Chamberss Edinburgh Journal, No. 452 | Page 2

no
compulsion in the case.'
'It is a scheme that will never be realised,' said Frances; 'for, of all
things, I should dislike a marriage that had been planned in that way.
The very idea of standing in such an awkward relation to a man would
make me hate him.'
'That's why I think all such schemes better let alone,' returned Mrs
Wentworth; 'but as your father desires that I will put you in possession
of his wishes before you go into the world, I have no choice but to do
it.'
'It does not appear, however, that this Mr Elliott is very anxious about
the matter, since he has never taken the trouble of coming to see me.
Perhaps he does not know of the scheme?'
'O yes, he does; but, in the first place, he is abroad with his regiment;
and, in the second, he abstains upon principle from seeking to make
your acquaintance. So Sir Richard told me, when I met him last year at
Lady Grantley's fête. He said that his son's heart was yet perfectly free,
but that he did not think it right to throw himself in your way, or
endeavour to engage your affections, till you had had an opportunity of
seeing something of the world. The old gentleman had a great desire to
see you himself; and he would have called, but he was only passing
through London on his way to some German baths, and he was to start
the next morning.'
'And what sort of a person is this Mr Elliott?'
'I really don't know, except that his father praised him to the skies. He's
Major Elliott now, and must be about eight-and-twenty.'
'And is he the eldest son?'
'He's the eldest son, and will be Sir Henry--I think that's his name--by

and by. But he's not rich; quite the contrary, he's very poor for a baronet;
and I incline to think that is one of the reasons that influenced your
father. Being so fond of the Elliotts, he wished to repair, in some
degree, the dilapidation of their fortunes by yours.'
'So that I shall have the agreeable consciousness of being married
purely for my money. I am afraid poor dear papa's scheme will fail; and
I wish, aunt, you had never told me of it.'
'That was not left to my discretion; if it had been, I should not have told
you of it, I assure you.'
'Well, I can only hope that I shall never see Major Elliott; and if he ever
proposes to come, aunt, pray do me the favour to assure him, from me,
that it will not be of the smallest use.'
'That would be foolish till you've seen him. You may like him.'
'Never; I could not like a man whom I met under such circumstances, if
he were an angel.'
Thus, with a heart steeled against Major Elliott and his attractions,
whatever they might be, Frances Seymour made her début; and,
however brilliant had been her anticipations of success, she had the
satisfaction of finding them fully realised. She was the belle of the
season--admired, courted, and envied; and by the end of it, she had
refused at least half-a-dozen proposals. As she was perfectly
independent, she resolved to enjoy a longer lease of her liberty, before
she put it in the power of any man to control her inclinations.
Shortly after the termination of the season, some family affairs called
Mr and Mrs Wentworth to St Petersburg; and as it was not convenient
that Frances should accompany them, they arranged that she should
spend the interval in visiting some families of their own connection
residing in the country, who promised to take due charge of her.
The first of these, by name Dunbar, were worthy people enough, but,
unfortunately for Frances, desperately dull; and the few neighbours

they had happened to be as dull as themselves. There were neither balls
nor routs to keep up the spirits of the London belle; and a tiresome
drive of six or eight miles to an equally tiresome dinner-party, was but
a poor substitute for the gaieties which the late season had given her a
taste for.
Frances was not without resources. She was a fine musician, and played
and sang admirably; but she liked to be told that she did so. At Dunbar
House, nobody cared for music, nobody listened to her, and her most
recherchées toilettes delighted nobody but her maid. She was aux abois,
as the French say, and had made some progress in the concoction of a
scheme to get away, when an improvement took place in her position,
from the arrival of young Vincent Dunbar, the only son of the family.
He was a lieutenant in a regiment of infantry that had