The Duke's affection for Miss J. can hardly have been altogether the work of her imagination. Besides the interview copied in her Diary, there is the evidence of the correspondence. True, his epistles are lacking in open protestations of devotion. Miss J. herself remarks that the Duke's letters were always cautiously written. He was too much a man of the world to run the risk of compromising himself in black and white. But the very existence of this correspondence, extending over a period of seventeen years, is a strong argument in favor of his having felt for her a remarkably warm friendship at the least.
It can hardly be supposed that the Duke seriously intended to marry Miss J. As he himself writes to her,—
"I should not treat you as I should wish to be treated myself. The commands of all others which we ought to obey are those dictated to us by our social relations. What would be said, if I, a man of seventy years of age, nearly, were to take in marriage a lady young enough to be my Granddaughter?"
Upon this Miss J. comments:—
"Alas! Alas! how deceitful is the human heart! For I am convinced that although the Duke wrote thus, there was not a moment during our acquaintance when if I had not been by the Grace of God what I was and am that he would have thought I was too young to bow down before me with the most sinful adulation."
What was either a flirtation or a manifestation of fatherly fondness on the part of the Duke was a grand passion to Miss J. Perhaps her vanity was as deeply touched as her heart; but those who knew her best declared that never until the Duke's death did she resign all hope of becoming the Duchess of Wellington.
In another part of her Diary she writes, with the diffuseness and reiteration that mark her style:—
"That I loved the Duke I am not ashamed to say, God knows, and that too with the purest affection. Consequently when he asked me if I felt sufficient to be with him a whole life, (which was the question referred to in that odious letter, for odious indeed it still appears in my sight, yea, increasingly so with time, for I recoil with unspeakable horror from the thought that I could be thus enquired of without being clearly comprehended), I replied to the same in the following words, 'If it be the will of God,' not supposing for a moment, as expressed, that such an enquiry could be made of one with God's Holy Book before me, to which I had been attracting his attention with all the reverence and veneration so holy an employment demanded, except under intentions the most honorable. This idea many would perhaps say must have arisen from my want of knowledge of mankind and the world etc. But in that case how was it that dear Mrs. L–, a perfect woman of the world in her early life, could think the same and consequently encourage such views?"
Long after the Duke had wearied of his passing fancy Miss J. clung to the idea that she could yet draw him to her. Her secluded life, given up to good works and pious meditations, and still later her confirmed ill-health, heightened her unworldliness, and rendered it more than ever difficult for her to see the impossibility of what in the eyes of the Duke and his family and friends would have been a misalliance.
It is perhaps uncharitable to suppose that Miss J. intended by her assumed reluctance to grant the Duke a third interview to force him to make a formal declaration of his intentions and ask her hand in marriage. If this, however, was her plan, it met with a signal failure. Clearly nothing was farther from the Duke's thoughts than to make himself the butt of popular ridicule by taking a wife forty-five years younger than himself, and of retired even though perfectly respectable social position. Besides that, it can hardly be wondered at if the Duke, a man free from binding domestic ties, were not in a humor to place permanently at his elbow so strict a mentor as Miss J., no matter how pretty she might be. The prudishness and piety that were fascinating in a beautiful woman seldom seen, would wax wearisome in the most charming creature bound to him by indissoluble ties.
CHAPTER IV.
SMOOTH WATERS
My dear Miss J.,—I received your Note. We perfectly understand each other; and with your permission I will call upon you to-morrow at three o'clock.
There is only one point that I wish to explain in reference to our last meeting. There might have been a difference of Manner. There was none of feeling.
You told me that you had written to me; and I certainly was anxious to possess your Letters. You certainly wished to take them out of the Paquet; but if I had thought that your reluctance to give them was deeply felt, you may rely upon it that I would not have pressed to have them.
At all events my perusal of them has occasioned an explanation which can do no Harm.
From this it appears that the personal interviews had recommenced. The letters now follow one another closely.
My dear Miss J.,—I have received your Letter of this Day, for which I return many thanks.
I was not able to go to see you last week as I intended. I was confined to my Home by Indisposition for some days; and I was much occupied. I am going out of town to-morrow. But I hope to be able to go to see [sic] on Saturday at three o'clock if you should not at that time have left town for the Seaside?
I will bring with me the Letters and Books which you lent me. I have read that one which you wish that I should return to you.
If you should go before I shall see you again I hope that you will let me know where.
Miss J. states that the book here alluded to was an account of the conversion of the criminal Cook, and touches upon her instrumentality in bringing about this result.
My dear Miss J.,—I have read all your Letters since I saw you on Saturday. Why do you not send each of them to me when you write it?
I think that you will have perceived on Saturday that you was mistaken in the Notion under which you wrote some of them.
We may differ in opinion and I may be in Error. But I assure you that I cannot feel otherwise than grateful to you for your kindness to me; and respect and veneration for the Motives for it.
Let me know before you go out of town that I may not misdirect a Letter to you.
In the latter part of June Miss J. went to Ramsgate. The Duke's letter of July 1st is directed there:—
My dear Miss J.,—I am very sorry if in my Letter of Monday I should have said a Word which could have hurt your feelings. I think that by this time you ought to be convinced that I could not intend to do so.
I might have done so erroneously. I might have been misled by circumstances. But I could not willingly hurt the feelings of any body.
In this particular case you forget that you asked the Question whether your letters were not overweight. I told you that they were.
I likewise informed you of a Rule which we are all under the necessity of adopting; that is of returning Letters over weight; because too many Persons are in the habit of thinking that they may inclose their Letters to a well known Person; and the Charge becomes enormous. Under these circumstances my Porter has the usual order not to take in Letters overweight; which he generally returns; unless I should happen to be in the House when he enquires. I stated the fact very shortly, as I generally do; in answer to a question from yourself; and I pointed out to you that if you desired to write to me more than you could put in two Sheets, you should put your Letter in two or three or more covers.
You must not be so susceptible. Rely upon it, that many many Years will pass over your Head; before I shall intentionally offend you.
I