THE

NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

EMILY; OR, THE UNEXPECTED MEETING.

BY THE EDITOR.

It would be a waste of time to endeavour to describe the personal charms of the amiable and accomplished girl who is destined to be the heroine of this brief story. Let the reader embody her attractions, and bring them to his view, by imagining her the very counterpart or fac-simile rather of his most esteemed favourite. Having established this standard of beauty in his imagination, he has only to give her― to use a jeweller's phrase-a mind and accomplishments "to match," and he will have formed a tolerably fair estimate of the qualities and qualifications of Miss Emily Langley.

In this literary age, when every body writes, and so many bodies write well, it is exceedingly difficult to describe any ordinary scene or situation of real life, without rendering oneself obnoxious to the imputation of plagiarism; yet it must so happen that in historical works, as well as in works of fiction, the absolute necessity of beginning at the beginning, must reduce the historian, as well as the novelist, to the coexistent necessity of giving his reader an account of his characters, real or imaginary, in the outset of his work, and hence the difficulty of performing this duty in any thing like a new or unhacknied manner.

To say which please to recollect is the truth-that Emily Langley and her mother placed far above those cares of this world, which are incidental to poverty, or even a state of very moderate competence, lived in the neighbourhood of a prosperous and well-populated countrytown, in a "cottage of gentility," with no sorrows to afflict, no difficulties to excite them, in an exceedingly lady-like manner, is but to speak truth. Their residence would have afforded a popular auctioneer of high imaginative powers, ample matter for his eloquence; their carriages were well appointed; their house bien montée; and, as the most competent judges in the neighbourhood decided, the wines were even better than those with which the cellars of widow ladies are usually stored. These last words may lead to a discussion which would, perhaps, be here somewhat premature-they infer that Mrs. Langley was a widow. Now, strange as it may appear, intimate as were the terms upon which this amiable lady and her daughter lived with all the best families in the neighbourhood, nobody-not even the apothecary of the village, knew whether she were a widow or not. Her carriages were perfectly plain, her plate bore merely a cipher; but as she herself never volunteered any information on the subject, and as her neighbours were quite satisfied that every thing was right and proper-not only because Mrs. Langley was exceedingly agreeable, and was constantly giving particularly pleasant parties; but because, very soon after her arrival in the neighbourhood, the Bishop of Bridgewater and his wife, and the four Miss Langshawes-their tall, pale, thin, and accomplished daughters, paid her a visit, and remained her guests for five days, nobody, upon Oct.-VOL. LVII. NO. CCXXVI.

L

the plea of either friendship or candour, or good nature, ventured to make any enquiries upon the subject.

The moment the Bishop of Bridgewater became her visiter, the rector of Busfield was too happy to make Mrs. Langley's intimate acquaintance. The curate was most attentive; and a few contributions to a fancy fair, held for the purpose of raising funds for repairing the church, rendered her and her daughter exceedingly popular with the quieter and more sober portion of the neighbouring population.

Her daughter-there again-was Miss Langley her daughter? Emily was exceedingly fair, Mrs. Langley remarkably brown; one had blue eyes that seemed to melt in all the softness of Knellerism; the other black sharp orbs, that seemed to dart into one as she spoke.

"Garrick, sir," said some one to Wewitzer, the actor,-" Garrick's eye can pierce through a deal board."

"I presume, sir," said Wewitzer," that is what is called a gimlet-eye." Now, although Mrs. Langley's eyes were equally removed from the Garrick and the gimlet, there is no question but that her eyes were "piercers;" and when occasion served, she seemed any thing but a tyro in the management of them. It was in this feature especially and peculiarly, she differed from her daughter; but in the drawing-room, over the fireplace, there hung the portrait of a gentleman, painted as it should appear some five-and-twenty years ago, in whose countenance the visiters at Beaulieu Lodge contrived to trace a distant resemblance to the daughter; for although, as I have already said, every body was perfectly satisfied of the propriety and respectability of the ladies, especially with a bishop as a guarantee, it was not in the nature of things that people could go and call, and dine, and sup, and dance at Beaulieu, without feeling a little anxiety to know something more about its inhabitants.

One day Miss Scoop, a maiden lady in blue silk, made a desperate dash as regarded the picture; for, having got Emily all to herself, standing before the fireplace, over which it was pendent, she all at once, and apropos to nothing, said,

"Is that your 'pa's picture, Miss Langley ?"

"Oh dear no !" said Emily, bursting into a fit of laughing, violent enough to induce Miss Scoop to fancy she had done something exceedingly ridiculous; so she just twisted her neck, and poked out her chin, and drew it back again, and said, "umph," in a tone meant to be expressive of pleasure and self-satisfaction. Emily turned from her and walked away, and Miss Scoop's next little grunt was unequivocally indicative of her belief, that Miss Langley, after all, was an exceedingly ill-bred miss; besides, murmured the immaculate scarecrow, "if it isn't her 'pa, I should like to know who it really is.”

The reader can hardly suppose it possible that, moving in society as Emily did, surrounded as she was by all the agrémens of life, fair and accomplished too, she should, even if unwon, have, up to this period of her existence, remained unwooed. Oh! dear no. She counted several suitors in her train, several of whom were officers of the regiment quartered in the neighbouring town; and one or two sons of county gentlemen, whose names, unknown to London fame, stood exceedingly high in their own district; but Emily seemed indifferent to all-gay, kind, and agreeable, she dispensed her smiles equally, sang the songs she was asked to sing, danced with all who asked her, without preference, favour, or affection, and, in short, was a general favourite her own play

fulness and ingenuousness of manner keeping all her followers at an almost equal distance.

In the midst, however, of this gaiety and good-humour it was not difficult to perceive that one person who visited at Beaulieu was preferred before all others; but he was not to be found or numbered amongst the gay bevy most in the habit of flirting and fluttering about the house. Mrs. Langley was aware of this preference-so was its object-and strange to say, as the conviction of its existence strengthened in his mind, the rarer became his visits to the lodge.

Emily, who had no disguises from her mother, and who saw no cause, and knew no reason why she should conceal her feelings of esteem for the person in question, spoke upon the subject to Mrs. Langley, and told her that she thought it exceedingly strange that Alfred Sherwood came so seldom to see them.

"Emily," said Mrs. Langley, "thy wish was father to that thought.' I have watched-I have seen you, when Alfred has been here he knows I have-nay, Emily, I have spoken to him on the subject—”

"Spoken to him!" said Emily.

"Yes, dearest," said Mrs. Langley; " it was my duty-my most important duty. Of all men living-of all created beings-Alfred Sherwood is the last-the very last, on whom you should bestow a thought." "What!" said Emily; "has he committed any crime? Has his conduct been dishonourable?"

"No," said Mrs. Langley, shaking her head sorrowfully.

"I thought not," said Emily; "I was sure he could have done nothing to disgrace or degrade himself. Besides, is he not the constant companion of those whose honour is as dear to them as life?"

"True, true," said her mother!" but there are secrets, Emily, in all families. Sherwood is aware of the reason which exists for your separation. Hence his lengthened absence."

"Did my father

"Hush, hush!" said Mrs. Langley, laying her finger on her lip, as if to command the silence of the animated girl; "I have told you, dearest child, that you shall know all. Each hour as it flies brings you nearer to the discovery of the mystery which hangs over you. Every day I expect to receive the intelligence which will empower me to tell you every thing, and as you know, dearest, the release will be to me a happy one.

"I care for no discovery," said Emily, " if it involves my eternal separation from Alfred Sherwood. Do not suppose, my dearest mother, that the affection I feel for him is that of a giddy girl, fallen, as the phrase is, in love with a young officer. No, indeed. My regard for him is founded on an esteem for his high qualities—the nobleness of his character-the variety of his accomplishments-the sweetness of his temper-I feel towards him as a sister."

"Merciful Heaven!" exclaimed Mrs. Langley-"My child, no more of this. The day will soon come-all will be explained.-Here, here ar visiters. Come, come, let us go to meet them; but let me implore you, do not let us recur to this subject until I propose it. Rely upon me, it shall not be long first."

Emily felt, of course, bound to obey; but, as the promise that she should know all" had frequently been made before-although not with reference to Alfred Sherwood-she did not give quite such implicit credit to the maternal assurance as to the brevity of the time to come as it might have been quite dutiful to do.

L 2

Swift says, "It is a miserable thing to live in suspense, it is the life of a spider." Poor Emily Langley was well qualified to judge of the aptness of the figure; for there is no denying that every thing connected with her seemed involved in mystery. Even the portrait over the fireplace was to her a mystery; and when she burst into the wild, hysterical laugh which shocked Miss Scoop so much, it was rather by way of avoiding an explanation which she could not give, than snubbing an inquiry to which she was able to make any satisfactory reply.

That Mrs. Langley's words and manner-especially the latter-upon the occasion just noticed, sank deep into Emily's mind there can be no doubt. In fact, interested as she was about Alfred, and every thing connected with him, she resolved-mutinously perhaps to avail herself of the very first opportunity of speaking to him upon the subject of the hurried conversation which had taken place between her and her mother. The casual visit of the neighbours, whom Mrs. Langley saw approaching them, occupied more of Emily's time than attention-her thoughts were not with them, and to appear interested in their conversation, required a considerable effort; it seemed to her as if they never would go, and yet amongst them were two of her favourite female friends. So that it was clear that Alfred Sherwood was an object of greater importance to her, than she would have believed half an hour before the mysterious warning of her mother had induced the apprehension of losing him.

In the evening of this day there was a public ball given, as the phrase goes, at so much per head, at the Town-hall, and where, of course, Emily was expected to be present-in fact, Mrs. Langley was one of the ladies patronesses, and it would be impossible for her or her daughter to be absent-Never before this day had Emily staid to consider whether she should meet Alfred-never before did she feel apprehensive of encountering him;-that she liked him, esteemed him, enjoyed his society, and admired his accomplishments, she was conscious; but, until she was told there was danger in their association, she never properly estimated the sacrifice which the relinquishment of his company and conversation involved.

After the protracted visitation had actually ended, and the friends were gone, Emily and her mother were again left together alone. The poor anxious girl, who would have given the world to bring back the conversation to the only subject which now engrossed her thoughts, saw with pain, that of all topics, in the round of remark or observation upon which Mrs. Langley seemed ready to touch, that was clearly the very one which she not only wished, but was resolved most scrupulously to avoid; this studied evasion was not lost upon the daughter, who rather contented herself, under the circumstances, inasmuch as, although her undisguised avowal of a preference for the young gentleman had caused an exclamation on the part of mamma, and an abrupt implied prohibition against speaking of him again, nothing had transpired on the part of her anxious parent, which could be construed into a mandate not to speak to him, and knowing her mother's character and conduct too well to apprehend, for a moment, that she would run the risk of causing a "scene" in the ball-room, Emily satisfied herself with the resolution to treat Alfred as she had always hitherto treated him, and dance with him as usual, if, as usual, he should ask her.

All these resolutions, however judiciously framed, were nevertheless destined to be of no avail. The ladies went to the ball, and there were all the moons of the neighbourhood-as the Persian Princes call our

ladies and all the dandies, rural and military; even the curate was there, but no Alfred Sherwood-in vain did Emily's eyes wander over the motley group; in vain did they glance towards the door of the room, which opening, or rather closing with a weight, fully announced the entrance of each new coming visiter in the most inharmonious manner -midnight came, but not the one she watched and wished for.

Every officer of the distinguished corps to whose safe keeping the respectable inhabitants of the town, in the hall of which they were assembled in peace and security, was present, and each in his turn solicited the honour of Emily's hand; but no-her head ached, besides, she had sprained her ankle in stepping out of the carriage-in fact, she could not dance.

This disinclination and refusal were not lost upon her mother, who endeavoured to persuade, and then rally, her out of her laziness, or indifference, or ill-nature, but who with difficulty assumed the gaiety necessary to the performance of the part which she had assigned to herself; in fact, the hours seemed longer than hours ever were, until, at last, the supper was announced; which, with a considerable number of the company, was the most agreeable part of the evening's performance. This occurrence would have been a charming opportunity for the escape of the ladies, but the carriage had not been ordered till the usual time, and poor Emily was forced to undergo the persecuting civilities of a Captain Lillycrop, who having failed in all his efforts to induce her to dance, endeavoured to get her into good humour by loading her plate with the wing of an adamantine chicken, and filling her glass with gooseberry wine, furnished to the guests as champagne. All, however, was vain; the captain's assiduities were all wasted; and the moment escape was possible the sorrowing, disappointed girl hurried away from what was a scene of gaiety to others, but which in her mind was associated with other days, or nights, too painfully to be endured even with indifference.

As Emily and her mother returned homewards, both ladies appeared particularly taciturn-a very brief observation on the dulness of the evening, the smallness of the party, and a sweeping censure upon all the accessories, such as lights, supper, and music, constituted the conversation. Mrs. Langley did not inquire why Emily had declined dancing, nor even whether the sprain of her ankle, of which the effects were not visible as she stepped into the carriage, was better; in fact, there was a gloom hanging over them-a sort of mistrustfulness. One thing alone was certain, neither the cause of Alfred Sherwood's absence from the ball, nor even his "once familiar name" was mentioned during their drive.

The mother and daughter separated for the night, not as they usually separated;-hitherto, although Emily had been for several years aware that, at some period of her life, disclosures were to be made to her which would conduce to alter her position in society very considerably; still, as her mother's conduct was invariably kind and affectionate, and she had been given to understand that the change to be operated by the development of the secret with which she was mixed up, whatever it might be, would be advantageous to her in a worldly point of view, she never allowed herself to be agitated or irritated, or even anxious upon the point; but Mrs. Langley's mysterious exclamation, as alluding to Alfred, did prey upon her mind-what it could mean, or by what particular feeling it was excited, she could not imagine. But, after a long consultation with her pillow during a sleepless night, she resolved