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Page 29
"If he were worth ten hundred thousand, it would make no difference to
me," was the reply.
"Then, you admit the fact."
Rose could not tell a falsehood, though she confessed her pain that
it should be known. "I intend," she added, "to remain in my own quiet
sphere of life; I am suited for no other."
The gentleman made no direct reply, but from that hour he observed
Rose narrowly. The day of the election came, with its bribery and its
bustle. Suffice it, that the Honourable Mr. Ivers was declared duly
elected--that the splendour of the late member's wife's entertainments
and beauty, were perfectly eclipsed by the entertainments and beauty
of the wife of the successful candidate--that every house, _except_
one, in the town was splendidly illuminated--and that the people
broke every pane of glass in the windows of that house, to prove their
attachment to the great principle of freedom of election. "God bless
you, cousin!" said Rose; "God bless you--your object is attained. I
hope you will sleep well to-night."
"Sleep!" she exclaimed; "how can I sleep? Did you not hear the wife
of a mere city baronet inquire if late hours did not injure a country
constitution; and see the air with which she said it?"
"And why did you not answer that a country constitution gave you
strength to sustain them? In the name of all that is right, dearest
Helen, why do you not assert your dignity as a woman, instead of
standing upon your rank? Why not, as a woman, boldly and bravely
revert to your former position, and at the same time prove your
determination to support your present? You were as far from shame
as Helen Marsh of Abbeyweld, as you are as the wife of an honourable
member. Be yourself. Be simply, firmly yourself, my own Helen, and you
will at once, from being the scorned, become the scorner."
"This from you, who love a lowly state?"
"I love my own birthright, lowly though it be. No one will attempt to
pull me down. I shall have no heartaches--suffer no affronts?"
"Oh!" said Helen, "if I had but been born to what I possess."
"Mr. Stokes said if you had been born an honourable, you would have
grasped at a coronet."
"And I _may_ have it yet," replied the discontented beauty, with
a weary smile; "I _may_ have it yet; my husband's brother is still
childless. If I could be but certain that the grave would receive him
a childless man, how proudly I would take precedence of such a woman
as Lady G----"
Rose looked at her as she spoke. In the glorious meridian of her
beauty--a creature so splendid--of such a fair outside--with energy,
and grace, and power--married by a weak ambition--an ambition achieved
by the accident of birth--an ambition having neither honour, nor
virtue, nor patriotism, nor any one laudable aim, for its object. And
she sorrowed in her inmost soul for her cousin Helen.
CHAPTER VII.
Rose never, of course, made one at the brilliant assemblies which Mrs.
Ivers gave and graced; she only saw those who breakfasted or lunched
in the square, or who, like the little old gentleman, and one or two
others, joined the family circle. The excitement of an election,
and the (_pro tem._) equality which such an event creates, brought
her more into contact with her cousin's acquaintances than she had
yet been, and gave the gentleman, who evidently admired her, an
opportunity of studying her character. There was something strange
in a young woman, situated as was Rose, preserving so entirely her
self-respect, that it encircled her like a halo; and wherever it is
so preserved, it invariably commands the respect of others. After the
first week or two had passed, Rose Dillon was perfectly undazzled by
the splendour with which she was surrounded, and was now engaged in
watching for a moment when she could escape from what she knew was
splendid misery. If Helen had been simply content to keep her own
position--if she had, as Rose's wisdom advised, sufficient moral
courage to resent a slight openly, not denying her humble birth, and
yet resolved to be treated as became her husband's wife--all would
have been happiness and peace. Proud as Mr. Ivers was of her, her
discontent and perpetual straining after rank and distinction,
watching every body's every look and movement to discover if it
concealed no _covert_ affront, rendered him, kind and careful
though he was, occasionally dissatisfied; and she interpreted every
manifestation of his displeasure, however slight, to contempt for
her birth. Rose suffered most acutely, for she saw how simple was the
remedy, and yet could not prevail on Helen to abate one jot of her
restless ambition. The true spirit of a Christian woman often moved
her to secret earnest prayer, that God, of His mercy, would infuse
an humbler and holier train of thought and feeling into Helen's mind;
and, above all, she prayed that it might not come too late.
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