Tales and Novels Volume VI Part 69

Mrs. Bolingbroke was incapable of thinking: she could only feel.

Conflicting pa.s.sions a.s.sailed her heart. All the woman rushed upon her soul; she loved her husband more at this instant than she had ever loved him before. His firmness excited at once her anger and her admiration. She could not believe that she had heard his _words rightly_. She sat down to recall minutely every circ.u.mstance of what had just pa.s.sed, every word, every look; she finished by persuading herself, that his calmness was affected, that the best method she could possibly take was by a show of resistance to bully him out of his indifference. She little knew what she hazarded; when the danger of losing her husband's love was imaginary, and solely of her own creating, it affected her in the most violent manner; but now that the peril was real and imminent, she was insensible to its existence.

A celebrated traveller in the Alps advises people to imagine themselves walking amidst precipices, when they are safe upon smooth ground; and he a.s.sures them that by this practice they may inure themselves so to the idea of danger, as to prevent all sense of it in the most perilous situations.

The four-and-twenty hours pa.s.sed; and at the appointed moment our heroine and her husband met. As she entered the room, she observed that he held a book in his hand, but was not reading: he put it down, rose deliberately, and placed a chair for her, in silence.

"I thank you, I would rather stand," said she: he put aside the chair, and walked to a door at the other end of the room, to examine whether there was any one in the adjoining apartment.

"It is not necessary that what we have to say should be overheard by servants," said he.

"I have no objection to being overheard," said Griselda: "I have nothing to say of which I am ashamed; and all the world must know it soon."

As Mr. Bolingbroke returned towards her, she examined his countenance with an inquisitive eye. It was expressive of concern; grave, but calm.

Whoever has seen a balloon--the reader, however impatient, must listen to this allusion--whoever has seen a balloon, may have observed that in its flaccid state it can be folded and unfolded with the greatest ease, and it is manageable even by a child; but when once filled, the force of mult.i.tudes cannot restrain, nor the art of man direct its course. Such is the human mind--so tractable before, so ungovernable after it fills with pa.s.sion. By slow degrees, unnoticed by our heroine, the balloon had been filling. It was full; but yet it was held down by strong cords: it remained with her to cut or not to cut them.

"Reflect before you speak, my dear Griselda," said her husband; "consider that on the words which you are going to p.r.o.nounce depend your fate and mine."

"I have reflected sufficiently," said she, "and decide, Mr.

Bolingbroke--to part."

"Be it so!" cried he; fire flashed from his eyes; he grew red and pale in an instant. "Be it so," repeated he, in an irrevocable voice--"We part for ever!"

He vanished before Griselda could speak or think. She was breathless; her limbs trembled; she could not support herself; she sunk she knew not where. She certainly loved her husband better than any thing upon earth, except power. When she came to her senses, and perceived that she was alone, she felt as if she was abandoned by all the world. The dreadful words "for ever," still sounded in her ears. She was tempted to yield her humour to her affection. It was but a momentary struggle; the love of sway prevailed. When she came more fully to herself, she recurred to the belief that her husband could not be in earnest, or at least that he would never persist, if she had but the courage to dare him to the utmost.

CHAPTER XVII.

"L'ai-je vu se troubler, et me plaindre un moment?

En ai-je pu tirer un seul gemiss.e.m.e.nt?"

Ashamed of her late weakness, our heroine rallied all her spirits, and resolved to meet her husband at supper with an undaunted countenance.

Her provoking composure was admirably prepared: but it was thrown away, for Mr. Bolingbroke did not appear at supper. When Griselda retired to rest, she found a note from him on her dressing-table; she tore it open with a triumphant hand, certain that it came to offer terms of reconciliation.

"You will appoint whatever friend you think proper to settle the terms of our separation. The time I desire to be as soon as possible. I have not mentioned what has pa.s.sed to Mr. or Mrs.

Granby; you will mention it to them or not, as you think fit. On this point, as on all others, you will henceforward follow your own discretion.

"T. BOLINGBROKE."

"Twelve o'clock;

"Sat.u.r.day, Aug. 10th."

Mrs. Bolingbroke read and re-read this note, weighed every word, examined every letter, and at last exclaimed aloud, "He will not, cannot, part from me."

"He cannot be in earnest," thought she. "Either he is acting a part or he is in a pa.s.sion. Perhaps he is instigated by Mr. Granby: no, that cannot be, because he says he has not mentioned it to Mr. or Mrs.

Granby, and he always speaks the truth. If Emma had known it, she would have prevented him from writing such a harsh note, for she is such a good creature. I have a great mind to consult her; she is so indulgent, so soothing. But what does Mr. Bolingbroke say about her?

He leaves me to my own discretion, to mention what has pa.s.sed or not.

That means, mention it, speak to Mrs. Granby, that she may advise you to submit. I will not say a word to her; I will out-general him yet.

He cannot leave me when it comes to the trial."

She sat down, and wrote instantly this answer to her husband's note:

"I agree with you entirely, that the sooner we part the better.

I shall write to-morrow to my friend Mrs. Nettleby, with whom I choose to reside. Mr. John Nettleby is the person I fix upon to settle the terms of our separation. In three days I shall have Mrs. Nettleby's answer. This is Sat.u.r.day: on Tuesday, then, we part--for ever.

"GRISELDA BOLINGBROKE."

Mrs. Bolingbroke summoned her maid. "Deliver this note," said she, "with your own hand; do not send Le Grand with it to his master."

Griselda waited impatiently for her maid's return.

"No answer, madam."

"No answer! are you certain?"

"Certain, ma'am: my master only said, 'Very well.'"

"And why did not you ask him if there was any answer?"

"I did, ma'am. I said, 'Is there no answer for my lady?' 'No answer,'

said he."

"Was he up?"

"No, ma'am: he was in bed."

"Was he asleep when you went in?"

"I cannot say positively, ma'am: he undrew the curtain as I went in, and asked, 'Who's there?'"

"Did you go in on tiptoe?"

"I forget, really, ma'am."

"You forget really! Idiot!"

"But, ma'am, I recollect he turned his head to go to sleep as I closed the curtain."

"You need not wait," said Mrs. Bolingbroke.

Provoked beyond the power of sleep, Mrs. Bolingbroke gave free expression to her feelings, in an eloquent letter to Mrs. Nettleby; but even after this relief, Griselda could not rest; so much was she disturbed by the repose that her husband enjoyed, or was reputed to enjoy. In the morning she placed her letter in full view upon the mantel-piece in the drawing-room, in hopes that it would strike terror into the heart of her husband. To her great mortification, she saw Mr.

Bolingbroke, with an unchanged countenance, give it to the servant, who came to ask for "letters for the post." She had now three days of grace, before Mrs. Nettleby's answer could arrive; but of these she disdained to take advantage: she never mentioned what had pa.s.sed to Mrs. Granby, but persisted in the same haughty conduct towards her husband, persuaded that she should conquer at last.

The third day came, and brought an answer from Mrs. Nettleby. After a prodigious parade of professions, a decent display of astonishment at Mr. Bolingbroke's strange conduct, and pity for her dear Griselda, Mrs. Nettleby came to the point, and was sorry to say, that Mr.