“Fear nothing! I fear nothing,” exclaimed
Lady Angelica, “now you tell me, dear Mrs. Hungerford,
that you do not doubt the reality of his love:
all the rest I will answer for—trust to
me, I know my game.”
Mrs. Hungerford sighed; and replied, “I am old,
have stood by, and seen this game played and lost
so often, and by as able players as Lady Angelica
Headingham—take care—remember
I warn you.”
Miss Caroline Percy came into the room at this instant—Lady
Angelica went to her toilette to repair her charms.
While Mrs. Hungerford was wasting her good advice
upon Lady Angelica, Sir James Harcourt at his toilette
received this day’s letters, which he read,
as usual, while his hair was dressing. Some of
these letters were from creditors, who were impatient
to hear when his advantageous marriage would
be concluded, or when he would obtain that place which
had been so long promised. The place at court,
as he was by this post informed by a private, very
confidential letter, under a government cover and
huge seal, from his intimate friend, my Lord Skreene,
ministers had found themselves under the unfortunate
necessity of giving away, to secure three votes on
a certain cabinet question.
Sir James threw the letter from him, without reading
the rest of his dear friend’s official apologies:
“So, the place at court is out of the question—a
wife must be my last resource,” thought he, “but
how to bring her to the point?”
Sir James knew that though he was now in high favour,
he might, at some sudden turn of caprice, be discarded
or deserted by his fair one, as had been the fate
of so many of his predecessors. The ruling passion,
vanity, must be touched, and the obvious means of
awakening jealousy were in his power. He determined
to pay attentions to Miss Caroline Percy: his
experience in the tactics of gallantry supplying the
place of knowledge of the human heart, he counterfeited
the symptoms of a new passion, and acted “The
Inconstant” so well, that Lady Angelica had no
doubt of his being what be appeared. She was
not prepared for this turn of fate, well as she thought
she knew her game, and at this unlucky moment, just
when she wanted to play off Sir James against Mr.
Barclay—and in an old castle in the country
too, where no substitute was to be had!
Her ladyship was the more vexed, because Mrs. Hungerford
must see her distress. Unused to any thing that
opposed her wishes, she lost all temper, and every
word and look manifested resentment and disdain towards
her innocent and generous rival. In this jealousy,
as there was no mixture of love to colour and conceal
its nature, it could not pass for refinement of sentiment—it
bore no resemblance to any thing noble—it
must have been detected, even by a less penetrating
and less interested observer than Mr. Barclay.
His eyes were now completely opened.
