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"He was riding on the other side of the river," continued Lavinia, pointing in the direction of the stream, "and he dashed his horse into the water to rescue me from the animal . . . and his horse could not mount the bank... and so... he fell back into the water. . . and it was thought he was lost... but I did not know what took place then-for I fainted."
"What a dreadful scene!" exclaimed Emily, shuddering.
"It was not the worst part of it," continued Lavinia, "for . . . Mr. Castleton-here—was taken into our house . . . that is . . . when he was taken out of the water... as they told me... and was supposed to be ... gone..."
"Oh, Heavens!" said Emily, holding up her hands.
"You cannot imagine what I felt when I learnt that he had lost his life in endeavouring to preserve mine. . .'
"You never can"-continued Lavinia. "Such an agonising thought was sufficient! . . ." (here she blushed deeply).. the wildest actions! . . ."
"What wild actions?" asked Emily, quickly.
I felt very awkward at this point.
was sufficient to excuse
“That is”—continued Lavinia, with a little embarrassment, "if there had been any wild actions."
"I need not ask if he was recovered," said Emily, "because
'My recovery," said I, "was owing to the care which Lavinwhich this young lady took of me when I seemed to be as all thought me-dead."
This I said solemnly.
There was a slight pause here. Lavinia seemed much agitated and ready to burst into tears; Emily remained for a brief space in a serious reverie; and for my own part I wondered how this extraordinary scene
It was Emily who first broke silence.
"I suppose," said she, addressing Lavinia, "that you adopted the means recommended by the Humane Society for recovering drowned persons ?"
"They were all tried," said I, "and failed." "Failed!—then how were you recovered ?" "This young lady," I replied,
me to life."
was herself the means of restoring
Emily looked at us both inquiringly, but said nothing.
"It was the influence of her presence-and of her sympathy"-I continued-" when I was supposed," I added,-emphatically, "to be lying dead-that re-animated me."
"What did you do?" asked Emily quickly.
Lavinia did not reply to this question, and was evidently embarrassed. Emily mused for a while, and then she spoke again; but as it struck me with a shade of reserve in her manner that could not have failed to be observed by others besides myself.
"Mr. Castleton," she said, "has contrived to keep this romantic history very secret; not indeed, that, "mamma" had any right to be made acquainted with his secrets. But, what will surprise her, is that Mr. Castleton never told us how his life had been preserved, as he
you; now I can understand why he should abstain from mentioning his own good deeds—that is modest and proper .; but why he should not speak of his debt of gratitude to one who had been the means of recovering him from ... death!-that is what surprises
me. . . .
At this moment a voice was heard from the direction of the house repeating the name of Lavinia, which I recognised instantly as that of Miss McDragon. Lavinia seemed reluctant to leave us, and looked at Emily as if inviting her silently, to accompany her; but that young lady, thinking, perhaps, that the aunt might have something to say to her friend, that was proper only for the ear of an expectant bride, remained still; and as the voice grew more impatient, Lavinia abruptly broke from us without making any observation-and I was left alone with Emily.
THERE was a silence between us for a short space; for I was planning how I should contrive a private interview with Lavinia; and Emily had her own thoughts, but what they were she did not think fit to communicate. Presently she said, as if speaking aloud the continuation of some previous thought :
"And you saved her from a dreadful death ?”
"At least, I endeavoured to do it,” said I; "and she has the goodness to take the will for the deed."
"Doubtless," said Emily, "she must feel very grateful ?"
Now I fancied this was a fishing question, and I determined to be on my guard, for the position of Lavinia and myself was critical. I rapidly ran over the circumstances of the case. The mamma of the young lady who had begun to question me was the old friend of Miss McDragon; any thing that I might tell to the daughter would be repeated to the mother, and by the mother repeated to the aunt. It was of importance, therefore, to keep Emily in the dark, as to my position and plans respecting Lavinia. To this effect it was a matter of prudence, to conceal from her my sentiments towards her friend; and it occurred to me, at the moment, that the best way to do that was to throw such a show of gallantry in my manner towards herself as would blind her as to my real intentions.-Now this was wrong; at least it was an unlucky contrivance; for it was calculated to give me the character of seeming to make love to two young ladies at the same time-a course of conduct than which nothing could be more foreign to my disposition: but, unhappily, it had the effect of placing me in that false position, and of giving rise to the disastrous consequences which I am about to relate.
It was with this object therefore, the object of keeping Miss Navis in the dark relative to the mutual engagement of Lavinia and myself, lest she should inadvertently communicate the secret to her mamma by whom, it was to be feared, it would be revealed to the aunt of Laviniathat I endeavoured to convey to Emily the idea that she and not Lavinia was the object of my passion; a manoeuvre which, I considered, was warrantable under the circumstances, and certainly venial, as I was under the impression, as I have already said, that Emily's heart had been long
since transferred to that mysterious Lieutenant Sullivan to whom I have before alluded.
The slight pause which these rapid reflections occasioned, gave time to Emily to put her question in another shape :
"I hope," said she, "that her marriage will be a happy one!"
"Of course," said I; (and thought I to myself, as it is my firm intention to be the bridegroom myself, it will be odd if I am not present at the marriage).
My answer seemed to be so far satisfactory to Emily, and the air of reserve which she had assumed began to subside; but there was evidently something more that she wanted to get at; and she framed her next question accordingly:
"Don't you think her very
"I do," said I, "... for a brunette." (Emily was fair.)—This answer seemed to please her.
"You never mentioned your romantic adventure with her to... us!" "A gentleman cannot boast of the services which it may be his good fortune to have the opportunity of rendering to others."
"True; but-you never mentioned the service which had been rendered to yourself; that would have been no more than an expression of gratitude-there could have been no objection to that ?"
"No other objection," said I, quickly, "but the presumption which it would have been calculated to give rise to, that, the one was mentioned only to furnish the occasion of being complimented on the other."
"Well-I think that is being too particular. I am sure I am not ashamed of making known, on any proper occasion, my debt of gratitude to you for having saved me from the hands of a ruffian !"
"That is," said I, "because you possess so much goodness."
"Ah! now-you will be accusing me of saying that only for the sake of having a compliment paid me in return!"
"Indeed," said I, "I feel too strongly prompted to pay you compliments without any provocation to render that necessary; my only fear is, that, I may pay you too many, and say too much!" (And this was true enough.)
As I said this with rather a sentimental air I believe, Emily began to examine a flower which she held in her hand curiously, as if she was anxious to ascertain its botanical identifications. I cast my eyes in another direction, and there, to my extreme surprise and confusion, I beheld Lavinia, examining us both as attentively as Emily was examining her flower, and who had approached us unheard and unseen. I was vexed at this; especially, as there was an expression on Lavinia's countenance which made me fear that she had overheard my conversation with Emily, and which, perhaps, she had misinterpreted. Emily, in a moment after, wards, catching sight of her, blushed excessively as if she had been caught in a confession, and letting fall her flower on the ground, hastily stood up.
"Your mamma was inquiring for you," said Lavinia gravely.
Emily departed quickly without looking at me, and I was left alone
THE CASTLEREAGH MEMOIRS AND CORRESPONDENCE.*
THE times of Lord Castlereagh are so close upon our own, so many of his contemporaries are still engaged in the strife of politics, and so many memories still treasure up the chief records of his public career, that it is unnecessary to dwell upon details, the interest of which will remain for a future generation. For some idea of how those contemporaries have judged of the character and public services of this eminent statesman, we might quote the opinions of such distinguished men as Sir Robert Peel, Marquess Wellesley, Sir Walter Scott, Benjamin Disraeli, M. de Capefigue, and a host of others, which the solicitude of a relative-the present Marquess of Londonderry-has collected together as introductory to the correspondence. However much these estimates of character may differ inter se, they all agree in the main points, that the talents of the noble lord were of a high order, and his industry in the discharge of his official duties unremitting. "Party animosity," it has been justly remarked, “may question the wisdom of measures in which he was a principal actor, to save its own consistency, but it dares not breathe a doubt of his integrity and honour." The Marquess Wellesley says, "the whole course of my public service, as far as it was connected with the public acts of that most excellent and able personage, affords one connected series of proofs of his eminent ability, spotless integrity, high sense of honour, comprehensive and enlarged views, sound practical knowledge, ready despatch of business, and perfect discretion and temper in the conduct of the most arduous public affairs." Sir Walter Scott writes, "No man wishes more to see, or would delight more to contribute, to place that most upright and excellent statesman's memory in the rank which it ought to hold with his countrymen. I am conscious, that by dint of repeating a set of cant phrases which, when examined, have neither sense nor truth, a grand effort has been made to blind the British public as to the nature of the important services which he rendered to his country, and that the truth of history has in no case been so much encroached upon to serve the purposes of party."
Sir Robert Peel's testimony is of a still higher character:-
You well know that no vindication of your Brother's memory was necessary for my satisfaction,—that my admiration of his character is too firmly rooted to be shaken by criticisms or phrases, and cavils at particular acts selected from a long political carcer. I doubt whether any public man (with the exception of the Duke of Wellington) who has appeared within the last half century, possessed that combination of qualities, intellectual and moral, which would have enabled him to effect under the same circumstances what Lord Londonderry did effect in regard to the Union with Ireland, and to the great political transactions of 1813, 1814, and 1815. To do these things required a rare union of high and generous feelings, courteous and prepossessing manners, a warm heart, and a cool head, great temper, great industry, great fortitude, great courage, moral and personal, that command and influence which makes other men willing instruments, and all these qualities combined with the disdain for low
Memoirs and Correspondence of Viscount Castlereagh, second Marquess of Londonderry. Edited by his Brother, Charles Vane, Marquess of Londonderry, G.C.B., &c. 2 vols. Henry Colburn.
objects of ambition, and with spotless integrity. It is not flattering to say your Brother had these qualifications, and that by them and the proper use of them, he overcame practical difficulties which would have appalled and overwhelmed almost every other cotemporary statesman.
Lord Aberdeen, Sir James Graham, all the most distinguished members of the British cabinet during Lord Castlereagh's official career, unite in similar honourable testimonials; but in the present day, except among a few rancorous partisans, it is doubtful if such testimonials are necessary to the vindication of the by-gone statesman. His reputation as a minister is alike above the reach of both friends and enemies. The fact that, to his talents, energy, and persevering exertions we are mainly indebted for the great measure of the legislative union of Ireland with Great Britain, is of itself the proudest of all testimonials, but it must be added to that in the words of an eloquent public writer,
He was of one of the leaders of that Ministry which preserved the country from being subjugated by a power which subjugated all the rest of Europe, which fought the country against combined Europe and triumphed, and which wrenched the sceptre of dominion from the desolating principles that the French Revolution spread through the world, and restored it to religion and honesty.
If to have preserved the faith and liberties of England from destruction, to have raised her to the most magnificent point of greatness, to have liberated a quarter of the globe from a despotism which bowed down both body and soul, and to have placed the world again under the control of natural law and just principles, be transcendent fame, such fame belongs to this Ministry, and, of all its members, it belongs to none more than to the Marquess of Londonderry.
During a great part of the year, he toiled frequently for twelve or fourteen hours per day at the most exhausting of all kinds of labour, for a salary, which, unaided by private fortune, would not have supported him. He laboured for thirty years in the service of the country. In this service he ruined a robust constitution, broke a lofty spirit, destroyed a first-rate understanding, and met an untimely death, without adding a shilling to his patrimonial fortune, or, if we except the step which his father was advanced in the peerage, changing a letter of his patrimonial title.
What the country gained from him may never be calculated; what he gained from the country was lunacy and a martyr's grave.
The settlement of the perplexed affairs of Ireland was as expensive and as difficult in former times as in the present day. The heaviest expenses of Queen Elizabeth's reign were occasioned by Ireland; but they were always insufficient. But there is this difference between the past and present times, that while Clarendon has told us ("Life," vol. ii. p. 107) that he made it his humble suit to the king, that no part of the Irish question might ever be referred to him; and Ormond, who of all men, had fullest knowledge of the subject and most personal concern in it, "could not see any light in so much darkness that might lead to him a beginning;" in our times, it is the pride and glory of all the leading statesmen of the day to have commenced their career, or to have grappled once or more with what has so long, and what still constitutes, the misery and the shame of one country and the reproach of the other.
Heaven hath in vain bestowed
(Its last and largest boon to social man)
Wild as their savage ancestors,