VIOLET OSBORNE. VOL. I.

VIOLET OSBORNE.

BY

THE LADY EMILY PONSONBY,

AUTHOR OF

“THE DISCIPLINE OF LIFE,” “MARY LYNDSAY,” &c., &c.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. I.

LONDON: HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1865.

The right of Translation is reserved.

LONDON: PRINTED BY MACDONALD AND TUGWELL, BLENHEIM HOUSE, BLENHEIM STREET, OXFORD STREET.

[Pg 1]

VIOLET OSBORNE.

CHAPTER I.

The Excursion.

“Which of all those charming girls is your daughter, Mrs. Osborne?” inquired a gentleman of a lady, in whose house a small party was assembled. “But no, do not tell me; I like to make people out for myself.”

“Thank you,” replied Mrs. Osborne, who was a little deaf, and of all this speech, having only heard the word charming, applied it to her party.

[Pg 2]

The gentleman smiled, and, aware of her infirmity, raised his voice.

“I am trying to make out Miss Osborne. It amuses me to guess people’s situations from their actions, and their characters from their looks. It is Miss Osborne’s birthday to-day, is it not?”

“Yes. Violet begins her life to-day. God grant it may be a happy one!”

There was something touching in the warmth of this speech, contrasting as it did with the calm and inanimate repose deafness had given to Mrs. Osborne’s manner.

“We will at any rate anticipate it for her,” replied her companion kindly; “she is good, I am sure, and, unless for some special purpose it is otherwise ordained, happiness comes to the good.”

“She is good, certainly,” said Mrs. Osborne, [Pg 3]with the same eagerness of speech; “she lives only to make others happy.”

“I have found Miss Osborne!” cried the gentleman, a few moments afterwards. “Is she not the young lady with red roses in her hair?”

“Yes, that is Violet. How did you make her out?”

“Because of what you told me. I saw somebody—I had remarked her for some time—thinking first of others and last of number one. I congratulate you on your daughter, Mrs. Osborne; she is charming. Beautiful, and still more good than beautiful.”

“You are very kind to say so,” said Mrs. Osborne, much gratified.

At this moment, Violet rushed up to her mother.

“We are not going to dance, mamma. I find the Lovels think their mother might not [Pg 4]like them to dance so soon after their grandmother’s death, and it would be a pity for them to have to sit down.”

“But you will be disappointed, dear.”

“Oh no, mamma; it does not matter. I was thinking of what we could do. Albert wishes to act charades. I suppose, mamma, you have no objection?”

It was evidently Violet who made arrangements, for she hardly waited for a reply before she kissed her mother’s brow, and was hurrying away, when Mrs. Osborne detained her, to introduce her to Mr. Woodrowffe.

“An old friend of mine, Violet, though he has not been in England of late.”

Violet did not bow, but frankly gave him her hand.

“A charming girl indeed!” exclaimed Mr. Woodrowffe as she left them; for he was of that age when a little show of gratification in [Pg 5]making his acquaintance—from the young and beautiful at least—pleases a man.

“I am glad you will see her act,” said Mrs. Osborne, who, by this appreciation of her daughter, was won to be confidential. “Violet acts very well.”

“So I should guess. There is life, intelligence, and confidence in her face. She does not look as if she could be afraid; and she is right. Why should she? Who is that tall youth beside her? Is that Albert?”

“Yes, he is my nephew. He is an orphan, poor boy, and his only sister, who is married, is lately gone to India. We have him constantly with us. He comes, indeed, whenever he pleases.”

“He has a pleasant countenance, but not a great deal in it; not like Miss Violet. She has a whole history in those dark blue eyes and that brilliant smile. Your daughter’s [Pg 6]beauty would drive an Italian painter mad, Mrs. Osborne. What a skin, and what perfect auburn hair! The very tint the old painters liked, only with a touch more of gold than red.”

Of this rhapsody upon her daughter Mrs. Osborne heard little, but she saw by the direction of his eyes that he was commenting on Violet. She therefore smiled and thanked him.

“I am afraid,” she added, “that I have been rather unjustifiably praising my own child, but the truth is she is our only one, and we have very few thoughts that are not connected with her.”

“No praise so valuable as a mother’s!” said her companion, kindly; “for who can know a child as well?”

“True,” said Mrs. Osborne, with a slight smile, “but I believe a wise mother should [Pg 7]leave her child’s virtues to be discovered. See, they have arranged a charade! I hope Violet will act,” she added, forgetting her late sage observation. “We think she acts so well.”

Violet did not act in any of the scenes of the charade. It was well done, but, to Mrs. Osborne and her friend, it was tedious, because the individual they wished to see did not appear.

“Did you like it, mamma?” Violet inquired, rushing up to her mother when it was concluded.

“Yes, dear, it was very nice; but we wished, that is, I hoped you would act. You must next time.”

“I don’t know, mamma. There are a great many good actors here to-night, and I am at home, you know. Perhaps, by-and-by, but don’t expect it.”

And again kissing her mother’s brow, an [Pg 8]action which seemed so habitual as to be unconsciously done, she hastened back to her companions.

Two more charades were performed, and in the last Violet did appear; but it was in the character of a decrepid old woman, and though the acting was certainly excellent, the disguise was too complete to satisfy her mother or Mr. Woodrowffe.

When the party, with the exception of this old friend and Albert, had dispersed, Mrs. Osborne complained, with some warmth, of her disappointment.

“But, mamma, it could not be helped,” said her daughter. “I was at home. You would not have had me take the best parts?”

“Your mamma would have you please yourself, sometimes, darling, instead of always pleasing others!” was her father’s fond observation.

[Pg 9]

“As to that, papa, I please myself best in my own way. How well Margaret Lovel looked as Queen, didn’t she?”

“Yes,” said Albert. “And,” he added, with a boyish wink, “I know somebody who thought she did.”

“Who?” cried Violet, eagerly, expecting some revelation of interest.

“Miss Margaret Lovel,” was his reply, very dryly given. “If young ladies could but know how I see them through and through, they would either leave off deceiving, or practise a little harder to learn how to deceive.”

“Margaret Lovel does not deceive in the least,” said Violet, quickly, “and you are unjust to say so, Albert. If she thinks she is handsome, how can she help it? She can see as well as others.”

“Oh! very well, then, I suppose I am all [Pg 10]wrong. I thought the modest thing was for young ladies not to know they were handsome. I thought they were to hang their heads like a humble violet; but that’s evidently all trash. Come now, Violet, what do you think of yourself? Are you handsome or not? Come, speak, I will have an answer.”

“It is a very unfair question, Albert,” she said, angrily; “and before a stranger, too; but I don’t mean to tell any stories about it. I don’t think I am wonderfully handsome, but I know I am not ugly.”

“Well, to be sure, the vanity of girls!”

“And their truth,” observed Mr. Woodrowffe. “Miss Osborne, I congratulate you on being courageous enough to tell the truth, without regard to consequences.”

“You are very kind to take it in that way,” said Violet, blushing; “of course I knew to what I exposed myself; but I think a story [Pg 11]is a story, and I never mean to tell one for anything or anybody.”

“A wise resolve, Miss Osborne, and a brave one. But I fear I am keeping you all up. Good night.”

He made some kind speeches to Mrs. Osborne, and took his departure.

“I will walk with you,” cried Albert, following him; “I’ve a good way to go, and I like company.”

“What a fascinating girl your cousin is,” observed Mr. Woodrowffe, with energy, as they walked along.

“Yes,” he replied, carelessly; “she’s a very good girl, but she’s terribly spoiled. That father and mother of hers let her govern the house exactly as she pleases.”

“Perhaps because she is the fittest person to govern it. If you observe, government usually falls into the hands of the most fit.”

[Pg 12]

“Does it? I am not at all sure of that. Certainly neither my uncle nor aunt will ever die of over-exertion of the intellectual powers; but for all that I think it a great pity that Violet should be ruined.”

“She will not be ruined. You may make your mind quite easy on that point. Good natures are never ruined by freedom, and no one can look in her face and fail to see that she is good.”

“Oh! yes, she’s a good girl, but she’s terribly wilful. But where do you live? This is my way. I’m going to Lincoln’s Inn.”

“I will go a little farther with you. Are you a barrister?”

“Not yet. I am only studying for the bar at present. I live down there to be in the way, not being fond of early rising.”

“Your studies are dry enough, are they not? How do you like them?”

[Pg 13]

“Not very much; but they wish me to be a lawyer, and it’s all one to me.”

“Who are they?”

“My uncle. Because he’s a rich banker, he thinks I shall get on at the bar, though what connection the things have together has always passed my comprehension. However, as I said before, it’s all one to me. I make myself agreeable to anything.”

“But it will not be all one if you don’t get on. There’s a future to be considered.”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t intend to be a slave all my life. In a few years I shall marry, and have done with it.”

“An heiress, of course?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Your cousin, Miss Osborne?”

“Oh! dear no, no one in particular. You don’t suppose Violet would ever marry me? She’s one of the fastidious ones. Does not [Pg 14]mean to marry unless she finds every perfection under the sun. I shall find her a husband one of these days, but not for three or four years. I think it’s a bad plan for girls to marry too early; besides, it’s much better fun to have her at home.”

“True. I suppose Miss Osborne is so far fortunate that she need not consider fortune a necessary perfection.”

“So far from it, that one of her great perfections is poverty; but then you know Violet has plenty of money, and I must say she likes to have the upper hand.”

“Most women do, they say in the old ballad.”

“Then if most like it in a degree, Violet likes it four times over that degree. I suppose you have a right to know all the family affairs?” he asked, suddenly.

“Well,” said his companion, smiling, “I [Pg 15]don’t know that I have any right, and perhaps I ought to beg your pardon for my inquisitiveness. It is a quality that is always excited when I take a fancy to a person, as I did to your cousin to-night. However, you may be quite easy. All your secrets shall go back with me to India, and there be buried.”

“Thank you; not that I have said anything I would not say to their faces; but it’s not pleasant to have remarks on one’s relations repeated back again.”

“I quite agree with you. And now good night, and my best wishes regarding the heiress you mentioned.”

“That will not be for some years to come; but I am very much obliged to you all the same. Good night.” And they went on their separate ways.

“A good-natured old soul, with a yellow face!” was Albert’s soliloquy as he sauntered [Pg 16]along. “In love with Violet, evidently—all old men are!”

“A well-meaning boy, with an empty head,” was Mr. Woodrowffe’s. “He’ll never do at the bar.”

[Pg 17]

CHAPTER II.

The Excursion.

“I heard you say you were going to the Exhibition of the Royal Academy to-morrow afternoon, Violet,” said Albert to his cousin one evening, two years after the date of the last chapter. “May I go with you?”

“Certainly. We shall like it, shall we not, mamma? Be here at four o’clock, and we will take you. But this is a new fancy, Albert? I never knew you to care about pictures before.”

“One need not care because one wants to [Pg 18]go. Everybody is going. Besides, I suppose one may sometimes fancy a new thing. People don’t always run in the same track. They would be nice ignoramusses if they did.”

“You have no reason, then, for wishing to go?” Violet persisted, looking as if she was convinced he had.

“None in particular. Leicester went the other day, and talked about the pictures, and so I thought I should like to go.”

Violet laughed and nodded; but Albert, not observing her, went on—

“He says there is a little picture there that nobody seems to notice, which is worth all the others put together.”

“And who made Mr. Leicester a supreme judge of pictures?” Violet asked, ironically.

“His own good taste, I suppose. I cannot tell why it is, Violet, but you seem to have no [Pg 19]pleasure so great as cutting up Leicester. I see no fun in it at all.”

“Mr. Leicester does provoke me, I own. Always forming strange opinions, and setting up his opinion against the world.”

“Leicester setting himself up against the world!” exclaimed Albert, in surprise and indignation. “What extraordinary fancies you do have! Leicester, who is too shy, poor fellow, to express his opinions at all, and only neglected because he is too humble and diffident to allow his merit to be seen.”

“Mr. Leicester shy and diffident! My dear Albert, I am quite tired of hearing all the strange things he says.”

“He talks to me because I like to hear him; but he talks to very few besides, because most people are too full of themselves to draw him out. He never says strange things, and if I tire you, it is my fault, not his. He never [Pg 20]tired anybody, poor fellow; and since you are so unjust, Violet, I will never mention him—though he is my best friend—any more.”

He spoke with so much warmth, that Violet’s interest was excited.

“Why do you say neglected, Albert?” she asked. “Mr. Leicester is a lawyer, is he not? I suppose he will get on in his turn as others do.”

“He is neglected because he is too shy to put himself forward. I don’t suppose there is such a modest, retiring man in Europe; but it’s only for a time. He’s too clever to be overlooked, and some day, poor fellow, he will be appreciated as he ought to be.”

During Albert’s last two speeches a very singular change took place in Violet’s mind. She had hitherto—without knowing Mr. Leicester—indulged in an antipathy to him, simply because her cousin appeared to look up to [Pg 21]him. She had set him down in her vivid imagination as a young, intolerable prig; and as such, a proper object for her dislike and sarcasm. But there was that in her nature which ever stood up for the oppressed, and stooped down to the neglected. Observers, who were very desirous to discover the flaws in human virtue, would have said this disposition sprang from the love of patronizing and of power; and undoubtedly this was Violet’s temptation. But the fault had wound about the virtue after it had grown up; the root was in her own generous and kindly nature. Albert’s few words regarding the fortunes of his friend, dispelled him from her fancy in his first priggish form, and a new vision of a young retiring genius springing up in its place, all her sympathies became enlisted in his favour. In less than a minute the transformation from

dislike to interest was effected, and she began [Pg 22]to plan kindnesses to encourage modest merit.

“Do you think Mr. Leicester would go with us to the Exhibition to-morrow, Albert?” she inquired, after a short silence. “We could take him as well as you, and it would be a means of making acquaintance. I feel sorry for him after what you have said.”

“I am sure he would,” said Albert, delighted. “I think I can answer for that. He knows you all too well from my description to be shy about it; or if he is, I can soon persuade him. All he wants, poor fellow, is for people to come forward to meet him. Do you know, Violet, I have so often wished you would notice him.”

“Then why did you never say so?” she asked with quickness.

“Because I did not choose. He is a great deal too good to force upon anybody. If you did not like to know him, I did not wish you [Pg 23]to know him. But I am very much obliged to you now.”

“Mamma,” cried Violet, approaching her mother and kissing her, “you will not mind our taking Albert’s friend with us to-morrow, shall you? I have told him you will.”

The question was asked with Violet’s accustomed dutiful attention to her mother; but it was a mere form. Mrs. Osborne had no will but her daughter’s.

The two years that had passed had brought its natural changes to both Violet and Albert. The manners of both had lost their first marked freshness, and been toned into the softer manners of common life. With Albert the change ended here. He was in mind still a boy; careless and wayward, yet with good dispositions, and some shrewd perceptions into men and things. He had lately been called to the bar, and he dawdled away a large portion [Pg 24]of his time among lawyers and law books; attending trials and propounding questions; snatching up, with instinctive quickness, many pieces of valuable information, but eschewing all the profounder parts of the profession on which he had entered.

With Violet the changes had gone deeper. At seventeen she had been a lively, sweet-tempered, wilful girl—a spoilt child, unspoilt; at nineteen she was a woman, with a woman’s thought and feeling; lively, sweet-tempered, and wilful still, but thinking much, and questioning her thoughts. She had passed through the severe ordeal of two seasons as a reigning beauty; rich, lovely, and inviting in manner; sought, flattered, and loved. But the spoiled beauty was like the spoiled child, unspoilt! She did not think little of herself; she knew she was very charming; thought so, and rejoiced in the thought; but the knowledge [Pg 25]exercised no influence on her mind and manners. She was as simple and honest as when a child; as careless of herself, as thoughtful for others, as earnestly desirous to do what she considered right, and to be all that she ought to be. If her standard was not high, it was true, and truth is the best of foundations.

Violet expected, with some interest, the arrival of Albert and his friend. She was at the age when fancy is busy, and of the temperament when it is vivid; and fancy gives to the simplest events of life an importance of its own. With a disappointment, therefore, most disproportioned to the real importance of the circumstance, she saw Albert arrive alone.

“Well, Albert, and where is Mr. Leicester?” she said eagerly.

Albert, not having given to the invitation [Pg 26]as much thought as Violet had, answered, indifferently:

“Oh! he was very sorry, Violet, but he could not come.”

Violet coloured.

“Of all things I hate,” she said, with warmth, “it is for people to break their engagements!”

“It was no engagement, Violet; that is, it was none of his. He was very sorry, and very much obliged, and would have liked it, but he was particularly busy to-day, and could not help himself. You must ask him another time.”

The vision of the modest youth and bashful genius faded from Violet’s fancy, and the intolerable prig resumed his place.

“I see Mr. Leicester is just what I thought he was!” she observed, quickly; “gives himself airs to make his importance felt. I am [Pg 27]very glad he did not come, for I know I should hate him.”