Tales and Novels — Volume 07 eBook

on generalizing their notions, similar or superior attractions in new models of perfection.  In Caroline, Mrs. Hungerford saw none of these capricious fancies, and that it was not her imagination, but her reason which gave Count Altenberg the exalted place he held in her esteem.  It was therefore with pleasure, that this kind lady perceived, that her young friend’s residence with her soothed her mind and restored it to its former tone.

But Caroline was soon obliged to leave Hungerford Castle, A letter from Erasmus informed her that poor Lady Jane Granville was ill of a nervous fever, that she had no companion, no one to attend her but a maid-servant, and that she was much in want of some judicious friend who could raise her spirits and tranquillize her mind, which was in a state of continual agitation about her lawsuit.  Caroline, remembering Lady Jane’s former kindness, thought this a fit opportunity to show her gratitude; and, happy as she was with her friends at Hungerford Castle, she hesitated not a moment to sacrifice her own pleasure.—­Her father and mother approved of her determination, and her brother Alfred carried her to London.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

In these days, people travel with so much safety, ease, and celerity, that heroines have little chance of adventures on the road; and a journey is now so common a thing, that, as Rosamond observed, the most brilliant imagination has no hope of having wonders to relate.  To Rosamond’s mortification, Caroline and her brother reached London without any event having occurred better worth recording than the loss of an umbrella.  They drove into town when it was nearly dark, just before the lamps were lighted; Caroline, therefore, had little satisfaction from the first view of the metropolis.  She found Lady Jane Granville in a small lodging in Clarges-street—­the room dark—­a smell of smoke—­the tea-equipage prepared—­Lady Jane lying on a shabby-looking sofa—­drops and a smelling-bottle on a little table beside her.  She raised herself as Caroline entered, looked half pleased, half ashamed to see her; and, stretching out her hand, said, in a complaining voice, “Ah! my dear Caroline, are you really come?  This is too good!  Sadly changed, you find—­and every thing about me—­Sit down, my dear—­Keppel, do let us have tea as soon as you can,” said Lady Jane.

“As soon as ever Eustace comes in, my lady,” answered Keppel, peevishly.

“In the mean time, for Heaven’s sake, allow us a little more light—­I cannot live without light.  Come nearer to me, my dear Caroline, and tell me how did you leave all our friends at the Hills?”

Whilst Caroline was answering her ladyship, more candles were brought, and Lady Jane moved them on the table till she threw the light full on Caroline’s face.

“Handsomer than ever!  And altogether so formed.  One would not think, Alfred, she had been buried all this time in the country.  Ah! perverse child; why would not you come when I could have been of some use to you—­when, at least, I could, have received you as I ought?  This is not a fit place, you see; nor am I now in circumstances, or in a style of life—­Heigho!”