CHAPTER IL

“*These, on a general survey, are the modes Of pulpit oratory which agree With no unletter’d audience.” —POLWHELE,
%,
a Mrs. LESLIE had returned from her visit to the rectory to
_ her own home, and Evelyn had now been some weeks at Mrs.
_ Merton’s. As was natural, she had grown in some measure
_ reconciled and resigned to her change of abode. In fact, no
4 sooner did she pass Mrs. Merton’s threshold, than, for the first
time, she was made aware of her consequence in life.
The Rev. Mr. Merton was a man of the nicest perception in all things appertaining to worldly consideration: the second son ofa very wealthy baronet (who was the first commoner of his E _ county) and of the daughter of a rich and highly-descended
_ peer, Mr. Merton had been brought near enough to rank and
A _ power to appreciate all their advantages. In early life he had
a something of a “tuft-hunter;” but as his understanding was
good, and his passions not very strong, he had soon perceived
that that vessel of clay, a young man with a moderate fortune, cannot long sail down the same stream with the metal vessels of rich earls and extravagant dandies. Besides, he was destined for the Church,—because there was one of the finest livings in
England in the family. He therefore took orders at six-and-
twenty ; married Mrs. Leslie’s daughter, who had thirty thousand
pounds: and settled at the rectory of Merton, within a mile of
the family seat. He became a very respectable and extremely
popular man. He was singularly hospitable, and built a new wing—containing a large dining-room and six capital bed-rooms —to the rectory, which had now much more the appearance of a country villa than a country parsonage. His brother, succeed- ing to the estates, and residing chiefly in the neighbourhood, became, like his father before him, member for the county, and was one of the country gentlemen most looked up to in the House of Commons. A sensible and frequent, though uncom- monly prosy speaker, singularly independent (for he had a clear fourteen thousand pounds a year, and did not desire office), and valuing himself on not being a party man, so that his vote on critical questions was often a matter of great doubt, and, there- fore, of great moment—Sir John Merton gave considerable importance to the Reverend Charles Merton. The latter kept up all the more select of his old London acquaintances; and few country houses, at certain seasons of the year, were filled more aristocratically than the pleasant rectory-house. Mr. Merton, indeed, contrived to make the Hall a reservoir for the parsonage, and periodically drafted off the &zte of the visitors at the former to spend a few days at the latter. This was the more easily done, as his brother was a widower, and his conversation was all of one sort—the state of the nation and the agricultural interest. Mr. Merton was upon very friendly terms with his brother—looked after the property in the absence of Sir John— kept up the family interest—was an excellent electioneerer—a good speaker at a pinch—an able magistrate—a man, in short, most useful in the county: on the whole, he was more popular
than his brother, and almost as much looked up to—perhaps, ©
because he was much less ostentatious. He had very good taste, had the Reverend Charles Merton !—his table plentiful, but plain—his manners affable to the low, though agreeably sycophantic to the high ; and there was nothing about him that ever wounded self-love. To add to the attractions of his house, his wife, simple and good-tempered, could talk with anybody,
take off the bores, and leave people to be comfortable in their :
own way : while he had a large family of fine children of allages, that had long given easy and constant excuse under the name
eee ace Pine aety aah .
up an impromptu danc ora gipsy Get Conivenine the neighbourhood, in short. Caro- line was the eldest; then came a son, attached to a foreign _ ministry, and another, who, though only nineteen, was a private secretary to one of our Indian satraps. The acquaintance of — these young gentlemen, thus engaged, it was therefore Evelyn’s misfortune to lose the advantage of cultivating—a loss which both Mr. and Mrs. Merton assured her was very much to be regretted. But to make up to her for such a privation there were two lovely little girls, one ten, and the other seven years old, who fell in love with Evelyn at first sight. Caroline was one of - the beauties of the county,—clever and conversable,—*“ drew young men,” and set the fashion to young ladies, especially when > she returned from spending the season with Lady Elizabeth.
- It was a delightful family!
* In person, Mr. Merton was of the middle height; fair, and inclined to stoutness, with small features, beautiful teeth, and great suavity of address. Mindful still of the time when he had been “about town,” he was very particular in his dress: his black _ ‘coat, neatly relieved in the evening by a white underwaistcoat, and a shirt-front admirably plaited, with plain studs of dark enamel—his well-cut trousers, and elaborately polished shoes— a (he was good-humouredly vain of his feet and hands)—won for him the common praise of the dandies (who occasionally honoured him with a visit to shoot his game, and flirt with his daughter), “that old Merton was a most gentlemanlike fellow—so d d neat for a parson!”
Such, mentally, morally, and physically, was the Reverend _ Charles Merton, rector of Merton, brother of Sir John, and __ possessor of an income that, what with his rich living, his wife’s _ fortune, and his own, which was not inconsiderable, amounted to between four and five thousand pounds~a year, which income, managed with judgment, as well as liberality, could not fail to secure to him all the good things of this world—the respect of his friends amongst the rest. Caroline was right when she told Evelyn that her papa was very different from a mere country parson. Now this gentleman could nat fail to see a the claims that
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SOP we ee ct f a Ee ee Riese be
60 s ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. —
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~ Evelyn might fairly advance upon the esteem, nay, the venera- _ } tion of himself and family : a young beauty, with a fortune of — about a quarter of a million, was a phenomenon that might — fairly be called celestial. Her pretensions were enhanced by her engagement to Lord Vargrave—an engagement which might be broken; so that, as he interpreted it, the worst that could happen to the young lady was to marry an able and rising Minister of State—a peer of the realm; but she was perfectly free to marry a still greater man, if she could find him; and who knows but what perhaps the aétaché, if he could get leave of absence ? Mr. Merton was too sensible to pursue that thought » further for the present. The good man was greatly shocked at the too familiar manner ia which Mrs. Merton spoke to this high-fated heiress —at_- Evelyn’s travelling so far without her own maid—at her very primitive wardrobe—poor, ill-used child! Mr. Merton was a _ connoisseur in ladies’ dress. It was quite painful to see that —' the unfortunate girl had been so neglected. -Lady Vargrave ; must be a very strange person. He inquired compassionately whether she was allowed any pocket money? and finding, to his relief, that in that respect Miss Cameron was munificently supplied, he suggested that a proper Abigail should be im- - mediately engaged; that proper orders to Madame Devy should be immediately transmitted to London, with one of Evelyn’: dresses, as a pattern for nothing but length and breadth. He almost stamped with vexation, when he heard that Evelyn ~ had been placed in one of the neat little rooms generally: appropriated to young lady visitors. “She is quite contented, my dear Mr. Merton; she is so simple; she has not been brought up in the style you think for.” “Mrs. Merton,” said the rector, with great solemnity, “ Miss Cameron may know no better now; but what will she think of us hereafter? It ismy maxim to recollect what people will be, and show them that respect which may leave pleasing impressions when they have it in their power to show us civility in return.” With many apologies, which quite overwhelmed poor Evelyn, she was transferred from the little chamber, with its French bed
a gaune wardrobe a a ee bed with green silk curtains, usually appropriated to the regular Christmas visitant, the . _ Dowager Countess of Chipperton: a pretty morning room— communicated with the sleeping apartment, and thence a Beeveivate staircase conducted into the gardens. The whole _ family were duly impressed and re-impressed with her importance. No queen could be made more of. Evelyn mistook it all for pure kindness, and returned the hospitality with an affection that extended to the whole family, but _ particularly to the two little girls, and a beautiful black 3 spaniel. Her dresses came down from London—her Abigail — - arrived—the buhl wardrobe was duly filled—and Evelyn at last learned that it is a fine thing to be rich. An account of all these proceedings was forwarded to Lady Vargrave, in a f long and most complacent letter, by the rector himself, The 4 answer was short, but it contented the excellent clergyman; _ for it approved of all he had done, and begved that Miss — Cameron might have everything that seemed proper to her a station. By the same post came two letters to Evelyn herself—one from Lady Vargrave, one from the curate. They transported her from the fine room and the buhl wardrobe to the cottage and the lawn ;—and the fine Abigail, when she came to dress her young lady’s hair, found her weeping.
It was a matter of great regret to the rector that it was that time of year when —precisely because the country is most -beautiful—every one worth knowing is in town. Still, however, some stray guests found their way to the rectory for a day or two, and still there were some aristocratic old families in the j neighbourhood, who never went up to London: so that two 2 days in the week the rector’s wine flowed, the whist-tables A :
eas Ae r
were set out, and the piano called into requisition.
Evelyn—the object of universal attention and admiration— was put at her ease by her station itself; for good manners ‘come like an instinct to those on whom the world smiles. Insensibly she acquired self-possession and the smoothness of society; and if her child-like playfulness broke out from
Il conventional restraint charmir 2 brilliant the great heiress, whose acne and faipy one of 4 beauty so well became her graceful abandon of manner, and who looked so unequivocally ladylike to the eyes that rested on Madame Devy’s blondes and satins. i Caroline was not so gay as she had been at the cottage, — Something seemed to weigh upon her spirits: she was often moody and thoughtful. She was the only one in the family not good-tempered ; and her peevish replies to her parents, when no visitor imposed a check on the family circle, inconceivably pained Evelyn, and greatly contrasted the flow of spirits which distinguished her when she found somebody worth listening to, — Still Evelyn—who, where she once liked, found it difficult to ; withdraw regard—sought to overlook Caroline’s blemishes, and — to persuade herself of a thousand good qualities below the ~ surface; and her generous nature found constant opportunity — of venting itself in costly gifts, selected from the London | parcels, with which the officious Mr. Merton relieved the monotony of the rectory. These gifts Caroline could not refuse, without paining her young friend. She took them
_ reluctantly, for, to do her justice, Caroline, though ambitious,
was not mean.
Thus time passed in the rectory, in gay variety and constant entertainment ; and all things combined to spoil the heiress, if, indeed, goodness ever is spoiled by kindness and prosperity. Is it to the frost or to the sunshine that the flower opens its petals, or the fruit ripens from the blossom ?