudential motives also she deemed it wise to settle herself in a house, the removal to which would be inexpensive. This was done immediately, though the present incumbent of Mayfield had begged the widow of his predecessor not to think of leaving the vicarage for a few months, as he could locate himseU anywhere, not being a married man. However, Mrs. Melbourne acted as she always did, without any consideration for self, and fortunately was able to rent a cottage that was well suited to her confined circumstances, for Mr. Melbourne had not saved anything.

He had ensured his Use, and knowing the moderate wishes of his excellent wife, he had not hoarded up money which he deemed scarcely to be caUed his own, but had spent it in his parish, and had gladdened many a heart by his judicious charities. The living itself was not a large one, but by careful PROFESSIONS. management, and by the avoidance of anything at all approaching to extra vagance, the Melbournes had been able to live most happily, surrounded with all the comforts of life, and with some of its luxuries. Mr. and Mrs. Melbourne had had an extensive acquaintance, as every one had sought their society. They had visited occasionally, but they never allowed pleasure to interfere with their duties, and as Mr. Melbourne did not keep a curate he had often been obliged to refuse himself to his friends, and Mrs. Melbourne never went out without him.

They were both well connected and had married young. At first Mr. Melbourne had only a curacy, with no great prospect of ever having anything better. However, when his rector died, one of his livings, for he was a plural ist, was given to Mr. Melbourne at the express desire of the parishioners ; and, as his politics happened to PROFESSIONS. 19 coincide with the cabinet of the day, the Lord Chancellor was pleased gra ciously to accede to the wishes of the good people of Mayfield. The Mel bournes had lost three children in infancy, and Mrs. Melbourne had suffered both bodily and mentally on these occasions to such an extent that she had for some years been a delicate person, but, possessing a very strong mind, and naturally active, she had struggled long against her bodily ail ments ; and, during the life time of her husband, she had never relaxed from her many and important duties as the wife of a clergyman.

This last blow, however, had much altered her, and she was now as dehcate as she looked, and very little able to bear fatigue or excite ment. On the first shock occasioned by the sudden illness of Mr. Melbourne, who only lived two days after his first seizure, she was utterly powerless. But, afterwards, her good sense and PROFESSIONS. piety prevailed, and her calm and resigned demeanour led few to guess the sufferings which she endured. It was well for this afflicted and loving wife that she had stiU a duty to per form towards one who was Uttle less dear to her than if she had been her own child. Helen Murray was an orphan. The only child of Mrs. Melbourne's only brother. Her mother had died in giving her birth, and Colonel Murray had fallen in a foreign land. Helen had been left to the care of her maternal grandmother till she was ten years of age, and when that old lady died the poor orphan had been sent, at the particular desire of her father, to his favorite sister, Mrs. Melbourne, who had received her with affection, and educated her with care.

Mr. Melbourne had become strongly attached to his little niece, and he had taken great pleasure in assisting his wife in the PROFESSIONS. 21 task she had undertaken — a task no two people could be more competent to perform, and Helen Murray did ample credit to the pains they had taken with her. She was very handsome when first she took up her abode at Mayfield vicarage, and each year her beauty was increased by a greater display of intelligence. Her complexion was dark, and so were her eyes and hair. She had a brilliant colour, and great sweetness of expression. Her figure was sUght, and she was not tall, but her carriage was graceful, and her manners gentle and winning. Her power of acquiring knowledge, or of gaining accomphshments, was far beyond the common average, and she had a comprehension that surpassed that of most women.

Helen, however, though in possession of so much beauty and sense, and of so many desirable quaU fications, was not faultless. She was very hasty, and very proud, and she PROFESSIONS. was apt to treat with contempt those who were inferior to her in intellect. To the poor she was ever kind. They were too decidedly beneath her in station to interfere with her, but to girls in her own class of life she held her self distant and cold unless they were distinguished by merit of some sort. Her uncle and aunt had endeavoured to counteract these faults, and in part, had been successful. Still they would burst forth, and show how powerful nature is over the most careful education. Helen had attained her thir teenth year when her father was kiUed at Bhurtpoor, in which action the Colonel had greatly distinguished him self.

Though she had not seen him since she was a child, her grief was long and violent. She had constantly been in the habit of writing to, and hearing from him, and she was proud of his reputation and of his position. His love she had never known, but she PROFESSIONS. had been looking forward to his return, and to having a home with him. She now felt herself hopeless and alone. Soon, however, the kindness and affec tion of her uncle and aunt Melbourne restored her to hope and cheerfulness ; and she had, for the last five years, been completely happy with them, and her young heart had clung to them with child-Uke love and confidence. Her uncle's death she had mourned sin cerely, and she had devoted herseU to her afflicted aunt as much as an attached daughter could have done, and happy did it make Helen Murray to perceive that her gentle suffering relative found some comfort in her tenderness.

Helen had a small fortune of her own left to her by her grandmother. Her poor father had never had more than his pay, for he was descended from the younger branch of a noble house, and money had always been scarce in his family. PROFESSIONS. The change from the vicarage to the cottage was not quite relished by Helen, but she did not once complain, and she entered into all her aunt's plans of economy and retirement with cheerfulness. Helen continued her usual duties in the school and village, as there was no one to take her place, for Mr. Clive, the new Vicar, was quite a young man, and had neither wife, mother, nor sister. Mrs. Melbourne, for some time, was unable to exert herself in any way, and poor Helen, for many weeks, feared her aunt would sink into a low state of spirits, from which it would be difficult to rouse her.

She endeavoured to interest her in her usual pursuits, and, aided by Mr. Clive, to whom Helen unscrupulously unfolded her fears, Mrs. Melbourne was induced, after a few weeks of complete inaction, to see her poor neighbours, and to minister, as formerly, to their wants ; and when the aunt and niece are introduced to our PROFESSIONS. 25 readers, Mrs. Melbourne was taking the same active part in the parish as during her husband's life time, only, that her charities were obliged to be more cir cumscribed, though in reality rather more was given away, as Mr. Clive was exceedingly charitable, and he frequently gave his money, and his time, too, to those recommended by Mrs. Melbourne as being worthy of the one or requiring the other. Thus time and circumstances had combined to soften the poor widow's grief, and Mrs. Melbourne could now look back on the past without dismay, and on to the future with hopes of use fulness and contentment.

Her niece was now her centre of interest. She well understood her character ; and her great anxiety was to guard her from any unhappiness that care and prudence might avert. Mrs. Melbourne did not wish to shut her up from the world, especiaUy as Helen's inclination was vol. i. c PROFESSIONS. strongly on the side of entering into it. Mrs. Melbourne only desired she might see it under proper guardianship, and not being very able to go from home much herself, she determined to allow her niece to visit occasionally a few chosen friends with whom the most scrupulous could not object to trust a young girl. Thus the aunt and niece lived peacefully, nay, almost joyously together, for Mrs. Melbourne's spirits were returning, and Helen was as lively as youth and health could well make her. She was of very active habits, and occupation was her happiness ; and whether it was a ball, or teaching a class in the school, -whether she was weeding her borders, or painting one of the choicest of her flowers, energy was the prevailing feeUng; and now for the continuance of our story. PROFESSIONS. 27

Chapter III

"Jack," said Matilda Brown to her brother who was lolUng on a sofa, looking the very picture of idleness and ennui, "will you ride with us to May field to morrow ?" " I don't know," yawned out the son and heir of the rich Browns. " Is Helen Murray at home ?" " Oh, yes," said Henrietta, " or we should not have asked for your company." c PROFESSIONS. " Perhaps I may then," drawled out the youth — " but I am beginning to think Helen is very proud and inclined to snub me, and I shall not stand that." " Nonsense, Jack," said MatUda. "De pend upon it she likes you ; at least, if she don't she is a great flirt, and I will teU her so." "Well, MatUda," remarked Henrietta Brown, " I am inclined to be of Jack's opinion — once I am sure she liked him, but since the Pembertons came back Helen is quite altered.

I don't believe she will catch them, however." " No great catch either," said Ma tilda. " Not for you or me," exclaimed Henrietta, with our thousands, but for Helen Murray, with no fortune, or, at least, with none worth mentioning. I should say any of the Pembertons would be a wonderful match for her — don't you Jack ?" PROFESSIONS. 29 " No, not at all, Hetty," replied Jack. " Helen is much too nice a girl for any one of them, and I mean to have her myseU, yet." " Don't talk so loud, Jack," whispered Matilda. " If mamma heard you, Helen would never be asked here again, for she expects you to marry Sarah." " She may expect," said Jack, " but I intend to please myself, though to keep my mother in good humour I profess to have that intention. It blinds her to my real feelings for Helen." " Not quite," said Henrietta, " for she asked me the other day if I thought you cared for Miss Murray."

" And what did you say, dear Hetty," asked Jack. " I said," replied Henrietta, " that lately you had not paid her so much attention as Lucy ColviUe, and I changed the subject." "Very well turned my clever sister," PROFESSIONS. exclaimed Jack. " You certainly do contrive to humbug mamma most won derfuUy, though she is so sharp." " Oh, we can always manage her," said MatUda." " It is papa we are afraid of. If he were much at home we should not have half the fun we have, should we, Hetty?" " Oh, no," repUed Henrietta. " But I am in a sad scrape with Beard just now. He is on the point of offering to me. I should refuse him to-morrow, as you both know, but I don't wish to do so, as I find him very useful and not disagreeable to flirt with. I have warded off his avowal to this time, but I fear I cannot much longer.

Do let us have some picnics and archery out of him, and then he may pop the question as soon as he pleases, and he will find, to his disappointment, that my professions of regard, which he has called forth, were as little meaning as may be." PROFESSIONS. " Oh, Hetty, you are a cool flirt, indeed," said her brother. " I am sorr} for Beard, and I am almost inclined to tell him not to dangle after you as he does, though his vanity is certainly abundant, to suppose that you, a young girl, would have a man double your age, with no fortune and no rank. He deserves a refusal, so I will egg him on to give us a champagne feast or two, and then let him down gently from his pinnacle of hope." " No, indeed Jack," said Henrietta, " he shall offer, as I want a long list of boobies to show my friends. But Matilda," added Henrietta, "here is Ned Archer, he is come to make up the quarrel."

"He wUl find it difficult, I think,' said Miss Brown. Major Archer was announced, or, rather, he announced himself, for he stood upon no ceremony with the Browns. "WeU, my lasses," he exclaimed, PROFESSIONS. " how are your tempers this morning. I come loaded with offerings," and he pulled out a case containing three handsome rings, and a paper with three packets of French gloves. " Where is madam this morning ? She must have her choice ; that's proper, is it not Matilda?" and he shook her again by the hand. " Mamma may have them all for what I care, Major Archer," said Matilda Brown, with evident pique. " Come, come, my bonny girl," said Archer, sitting down beside her, " I shall begin to think you are jealous of the old lady if you remain so sulky. I had my suspicions last night that such was the case.

God love you, my pretty lass. I never in my life liked middle aged coquettes, and you know girls that your mother is one. Come, Matilda, choose a ring, and here is the packet of white gloves for you ;" and the gallant Major saluted the still pouting PROFESSIONS. 33 Matilda, who, half angrily, half in fun, boxed his ears for his impertinence, as she called it. Jack laughed outright, and Henrietta declared Beard never went so far as that in his life. Mrs. Brown now came into the room, and she seemed to be in high dudgeon. " Major Archer," she said, " I wish you would not bring that great dog with you ; he has frightened my poodle into fits." " Zounds, madam, I am very sorry," said Archer. " Here, Nelson, Nelson," and an immense Newfoundland puppy leaped through the open window, and crouched at his master's feet.