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diff --git a/40199-8.txt b/40199-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0fb24a4..0000000 --- a/40199-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5561 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mabel, Vol. II (of 3), by Emma Newby - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Mabel, Vol. II (of 3) - A Novel - -Author: Emma Newby - -Release Date: July 10, 2012 [EBook #40199] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MABEL, VOL. II (OF 3) *** - - - - -Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - MABEL. - - A Novel, - - BY EMMA WARBURTON. - - _IN THREE VOLUMES._ - - VOL. II. - - - LONDON: - THOMAS CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER, - 30, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE. - 1854. - - - - -MABEL. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - Oh, give me comfort, if you can! - Oh, tell me where to fly! - Oh, tell me if there can be hope, - For one so lost as I! - - SOUTHEY. - - -The grey dawn was slowly and faintly breaking, with the calm, dull light -of a winter's morning. The stormy wind had sunk to rest, the fire, no -longer fanned by its heavy gusts, had nearly abated, and what more was -required to extinguish it, was afforded by the arrival of the fire -engine, which had been forwarded with the usual promptitude, though from -the distance it had to travel, it arrived too late to be of any -effectual service. - -Mrs. Lesly's house had been the last to take fire, and was not so -completely destroyed, as the smaller cottages in the more thickly -populated parts of the village. Mr. Ware was rejoiced to see that the -church remained uninjured--his own house, too, had escaped, and no fears -were entertained for the Manor. Yet, in many parts, the fire still -smouldered, though its fury was spent, and gave a light to the -landscape, which rivalled that of the wintry dawn. - -There was a small and pleasant nook by the road side, where on summer -evenings, children would assemble to play. Here a group had collected, -composed of men and women, surrounding the prostrate form of the unhappy -bailiff. Mr. Ware was supporting his head, with that pity for the -wretched and suffering which his sacred character made as necessary as -his natural feelings rendered it pleasant. Satisfied, as he believed, of -the safety of Mrs. Lesly and her children, he had not been tempted from -the side of the man, whose remorse called for all that attention which -he only could give, and who, if he moved, piteously entreated him not -to leave him. Well indeed might he beg him to remain, for in the various -groups which surrounded him, he could not discover a single friend. -Subject to his tyranny during his day of power, each among them might -have stood forward to convict him of some harsh unkindness, if not of -actual cruelty and oppression. Amongst others was Martin, his shaggy -eyebrows bent in triumph on the man who, unable to display his usual -bearing of conscious authority, lay weak and powerless before him. - -The stranger was seen advancing slowly across the green, with his hat -slouched over his face, and his arms crossed upon his chest. All -slightly moved to make room for him, and allowed him to stand without -being too closely pressed--but, whether from a sense of his personal -bravery in their service, or from an unconscious respect to his -commanding manner--few stopped to enquire. On his pale countenance were -marks of agitation--he looked indeed almost faint--and Mr. Ware, -fearing he might have sustained some injury in his many daring exploits, -offered him some of the brandy, which he had been giving to the most -weary. He eagerly accepted the offer, and then, seeing that the group -had become silent since he joined it, he turned to Mr. Ware. - -"As a minister of holy peace, sir," he said, "let me suggest to you, -that some means be taken to find out by whom this foul deed has been -committed, for the intention may well meet with as much condemnation as -if it had succeeded." - -"A foul deed most assuredly," said Mr. Ware, rising from his stooping -posture--"a foul deed most truly has been attempted this night, and it -ought indeed to humble us," he added, as a tear glistened in his eye, -"to think that there is one among us, brethren, capable of doing so -terrible a thing as to endeavour to put a man to death, even though he -were his worst enemy, much less to conceive so horrible a means, even -while ruin was on our own hearth sides, and the hand of Providence -raised to punish. Oh, I am grieved beyond words to tell, not so much -that ye are poor, but that poverty has brought sin among you, as I know -it has done. Have you not had warning enough to-night?" - -A groan escaped from the stranger, and all turned round, but his eyes -were fixed on the ground. - -"Now, my children," continued Mr. Ware, "let us cast off from ourselves -this great sin, and tell all we know of it; and if he who has done it be -amongst us, let him stand forward and suffer his punishment, as the only -expiation he can offer." - -"Not so," said the bailiff, raising himself with difficulty, and -supporting himself on his arm, while he glanced timidly upon those who -were about him; but carefully avoiding the stranger, whose dark eyes, -from beneath his slouched hat, were bent upon him. - -"And why," asked the latter, eagerly, "would you arrest the hand of -justice?" - -"Sir," said the bailiff, solemnly, "let the punishment rest upon him -that deserves it. I am he. If it be wrong to think to take away my -life--if it be sin to compass the death of any man--it is also sin to -tempt a man to do it. Many have been the galling words I have spoken, -and the wicked, taunting things I have done. But, oh, my fellow men, -forgive me now, as you hope to be forgiven. This terrible night has -brought my sins to remembrance, and, if I live I am a changed man--but -if I die--" - -Here a tremor seized his whole frame. - -"Then you will not tell us?" said the stranger, enquiringly. - -"No, sir," said Rogers, meeting his eye for the first time. "You have -saved my life--but even for that I cannot do as you say; and before the -light of the sky above us, I swear that his name shall never pass my -lips." - -"I did not know there was as much good as that in him," muttered Martin. - -"I cannot help approving such sentiments," said the stranger; "for they -shew a forgiving spirit, under hard circumstances, and it may be the -beginning of better things which is strongly called for--since it is -unlikely, that your master would overlook your neglect of the trust he -so implicitly confided in you. (Rogers groaned.) Nothing can defend you, -but a hearty and sincere repentance; but I do say," said the soldier, as -his eye kindled, "that it is a good beginning; and, sir, I, for one, am -willing to withdraw any further investigation of this mysterious affair, -since he who has suffered most, will not come forward with his -evidence." - -"The crime lies heavily on my heart," replied Mr. Ware; "but I am little -inclined to enter on such a business, though I know it is only right -that the criminal should be punished. If, however, he would come forward -and plead guilty to this outrage, it would remove the suspicion which -now rests on us all." - -"No, no, sir," cried the bailiff; "let him keep his own counsel, for by -confessing, he makes you all partners in his crime, if you do not -punish him. Let it be between him and me, and let him take my life, if I -ever deserve again to lose it at his hands." - -"It may be possible," said the stranger; "that your master will accept -your repentance, the first fruits of which we all witness. Is there any -amongst us," said he, looking round, "who is so unforgiving, as to think -Colonel Hargrave wrong, should he give this poor man, an opportunity of -redeeming his moral character in the situation in which he has lost it. -I, for one, should it be necessary, would say that he was right." - -A murmur of approval ran round the group, though many, at the same time -doubted if they would be consulted on the subject. - -A light of renewed strength, and hope, shot over the bailiff's dejected -face; but when he tried to speak, the revulsion of feeling was too much -for him, and he burst into tears. - -"Take him home," said the stranger, and as several men hastened to -execute his order, he turned away, and walked slowly down the village. -As he did so, he was attracted by the observations of several women who -were standing talking together. - -"Poor young thing," said one; "so soon cut off. Well, the rich -oftentimes go before the poor. 'Tis a sad night, indeed," said another; -"I thought she would not bear it." - -This was said with that tone of real sympathy in illness or death, which -the poor feel so readily and sincerely. - -"What has happened?" he enquired, stopping and addressing the last -speaker. - -"Well may you ask," replied she; "for it is a sweet flower that has been -cut down to-night. I was just coming down from the Manor house, where I -went to see the children, and as I came back through the avenue, what -should I see, but a light in old Molly's cottage. Now I knew she had -been up at the Manor time enough for her fire to have gone out; and, -says I, to myself, I'll just step in and see--so, up to the house I -went, and what should I see sitting on the door steps, but an old man a -crying like any thing. 'What's the matter?' says I; he didn't look up, -but he said, sobbing like: - -"'It's all over.' - -"'What's over?' says I. - -"'She's gone to rest,' says he. - -"'Who d'ye mean?' says I. - -"'Miss Amy,' says he, and then--but, bless my heart!" - -The stranger had sprung from them, and hurried forwards. - -"I believe he's a spirit," said the terrified speaker. - -"Nau, Nau," said an old woman, "he's flesh and blood, for I touched -'en." - -They had not much time, however, for further remark, for they were -summoned by their husbands to leave gossipping, and come and assist them -in doing all they could towards their comfort. Already Mrs. Hawkins, -housekeeper at the manor, had been busy in allotting to them the rooms -over the stables, formerly occupied by the grooms and stable boys, and -which were still neat and clean, and well aired, in the constant -expectation of the Colonel's return, for the faithful servant was -resolved, that, whenever her freakish master appeared, he should find -her prepared for him. The accommodation thus afforded, was, however -small, compared to the number of families, and, after dividing the whole -of the servants' offices between them, she was obliged to quarter many -in the better parts of the house; she was, therefore, not a little -relieved, when she found that most of the farm houses in the -neighbourhood had followed the good example set them, and freely opened -their doors to the houseless. - -The stranger might shortly afterwards be seen coming from the lodge, and -hastening towards Mr. Ware, who was superintending the removal of Rogers -to the rectory, where he hoped that during the hours of returning -health, he might acquire an influence, which might turn his present -feelings to good account. - -"Sir," said he, as he joined him, "may I beg you to go to poor Miss -Lesly." - -"What has happened to her?" said Mr. Ware, anxiously. - -"The child is dead," replied the stranger. - -"Dead!" exclaimed Mr. Ware, in surprise, "I heard she was safe, poor -child. How I wish I had seen her." - -He did not speak again till they reached the lodge, and then leaving his -companion without, he entered the chamber of death. There lay his little -favorite on her couch, which had been arranged with studious care. By -her side knelt Mabel, her head buried in her hands, her hair loose and -disordered, and looking almost as lifeless as the child she mourned. - -Miss Ware was in the room, and hurried to meet her brother with an -affectionate kiss, for she had not seen him for some hours. - -"I am glad you are come, Edmund," said she, "for I can do nothing for -the poor girl--she will not even speak to me." - -"Do not even try to comfort her," said her brother, taking her hand, -kindly; "we who are grateful for each other's safety can well enter into -her feelings. Send away these good friends, and keep only one with you, -and then stay with her a little while; but do not rouse her yet--I will -come again and see her." - -His sister, always prompt in following his advice, choosing one steady -woman to be with her, dismissed the rest (who had crowded in with the -hope of being of service) with thanks for their attention. - -Mr. Ware then joined the stranger, and walked on towards the rectory; he -said:-- - -"I can do nothing for her yet--but my sister is with her. It is too soon -to offer comfort--for it seems like mockery in the first moments of -anguish. You seem to take an interest in our favorite." - -"It is impossible to be insensible to such heartrending scenes," he -returned, laconically, as if to check further remark. - -"We are much indebted, sir, for your exertions last night," said Mr. -Ware, at length. - -"Pray mention nothing of that," he said, evasively. - -"But how can I help it--is it in the nature of man to receive favors -with a thankless heart?" - -"It is." - -"Yes, but not, I trust, so soon after they have been conferred. I own -that benefits are often, much too often forgotten--but you wrong us, if -you believe we could so return a favor bestowed by a stranger. You shall -receive my thanks, at least; and do not think my simple-hearted friends -less accustomed to feel because they often express their feelings with -difficulty. No, let me assure you, that as long as the tale of this -night shall be told by the cottage hearth, so long will your name be -spoken of with praise." - -"Sir," he replied, "I have been soured by the world, or I should not -have expressed a doubt, which, believe me, I am very far from feeling. I -know, as you say, that my poor services will be handed down as part of -this night's sad tale; and of yourself, sir," he slightly raised his -hat, "I have seen enough to convince me, that you deserve my respect, -even had I not seen it reflected from those whose hearts are difficult -to win; and let me assure you, that I am more gratified than you would -easily believe, for the good opinion you so kindly express, though I -feel myself utterly unworthy of it. It were hard for me to doubt the -existence of gratitude, when the smallest benefits, and even the kindly -words of-- - - 'Auld lang syne' - -are treasured up in my mind. No; past benefits are like stars which we -leave behind in our onward path, but which may light it still. But," -added he, relaxing into his desponding tone, "how very few have we to -remember--how scantily are those kindnesses shewn which keep the heart -warm towards its fellow creatures." - -"Pardon me," replied Mr. Ware, "carry back your thoughts perhaps to a -mother's tender care, and her love which can find an excuse for every -fault--the more thoughtful pride of a father, and the thousand little -kindnesses and confidences by which sisters and brothers bind themselves -to each other by links which the world finds it difficult to break. - -"Remember our school days and school-fellows, friends at college, and -why not friends in after life. Oh, the heart must be bereaved indeed -that has nothing to excite its gratitude--and, excuse me, the heart is -kept warm towards the world more by its power of blessing others, than -of being blessed itself--and that is in the power of all, even if it be -but the gift of a kindly word and a sympathizing look. I am surprised -that one so skilled in giving assistance to others should speak as you -do; but it seems, if I may venture to say so, as if the world had dealt -hardly with you." - -"And you," said the stranger, "speak as one who has been so fortunate as -both to have given and received blessings." - -"You speak truly, at least so far, that I have been much blessed through -a life which I may call a long one--let me hope that you may be equally -so." - -"What I may be," he replied, moodily, "none can say--but what the past -has been, I know too well. Yet why I intrude my confidence upon you, I -can scarcely tell, except that your kindness encourages it. Yet, when I -am far from here, I shall remember your courtesy with pleasure, and -would plead that I may not be altogether forgotten." - -"You need not ask me that," said Mr. Ware; "but you are not going -to-day, and must come and dine with me." - -"I must deny myself that pleasure," he returned; "for I have sent my -horse to the little inn at Fowly, and ordered my dinner--and besides, -you will have another guest." - -"Then I must wish you good day for the present," said Mr. Ware, as they -parted, he to see after the comforts of the sick bailiff, while the -stranger crossed the fields to the Aston woods, and buried himself in -its wild paths for the rest of the day. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - Life is before ye--from the fated road - Ye cannot turn; then take ye up your load, - Not yours to tread, or leave the unknown way, - Ye must go o'er it, meet ye what ye may; - Gird up your souls within ye to the deed, - Angels and fellow spirits bid ye speed, - What tho' the brightness dim, the pleasure fade, - The glory wane--oh! not of these is made - The awful life that to your trust is given. - - F. BUTLER. - - -Towards evening Mr. Ware repaired to the lodge. When he entered the -small room he found his sister sitting near the window, while Mabel was -still upon her knees by the bed-side. - -"I cannot rouse her in the least," said Miss Ware, anxiously, as she met -his eye, "this is a wretched place for her to stay in, and it will only -do her harm." - -Mr. Ware approached her, and repeating her name gently, waited for an -answer, but receiving none, he laid his hand on her shoulder, and said, -with attempted firmness-- - -"My child, your mother asks for you." - -A heaving of the chest and a deep drawn sigh shewed that he was heard. - -"Shall she ask in vain," he continued, "will you refuse to go to her, -dear Mabel--will you not go and weep with her?" - -Mabel raised her head, but her first effort caused her eyes to fall upon -the bed, and she burst into a passionate flood of tears. - -The brother and sister, both deeply moved, looked at each other in -silence. - -Again Mabel raised her head, and seemingly relieved, stretched her hand -towards Mr. Ware, who took it, and kindly pressed it in both his own. - -"Bear with me a little while," she murmured, with quivering lips, "and I -will go with you--yes, I am ready now," she said, slowly rising, then -stopping to look round upon the desolate chamber, she exclaimed-- - -"But how can I leave her here?" - -"Leave her to my care," said Miss Ware, "and she shall be properly -removed to the Manor." - -Mabel seized her hand, but then, as if afraid of trusting herself, she -tore herself away, and hurried out. Once in the open air she accepted -Mr. Ware's proffered arm, and allowed him to guide her where he pleased. -She neither spoke nor looked around her, nor did he seek to excite her -to any further effort, he was contented in the idea that he was taking -her where she would not long remain inert; so he only drew the cloak, he -had thrown round her, closer over her head, to shield her from the cold -air, and led her quietly to the Manor. - -It no longer wore the air of solemn silence, which was its wont; the -sound of many confused voices woke the echoes in the court-yard, and -men and women lounged freely about the usually strictly kept premises. - -The hall door was opened as they approached, by Mrs. Hawkins, who had -seen them from one of the windows--the good woman looked considerably -hurried from superintending the different parts of the well-filled -mansion, and in doing her utmost to preserve the carpets, hangings, and -statues from the touch of the children, and the over curious. - -Mabel paused as she entered the hall, and looked anxiously round her. -This was the only show part of the house, but it amply repaid the visit -of the stranger. Around the walls statues of great beauty and immense -value were placed in niches--above was a gallery in which paintings of -the choicest kind were arranged with much taste. This reached by two -marble staircases at each end. The hall was of the height of the house -itself, and was thoroughly lighted by windows, and a sky light, so that -the pictures were seen to the greatest advantage. Beneath it opened on -passages leading to different sitting-rooms, while the picture-gallery -above led to the bedrooms. All these being fitted up in a style which -included every luxury which the most lavish wealth could purchase, yet -so completely in keeping that the whole appeared a thoroughly -comfortable English home, after all. - -For a few moments Mabel remained looking round her in bewildered -silence. Mr. Ware watched her attentively, but her open countenance did -not, as usual, tell him the train of thought which oppressed her. He -took her hand, saying kindly-- - -"Mrs. Hawkins is waiting to take you to your mother." - -"I am ready," said Mabel, drawing a long breath, as she turned and -followed her to the room which had been given to Mrs. Lesly, and where -already every comfort, which the good housekeeper could devise, -surrounded her. - -Satisfied now that the mother and daughter were together, Mr. Ware left -the mansion with many sad reflections. - -The next day was Sunday, and strangely came that time of rest after the -two last days of confusion and terror. The morning was cold, clear, and -frosty, and as glad a sun as ever cheers a wintry landscape, shone down -upon the smouldering ruins of the village. As the time for morning -service approached, a merry peal from the bells of the village church -welcomed sunshine to the earth, and peace and safety to the hearts of -men. - -As Mr. Ware slowly ascended the steep path leading to the church, he was -followed by many groups of old and young, who, at his bidding, hastened -to testify their thankfulness for the sparing of their lives. One young -life had alone been cut down, and none passed Mrs. Lesly's cottage, -without thinking sadly of Amy. When the whole of the little congregation -had assembled, crowding the church, for all were there, the stranger -entered with a sad and serious countenance. Avoiding the seat belonging -to the Manor, which the clerk readily opened for him, he entered the -next pew, and kneeling gently, seemed anxious to avoid the many eyes -which were turned admiringly upon him, who, for their sakes, had braved -every danger with reckless confidence. The sermon was rendered -impressive by its touching simplicity, and found an echo in every heart -subdued by the late calamity. None listened more attentively than did -their stranger benefactor; and when the service was concluded, he seemed -still impressed with what he had heard, as, avoiding all companionship -he walked again to the woods, which, by their peculiar beauty, always -attracted the attention of the tourist. But when the bell again called -to service, he returned, and entered the church, late, as before; -possibly to avoid the many groups which had been loitering round it; -and, when they again left the church, he lingered till he could join Mr. -Ware in the porch, walking quietly out with him through his private -gate; thus, avoiding those who were anxious to offer him their thanks. - -"You understand, sir," he said, "how to touch the feelings." - -"It is of little consequence, I fear, to excite the feelings," replied -Mr. Ware; "for so many are contented to go no further." - -"I believe you; yet our feelings are often the gateways to our reason." - -"Yes, indeed; and therefore the power of appealing to them is not to be -slighted. I was myself deeply impressed, to-day, when I saw the many -anxious faces looking up to me as I spoke. Oh, I do believe this might -be the beginning of better things in my parish, if--." - -"If what," enquired the stranger; "are you, too, going to throw all the -blame on the poor landlord." - -"Willingly, most willingly would I throw not the blame, but all the -praise of their well-being upon him, if he would but return and give us -the blessing of feeling him to be amongst us." - -"Yet you cannot help being angry with him." - -"Perhaps not, but mine is more the pettishness of jealous affection, and -I cannot bear to see him keeping away from those whose hearts he might -make all his own--and wasting health, and time, and happiness, in the -wayward course he has chosen. - -"But, sir," added Mr. Ware, checking himself. "You will come to my -house, to-day." - -"I thank you, time presses with me; and here you see my horse is -waiting. A fine fellow, is he not; how gallantly he bore that long ride -the other night, and he looks none the worse for it now. Here, my good -fellow," he said, dismissing the man who led him, and taking the rein -upon his arm. "Will you not walk a little further with me," he continued -to Mr. Ware. - -"Certainly, though I confess myself thoroughly disappointed that you -will not stay with me." - -"Another time, dear sir, I will not fail to avail myself of the pleasure -of your acquaintance; but I really have engagements I do not like to -break. Do you think there is any hope of the poor bailiff?" - -"I trust so." - -"I know you will do every thing you can for him, mentally and bodily. If -he would become a changed man, the comfort of your people might be -better secured, than by the appointment of a fresh bailiff." - -"Very possibly," replied Mr. Ware. - -The deep shadows of the winter's evening were now rapidly closing round -them, and the light streaks on the horizon growing fainter and -fainter--yet, still they lingered as if their short acquaintance -rendered them reluctant to part so soon. - -"The night warns me that I must go," said the stranger, at length, as he -mounted his horse, casting as he did so, a glance at the surrounding -country; "though I would willingly stay--but the shadows always come -between me and happiness." - -"Not so," said Mr. Ware, earnestly. - -"Is it not so," said the stranger, slightly bending towards him, and as -he did so, raising his hat, together with the mass of red hair which -disguised his countenance, now beaming upon him in its characteristic -and noble beauty--to which the deep black of his hair added all that was -wanting. Before, however, Mr. Ware had time to utter a word, a light -stroke of the whip sent the horse forward, and as he dashed onwards, he -cried; "Say nothing till we meet again." In a few seconds he had turned -the corner, and as Mr. Ware stood entirely bewildered with the -revelation which had burst so suddenly upon him--he heard nothing but -the echo of his horse's hoofs--as its utmost speed carried him further -away--till the last sound died upon the night air. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - Oh, there are griefs for nature too intense, - Whose first rude shock but stupifies the soul; - Nor hath the fragile, and o'er labour'd sense, - Strength e'en to _feel_ at once their dread controul. - - But when 'tis past, that still and speechless hour - Of the sealed bosom, and the tearless eye, - Then the roused mind awakes with tenfold power, - To grasp the feelings of its agony. - - HEMANS. - - -The heavy sound of the funeral bell may, in crowded cities, lose half -its influence by falling upon ears which use has attuned to its sound; -but in a small and remote village death comes at long intervals, and -reads a more solemn lesson, lest he may be altogether forgotten. How -strange and oppressive is the sound of the minute bell--the pause--the -silence--and then the low booming sound which strikes to the heart of -the most careless, as if it would urge us while the king of terrors is -before us, and weighing oppressively on our hearts--to wake from the -lethargy of sin, and the fascinating dreams of worldly pleasure and -ambition. The air feels heavy, though on the brightest summer day, and, -though we may not waken to the things which death calls to our -remembrance, we cannot sleep as firmly as before. - -Such, perhaps, might have been the thoughts of the worthy Rector, as he -remembered many unruly members of his church, and wished that the awful -sound might waken them, to look with him beyond the dark tomb and -funeral pall, when that solemn tolling spoke to them of the fair young -child, who had departed from amongst them. As the simple procession -neared the church, those employed in clearing away the ruins, leant upon -their spades, and for awhile forgot their labour. Amy had been Mabel's -favorite messenger of mercy to the sick and afflicted, and every little -gift had come with more grace from the hands of the beautiful child; to -many a fevered couch had she carried the ripe fruit, which she had -begged from the old gardener; and many watched now with tearful eye as -she passed to her long home. Mabel followed her with feelings of -anguish, she in vain endeavoured to tranquillize, for her natural -passions were as strong as the controul she so steadily placed over -them. Captain Clair had obtained permission to attend, and those who did -not fully understand the poor child's history wondered at the emotion he -betrayed. It was a cheerless, dark day, when they laid her to rest in -her narrow bed, amongst the graves, where, led by a gentle sister's -hand, she had from infancy learned to think of - - "A heaven of joy and love," - -and to know - - "That holy children when they die, - Go to that land above." - -The remembrance of those by-gone scenes--of the sunny days of Amy's -childhood, and the earnest face with which she would listen when she -talked, came fresh to Mabel's mind; but, when she remembered that they -had not been passed so thoughtlessly as they might have been, she tried -to chase away selfish thoughts, and to turn with calm submission from -the past, which she had loved so well--to a hard and relentless future. -Yet, when the last rites had been performed, when she had gone from the -grave and again entered Aston Manor, a loneliness fell upon her heart -with cold oppressiveness. It was, perhaps, some relief to her that she -was surrounded by no familiar objects which could have recalled memory -after memory of past days. The marble staircase, and the beautiful -pictures which hung round the gallery, could form no memorial of their -neat but old-fashioned cottage, where her father's retirement, and Amy's -whole life, had been spent. The soft carpets and silk hangings could -only recall, by contrast, those which neatness and economy alone had -rendered respectable. With one glance at her black dress, which her -mother was to see for the first time, she opened the door of the room -which Mrs. Hawkins had chosen for them, and stole noiselessly in Mrs. -Lesly slept, and her faithful maid sat by her, weeping silently. It was -a relief to poor Mabel not to be obliged to speak, and she withdrew to a -window-seat, where she might think without interruption. Her mother -slept in a bed of crimson silk, which fell in graceful folds to the -ground. The whole furniture of the room was costly; pictures, of sacred -subjects, by the first masters, hung round the walls, and every comfort -which luxury could suggest, or wealth purchase, betokened the riches and -taste of the possessor of the mansion. She turned her eyes to the -window, where a view presented itself fully in keeping with the interior -of the building. The wide spreading oaks had been so arranged as to open -on a vista, which admitted the copse covered hills, beyond; while, -immediately below the windows, lay the gardens, which, like the house, -gained what they lost in size, in rich and careful cultivation, and -where now, evergreens, of all varieties, from all countries, gave a -still life to the scene. The wind had again risen, and dark clouds -chased each other over the lowering sky, such, as in our melancholy or -fanciful moods, seem the hieroglyphics by which we may read our destiny. -By how many fanciful links are we united to the invisible world. But it -was beyond the cloudy screen, that hung so darkly over the earth, that -Mabel's clear eye endeavoured to penetrate. With her hands clasped -before her, she remained gazing upon the pure sky, which at intervals -might be discovered as one cloud rolled by, though immediately followed -by another, as if the image it brought to her mind cheered and upheld -her. With childlike trust, she endeavoured to resign that which had -endeared a life, which one sorrow had done much to darken; but the duty -was a hard one. It was not easy to lose the occupation, the thought of -the present, and the preparations and visions of the future; at once, to -be forced, in stillness to think, when, before, active exertion had -found an object, and every motive an end. - -But, as she still gazed upon the scene around her, a cloud stole over -her brow, and she looked uneasily at the dark woods, which skirted the -landscape. She took a long review of the past, which, as it were, forced -itself, in this terrible hour, upon her mind; the struggle which she -recalled, had nearly cost her her life, and would have rendered life -valueless, had it not been for the victory of principle over wayward and -exorbitant passion, which, turning her thoughts inward, upon a sinful -heart, and forward, to a future, still richly blessed, taught her that, -even deprived of the blessing she had so fondly prized, she had yet -sufficient to call forth her warmest gratitude. When first she had -brought herself unflinchingly to sacrifice her love to her religion, she -might have deemed that sacrifice of her heart's best affections one -which might atone for much evil, and that, the victim of a broken heart, -she would find a martyr's grave. But there was within her a better -though a humbler seed--the germ of a higher and holier principle. It had -slept in prosperity, and the bitter tears of sorrow were needed to call -it into life. Under its influence, she learnt a truer idea of herself, -and her own duties. She found that life, though spent in weariness and -pain, is a boon of boundless blessing, since it is a working day, on -whose wages our whole happiness depends. Six years had passed since -Mabel and her lover had parted. She seemed, indeed, to those around her -to be the same being--but in herself how changed in those few years. All -that before was impulse or wayward goodness, now rose from the one pure -motive--the hope of blessing instead of being blessed. She had, -therefore, learnt to govern her temper--to give up her own selfish -inclinations--and to counteract any morbid remembrance of the past. The -habit of self control, thus earnestly acquired, she now found of avail -in the hour of need, in a way scarcely to be comprehended by the -habitual victims of weakness, or the slaves of the feelings of the hour. -She rose and left the window, and taking a seat by her mother's side, -partially screened herself from her notice, lest the first sight of her -mourning dress might too evidently recall the day's sad duties. Yet she -could not refrain from watching her as she slept, with that anxious -solicitude which Mr. Ware had foreseen would not long be absent from her -mind; for how soon she too would be removed, he feared to think. But to -Mabel's ever hopeful mind had come a doubt of her danger, which gave a -zeal to every effort to forward her recovery. Mrs. Lesly's removal to -Aston Manor--the seat of her husband's near kinsman--served to soothe -one of the few selfish feelings she possessed. There was something -peculiarly agreeable to a proud and refined mind like her own, in the -luxury with which she was surrounded, and, though she might have had -some reluctance in taking advantage of it, could her health have allowed -her removal, she quickly gave up the point, with her constitutional -indolence, and readily acquiesced in an arrangement, which, in its -general effect, soothed and gratified her. The poor and neglected widow -would spend her last days in the mansion, where she felt honor to be her -due, though she could scarcely tell why. Yet she might be forgiven the -few failings to which she was subject, and which always did more injury -to herself than others, to whom her kindness was ever most lavish. Since -her confidence with Mabel, as to the lost papers, her mind had seemed at -ease, and her daughter had skilfully prevented her recurring to the -subject, or again suffering that uneasiness which had preyed so -seriously on her mind before. Perhaps, with the vague remembrance that -Mabel had suggested something, though in reality but the quick prompting -of an affectionate heart, she had flattered herself that all was -well--and Mabel rejoiced that it was so. To say that the latter was -indifferent when she allowed herself to think, would have been untrue; -but now, with Amy, had gone, all restless doubts of the future. A steady -mind, a firm and trusting heart, and an humble, but courageous, -self-reliance, were sufficient, she felt, for her own provision, though -she would have trembled to have entrusted one so dear, and so helpless, -to such support as the brave man, sometimes, when called on, to protect -those he loves, has been seen to lose nerve through dangers which, had -he met them alone, would scarcely have excited a thought of fear. - -At length, Mrs. Lesly slowly opened her eyes, and gazed round her for a -few moments, as if to bring back the reality, and to separate it from -her dreaming fancy. Mabel shrunk slightly back; but her mother, as if -divining her motive, herself drew aside the curtain, and taking her -hand, said, gently-- - -"My sweet child, why should I fear to look upon these sad signs of your -grief? I have little cause to regret that she has gone a few days -before me. No, dear, I, who have seen so much of this cold world, could -scarcely wish to leave my darling to its stinted kindness--so young--so -helpless--and so unfriended." - -"Ah," thought Mabel, as tears rushed to her eyes, "to have begged for -her her daily bread, would have been joy to losing her." - -"I see," continued Mrs. Lesly, "that you can, with difficulty, perceive -why I speak so now; but, my Mabel, will remember, with gratitude, should -she ever suffer the unkindness of the world, that her sister shares it -not, and her noble heart will rejoice that she alone will have to bear -the trials, from which a dying mother cannot protect her." - -"Ah, Mamma, that word alone is dreadful; you must not--cannot leave me." - -"My child knows that there is a _must_, which cannot be resisted--and I -have mistaken my Mabel if she does not bow before this, with as much -courage and submission, as before every other trial. Remember your dear -father's words in his last illness--'Mabel, life is but a short campaign -after all, and you must fight to the end; who would be so cowardly as to -lay down his sword for a wound'?" - -"I will remember, dearest mamma," said Mabel, more firmly, for the words -of her father always had influence with her; "and, oh, forgive my -selfishness." - -Tears were in her mother's eyes, though her voice had been firm; and -Mabel, fearing to continue the conversation, returned to the window, and -looked out again upon the night, which was fast closing around; but -scarcely did she now heed the flitting clouds, and the coming darkness, -or the wind as it rocked the old trees, or their branches, which, by -their fantastic motion, appeared beckoning her attention; they seemed, -an hour ago, to echo back the light laugh, whose gay music she would -hear no more; but now the hour of fancy was over, and oppressed by the -real presence of grief, she bowed her head, and chastened her heart to -silence. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - There is one - Must be mine inmate, for I may not choose, - But love him. - - SOUTHEY. - - -On the Saturday evening of the week which had been so eventful at Aston, -the Villars family were assembled in their showily furnished -drawing-room, in Sydney Place, Bath, each engaged in different -occupations; but all eagerly expecting the promised arrival of their -rich cousin, Colonel Hargrave. The drawing-room had been studiously -arranged, and had not failed to become what it was intended to -be--tempting morning and evening lounge, where every single, and -eligible man, obtained an easy chair, an amusing chat, and a welcome, -which flattered his vanity. - -On the present occasion, the ladies of the family were all as finely and -as tastefully dressed in the newest mode, as an evening at home could -allow--and certainly, taken together, they might have been regarded as a -singularly fine family. - -Mrs. Villars we have already had occasion to describe; yet, _en -passant_, it is necessary to say that herself at Aston, (swayed by the -conflicting feelings of conscience, and her sister's straightforward -reasoning, exercised with a candour, known to their girlhood before -either had chalked out her path in life,) was a very different -personage, indeed, to Mrs. Villars in Bath. The stately importance, or -smiling dignity, with which she received her levy of morning callers, or -evening guests, showed no wavering conscience, or doubtful heart. A -certain degree of intrigue many might have detected; but in the mother -of so large and fair a family that was easily forgiven; and, while the -gaiety of her conversation rendered her ever a welcome and popular -guest, the size of her rooms, and brilliancy of her parties rendered her -a valuable hostess. She was now moving about the room to adjust -something or other, or taking a peep at the dining-table, to secure -herself against anything which might give a bad impression to the -expected guest. - -Next, if not first, in dignity, stood her daughter Caroline. She was -certainly beautiful, though rather fine than engaging, and her -expression was haughty and severe--yet beautiful she certainly was, if -the most perfect outline of feature is beauty. In figure she was above -the middle height; but this was modified by a well rounded person, and a -certain academical grace of movement. Her person did not belie her -character; she did not rate herself below her real value, and might, -indeed, often have erred on the wrong side. In her manners, she was -overbearing, but seldom unlady-like. She was talented, yet wanted -solidity--haughty and ill-tempered, yet seldom mean, unless greatly -tempted. In her own family she rivalled her mother's influence--being a -sort of person over whom it was very difficult to have authority. Her -age was something beyond thirty, and the remembrance that, with all her -beauty, she was still unmarried, gave her mind a sourness which greatly -embittered the comfort of the circle of which she formed so prominent a -part. On the present occasion, however, she was in one of her best -moods, for, slow to take warning from the past, she looked on future -conquest as certain. The expected arrival of Colonel Hargrave, about -whom, for the last few months, she had been incessantly rallied by her -mother and sisters, gave a brilliancy to her color, and a radiancy to -her large black eyes--and as she leant over her harp, rambling over a -few airs, which might form a romantic greeting to him, Mrs. Villars -looked upon her with satisfied triumph. To tell the truth, she was very -much afraid of her on account of the haughty and imperious temper, -which, in childhood, she had forgotten to guide, and looked upon no -scheme for the benefit of her family, with more interest than on the one -which might secure Caroline a settlement, which would satisfy her -temper, bring honor on herself, and, not least, remove her from all -rivalry with her younger sisters. She had, therefore, on the present -occasion, been spared nothing which could coax her wayward humour into -rendering itself as fascinating as possible--for well did Mrs. Villars -know that by a little ill-timed opposition, her anger might be roused, -and thus all hopes of her settling be lost. Her expensive taste had, -therefore, been for the last few weeks fully gratified, though Mrs. -Villars trembled at every request which she feared to refuse. Selina, -her second sister, was lounging about the room, sometimes taking up an -old album, or a piece of knitting, and wondering where the Colonel could -be. She was a very fair-skinned, fair-haired girl, with very light blue -eyes--bearing an expression of indolent, good nature. Her prevailing -taste was dancing, of which she was _passionately fond_. Less talented -than her elder sister, she yet understood better how to render herself -acceptable in society. The pretty lisp with which she often declined -attempting a difficult song, was by many deemed more pleasing than her -sister's perfect execution of it; and the many pretty nothings about -nothing, with which she entertained her partner in the dance, or the -smile which meant anything he liked to interpret from it, was often -preferred to Caroline's more sensible conversation. She was not, -however, so silly as she sometimes chose to appear; a quiet sense of -self-preservation usually befriended her, and rendered her sufficiently -alive to her own interest. But though very generally liked, she was not -often seriously admired. - -Our friend Lucy was seated on a stool near the fire, seemingly anxious -to catch the fitful light as it fell upon a picture of Finella, (her -intended character for the fancy ball,) which she held in her hand. It -might have been that she remembered something of the time when Captain -Clair had so earnestly dissuaded her from going to that very ball, for -the color came and went upon her cheeks as if her thoughts were far from -the present scene, and as if they so much occupied her as to prevent her -feeling the tedium of expectation. - -Maria, the youngest of the sisters, was standing by her, trying, at -times, to rally her by remarks which dyed her cheek still deeper, though -she remained determinately inattentive to them. - -Over Maria her mother had spent many a desponding hour; to her, beauty -was everything, and the beauty so lavishly given to her other daughters, -was in Maria singularly wanting. Maria, however, possessed more energy -than the others, and was not disposed to weep over a deficiency, which -she very justly considered to be no fault of hers. Her mouth indeed was -very misshapen, and her nose anything but Grecian--but the irregularity -of these features was very much redeemed by a pair of handsome eyes, -which, though they sometimes sparkled with satire, as often sparkled -with fun, in which she peculiarly delighted, though, unfortunately, it -occasionally degenerated into vulgarity. She had sufficient common sense -to know that if she remained inactive, comparisons, which in most cases -are odious, would be doubly so between herself and her sisters, and she -seldom allowed her tongue to be sufficiently silent to lead any one to -take the trouble to scan her countenance; and, perhaps, the knowledge of -her own deficiency did much to compensate for its existence. - -One of the first exclamations a stranger would feel inclined to make, on -an introduction to this family circle, would be--Why are all these girls -unmarried? but no satisfactory answer could be given. Maria suggested, -when the subject was discussed in private, that luck was against them. -They were sought for, invited out, admired, flirted with by a host of -young men, who professed they would have died to serve them, but somehow -forgot to make those bona fide proposals, which would probably have been -of more service to them than their deaths. - -In leaving the description of Mr. Villars to the last, we are only -following a fashion which was too prevalent in his household. There was -little that was striking in his first appearance; he was only very -thoughtful, very gentle, and very gentlemanly. He was the younger son of -a wealthy merchant, and had been placed, much against his inclinations, -in a firm of some consequence in London. His natural tastes led him to -prefer rather classical studies, than the active part in the world of -business for which his father designed him. Respect for parental -authority, however, prevented his choosing his own profession, in -opposition to it; and, being a man of high principle, he resolved that -the dislike he entertained for his employment, should not prevent his -vigorously exerting himself in the state of life in which he found -himself. His prudence was rewarded, and during the thirty years which he -had unrepiningly given to his business, he was fortunate enough to -realize a fortune which enabled him to retire from it, and having amply -provided for his family, by insurances effected on his own life, he was -enabled, during his lifetime, to gratify both himself and them in every -reasonable way. Having ceased to take any active share in the business, -he removed to Bath, where he hoped to find gaiety sufficient to satisfy -their wishes, while he indulged his dearly prized leisure in literary -pursuits. This plan, however, failed to answer his expectations; his -former occupations had given him little time to inspect personally the -rising characters of his children, who had been left entirely to their -mother's guidance, and he now found, when too late, that they were -little calculated to form that domestic circle towards which, through -so many long years, he had looked, as the haven of his rest. His tastes -were not theirs, and the self denying love which can atone for such -deficiencies, had, in their education, been forgotten. They were fond of -him in their own way, but this did not prevent their finding the time -spent in his study, in hunting for a lost passage, in a favorite author, -or listening to some of his own elegant compositions, very dull -indeed--though many efforts did he make to overcome this difficulty, and -to find one, at least, amongst his four daughters, who might make a -pleasant companion; but he had not the heart to command the attentions -which he well knew love alone could supply, and with a sigh, he retired, -not only companionless, but with a lower idea of his own merits than -they deserved. The greater part of his time was now spent alone, in a -way which little suited his gentle and domestic disposition; and, -contented with holding the reins of domestic government, in serious -matters, he let smaller arrangements take their course, without -troubling or interesting himself in them. Such was the family group -assembled to welcome Colonel Hargrave. The hour appointed, had, however, -long passed; Mr. Villars had taken out his watch for the twentieth time, -and now stood with it in his hand. Mrs. Villars wearied of her repeated -messages to the kitchen to put off the dinner, and Caroline looked -lowering for a storm. But nothing availed; quarter followed quarter, -counted by impatient minutes. Yet, still, Mrs. Villars referred to the -Colonel's note, which she carefully carried in her bag, and again and -again read his promise to be with them at the time mentioned, in order -that he might accompany them to the ball on the Monday. She had boasted -of this, in no unsparing language, and, should he fail her now, her -mortification would be complete. Still, concealing her own fears, she -glanced, every now and then, entreatingly, at her daughter. - -At length, Mr. Villars declared he would wait no longer. This resolution -being at length carried, they adjourned, in no very agreeable mood, to -the dining-room, to partake of a fine dinner, completely spoilt. Mr. -Villars, feeling annoyed at the disrespect which a neglected appointment -often implies, was not in the best possible humour, and his wife, eager -to support the popularity of her unknown favorite, was obliged to -exercise no small rhetoric to make all smooth. But when she looked at -Caroline, and saw the cloud of ill-humour gathering fast, and, as -quickly shading her beauty, she as fervently wished he would stay away -for that night, at least, as she had before been eager for his arrival. -This last wish was fully gratified, for the evening wore away, and yet -no Hargrave made his appearance. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - At me you smiled, but unbeguiled, - I saw the snare and I retired. - - TENNYSON. - - -The Monday appointed for the fancy ball arrived, and still nothing had -been heard of Hargrave. Mrs. Villars fretted, and Caroline assumed a -haughty and sulky indifference. During the day, every knock and ring -brought disappointment, till the lateness of the hour warned them to -prepare for the ball. It was then that Caroline, for the first time, -announced her intention of remaining at home. In vain did Mrs. Villars -remonstrate that her fancy Sultana's dress had cost more than twice as -much as her sisters', and it was of as little use to flatter her vanity -by representing that she would be the most elegantly dressed in the -whole ball-room; Caroline's temper was not to be conquered in a single -night. Tired of persuasion, her mother stormed, and changing entreaties -for threats, commanded her to go; but Caroline was obstinate, and -nothing but bodily force could have moved her from the arm-chair, in -which she had settled herself for the evening, with a candle close to -her elbow, and a new novel in her lap. She would not go, she declared, -with a haughtiness which would have suited a more unworthy proposal. Nor -would she move from her chair, even to give the assistance of her advice -at her sisters' toilet, or, in any other way betray the slightest -interest in an amusement for which they had all been so long and so -busily preparing. - -Extremely chagrined, Mrs. Villars was compelled to submit, and, as she -gave a last glance at the beautiful velvet dress which taste and money -had alike been expended to prepare, the bitterness of her disappointment -was not a little increased by remembering that this fruitless purchase -had been made with part of the loan so hardly wrung from her sister; and -it was with an uneasy sensation of annoyance, that she led her fair -daughters that night into the crowded ball-room. - -Lucy, with a heart upon the rebound, and flushed with the determination -of piquing Clair, if possible, had never looked more lovely than she did -that night. A white dress of the greatest simplicity distinguished her -character, as Finella, while her long light curls fell in careless -tresses over her neck and shoulders, forming a veil, which enhanced the -beauty they seemed bent upon concealing. How wildly beat the heart in -that illregulated bosom? Her simply going to the ball would, she -imagined, shew herself free from any deference to Arthur Clair's -opinion, and if any thoughts of Amy Lesly came unbidden amongst the -revelry, she banished the remembrance by a lighter laugh or a bolder -sally. She could not fail to attract attention, and many strangers were -anxious to be introduced to the fairy Villars, as she was that night -called; but one only attracted, and soon absorbed her attention, he was -a young man of a prepossessing appearance, with large melting eyes and a -low persuasive voice. Evidently attracted by her appearance, he had -obtained an introduction, under the name of Beauclerc. He waltzed to -perfection, and the implied compliments he every now and then offered, -in a tone and voice of great sweetness, Lucy took for deeper homage than -he perhaps intended, and the ready blush deepened on her cheek, and her -eye sparkled when she suffered herself to be led to a seat apart from -the dancers, where his witty remarks afforded her ample amusement. So -readily, indeed, flowed his language, that the absent Clair sunk into -nothing, a mere every-day flirt, compared with this fascinating new -acquaintance. Besides, he possessed the power of drawing her out, and -made her feel quite clever, by leading her to display herself in a new -light. He listened to her remarks with the most flattering attention, -and resigned her to the gentleman who next claimed her hand for the -dance, with apparent reluctance. She was then surprised to find that she -had as little to say as formerly, and that her new partner's -observations on the fashionable news of the day had become quite -uninteresting. She was not, therefore, sorry to find Mr. Beauclerc again -by her side, when the dance was over, and she had taken a seat by her -mamma. - -"Can you tell me?" she said, turning to him, with a smile, "why, just -now, I had plenty to say, but immediately I began to dance with that -gentleman, I felt so dull I could not say any thing at all. I have been -labouring at conversation, I assure you, with as much industry and -dulness as the noted donkey at Carrisbrooke Castle employs in his task, -but with far less success, for he succeeds in fetching up some water--I -am afraid I cannot say the same, of a single idea. Would you believe -that I twice observed on the band, once on the room, and three times on -the lights. Can you tell me why, since you seem to have the genius of -explaining every thing?" - -A well pleased smile passed over his lips as he replied, only, by taking -out a small hunting watch which he quietly opened, and then handing it -to her, he presented her at the same time with the key of his -_escritoir_. - -"Will you," said he "oblige me by winding this watch." - -"Oblige you," replied Lucy, laughing, "by breaking the spring, I -suppose--that key belongs to your desk." - -"You give me the very answer I desired. You cannot wind my watch, -because I have not given you the right key. This illustrates what I am -going to say. - -"There are some minds suited to other minds, as this watch is to its -key. This beautiful piece of mechanism," said he, playing with the -watch in his hand, "would be to me, or to any one else, perfectly -useless without the key, which, however simple in its construction, is -yet so necessary to the watch, that it alone can render it of any -service. It is so with the human mind, we may live for years without -being fortunate enough to meet with one answering mind which can unlock -the treasures of our heart, and the secret springs of feeling, and of -thought, and bring them into exercise. It is the sympathy of those -around us which we need, the power which others possess of understanding -us; to place ourselves in a true light--do you understand me?" - -"Partly," replied Lucy, hesitating, and looking down. - -"Partly, but not entirely," returned Mr. Beauclerc, repeating her words, -with an emphasis, which argued a slight degree of superiority, to which -Lucy readily bowed. "Yet I would say you were made to enjoy these -things as well as understand them. Nay, you must not think me rude if I -say I read as much when first introduced to you; and that I felt I -should be understood if I ventured to speak in a way which the world too -often ridicules, because it does not comprehend it. It is only the -simple language of truth; yet, because it is not exactly the same as the -hacknied language of the world, it is regarded as nonsense." - -Lucy did not quite understand all he said, but she felt that she was -receiving an admiration more flattering, because paid to her -understanding; and she only broke up the conversation after repeated -invitations to the dance, and her pulse fluttered quickly as she heard, -or fancied she heard, a sigh from the accomplished Beauclerc, as she -gracefully resigned herself to a young officer, upon whose arm she was -soon whirled past him in the giddy round. - -Mrs. Villars smiled with secret pride, when some of her friends rallied -her on her daughter's conquest, and she took an early opportunity of -asking a friend who he might be. - -"Have you not heard?" was the reply, "that he has brought his own -carriage, and two hunters, to the Castle, and Ball--and, besides, his -person speaks for itself, it is so _distingué_." - -Mrs. Villars sought for Lucy, to impart these particulars, but was not -sorry to find her waltzing with Mr. Beauclerc. - -"What a handsome couple they would make," thought she; "and, oh, if -Caroline and Hargrave were but here, I should be quite happy." But she -little dreamt of the pleasure yet in store for that evening. - -Mr. Villars soon beginning to feel impatient, she was compelled to draw -her party together. Beauclerc accompanied them to the door; and as he -handed Lucy into the carriage, she fancied his hand trembled. With this -pleasing impression, she leant back in the fly which conveyed them home, -and gave herself up to pleasant reverie, and castle building. She ran -over every word which had passed in their long conversations, and -thought they were an easy beginning to a more pleasing acquaintance -than they often met with--she began then to feel quite surprised that -she ever had given a tear to Captain Clair. - -"Willingly," she said to herself; "will I resign him to Mabel, if she -will have him; yet there was something in him I liked, though I cannot -well remember what it was now. Why, he never talked in six weeks, half -the sense which Mr. Beauclerc has thrown into one conversation. I feel -quite grateful to him for deserting me, since, otherwise, I never should -have met this very superior man, who, as he himself observed, though not -in plain words exactly, possesses the key to my mind--and does not that -seem like affection?" - -These pleasing considerations were interrupted by their stopping at -their own door, paying the driver, and running gaily up stairs. - -"Hark," said Mrs. Villars, "there are voices in the drawing-room, I am -certain. There are, I do believe." - -"Why mamma," said Maria, who, with more courage, had applied her eye to -the key-hole; it is only Caroline talking to somebody. When, upon this -information, they opened the door, Caroline was discovered -_tête-à-tête_, with a strange gentleman, with as much ease and -nonchalance as if at the regular calling hour. - -There was a slight tone of triumph in her voice as she said:-- - -"Colonel Hargrave, papa?" - -"Oh, Colonel," said Mrs. Villars, taking the words out of her husband's -mouth; "I can scarcely forgive you for obliging us to go to the ball -without you." - -"He has excused himself most ably," said Caroline; "the death of a -friend detained him." - -"I assure you," said he, with the greatest courtesy, "that nothing but -so serious a reason would have prevented my keeping my appointment; and -I trust, my dear sir, that you will excuse my keeping your dinner -waiting on Saturday; but, as I said, just now, some very sad -circumstances detained me on my road." - -"Pray, say not another word," said Mrs. Villars; "we are very sorry for -you, I am sure." - -"I suppose," said Maria, "you did not arrive in time to join us?" - -"Do you think," said Caroline, "that he could go to a fancy ball after -attending the death-bed of a friend?" - -"No, truly," said he, "I was in no humor for such gaiety, and was more -pleased by the quiet welcome I have already received." - -"Caroline has only expressed the feelings we should all entertain," said -Mrs. Villars, smiling benignly, "and, indeed, I am most happy to see my -truant nephew, at last." - -Hargrave slightly started at the word nephew, not being able to divine -how his distant connection with the family could be twisted into so -close a relationship. - -"I trust," continued Mrs. Villars, "that Caroline has taken every care -of you, and that you have had some refreshment." - -"Indeed she has been most kind," replied he politely. "She would not -allow me to persuade her to retire to rest, when I had once announced my -intention of remaining up to introduce myself. I will, however, no -longer tax your patience; but will go to my own room, if you will allow -me." - -They accordingly separated, the Colonel lingering to say a few words to -his host, and the ladies retiring to a kind of mutual dressing-room. - -"Well, my love," said Mrs. Villars to her eldest daughter, "I will never -blame you again, for I see you know how to manage without my -interference. Nothing could have turned out better." - -She felt, indeed, half inclined to idolise her, for the very ill-temper, -which, in the early part of the evening, she had more justly blamed. -Caroline, in her turn, looked upon them all with an air of superiority, -as if the accident had been the result of her prudence. - -"Indeed," she said, "he is a most sensible and entertaining man, and, I -dare say, if the truth were known, my evening was the most pleasant -after all." - -"Not quite," replied Lucy, "for I also met with a most sensible and -entertaining man." - -"Yes," echoed Maria, "such a handsome man too--Hargrave is nothing to -him. Every one was wondering who he was, and remarking on his attentions -to Lucy." - -"What, is Lucy taken in again?" said Caroline, with jealous bitterness. -"I thought once in a season was sufficient." - -Lucy coloured deeply and angrily, for it was not the first wound she had -received. - -"Well," said she to herself, "I will be closer this time--I will have no -one to abuse my confidence by taunting speeches." - -"Come, come," interposed Mrs. Villars, "do not let us quarrel with -fortune; for my part, I feel inclined to be on good terms with all the -world. Nothing could have been more propitious than your meeting in such -a romantic manner. What were you doing when he came in?--at your harp, -I hope. Well, how do you like him?" - -"Why, Mamma, I think you believe in love at first sight. I am not so -easily won." - -"Nor the Colonel either, I dare say," said Maria. - -"I will thank you, Miss Maria, to remember what you say, and to whom you -say it." - -"That I very seldom forget," retorted Maria, as she laid down her Swiss -hat and ribbons, with a sigh, to think that she might not display them -again. - -"Come, come," again urged Mrs. Villars, "surely, Caroline, you can give -us your opinion of him. You are so quick at reading character." - -"That may be," replied Caroline, "but I scarcely think the right -advantage to take of discrimination is to retail a private conversation, -for the sake of subjecting a friend to everybody's quizzing -observations." - -Here she glanced angrily at Maria. - -"Well," returned the latter, perfectly undisturbed, "is it come to -friend and private, already, that, at least, sounds like something, and -if you will conquer the good nabob in your own way, I suppose we must -excuse being kept in the dark, as the cat politely observed to the -mouse, when he was introduced to him in the cupboard." - -"I think he is very handsome," said Selina. - -"Yes," said Maria, "well enough since he possesses good eyes, good -teeth, good forehead, nose and eyes--all tolerably well put together. -Yes, I suppose he might be called handsome. I will ask Miss Foster, she -is such a judge of masculine beauty." - -"I beg you will do no such thing," said Caroline; "he must be considered -as one of our own family, and I do not see what right Miss Foster has to -pass her observations on us." - -"I am afraid you are not quite so rigid with regard to Miss Lovelace," -retorted Maria. - -Mrs. Villars saw that much bitter remark was rising, and knowing that -nothing could be obtained from Caroline, dismissed the conclave, which -had assembled at so late an hour, only in consequence of the importance -of affairs under deliberation; and she retired to rest satisfied with -the course events had taken, and fully impressed with respect for -Caroline's judgment. She, meanwhile, in the retirement of her own room, -condescended to give Selina an account of the evening's conversation, by -which means Mrs. Villars heard the whole the next day from Selina, whose -more gentle temper rendered her the general recipient of her mother's -schemes. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - He walked he knew not whither; - Doubt was on his daily path; and duties shewed not certain. - - TUPPER. - - -Colonel Hargrave was a little past the age when hearts are easily -won--and the ready courtesy with which he had performed his part of the -evening _tête-à-tête_, might have shown a less prejudiced judge, that he -was too accustomed to beauty, grace, and all the endless charms so -bewitching to a younger man, to make him very easily fall into the -snare which had been laid for him. - -However, he had but very lately landed in England, after some years -spent in the East; and though like most English travellers, he had been, -at first, delighted with the marvels and records of ancient days, which -that quarter of the globe so lavishly affords, as well as with the -customs and habits of a people with whom he had delighted to mingle, he -was not sorry to find himself once again in merry, busy England--one of -a people whose interests are more of the present than of the past, where -the rapid march of improvement and discovery, form a striking contrast -to the splendid dreams of past Eastern glory. Then the comfort of social -society--home with all its thousand associations of comfort and -tranquillity were not indifferent to him, and he was not sorry to find a -gayer welcome than the lonely halls of his own beautiful Aston might -have offered him. His sleeping apartment had been arranged with a care -that made it seem luxurious after the cabin fare to which he had lately -been accustomed, and he paid more attention to the trifles which -surrounded him than he had ever before done, for of such trifles he, for -the first time, perceived the importance, since all combined gave a -feeling of homely comfort which he felt he had scarcely missed till now, -when once more in the enjoyment of it. Opening from this room was -another, arranged with the most studious attention to ease and -appearance. A fire blazed a warm welcome, after his day's journey, and -everything conspired to make his little sitting-room one suited to a -gentleman's fancy--and by affording him a place of retreat, he perceived -that he would be allowed to enjoy the company of his cousins only when -he was inclined. In all this there was such an evident desire to please, -that he could not help feeling a little flattered, though, perhaps, as -representative of the family credit and opulence, he might, at the same -time, have felt it to be his due, and a necessary appendage to the -invitation. - -Tempted by the blazing fire, he threw himself upon the horse-hair sofa, -which was near it, and fixed his eyes upon its flickering and varying -light, but as he did so, his countenance soon lost the air of courteous -pleasantry, which had a short while before possessed it, and he appeared -lost in deep and even bitter thought. - -The grave accusations of old Giles, and the lighter description of -Clair, were both true; and yet a few words more of his mental history is -needed fully to unravel his character. - -During the life of his mother, he had been the pride of her existence, -and keenly sensible of the quicksands which await the young man on his -entrance into life--she had watched his opening manhood with the most -tender solicitude. Her death, however, left him entirely to the care of -his father--and he, thinking the hot-house system of preservation no -longer befitting a youth of talent and ability, sent him abroad, first -with a tutor, and afterwards alone, in order that he might acquire a -knowledge of the world, and the ease, conversation, and polish, which -foreign travel is calculated to give. In this he was fully successful. A -short residence in the gayest city in Europe, so called forth young -Hargrave's natural refinement of taste, that few could find fault with -the manners of the finished gentleman whom Paris sent back from its -school. But in Paris he had been thrown with those of professed Infidel -principles--and amongst them he found men of superior talent and great -intellect, who, while they extorted his own secret admiration, rendered -him a homage to his youthful talent of the most flattering kind. By them -he was rashly led to argue on the tenets of natural and revealed -religion, and to discuss points, which are rather matter for faith than -comprehension--and he entered on these questions with a spirit of which -older men have not been innocent, rather seeking to display his own -powers in the argument, than to do honor to the truth. The contest was -eagerly courted by those who only kept their hearts at ease by engaging -in the excitement of perpetual warfare. They were subtle reasoners, and -Hargrave found himself coping with them, only with the greatest -difficulty. - -But, who can unlock the secret mysteries of the human mind, or give a -clue to its strange inconsistencies? Even while he argued, the dreadful -doubt passed into his own mind, and, wondering and amazed, he found -himself an unbeliever in the faith he had so warmly defended! Too often -have those who have become the most devoted christians at an after -period of their life, had to mourn such infidelity, though, for a time -only; and had Hargrave resorted to the simple means used by his old -tenant, whom his thoughtless words had led astray, he, like old Giles, -might have been restored to comfort--but he only rushed deeper and -deeper into argument, and the more confirmed in error--he, at length, -ended by declaring himself vanquished, and thanking his new friends for -having opened his eyes to his own superstition. Thus eagerly received -by a brilliant _coterie_, adorned by wit, genius, and learning, he -learnt to boast of the sentiments he at first deplored, and to wonder -that he should have been weak enough to recognise any other. - -Where then was the reward for a mother's untiring self-devoted love to -her son, through the years of infancy and youth? Despair not, fond -mothers--"cast thy bread upon the waters, for thou shalt find it after -many days"--after _many_ days, remember, and be patient. - -One result, was, however, evident in this wild fit of -recklessness--under the pretence of keeping his intellect pure and -unclouded, he preserved the same rigid principles she had recommended, -and in this he was firm, spite of the ribaldry of his companions. "No -one," he said, proudly, "should be able to affirm that he had abandoned -his religion because too weak to obey its laws." His friends, therefore, -left off their jests and boasted that no professor of revealed religion -could be a better moralist, or a more virtuous man. But such virtue -must ever be but an unsteady light, which is founded on no firmer basis -than self-opinion, and Hargrave might have started when in foreign -lands, he had lavished the most profuse charity on those around him, had -he remembered how blind he was to the wants and sufferings of those who -at home called him master. - -Too late his father's death summoned him to Aston, to take possession of -the immense wealth which he thus inherited. After but a brief stay, -events induced him to leave his native country, and entering the Indian -army, he sought employment for his restless energies on the banks of the -Indus. There his military career had not been without honor, and why he -had returned to England, scarcely himself could tell. - -There he sat, an older, if not a wiser and better man. Dark thoughts, -like heavy clouds, seemed to pass over his mind, as with his hand -supporting his head, he gazed fixedly, but vacantly on the fire. -Perhaps he was thinking of his early days, and of the mother who had -taught him to hallow them. Perhaps he was remembering how unable he had -been to build the fabric even of human and short lived earthly -happiness, on so weak and failing a foundation as his own unassisted -virtue. For, to his heart, common joys had been tainted. The sabbath -chaunt had brought no melody to his ear, reminding him of the rest which -its Maker had hallowed. "The gentle flowers that stooping o'er the -wilderness--speak of joy, and faith, and love," had seemed to him only a -difficult clause in the argument of an adversary. Such might have been -the dark remembrances of the hour, for he swayed himself to and fro, as -if in an agony of spirit, nor did he retire to rest till the grey dawn -warned him of the necessity of seeking repose. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - Wisdom revenges, said - The world; is quick and deadly of resentment; - Thrusts at the very shadow of affront, - And hastes by death to wipe its honor clean. - - POLLOCK. - - -The next morning Lucy was down stairs by eight o'clock, appearing -scarcely to feel any fatigue from the gaieties of the last evening. The -servants, taking advantage of their mistress's slumbers, had not been -very careful to rouse themselves early; and as Lucy wandered about the -house, she found nothing but rooms half closed, and maids with sweeping -brushes, dusters, and open windows, forming no tempting welcome on a -cold morning. Yet, chill as was prospect both within and without, she -felt nothing cheerless that morning, and, putting on her bonnet and -cloak, she went out, saying she would be back by breakfast time. She -found the atmosphere thick and humid, and cold drops quickly gathered on -her veil. The streets, under the influence of a slight thaw, were wet -with black mud; but she quickly threaded her way through them, till -reaching Milsom Street, she took her way towards the higher parts of the -town. Few people were stirring, shops were only just open, and the -occupiers engaged in filling their empty windows with a display for the -day. The light-hearted girl scarcely giving a thought to any thing -around her, soon reached the Circus, a fine but gloomy part of the town. -Time and the weather have cast a black shade over its formerly clean -white stone, which gives it an appearance of sadness, which is shared by -the sombre hue of the evergreens, which ornament its garden. To one of -its houses Lucy hurried, and after a short pause, was ushered into it by -an old man, apparently butler in the establishment. The room into which -she was shown, was upon the ground floor, and shared in no very slight -degree, the appearance of the outside of the buildings. Its furniture -was dark green, and the curtains, with their many heavy folds had been -suffered to trespass too much upon the windows. There was an oak -wainscoting round the room, and here and there some old portrait frowned -down from the walls. The room was rather long than wide, and lighted by -windows only on the one side, looking on the street; this often made it -appear dark, but, in contrast to every thing about the place, a bright -fire blazed upon the hearth, and a small table, with a snowy cloth, -supported the hissing urn, and a frugal but snug breakfast. Seated -beside it was rather a young looking lady. There was a certain air of -unmistakeable dignity over her whole appearance; her features, though -irregular, were intellectual and commanding, and the sparkling eye -wandered with restless energy. Her hair was black as an Indian's, and -she might have been called beautiful, but for the melancholy, which, as -a veil, seemed thrown round her, stilling every quicker impulse into -chill composure. She held the _Times_ in her hand, folded at the leading -article, but she laid it down and rose, on Lucy's entrance, with a look -of surprise and pleasure. - -"Why love," said she, "I thought you would be sleeping for an hour or -two yet, after the fatigues of last night. I am sure no common event -would bring you out this foggy morning, but sit down and I will give you -some breakfast, for I am sure you have had none; let me take off your -shawl, and then you shall have some of your favorite chocolate, and tell -me your news as you drink it." - -"I could not sleep," said Lucy, "and as no one was up I thought I would -come and see why you were not at the ball as you promised last night." - -"My poor uncle was so bad with his gout, that I had not the resolution -to leave him, and you know how little will tempt me to stay away from -such things," said Miss Foster, with a sigh. - -"Ah," said Lucy, smiling, "clever people like you do not need such -frivolities; but what would my poor vacant brain do without them." - -"Why is it vacant? But you have not, like me, given up the phantom -happiness, or you would prefer seeking something more substantial." - -Lucy glanced at the leading article, and gave a slight shrug. - -"You may come to that at last," replied her friend, with a moonlight -smile, which passed almost immediately away, "really you do not know -what a pleasure the morning papers give me--they make me remember that -I am a denizen of the world, and besides, a daughter of England, and -then I forget how lonely I am as an individual." - -"But why lonely," returned Lucy, "the slightest effort on your part -would surround you with friends, and you might have a host of -acquaintances instead of my poor self, whom alone you admit, and I enjoy -that privilege, merely from accident." - -"You do not quite know me yet," said Miss Foster, "such society is no -longer tolerable. And I might never have known even you, had not your -horse thrown you at our very door, and forced me to open it. There was, -indeed, something so pleasing in being able to nurse you for a few days, -that I became insensibly attached to you. But such accidents seldom -occur, and I care not to go through the common ordeal of acquiring -acquaintances." - -"Well," said Lucy, "when I am inclined to turn anchorite, Millie, you -must let me in, and I will come and live with you; but I am rather of -opinion that the world is a mirror which reflects back our smiles and -our frowns." - -"Is that sentiment your own?" enquired her companion, quickly. - -"No--second hand from a delightful partner that I met last night. Such a -very nice man--quite beyond my poor powers of description; everything he -said was so clever, and so new, it seemed as if he had read more of the -human heart than any one I ever met. He talked to me nearly all the -evening." - -"Imprudent girl!" exclaimed Miss Foster. - -"Oh, if you take everything I say so seriously," said Lucy, poutingly, -"I will not tell you anything." - -"What kind of looking man was he?" said Miss Foster, without heeding her -remark. - -"He must be thirty, at least," said Lucy--"with light brown hair, deep -blue eyes, rather tall, and very nice looking--not quite so handsome as -Captain Clair; but then his talking was the fascinating part." - -"And what did he talk about?" - -"Oh, nothing in particular," said Lucy, coloring. - -"And did you hear his name?" enquired Miss Foster, almost restraining -her breath. - -"Beauclerc," said Lucy; "is it not a pretty name?" - -"You must have nothing more to say to him, if he talks such in a way -that you blush already. Will you promise me?" said she, most violently. - -"You must give me some reason." - -"Imprudent girl, you must take my warning." - -"If he were making love, I might consider," said Lucy; "but, as a common -acquaintance, and a delightful dancer, you must give me some reason for -cutting him." - -"You are rash," repeated Miss Foster; "do not have anything to say to -him, or you will repent it." - -"I am not to be led blind-folded," said Lucy; "and you must prove me in -danger before I can think such advice needed. Pray let us talk of -something else--my poor _beaux_ always tease you." - -There was a very palpable tinge of vanity in this last remark, which -caused Miss Foster to bite her lips, as if suppressing violent emotion, -and to remain silent, though the uneasy flash of her dark eye betrayed -something of the violence of her temper. - -At this inopportune moment, a knock at the hall door announced another -early visitor. - -The door of their sitting-room was, after an interval of some minutes, -cautiously opened by the venerable butler, who, with some embarrassment, -presented a card to his mistress on a silver salver. - -Lucy almost trembled as she saw that the storm which had been gathering -on her friend's countenance was now ready to burst forth. - -Her cheeks, which had a moment before been brightly flushed, turned to a -livid white, as she brushed the card from the salver without touching -it, and then stamped upon it with impotent violence. - -Lucy's eyes fell upon the name--it was that of "Beauclerc"--and, -unperceived, she took it up, and concealed it in the folds of her dress -from further indignity. - -"I am not at home," said Miss Foster, in a decisive tone to the aged -butler, who regarded the scene with more concern than surprise, and left -the room slowly and sadly. The front door was presently heard to close. -As if ashamed of the passion into which she had been betrayed, Miss -Foster seated herself, at once, and tried to resume her usual coldness -of demeanor. - -"See," said she, "the way in which I dare to treat him, and judge for -yourself if he is worthy to be received as an admirer of yours." - -"I think," said Lucy, recovering her animation, "you have shewn yourself -very little my friend to treat a man with indignity, when I had -expressed a contrary opinion of him." - -Miss Foster regarded her rising spleen with an indifferent coldness, -which made her still more angry. - -"I say," she reiterated, "that it is a most unkind and ungrateful way of -returning my confidence." - -"Wilful child!" exclaimed Miss Foster, "will you never be guided for -your own advantage?" - -"I am no child!" exclaimed Lucy; "and if I do choose a guide, it shall -be one who can rule her own temper." - -"You should allow for the emotion you cannot understand," said Miss -Foster, gravely; "but leave me now, Lucy, and do not be angry--we are -both excited--and may say things we do not mean." - -"Leave you," exclaimed her offended friend, starting up, and putting on -her shawl with trembling hands--"I will not stay another moment where I -am not wanted." - -Miss Foster's head had sunk upon her hand, perhaps she was too deeply -absorbed in her own feelings to notice Lucy's anger, till suddenly -raising her eyes, in which thick tears were gathering--she watched her -movements with a curious interest--but Lucy was already at the -door--and gasping a "good morning," she hurried away, leaving her friend -to the unpleasant thoughts she was indulging. - -It was not anger alone which led Lucy to leave the house so hastily, for -she was curious to see her pleasing companion of the night before, if -but for a moment. She was not disappointed, for, as she opened the door, -she perceived him standing on the other side of the way. - -Could he have seen her enter the house? and, might not his having done -so, been the reason of his early call on Miss Foster. Vanity is a ready -prompter; and she had not proceeded many steps before she believed the -delusive argument, and attributed her friend's warnings to jealousy. She -had scarcely arrived at this conclusion, before she perceived Mr. -Beauclerc crossing to her side of the way, and she gave a bow and a -smile, which proved a ready inducement for him to join her. He looked so -dejected, that she had not the heart to check his intention of lounging -by her side, and he was far too courtly and ready in his manners to give -such a meeting the least appearance of awkwardness. - -"You are acquainted with the lady of that house then?" he enquired, -after a slight pause in the conversation. - -"Yes," said Lucy, smiling and looking at him, "and I suspect you know -her also." - -"Do you know her well?" he said, slightly colouring. - -"Oh, very intimately--she is a great friend of mine." - -"You know all her secrets then?" - -"Well, I dare say I do," she replied, smiling importantly; for, to -confess that she had a friend, and did not know all her secrets, seemed -a derogation from her own dignity; "but, I fear I shall not know many -more, for we have parted in anger." - -"Indeed! can that be true--you in anger." - -"Yes, yes," said Lucy, looking archly at him; "and what do you think it -could be about?" - -"I have, indeed, no means of guessing," he replied, with an interest -which Lucy attributed rather to herself than her subject. - -"About yourself, it was then?" said she, looking slightly aside. - -"Impossible!" he exclaimed, delightedly; "have you then been speaking of -me?--and what did she say of me?" - -"Nothing you would, perhaps, like to hear," she said, with the same -archness as before. - -"And what part did you take?" said he, eagerly. - -"Oh," she replied, laughing carelessly, "I never do things by halves--so -I defended you through thick and thin." - -"Excellent girl," cried he, enthusiastically, taking her hand, and -pressing it warmly, "how can I ever thank you enough for this kindness?" - -"_Prenez garde_," said she, "gossippers are abroad, and there, I -declare, is Miss Lovelace's youngest sister going for her music -lesson--all Bath will say we are flirting." - -"You know how to contradict such scandal by a word," said he; "but that -word, for my sake, you will not speak." - -Lucy did not quite understand this last speech; but she did not like to -say so, and, therefore, murmured a rapid "Yes." - -A slight pause followed; and then he resumed the conversation with such -a sudden flow of spirits, that Lucy very soon forgot everything in the -pleasure of listening to him, and even suffered him to lengthen the walk -by taking a longer route. At the entrance to Sydney Place, he took leave -of her, and she returned home, thinking over everything he had said. -They had only talked on general topics after all; but then he spoke with -a deference to her opinion which was very pleasing. She was in very good -humour with herself, and resolved that, after leaving Miss Foster to -cool for a week or so, she would call and make up the quarrel in the -most generous manner she could. Satisfying her conscience with this, she -entered the house, and hastily taking off her bonnet, seated herself, -with the rest, at the breakfast-table, in good spirits and with a fresh -color, contenting herself with a very laconic description of her morning -walk. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - The foe, the foe is on thy track, - Patient, certain, and avenging; - Day by day, solemnly, and silently, followeth the fearful past, - His step is lame, but sure. - - -It was nearly eleven o'clock before the family assembled to breakfast, -and Mr. Villars had already retired to his study, leaving the -morning-room to its listless occupants. Maria, being the most active of -the family, generally presided at breakfast and tea, and kept alive the -yawning faculties of the party. On this occasion, she was busily, and -relentlessly rallying Caroline on the last night's _tête-à-tête_, when -Hargrave himself entered. He seemed entirely to have lost the gaiety of -the evening before, and to have assumed the gravity of a judge. To Mrs. -Villars' enquiries of whether he had slept well, he answered -courteously, but gravely; and Caroline afterwards observed to Selina, -that the dear creature was quite different when alone with her, and -Selina, in return, lispingly suggested, that he might be shy before -strangers. He did not, however, justify this remark by any of the little -awkwardnesses which so often accompany that feeling. On the contrary, he -seemed rather to seek the indulgence of one who is secure of favor, -however small the pains he may take to acquire it. Nor was he mistaken. -They were prepared to admire him, and his variable humours only gave him -an additional charm in their eyes. - -"What time do you receive your letters?" he enquired of Caroline. - -"About this time," she replied; "are you expecting any? for, if so, you -will not have very long to wait?" - -"Indeed," he replied, not noticing her question. - -At this moment the peculiar double knock of the post-man began to be -heard uncertainly, then louder and louder, as, coming round the street, -he stopped at their door. - -"Here he is," exclaimed Lucy; "I wonder if there is a letter from -Mabel." - -Two were brought; one for Mrs. Villars, and the other for her guest. -They were both written by Mr. Ware; the one addressed to Mrs. Villars, -contained a brief, but touching account of the fire, the illness of her -sister, and her removal to Aston Manor; concluding with poor Amy's -death. - -Mrs. Villars slowly read the letter aloud, but when she reached the last -few lines, which spoke of her niece's death, a loud shriek burst from -Lucy, as she rose and flew to her own room. Hargrave followed her to the -door with a deeper interest than he had before displayed, but she had -quickly vanished, and he returned to his seat. - -"She has been staying with them," said Mrs. Villars, in explanation; -"and the dear girl has so much feeling--but, colonel, only think of my -sister being at Aston Manor; but, perhaps, I ought not to have told you, -as I suppose the servants make free with the place in your absence." - -"Your sister is quite welcome to any hospitality my house can afford -her; and, perhaps, you will be kind enough to assure her on that point, -if she has any doubt. I will, myself, write to my housekeeper, and -request her to see to Mrs. Lesly's comfort." - -"You seem to take the news of your lost houses with admirable coolness," -said Caroline. - -"You mistake me, Miss Villars," he replied; a momentary fire lighting up -his eye, which made her shrink; "I am not indifferent to the death of -our poor cousin--the rest can be repaired--but I take it with apparent -coolness, because this is not the first time that these distressing -events have been communicated to me." - -"How?" exclaimed every one; "and why did you not tell us?" - -"Bad news travels quickly," returned Hargrave, evasively; "and it is -hardly likely that I should long be kept in ignorance of such a serious -accident." - -So saying, he opened his own letter, and read it with deep attention, -and emotion; a little to the surprise of the ladies, who had already -entered upon a discussion on the prettiest mourning dresses which the -fashion afforded. His better feelings alarmed, he scarcely knew why, by -the frivolity with which the news had been received, he retired to his -own room, and taking up his writing materials, he wrote much as -follows:-- - - MY DEAR SIR, - - "I regret that I cannot at once obey your summons to Aston; partly, - because I think it would be a more delicate kindness to Mrs. Lesly - and her daughter, to leave them in possession of my house, under - their present affliction, rather than intrude myself upon their - attention, just now; at the same time, if I came to you, they might - think they were putting me to inconvenience. But we shall soon - meet, my dear sir, I trust; when, from your accustomed kindness, I - may obtain forgiveness for the past; now, I do not feel worthy even - to reply to the praise you so lavishly bestow upon me. - - "In the meanwhile, my poor tenants, of whom you speak so warmly, - shall not be forgotten. I will write by this post, to a young - friend of mine, an architect; who, if able, shall go down to Aston - immediately, with powers to construct a sufficient number of - commodious tiled cottages--at the same time, I shall instruct him, - that any wish, or suggestion you may be kind enough to make, about - any part of the village, shall be strictly attended to. - - "With my best compliments to Miss Ware, and the hope of meeting ere - long, I am, - - "My dear sir, - "Your attached pupil, - "HARRY HARGRAVE." - -This letter was written with great rapidity, and having sealed and -directed it, he lounged back to the morning room. The recent events, of -course, formed the topic of conversation; but to all, but Lucy, Amy had -scarcely been known, more than by name; and she had retired to her room -in an agony of remorse, for her feelings, though seldom deep, were -impetuous, and easily moved by circumstances. She remembered Clair's -entreaty, that she would not go to the ball, with tenfold bitterness, as -she now reflected that, at the moment when she had been rejoicing in -unbounded spirits, Mabel had been keeping the sad death-watch by the -corpse of her sister. Again, and again she reproached herself as her -murderess, flung aside the tinselled dress which had rendered her the -ornament of the ball-room, and turned almost indignantly upon Maria, -when she attempted to comfort her. - -Her sisters, little understanding the nature of her feelings, and -wearied with her self-reproaches, soon agreed that it would be better -to leave her alone till she should recover herself; but Lucy, who -appeared to have little pleasure in their comfort, no sooner found -herself alone, than she felt unkindly neglected, and compared them -bitterly with Mabel, whose untiring patience had so often borne with her -weakness. - -In the afternoon, when exhausted by grief, and wholly subdued, she sat -crouching over the fire in their little dressing-room, Maria entered -with bustling pleasure. - -"Oh, Lucy," said she, "do dry your tears, and look bewitching--for who -do you think is down stairs--no other than your charming partner of last -night, Mr. Beauclerc, who is making himself so agreeable, listening to -mamma's touching account of your grief--so that you need not mind his -seeing that you have been crying." - -"Thank you," said Lucy, without raising her head; "but I cannot come -down to-day." - -"Oh, nonsense, Lucy--think how disappointed he will be--he may never -come again." - -"I cannot help it," said Lucy; "excuse me in any way you like--I cannot -and will not come--and you will only tease me by asking me." - -"Well, I am sure I would never stay up-stairs when a beau of mine was -down." - -"You do not know what you would do, if you had been as wicked as I have -been." - -"Come, come," said Maria, "we all are wicked, I dare say; but I would -never fret myself to death about it; but I suppose I must go," she said, -seeing Lucy resume her crouching attitude; and leaving the room, she -went to tell her mother, who, though much disappointed, was forced to -make Lucy's grief as becoming and touching as possible, in the eyes of -the stranger, though she afterwards expressed herself more candidly, -saying--"She had no patience with such fits of the heroics, and trusted -her sisters would laugh her out of them." - -Hargrave listened with great interest to the account of Lucy's share in -the accident by which Amy had first suffered, which he gleaned from -Caroline; and when, late in the evening, she appeared in the -drawing-room, her eyes swollen with weeping, and her cheeks pale and -discolored, he met her with a kind look, which her most sparkling -moments, perhaps, would not have excited. He gave her the most -comfortable seat by the fire, for which she tried to thank him, but her -voice failed her, and seating herself, in silence, she rested her tired -and aching head upon her hand. - -"You have been staying with Mrs. Lesly, I find," he said, knowing that -it would be of little purpose to try to turn her thoughts from the -subject that pained her. - -"Yes," was the faint reply, followed by a deep sigh. - -"Really, Lucy," said Caroline, a little sharply, "you should not give -way so, it will not mend matters now." - -Lucy had not temper for the "soft answer," and was too spiritless to -retort an angry one. - -"I think," said Hargrave, "you must have met a fellow-voyager of mine, a -Captain Clair--he said he was going to stay with his uncle at Aston." - -"Yes," said Lucy, despairingly, "I did meet him; and he said he knew -you." - -"How did you like him?" he pursued, anxious to make her speak. - -"Oh, pretty well," she said, carelessly; but a burning blush kindled -brighter and deeper on her pale cheek, as his penetrating eye watched -for her reply. - -She moved impatiently beneath his glance; but she felt that it was not -withdrawn, and painfully conscious of her increasing color, she rose -abruptly, and turning on him, for a moment, like the wearied stag at -bay, she looked angrily at him, and then hastened from the room. - -Still, however, as she once more retreated to her chamber, and shut the -door violently behind her, that glance seemed to follow her, not simply -inquisitive, but compassionately answering her own angry expression, as -if deprecating its violence. - -"He must know something about me," she thought. "Could Clair have spoken -of her to him, and in the same terms, which she had overheard him use to -his uncle, accompanied, perhaps, by ridicule. Yes," thought she, -actually throwing herself upon the floor in the vehemence of her -passion, "he sees me with Clair's eyes--if he pities, he despises me, as -the girl who was only used as the cloak to more honorable attentions to -Mabel. I cannot endure this--anything but to be both neglected and -despised. There is one, at least," she added, to herself, proudly, "who -appreciates me--but this time I will keep my own counsel." She rose, and -looked at the glass--but it now only told her that the boasted beauty of -the night before had faded before her tears. "I will weep no more," she -said, angrily, brushing the heavy drops from her cheeks, "I will weep no -more--but, I fear my heart will become hard indeed." - -A passionate burst of tears again interrupted her resolutions, and she -turned from the disappointing mirror, which had, only a few hours -before, reflected a form of airy liveliness, which had even astonished -herself. - -Of one thing, however, she was resolved; to avoid, as much as possible, -the offensive pity with which she imagined Hargrave regarded her; and -this resolution was so well kept that she always, after that night, -avoided him with studious shyness. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - What sadder sight can angels view, - Than self deceiving tears, - Pour'd idly over some dark page, - Of earlier life, though pride or rage, - The record of to-day engage, - A woe for future years. - - CHRISTIAN YEAR. - - -Colonel Hargrave rapidly domesticated himself in Sydney Place, and very -soon placed himself on terms of intimacy with the Villars family. Still -nothing occurred which seemed to bring Caroline nearer her object, and -though for some weeks her temper remained unruffled in his presence, -nothing betrayed any thing like admiration on his part; nothing could -warm into affection the every-day friendship which had been established -between them, or induce him to take advantage of his popularity, by -choosing a mistress for Aston Manor. - -Mrs. Villars was too ready to interpose her powers of contrivance, and -took every opportunity of throwing them together; in public, she often -succeeded, but in their private circle he was more than a match for all -her address, for when the manners of the perfect gentleman failed to -secure him from any well-laid scheme to entrap his admiration, he was -ready to assume those of the bear. - -One great difficulty consisted in dragging him to the balls and evening -parties, which began to succeed each other in rapid succession; and -sometimes when they had wholly reckoned on his company, he would be -found in his morning coat, busily employed in writing letters, which no -coaxing could induce him to leave. At these times Caroline would often -plead a head-ache, and remain at home, but to very little purpose, as -he seemed to believe the excuse, and, probably supposing quiet the best -restorative, he would gather up his books, and retire to his own room. - -A woman's heart, when regulated by no higher principle than that of its -own native impulses, is often piqued into love by the very means which -should have restrained it, and Caroline's had been left to the -government of vanity and coquetry, habits which insensibly corrode the -innate modesty of the female mind. Hargrave's failings, therefore, -excited more affection than his virtues--for the necessity of watching -his humours, and of courting rather than receiving his attentions, -insensibly interested her, and though her feeling was composed of -component parts of vanity, self-love, avarice, and, ambition, it could -scarcely be affirmed that it did not contain a few grains of genuine -affection. She had indeed merely expected some broken down nabob, who -would have formed an easy conquest, and she was therefore agreeably -surprised by Hargrave's manner and appearance, for his manly bearing -and easy air, compensated for any injury an Indian sun might have given -his complexion, and called forth the praise of all Caroline's fair -friends. Thus, stimulated by opposition, she left no art untried to win -him, and watched his movements with secret and constant jealousy; while -her mother, with the foolish fondness, which had grown almost to fear of -her beautiful daughter, encouraged her to hope, by repeating and -magnifying, sometimes even inventing, speeches, which seemed to betray -more than Hargrave openly professed. - -Meanwhile, he evaded these manoeuvres, and placed himself on terms of -equal civility with all the sisters, by whom he found even his weakest -foibles caressed. Lucy, alone, resisted his fascinations, and long after -every shadow of her grief had disappeared, continued to avoid him, and -never mentioned, before him, the name of her new admirer, whom she now -frequently met, either at the public balls, or the morning concerts in -the Pump room, the fashionable resort of the sick, who drank its -waters, the musical, or the idle. - -Mr. Beauclerc considered himself a judge of music, and might frequently -be seen listening to the performance with a scientific air. He seldom -failed to join the Villars party, and engage Lucy in conversation, to -her unfeigned satisfaction. She could not fail to perceive that there -was one subject which dwelt in his thoughts, though seldom more than -dimly hinted at, which gave an air of sadness to his mind. - -What this might be, Lucy knew not, though vanity echoed a ready answer, -and, whenever he spoke of his own loneliness or unhappiness, she evaded -the subject with a coquetry sufficiently skilful to check his -confidence, and, though it sometimes sent him away in an ill humour, he -invariably returned, in a short while, and she flattered herself that -each little exertion of her power only riveted his chains more surely. - -Several weeks had thus passed when, one morning, Mrs. Villars received -a letter from Mr. Ware, begging her immediate presence at Aston, as the -symptoms of her sister's illness had assumed a more dangerous character, -and he feared that the utmost haste would be required to enable her to -reach Aston in time to see her alive. Estranged as Mrs. Villars had been -from her sister, she yet loved her, as warmly as her selfish nature -would allow--and she hastened to her husband's study, to make -preparations for her immediate journey; she would not, however, hear of -his offer to accompany her, lest Colonel Hargrave might take the alarm, -and leave them--she, therefore, only begged him to keep less to his -study, at least, in the evenings. Mr. Villars replied, that his own -sense of delicacy might be relied on; which made her fear that he would -give them too much of his company; but she had little time to argue, -for, before her hasty preparations were completed, the post-chaise, -which had been ordered, was at the door. - -As she was stepping in, Colonel Hargrave offered to accompany her for a -few stages, saying that he had a friend in the direction she was going, -whom he was anxious to visit. - -"I am going to a sad scene," said Mrs. Villars, when they had travelled -for a few miles, "and, besides the loss of my sister, my feelings will -be agonised, I know, for she leaves a daughter to mourn her loss, -homeless and unprotected." - -"Yes," said Hargrave; "but your presence will be some comfort to her." - -"I quite dread the meeting," continued Mrs. Villars. "Did you read Mr. -Ware's letter? I fear there is no hope." - -"None, indeed, I fear," replied Hargrave, looking out to urge the -post-boy to greater speed. "What is to become of Miss Lesly?" he -presently asked, "she has, I suppose, something to depend upon." - -Mrs. Villars slightly coloured, and couched hastily, when she perceived -her change of countenance observed. - -"I do not think they were very good managers, to tell you the truth," -she said; "and they had not much to save from." - -"What will become of her then?" he repeated, with sudden animation. - -"I can scarcely tell what may happen eventually," replied Mrs. Villars; -"but should my poor sister die, I mean to bring my niece back with me, -for the present, at least. She is a good-looking girl, and I may be able -to get her settled." - -"Settled!" repeated Hargrave, mechanically, and relapsed into silence. - -Soon afterwards, a turn in the road brought in sight some tall, -old-fashioned gates, opening on an avenue of dark trees, through which -nothing could be discerned, but the gable ends of a more distant -mansion. Here Hargrave alighted, and bidding her good-bye, in a tone of -sadness, which seemed the highest compliment to her present affliction, -entered the old gateway, and stood there, till Mrs. Villars was beyond -his sight. - -Musingly she continued her journey, and gladly would she have had his -further companionship, to screen her from the thoughts which were now -rapidly gaining entrance into her mind. - -It was one of those dark days, when the shadows seem to fall long before -the unseen sun has set; and, as the horses speeded along, she gathered -the folds of her cloak closer around her, and endeavoured to suppress -the shudder, which something beyond the cold biting air of a dull -easterly wind made to pass over her frame. Night had already closed, -dark, dismal, and cold, before she reached Aston. As they entered the -village, she leaned from the window, and expressed her desire to stop at -the inn, she remembered; but a further glance at the ruined village, -faintly shewn by the light of the carriage-lamps, as she rattled through -it, told her of nothing but scattered timbers and blackened walls, and -thus obliged her to change her order, and drive, at once, to Aston -Manor. - -As the chaise rolled lightly up the smooth gravelled avenue to the -Manor, Mrs. Villars endeavoured to calm her trembling agitation, with -the hope that all would yet be well; but the low, hurried whispers, in -the dimly lighted hall, that greeted her arrival, unnerved her, and, -dispensing with the assistance, she usually so rigorously exacted from -her inferiors, she hurried from the chaise, and entered the hall, -exclaiming-- - -"Can it be possible? am I too late?" - -"Yes, indeed, ma'am," replied the housekeeper, now advancing; "it is too -true. We closed her eyes but late last night." - -Mrs. Villars hid her face in the sables which enveloped her, and sobbed -convulsively; then, flinging down her purse, she begged her to dismiss -the chaise, saying, she was Mrs. Lesly's sister, and must see her -immediately. - -"Let me beg you, ma'am," said Mrs. Hawkins, respectfully, "to compose -yourself--it will be too much for you to-night." - -"No, no, no," cried Mrs. Villars, as warm, repentant tears streamed -rapidly down her face; "let me see her now--my poor, poor sister." - -Mrs. Hawkins sadly led the way up the marble staircase, and across the -gallery, to a door which she noiselessly opened, as if she feared to -disturb the slumbers of the dead. The room was fully lighted by wax -tapers--but the bed was partially concealed by the many folds of its -crimson curtains. - -An old woman was sitting by the fire, who rose on Mrs. Villars's -entrance--and, at the same moment, glanced to the window, where Mabel -was seated, gazing out upon the star-light stillness of the night, as if -communing with her own spirit. She rose on perceiving them, and gliding -from the recess, advanced rapidly and noiselessly to meet her aunt; -placing both her hands on hers, she attempted to speak, but the words -died between her half parted lips, and a quiet burst of tears succeeded -the effort. - -Mrs. Villars caught her in her arms, sobbing violently, with the excess -of her emotion. She had seldom been with the dying, and did not remember -having ever been in actual contact with death itself, and it was with an -internal shrinking, that, at length, releasing the poor girl from her -arms, she advanced to gaze on the face of her sister. How calm and -placid seemed the sleep of the dead, in that still chamber--but, though -sweetly tranquil was the countenance once so dear, it bore the -unmistakable, terrible touch of death; and Mrs. Villars wrung her hands, -and turned away; an icy coldness seemed taking possession of her senses, -and terror prevented her stooping to touch the cold lips which never -more would reproach her with their confiding words. - -Mrs. Hawkins soon kindly put an end to this trying scene, by leading her -from the room; there was enough in the bereavement itself to touch her -sympathy, without her being aware of the pangs of awakening conscience, -which added bitterness to a grief seemingly so natural. - -How miserable those days of mourning seemed to the heartless woman--as -hour slowly dragged after hour in that silent house. There were no -exciting trifles to wear away the time--nothing but the endless black -crape with which she tried to feel interested, though her senses -sickened at the mournful tales it told. There, no company came to banish -thought--thought of solemn things that she was little prepared to -contemplate--she was alone with Mabel, and the dead. - -Again, and again, she condemned herself for the deceptions she had -practised, and endeavoured to appease her self-accusations with ideas of -the most lavish generosity to Mabel--but justice--alas, that she felt -she had placed it almost beyond her power to render her. She now owed -her six hundred pounds, and well she knew, that, however frivolously she -had spent, however small a part of her extravagances it had proved--this -sum was almost the entire support her sister had saved for her orphan -daughter; which, though little calculated to afford her maintenance as -a gentle-woman, might, in talented hands, be the commencement of a -respectable independence; or, at all events, save her, if dependent, -from many minor, but bitter personal necessities which wound the -delicate mind so sorely. Well she knew this--but she knew, also, that -she never would have the courage, either to limit her own personal -expenses, or to ask her husband for the money. Mabel must be repaid by -the most lavish kindness, and by all the comforts of a home. She could -not know of the debt, therefore would not feel her loss, and if, by a -timely display of her beauty, and her painful bereavements, she could -marry her well--she might then deem the debt repaid. All this she -endeavoured to persuade herself; but, as she wandered from room to room -in the twilight, which their closed windows afforded, something uneasy -oppressed her, which forced her to repeat, again and again, the same -line of consolation. It was then, with a sense of relief, that she saw -the day for her sister's funeral draw near, and she watched the dark -procession from the house, winding its way to the little church, with -grief, indeed, but with grief lightened of its heaviest sense of -oppression. With the greatest attention she watched over Mabel, whose -strength had entirely given way, when the last sad scene, the last -parting was over--and, for hours, seemed to have forgotten all that was -selfish in her nature to minister to her comfort. - -On the following morning, perceiving that she was sufficiently calm to -listen to her, she begged her to enter on an explanation of her affairs; -expressing herself anxious to know if she had thought of any plans for -the future. - -"No, dear aunt," was Mabel's reply; "but I must soon think of them." - -"What money have you left?" enquired Mrs. Villars. - -"In the funds only one hundred pounds, I believe," replied Mabel, "for -the physicians I procured from London were so expensive in their -fees--but the rest you know--" - -"Yes, yes," interrupted Mrs. Villars, too troubled, and too uncertain as -to her future conduct to commit herself, by answering what she -apprehended to be an allusion to her debt, "but I was going to ask, did -you save anything from the fire?" - -"Yes, some plate, a little more than a hundred pounds worth, I -think--Captain Clair kindly secured it." - -"Ah," said Mrs. Villars, self awaking, "I remember it is just the same -pattern as mine; if you like I will have it properly valued, and pay you -for it--people may think if they like, that your poor mother left it to -me." - -"Thank you," returned Mabel, who had perceived her aunt's hesitation -with regard to the money, and therefore was little willing to increase -the debt; "but I do not think I shall dispose of it yet, if at all." - -"But then I cannot make people believe it was left me?" - -"There will be no necessity; for what I am not ashamed of doing I can -bear to have known; and it is only for my sake that you can have any -scruple." - -"Oh, dear, no, of course not," returned her aunt, not the better pleased -to find Mabel so unlike her mother in worldly matters. "Well, then, if -you do not like the plate turned into money, the hundred pounds will -keep you in dress for two years, and by that time I trust you will be, -better provided for, by a respectable marriage." - -Mrs. Villars had been too accustomed to speak of marriage, in this kind -of jobbing style, to her daughters, to be fully alive to the blush of -exquisite pain, which, for an instant, brightened the pale cheek of her -companion. Something, however, in that blush, recalled a resemblance she -only rarely shewed to her mother, and Mrs. Villars felt again all the -pangs of concealed shame. Hastening then to relieve herself, she entered -more eagerly on the real subject of her conversation, and at once -pressed her, with affectionate warmth, to accept the protection of her -home, to find in her a second mother, to be one with her daughters, -sharer in all their privileges, and pleasures, and sisterly love. - -Mabel started, and, as she listened to the generous proposal her aunt so -warmly advocated, she could not help reproaching herself, for ever -having regarded her as worldly minded. In vain she gently urged the -inconvenience this arrangement might possibly bring; Mrs. Villars would -hear nothing of it, and when Mabel still hesitated, she folded her in -her arms and asked her piteously and entreatingly, while tears choked -her utterance, if she would deny her the privilege of atoning to her -lost sister for all the neglect, for which she now so bitterly -reproached herself. - -Mabel could say nothing, nor did she wish to urge anything more, for -sweetly did those words sound to her ears, "home and sisters," kind -sisters who would wile away her sorrow, and re-awaken her interest in -life--home where her tried spirit might find refreshment and repose. -She suffered her head to sink upon the bosom to which she was so warmly -prest, and murmured forth an answer of affection and gratitude. - -Shortly afterwards Mr. Ware was announced, and to him her new plans were -immediately confided by Mabel. He had believed Mrs. Villars a -worldly-minded woman, and was, therefore, much pleased when he -perceived, by the tone of both, that the arrangement had been so -cordially proposed. - -"One alteration I must," said he, "beg in my favour: Mabel is so justly -dear to us all, that to part with her before even attempting to console -her grief, is more than I could well bear. You must indeed, madam, spare -her to us at the rectory for a little while." - -"Willingly, my dear sir," replied Mrs. Villars, with that tone of manner -which often rendered her popular, "and we can manage it in this way--I -have a friend at Cheltenham, who has been long pressing me to visit her, -I will go and see her now, it will do me good after this sad -trial--and, provided Mabel promises to obey my summons, I will leave her -to join me on the road. She is now my ward, by her own consent," she -added, smiling kindly at her. - -This proposal was eagerly accepted by Mr. Ware, who dreaded losing -Mabel, and clung to any pretext for keeping her. - -"I must go and tell my sister that this dear child will soon be with -us," said he, rising to take his leave, "and you, madam, suffer me to -offer an old man's blessing for your kindness to this poor orphan," he -said, laying his hand on Mabel's head, "I would have gladly taken her to -my heart and home, to be the blessing there she has long been, but this -selfish wish would deprive her of the healthy companionship of those who -will be her sisters, and kindly cheer her young life, which has been -bowed with many sorrows. I need not ask you to deal kindly with her for -you have done that already. I only say, may an old man's blessing be -upon you and yours, as you have dealt kindly by this poor lamb." - -Mrs. Villars turned aside her head to conceal her rising emotion, and -Mabel's face was bathed in tears, as Mr. Ware, with glistening eyes and -trembling steps, hurried from the room to repress the feelings which had -become too strong for utterance. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - All have their tasks and trials; thine are hard, - But short the time, and glorious the reward, - Thy patient spirit to thy duties give, - Regard the dead, but to the living live. - - CRABBE. - - -It was with pleasure--melancholy, indeed, but still most sincere--that -Mabel was welcomed at the rectory. Mr. Ware and his sister emulated each -other, in endeavours to cheer her, before her introduction to a gayer -scene, which they knew awaited her in Bath. Their party had been -increased by the arrival of Mr. Clifford, the young architect, mentioned -by Colonel Hargrave, who had easily been induced to accept a room in -the pleasant rectory; so that, together with Rogers, the bailiff, whose -sick room required every attention, Mr. Ware was busy enough. Mr. -Clifford brought with him different plans for the improvement of the -estate, and the re-building of the village, on a different scale; and -the greater part of the evening was generally occupied in talking these -over, or drawing fresh ones. In this occupation Mr. Ware would gladly -have interested Mabel; but she was scarcely equal to the exertion, and -he well knew he could expect nothing, reasonably, beyond the unmurmuring -resignation, which characterised her grief, and the transient, tearful -interest she sometimes displayed in what they were doing. The comfort -and happiness of her favorite village never could be unheeded by her; -but it required some relaxation of her over taxed nervous system before -she could again become the self-forgetful, cheerful companion she had -been. This indulgence was freely granted her--and her affectionate heart -soon warmed to the watchful love which surrounded her, as the drooping -flowers turn to the warm beams of the returning sun. - -"How often have I had reason to be grateful to you, dear sir?" she said, -one morning, as she passed her hand through Mr. Ware's arm, to accompany -him in his walk round the garden. It was one of those days, which, in -England, so often surprise us in the midst of winter, with their balmy -air and spring-like feeling. "And now more than ever," she continued, -"for supporting me at this sad season. You can little know how very, -very grateful I am for this thoughtful kindness." - -"My dear child," returned Mr. Ware, soothingly, "it must be very easy to -accept the kindness which you have never forgotten to afford to others." - -"Always kind," said Mabel, with a sigh, "how shall I bear to part from -you?" - -"Or I from you, dear Mabel; often have you secured me from the regrets, -which, in a life of such seclusion as we have past here, might have -invaded my quiet. You have afforded me that society which I could not -otherwise have secured, and willingly would I have kept you still; but I -feel that Aston would, at least for the present, be full of too many -regrets for you to make me urge it. Besides, our natural relations have -a claim upon us, and, with yours, you will probably find a safe and -happy home. My Mabel will not forget that these have a claim upon her, -and that she may be called to new duties amongst them." - -"And new trials," said Mabel, sadly, "I shall meet _him_." - -"Yes, for a while--only a little while; I need not say anything on that -subject, your heart will best dictate your conduct--only be firm, and -remember always, if annoyances prevail elsewhere, here is your home." - -"Not so--I trust he will soon be here--he ought to be here--and, oh, how -gladly would I see that. Do you not think his strange appearance on that -awful night--the delicacy he has since shewn--Mr. Clifford's coming--do -you not think all this looks well?" - -Mr. Ware looked earnestly and painfully at her; she seemed immediately -to understand that look, for turning from him, she wrung her hands -together bitterly. - -"Oh, why," she exclaimed, "can I never indulge my best hopes, without -the appearance of selfishness--must they always be so inseparable; but -you, at least, understand me," she added, turning her beautiful face -full upon him with a look of supplication. - -"Yes, indeed, I do," he replied, "only I began to fear--I do understand -you, my noble-hearted girl--trust me, I do." - -But Mabel only turned aside her head to weep, and though he tried to -renew the subject, she skilfully evaded it, and when that pained him, -she turned and soothed him with the eager caress of childlike affection. - -At this moment, Clair was seen walking pensively up and down the walk, -at some little distance, and, as Mr. Ware was called away, Mabel -suffered him to go in alone, and advanced timidly towards his nephew; -she gained upon him before he was fully aware of her presence, and -joining him, she walked by his side, for a few minutes, in silence. He -was moodily musing, and she seemed, for a time, watchful how best to -interrupt him. She had never yet alluded to his letter, and spite of the -afflicting scenes which had so lately engaged her attention, he felt -slightly annoyed as well as disappointed--so little, however, did he -acknowledge such a feeling, even to himself, that he was a little -startled when she said, softly and timidly-- - -"You are offended with me." - -"Offended, Miss Lesly?" - -"Yes, and justly so--but if you could but know how many times I have -tried to speak to you without having the courage to do so, you would -forgive me." - -Clair's eye kindled with sudden pleasure, but she saw the look, and -hastened to temper it. - -"You told me that you knew something of my early history." - -"Yes, Miss Lesly," he said, puzzled at her manner, and one moment -appearing ready to sink back into his dejection, the next, to seize her -hand--and give way to something more than joy. - -"You must know, then," she continued, fixing her eyes on the ground; -"that the heart which has been once given away, is no longer capable of -appreciating you." - -"Unless," said Clair, eagerly. - -"Ah, but with me, there is no unless," said Mabel; "do not ask me to -unveil the painful recesses of a mind inured, but not insensible to -sorrow; and do not, oh, do not, like me, prepare for yourself that -loneliness of heart which I must carry with me always. I dare not trifle -with a feeling whose intensity I know too well; but, yet, I hope, so -earnestly do I hope, that you have mistaken yourself, and, that pity for -my sorrows, and the unhappy share you had in them, have led you to -think of me as you have done, and that these feelings may be easily -overcome. I feel privileged to speak to you," she said, raising her eyes -timidly, "because we are both unhappy." - -"Ah, Miss Lesly, you little know me; I would give all my affection, -even, for the pleasure of your society--even if you would but tolerate -me for a while--my devotion might--." - -"Oh, no," said Mabel, earnestly, and unhesitatingly; "do not speak like -that again. I would not enter on such holy duties with such feelings -only; and, even if I did, cruelly should I be taking advantage of your -confidence. I came only to ask you to think of me no more--to forgive -me, if possible, and--." - -"And," returned Clair; "can you forgive me for my former trifling." - -"Not quite, for had you not trifled, I might have spared you some pain -now. But you do forgive me," she said, extending her hand, and their -eyes met for the first time. - -"I do, I do; if I have anything to forgive," said Clair, turning his -pale face aside, as he pressed her hand. - -Mabel bowed gently over it, then withdrawing it from his grasp, glided -from him, and re-entered the house. - -There was one other duty to be performed before she left Aston, which -tried her courage as much as any other; this was taking leave of her -mother's two old and faithful servants--but she knew that such a -parting, though so trying was one expected of her, and she would not -deny them the pleasure of seeing her, perhaps, for the last time. When, -however, the hour which she had appointed for their coming arrived, her -heart sank within her, and her spirits entirely failed, when she met -their familiar faces almost as sad as her own. - -"It is like losing the very light of my eyes to see you go away, Miss -Mabel," said old John. - -"You have served us long and well--and that thought will be very -cheering when I am gone," said Mabel, "but I want to know what you mean -to do--I want to think you are comfortable when I am away. Will you go -to service again?" - -"I do not think I could serve another master or mistress," said old -John, decidedly. "If so be you wanted a servant--" - -"Then," said Mabel, "you would be mine, of course; but that cannot be; -and I have been thinking, that if you had a garden of your own--a -nursery garden, I mean, you would be independent." - -"I was thinking of that myself, ma'am," said old John, with a pleased -expression at finding his wants divined--"and if--but I don't like to -say it--there, I can't," he said, walking to the window. - -"John was going to say, ma'am," interrupted Betsy, seeing that Mabel -looked puzzled, "that if it would not hurt your feelings, he should like -to keep on the old garden still--if he could have a cottage built where -our house stood--if, that is, you do not object." - -Mabel checked her rising emotion, and said, cheerfully. - -"How could I object to your keeping the dear old garden--how glad should -I be to think that it was an old friend, not a stranger, who lived -there." - -"Would you now, ma'am," said John, his face brightening; "I could keep -the old walks and the hot beds as they used to be--and 'twouldn't be -quite such a breaking up of old times--for I have lived there so long, -it seems like a home to me." - -"I should be very glad," said Mabel, "to think you were happy there, and -that something of what I loved so well remained still. I will speak to -Mr. Clifford, perhaps he may do what we ask--for he seems willing to -please everybody." - -"Thank ye, ma'am," said John, rubbing his head with an air of -consideration, as if he had something more to say. - -"And you, Betsy, what will you do?" - -"Why, that's the very thing," said John, as Betsy hesitated, in her -turn; "'praps you don't know, ma'am, that Jonathan Williams has courted -her for many years--but she didn't like to leave poor missis. Now, I was -thinking, if you approve, that, as I am getting old, I shall want some -one to help me, and as he's a clever man at a garden, I might as well -take him into employ or partnership, and so we might live -altogether--for," he added, with great emphasis; "I don't like to be put -out by strangers--and Betsy knows my ways." - -"That will be perfect," cried Mabel, with something of the gladness of -her old tone of voice, rising as she spoke; "and you must write to me -often, and tell me how this plan goes on;" she said, more hurriedly. "In -the mean while, to secure its success, I shall place twenty pounds, a -piece, for you, in Mr. Ware's hands; which you can draw upon, as you -want money, for furnishing your new house--and I hope you have laid up -something for yourselves, and so will be able to start with advantage. -You must let me get you your wedding gown, Betsy." - -So difficult is it for the uneducated to separate wealth from gentle -manners, and ladylike qualities, that the two faithful domestics -accepted her parting gift with gratitude and pleasure; but without the -reluctance which they would have felt, had they guessed the real nature -of her circumstances. They could not fancy that the mistress, whose -noble qualities had ever received their genuine respect, was really -almost moneyless, and dependent for the blessing of a home. Mabel was -not sorry to keep up the illusion, and tore herself from them before -they had time to enquire anything of her future plans. - -When she placed the money in Mr. Ware's hands, he remonstrated with her -on giving away a sum so large in proportion to with what she actually -possessed; but she replied cheerfully-- - -"So much of our comfort is in the hands of our servants, that if they -have served us well, we can scarcely reward them enough. The thought -that I have shewn them something of my gratitude for the past, will be -better to me than the money itself. The selfish reason that I have no -one to care for but myself, should at least have its advantages." - -Mr. Clifford was easily persuaded to grant Mabel's request, that, upon -the site of her once happy home--one might be built for the old -servants; and he readily took the opportunity of interesting her by -making her choose and alter the plans for the new cottage, which they -agreed should be in the same style as the other, though, of course, a -real cottage. - -Mabel might soon, perhaps, have recovered the harmony of her spirits, -amongst those dear friends who were so studiously attentive in every -imaginable kindness, but she was not suffered to enjoy their society -very long--for her aunt was impatient to return to Bath, and wrote to -tell her at what stage upon the road they were to meet. - -She dared not delay--neither did she much wish to do so, when she -perceived Clair's unhappiness rather increased by time; and she, -therefore, felt it right to depart as soon as possible. But, in leaving -Aston, she began more and more to realise the true nature of her recent -loss; and when Mr. Ware drove her to the little town where she was to -meet the coach, he tried in vain to rouse her from the despondency into -which she had fallen. - -"My child," he said, as he took leave of his weeping charge; "you will -remember, though not yet, that your past life calls upon you for future -exertion." - -Mabel endeavoured to smile her thanks, and her promises, but the light -appeared in her eyes only to vanish again, put out by tears--yet, as the -coach rolled off, she leant forward, and kissed her hand with an air of -cheerfulness. Mr. Ware turned musingly away. As he drove home by -himself, the road seemed unusually long, and the large flakes of snow, -as they lazily fell through the freezing air, seemed even more cold and -comfortless than they usually do: he could not conceal from himself that -a gap had been made in his little circle, which he had no opportunity of -supplying; and that, with the loss of the Lesly family, he must part -with much that had tended to render his life happy. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - I grew up selfish, full of hopes and cares, - For my own welfare, unconcerned for theirs-- - - -With many different feelings, Mrs. Villars' return, with her niece, was -expected in Bath, by her family--jealousy is, indeed, "strong as death," -and uncertain and wayward in its effects--Caroline had, with unfeminine -obstinacy, determined on becoming mistress of Aston Manor and its owner; -and every object that came in her way, was regarded with dislike. She -had heard from Lucy, of Mabel's beauty and winning manners; and such -beauty, in distress, she fancied more dangerous still. What her mother -could be thinking of to bring her to Bath she could not imagine! but it -was in vain for her to write an angry appeal: the answer was decisive. -"Mabel must come," the letter said, "and," added Mrs. Villars, "my Cary -must make preparation for her proper accommodation; but should you -object to our giving up the spare room to her, which certainly would be -a sacrifice, you must fit her up a room somewhere, as well as you -can--she must not be particular; still, as she is dependent on us, I -should not like to stint my favors exactly, though, perhaps, she ought -to take rather a more humble footing than my own dear girls." Caroline -well understood this letter, and acted accordingly. She knew that her -mother's generous fit was passing, and that she was preparing to be more -worldly wise. - -On the evening of Mrs. Villars' expected return, Hargrave was sitting in -his study, lost in something very like a reverie, when he was roused by -a low tap at his door. Hastily taking up his pen, to assume the -appearance of occupation, he gave the customary answer of "Come in," -and Caroline entered. - -"Henry," said she, with a persuasive smile, "you must come and join our -party in the drawing-room. We have a beautiful fire, and everything -comfortable--so do come." - -"Why to-night particularly?" - -"Because we are all waiting to see mamma, and our wonderful cousin, and -we want you to amuse the time away." - -"Very well," said Hargrave, rising, and slowly closing his desk--putting -aside a private paper or two from the table, which was covered with -maps, architectural plans, ground measurements, and books. - -"Really," pursued Caroline, glancing round the room, "you study too -much. How very pale you look--lock up this dry room, and give me the -key, you shall have it again in a day or two." - -"Dry," repeated Hargrave, with a smile, taking up one paper after -another, as if with peculiar affection, "dry--ah, that reminds me I -have a question to ask your papa on this subject." - -"Now, you tease, you shall not go to that tiresome study to-night; we -want you, and you must come with me." - -So saying, she passed her hand playfully through his arm, and compelled -him to accompany her to the drawing-room. - -The girls were all seated round a cheerful fire; but, there were two -chairs left vacant, side by side. Hargrave, however, evaded this -manoeuvre by flinging himself, with all the coolness of accustomed -indulgence, at full length upon the sofa, with his head supported by his -two hands, and his eyes shut, as if in full preparation for a nap. - -"Provoking creature," cried Caroline, "I did not bring you here to go to -sleep." - -"Pray do not let me disturb you," he replied, yawning; "I am listening." - -"Now, Harry, you know that it is only because we all spoil you that you -give yourself such airs; but do not think going to sleep a good way to -preserve your popularity." - -"I am not conscious of any diminution in it," returned the imperturbable -Hargrave; "but here I am at your service," he added, slowly rising to a -sitting posture. - -One great source of amusement consisted in watching his caprices, and -reporting his humour, as it varied. - -"Are they not late?" he enquired, at length, when a carriage rolled down -the street, causing a momentary expectation, but stopped not till its -murmuring sound died in the distance, or was hushed by the wind, as it -rushed round the corners of the streets. - -"It is a long cross road, I think," said Caroline, "but I hope they will -be here soon, for I am tired of waiting." - -"How freezingly cold," said Hargrave. - -"Yes, indeed;" said Maria, "the water is frozen in the rooms up-stairs, -and there are long, horrid icicles hanging down the windows, and it is -snowing out of doors. I really cannot bear to cross the passages, and I -cannot think how people can be out to-night, when they may stay at -home." - -"I think," said Selina, "it is a great pity for any one to die in the -winter--just in the midst of the gay season. Only think, but for this -crape, we might be at Mrs. Trelawny's party this evening. It makes one's -heart ache to hear the carriages go by--ah, there is another, I declare. -Black is so unbecoming, too," said she, glancing at the tiny foot which -peeped out from the black folds of her dress. - -"Now I am sure," said Maria, "you are only asking for a compliment, when -you know nothing suits a fair complexion so well as black. Now I, with -my tawny skin, might complain, had I not long ago given up the attempt -to look fascinating, and depended more on my tongue than my face; but -still I do wish that this piece of perfection had retained possession of -her Cotswold air, and left us to ourselves. Mamma is a clever woman--as -if she had not girls enough to drag after her, and provide husbands -for." - -An angry cry of "shame" ran round the circle; but Maria, catching a half -smile from Hargrave, laughed merrily in reply. - -"Only think," she went on, "we must put on long faces for a fortnight, -at least, in sympathy for the death of an old lady, we did not care a -straw about; but, at least, I am no hypocrite, and that she will find--I -shall not pretend to admire perfections who look down on every one -else." - -"That I am sure she does not," said Lucy. "Ah, that's the thing, she is -better than ordinary perfections even--but here's papa." - -Mr. Villars here entered the room. - -"Oh, papa," cried Caroline, pettishly, "I wish you would not leave the -door open." - -Mr. Villars quietly shut it--but the request jarred upon his -feelings--there was something, too, in the arrangement of the chairs, -which did not offer any considerable inducement to him to remain. He -was sure to put a check upon conversation, usually of the most frivolous -kind, and, therefore, his presence was not often desired by his -daughters, though his mild, indulgent eye seemed often almost to entreat -the affection which was so coldly and grudgingly bestowed, while too -sensitive to command the attention which was his due. - -Solitude had become irksome to him, and he had now come to seek for some -one to share in a new idea, which had for some hours occupied his pen. - -He paused, for a moment, before the little circle--but no one rose to -offer him a seat. - -Hargrave's eyes were fixed upon the fire, seemingly forgetful of all -around him. Caroline was regarding him. She was never susceptible to any -interest in her father's proceedings, so that he did not attempt to gain -her attention; but, addressing Selina, who seemed the least amused of -the party--he said, smiling kindly, but timidly-- - -"I want a little advice--I have been trying all day to write a letter -to the _Times_, giving my views on the present system of education at -the Universities, showing how much time is wasted on the dead languages, -which might be given to philosophy and science." - -"Oh, really, papa," said Selina, with a half yawn to the subject, "I am -so ignorant--I am sure I cannot help you." - -"Oh, yes," he replied, gently; "you think less of yourself than you -need--I shall be glad of your opinion. Come--" - -"Oh, no, papa, I would much rather not." - -"My little Lucy will come then." - -"I would," she replied, "very gladly, only I am so anxious to see -mamma." - -"Come, Maria, then, I really cannot get on without a little -admiration--and I do not expect them for an hour or two." - -"I would if I understood anything about it," said Maria, "I dare say the -letter will do beautifully." - -"I will come, sir, if I may," cried Hargrave, starting up, on seeing -Mr. Villars leaving the room with a dejected air. - -But the hall bell stopped both of them. Lucy sprang to the door, but -suddenly stopped, and turned pale, and shrunk instinctively, remembering -the impossibility of her being a welcome object to Mabel. - -Mrs. Villars was now heard coming up-stairs, giving orders to the -servants, as she did so. Her voice became more distinct, as she -approached the room, and entered, followed by the dark, black figure of -her orphan niece. She presented her to her daughters in turn, who each -gave her a hand rather in curiosity than kindness. Lucy, unable to -remain longer inactive, advanced with the impulse of throwing her arms -round her neck, but feeling checked by the presence of her sisters, she -only kissed her with a shy timidity, which very little expressed the -real warmth of her welcome. - -"Welcome, my poor child," said the kind and fatherly voice of Mr. -Villars, to the silent girl, "you will find here, I hope, kind -companions, and a comfortable home." - -Mabel gently raised the heavy veil, which had completely shrouded her -face, and seemed almost to bow down her head, and, as she did so, -displayed a countenance, which the beautiful and haughty Caroline -regarded with triumph and satisfaction. Tears stained her colorless -cheeks, and grief and watching were deeply marked in her sunken eyes. -There was no affectation of suffering there; but, as she looked up in -reply to Mr. Villars, a light ray passed over her countenance, and at -once spoke the loveliness which no sorrow could darken. She tried to -speak, but her parted lips refused to utter expressions of feeling, -which her eloquent eyes had already conveyed. - -"You will now," said her aunt, pompously, "have an opportunity of -thanking Colonel Hargrave for the hospitality he has afforded you." - -But Colonel Hargrave was gone. No one had seen him leave the room; but -when his absence was perceived, Caroline felt a sensation of pleasure -she could not account for, and, in great, good humour, turned to assist -Mabel in relieving herself of the heavy cloak which encumbered her; she -then perceived that she was trembling with cold and agitation--and when -she begged leave to retire for the night, every one saw that there was -necessity for repose to soothe her spirits. - -Maria, whose good nature was, at times, greater than she would -acknowledge, almost forced her to swallow the wine she had declined. - -Mrs. Villars, taking a light, requested Mabel to follow her, with -stately kindness. - -The drawing-room they left was on the second floor, and yet she led her -up two flights of stairs, and then across a narrow passage, before she -stopped at the door of the room destined for her. - -"My house is so very crowded," Mrs. Villars said, apologetically, "that -I am obliged to put you up here; but it will be a little home to you, -and you must make yourself snug and comfortable. Oh, those naughty girls -have forgotten to put you a chest of drawers; but you must contrive for -a day or two, and I will see to it." - -Possibly she forgot; for she did not see to it. - -"It will do quite well for me, aunt, thank you," answered the low, -sweet-toned voice, which so often touched her better self; but when we -are deliberately acting with unkindness, it is not pleasant to have that -better self awakened, after the pains we have taken to lull it to sleep. - -Mrs. Villars hastily bade her good night, telling her to go to sleep, -and be well on the morrow, and returned to the drawing-room. There she -found her daughters busy in criticising the face and form of the new -comer. - -Caroline, vexed that Hargrave did not return, and seized with a sudden -desire to follow him, quietly left the room, and glided down stairs. - -With stealthy steps, she again sought the room, where she thought the -truant had taken refuge. The light that streamed from it into the -passage, shewed her that the door was open, and as she reached it, she -paused, for a moment, to take a view of its occupant before invading his -retirement. - -A large fire blazed up the chimney, and cast a flickering light round -the apartment, at times, bringing every object to view, and then leaving -it in fanciful shadow. Piles of books, as before, lay upon the table, on -which stood an unlighted lamp. Heedless of the many sources of -employment which were scattered around him, Hargrave was sitting, -leaning over the table. Caroline thought he slept, and meditated some -fanciful mode of waking him; but the moment her dress moved, he raised -his head, and the firelight which, while it left her own corner in -darkness, fell full upon him, shewed upon his countenance, the -unmistakable traces of grief and weakness. Her naturally quick -perception at once told her, that no time could be less favorable for -intrusion upon one so haughty, and, to all appearance, so impenetrable, -and drawing herself back into the shade, she lingered, but a moment, to -assure herself that he was again lost in his solitary musing, and then -noiselessly gained her own room, and sat down to think over what she had -witnessed. - -Did he always indulge in such thoughts? and if so, over what past event -was he grieving? what loss which could not be repaired? - -The flattering answer, returned by her mirror, gave her hope that such -grief, if more than transitory, would still be of no long duration. - -What the heart wishes, it finds a thousand witnesses to substantiate. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - Oft in life's stillest shade reclining, - In desolation, unrepining, - Without a hope on earth to find, - A mirror in an answering mind. - Meek souls there are who little dream, - Their daily task an Angel's theme; - Or that the rod they take so calm, - Shall prove in Heaven a martyr's palm. - - CHRISTIAN YEAR. - - -The night was piercingly cold. - -Mabel sat down upon her travelling trunk, which had preceded her to her -room, and which, carelessly, had been left corded. There was no bell by -which she could summon assistance, and therefore, with trembling -fingers, she undid the tightly-knotted cord, and with some difficulty, -for the box was heavy, she managed to open it; but, having done so, it -seemed as if she almost forgot the purpose for which she wished it--for -clasping her hands together she wept long and convulsively. How many -bitter thoughts crowded upon her in that hour of weakness. Her mind -seemed to lose all its strength, as she hurried from the past to the -future. Where was the elastic promise of bold reliance on that future, -made by her mother's side? Where was that mother? Sleeping in the cold -grave, and as Mabel wept on, there might have come the thought that in -that grave there was peace and refuge, though the night winds even now -howled above it. How had she flattered herself that she had gained the -control of her own fervent imagination, and yet how it trembled at the -thought of the morrow. - -Hargrave, her infidel lover, so warmly loved and yet so steadily -rejected, how should she meet him on that morrow--did he still love -her, and if so, would he press his suit, and force her to fly from -temptation, or would he prove the truth of his threat, that with him -there was no medium between truthful love and contemptuous -forgetfulness. If so, how could she bear it, how would they meet day -after day, keeping up the formal semblance of politeness, and if it were -true, that he was making his suit to Caroline, how could she find -strength for the daily trials which would necessarily be hers. - -The quick, fiery blood of jealousy kindled in her cheek, as this last -thought arose, and she mechanically raised her hand and loosened the -twisted tresses of her hair, as if her heated brain needed relief. - -If there be, as some affirm, a good and evil angel to guard our way, and -track our steps through life, it was the evil angel that had power then. - -She felt it--she rose, and almost instantly sunk upon her knees. Her -clasped hands were now raised above her head--now clasped convulsively -over her face--as hour followed hour through that dark and cheerless -night, till her head gradually sank upon the bed by which she kneeled, -and she remained for a long time in perfect stillness. Her long, -disordered hair hiding every feature from sight. - -The Abbey clock announced the approach of the chill winter morning, -before Mabel again raised her head, but then her countenance was firm, -and there was a soft radiance about her eyes that told that those dark -and weary hours had not been spent in vain. - -Wearied with the long conflict, she laid herself down to rest, and was -soon asleep. - -Strong minds, when they are sick, require strong remedies; had any one -watched her calm repose, and quiet breathing, they might have told, that -with her the crisis was past. - -As she slept--flitting dreams crossed her fancy--once she thought she -stood upon a high hill, where a noble castle of fairy and transparent -beauty, was built immediately above a rocky precipice. Suddenly, as she -lost her footing, and fell, she tried to prepare for death, when -invisible hands supported her, and softly placed her on the bank above. - -Then her dream became more distinct--she was again at Aston, and the -setting sun was going down behind the hills--while its golden rays gave -beauty to earth and sky. She was seated on her father's tomb, in the -well-known church-yard, and close beside her was the delicate form of -the little Amy, which her arm encircled with the covetous clasp of -affection. They both gazed upon the setting sun, and the child listened, -as she spoke of the ages it had shone in beauty, and the ages it might -still shine; of the time it marked, and the eternity it presaged, till -her eyes grew brighter, and her color deepened. Then it seemed as if a -strain of holy music softly stole upon the evening air, and Amy raised -her hand to attract her attention to it--her face grew of more than -earthly loveliness, and, as the music died away, Mabel woke and found -herself alone. The moonlight streamed into her little room, rendering -every object distinctly visible. It is beautiful to see the mingling -light of the waning moon and rising sun changing the scenes of the early -morning with the rapidity of a diorama; Mabel watched the light for some -time with unthinking pleasure, till gradually upon her waking senses -arose the remembrance of the night, but with the early morning came the -strength for which she had so earnestly pleaded through those hours of -darkness. - -She had bent before the repeated strokes of Providence with something of -the feeling that her earthly duties were finished. But now came purer -and holier thoughts. "What right," she asked herself, "had she to say -that she had suffered enough?" Had she not already some call to -exertion, some friends whom she might perhaps love and serve, and more, -the fresh suffering that seemed in preparation, told her that it was -right to suffer. "Thy will be done," she repeated, in trembling -accents, as she knelt in meek and quiet devotion, and the words came -from a heart not untried by many sorrows. - -Mabel's mind was anything but morbid, for the dangerous tendency so -strongly developed in her mother, had been checked and controlled by -that very mother herself, who gladly saw in her more active child, the -same delicate perception of the beautiful, the good and the painful, -sobered by her care for others, and her love of exertion. - -It was then with a feeling of gratitude that she looked round the little -room, which, to many would have excited the most painful feelings of -neglect and desolation. The small bed had been evidently used, formerly, -in the nursery, and was diminutive in size; yet, as Kirk White, -humorously observes of his study fireplace:-- - - "So big, it covered o'er, - Full half the spacious room, and more." - -One side, from the ceiling, shelved down to the floor, leaving dark -corners, where the light from the small window never penetrated, giving -an uncomfortable suspicion of dust and cobwebs. The wide window ledge, -which served for the purpose of dressing table, with one shabby chair, -completed the fittings of the room--for, as Mrs. Villars had observed in -her casual glance--a chest of drawers had been omitted. - -It was impossible that any one so careful of the comforts of others--so -used to luxury as she had lately been, at Aston, should not read, at a -glance, the nature of the apartment which one of her mother's servants -would, perhaps, have hesitated to occupy--yet she busied herself in -arranging it to advantage. She could scarcely satisfy herself when she -had finished, for the room was not quite clean, and nothing she could do -could remedy that deficiency--so she turned to the window, and looked -out upon the back view it displayed of chimney-pots--dark back windows, -as cheerless as her own, and walls blackened by falling smoke. Still, -above the low dark, damp, courts, there was a glimpse of the pure blue -sky; and as Mabel's eye rested upon it, even the passing shade of -discontent vanished from her mind, as she remembered by whom her -comforts and trials were meted; and then she turned her eyes again upon -the room, and all that was uncomfortable before, seemed to have a light -about it that made it look different now. It was all better than she -might have had--more than she had any right to claim. Was she not under -her aunt's protection, when she might have been left with strangers; -left for the first time, in that kind of independence, most trying to a -delicate woman? "Was not every thing," she again repeated, "better than -she deserved? What could have made her think the room dark, and -uncomfortable? What could have changed it so? Nothing but the reflected -light of a humble and thankful heart. After remaining some little time -longer in consideration, she went down stairs. She soon found the room -where she remembered having been introduced the evening before; but, on -opening the door, she perceived that it was still darkened, the -window-curtains drawn, and the chairs arranged as they had been left on -the preceding night. Looking again at her watch to persuade herself that -it was really nine o'clock, she found her way to the drawing-room, which -was in such dusty confusion, that she was going to return to her own -room again, when a side door opened, and Mr. Villars appeared. - -"Come in, come in," he said, stopping her; "you will not find a good -fire any where else, for at least half an hour. My family are not fond -of early rising, as you see; so I generally take my breakfast alone." - -"Then, perhaps, I shall intrude upon you, sir;" said she, seeing the -preparations for his simple meal already made. - -"Not if you will have some breakfast with me; you look tired already, -and will be better for it. Only say so, and I will ring for a cup and -saucer." - -He laid his hand on the bell as he spoke, but hesitatingly, as if -accustomed to have his attempts at sociability negatived; but, when -Mabel readily assented, he cheerfully busied himself in preparing for -her. While he was doing so, she had an opportunity of scanning the -apartment, which her host designated his den. It was lined on two sides, -from the floor to the ceiling, with bookshelves, containing books of all -languages, arranged according to their different subjects. Part of -another side contained a selection from the best light literature of the -day--and, beneath, were drawers, that seemed to have a habit of being -always open, in which was a large store of written papers. The fourth -side of the room was ornamented by a collection of stuffed birds, -reptiles, and insects; curious specimens of botany, conchology, and -mineralogy--shewing the various studies in which Mr. Villars had, from -time to time, taken an interest. - -Upon a table, near the window, were placed some open books, marked at -different passages--together with scraps of paper, old envelopes, and -backs of notes, all neatly written upon. - -But the breakfast table was prepared with great neatness, and nothing -but an unopened paper of the day before gave any temptation to reading. - -Mr. Villars, having made the tea, and toasted his muffin, drew a chair -to the table, and begged her to partake of both. - -There is a kind of freemasonry by which some have the power of unlocking -the hearts of others, and making them unreserved; perhaps it is the -power of being genuinely natural oneself, which sets others so much at -ease. - -Mabel soon found herself conversing quietly, and without the least -effort; and Mr. Villars, without anything of his nervous hesitation, had -offered to assist her reading, by his advice, and instruction, as often -as she pleased to spend an hour or two with him. - -"May I then, feel free to come and go when I like;" enquired Mabel, -rising when they had finished breakfast. - -"Yes, at any time; at least, excepting when I have any particular desire -to be alone." - -"And then you must lock the door," she said, smiling; "because you might -not like to turn me out--so that shall be a sign that you wish to be -alone." - -"A very effectual sign indeed," said Mr. Villars, returning her smile, -though he suspected that he should not be often obliged to resort to -this defence, as it did not seem likely that she would be more attached -to his study than his daughters were. - -Mabel felt reluctant to leave the quiet repose of his society, but -unwilling longer to absent herself, she went to the breakfast room, -where, by this time, the whole party, excepting Hargrave, had assembled. -She stopped to give her aunt a kiss, with a warmth, which might have -told an intelligent observer, that the gratitude she felt for her -protection had closed her eyes to distrust. - -Caroline, who had been left mistress of the house in her mother's -absence, had intended the situation and furniture of her bed-room, at -once, to announce the fact, that if admitted to their circle, it must be -in the rank of a dependent. But this attempt to humiliate her, had -seemingly failed. Mabel appeared pale, subdued, and sorrow-stricken, but -evidently possessing a mind superior to trifles; and though, when she -took her seat apart from the table, her lip slightly trembled, and her -color came and went, not a sigh escaped from the sad heart within. - -Caroline, as she rose from breakfast, said that Hargrave had promised to -practise some duets with her, and she must go and find him--Maria and -Selina followed her--and Mrs. Villars went to her house-keeping, leaving -Lucy behind. - -There was a momentary and awkward silence--and then Lucy walked up to -her, and sunk down upon the floor at her feet, crying-- - -"How can you ever look upon me again? Think of my laughing and amusing -myself, when--" - -A shudder finished the sentence. - -And Mabel stooped to raise her head, whispering-- - -"It is too easy to forgive you--you were more unkind to yourself than to -me." - -"How?" said Lucy. - -"Because such things make the heart grow hard." - -Lucy was silent, for a moment, and then exclaimed-- - -"How I wish I were married, and had a home to offer you of my own. Then -you should not have such an old, poky bed-room as Caroline has looked -out for you--I had such a quarrel with her about it. She is jealous, -because I said you were beautiful, I know she is." - -"Ah, Lucy," said Mabel, "how unkind to try and expose the weaknesses of -a sister--remember the fable of the bundle of sticks. For myself, -knowing that I do not deserve her unkindness, I shall not feel it. I own -it is a trial--but as I am dependent on your mamma's kindness, by my own -choice, and by my wish to please her, and not of necessity, and I can -and will assert my independence when I please--it is quite a different -thing." - -"Are you going to be married then?" - -"No, no," said Mabel, smiling; "I will tell you what I mean another -day--perhaps I do not quite know how myself--I only know I will if I see -it best--but do not let us talk of that now." - -So saying, she took up a skein of silk which Caroline had been -attempting to wind. - -"Never mind that," said Lucy, "that is Caroline's, and she will never -thank you for the trouble you take." - -"Lucy!" said Mabel. - -"Ah, I know you are the best of human beings; but I do not know what you -would have been, had you been brought up in such a school as I have." - -"Scarcely four months have passed," returned Mabel, "since you spoke -that thought before. You have not used events rightly, if you can say it -sincerely now. Oh, why have you been so sorely tried," said she, placing -her hand fondly on her head--"Why have you been wounded so severely, if -not to purify you from the errors of the past? Might not those sad -events be made fit answers to the excuse you then made for yourself?" - -Lucy was going to reply, when a double knock at the hall door made her -start and blush, and then she jumped up, her face all radiance, and -hastily kissing Mabel's cheek, ran off to the drawing-room. - -Once more alone, Mabel tried to occupy herself with the silk she held in -her hand, but her heart was full, and tears silently stole down her -cheeks, and fell upon her busy fingers. - -Just then, Caroline returned, something had gone wrong in the singing -lesson, and her face wore its natural frown, and her cheek its angry -flush--she glanced impatiently at Mabel, and then stopping to warm -herself by the fire, looked angrily from it to her. - -"What! are you crying again?" she said, peevishly, for her temper had -become almost insane from indulgence. - -Mabel made no reply. - -"I hope," continued her cousin, "you are not going to be always -miserable; for poor mamma's sake, you should command your feelings." - -Mabel raised her eyes and looked firmly at her, as she said, slowly-- - -"I was alone." - -"And is that what you call resignation?" said Caroline, in a tone of -reproof. "I hope you will not give way to your poor mother's -disposition." - -"We mistake each other," said Mabel, rising, while her pale cheek -kindled, her head was proudly and firmly erect, and her eyes almost -flashed fire. - -Caroline quailed; an uneasy sensation of something like fear stole upon -her. - -"Perhaps," said she, her voice trembling with suppressed passion, "we -mistake our respective positions." - -"We do," said Mabel. - -Caroline would have been glad to relieve herself by some bitter speech, -but she felt powerless, and, endeavouring to hide her own discomfiture, -she swept indignantly from the room, saying that she had never believed -in perfect tempers, and she would have nothing to do with people who -tried to appear better than they were. - -Mabel continued standing, her bosom heaving with emotion. - -"I could have borne any thing but that--any reflection on myself," she -exclaimed, half aloud, "but to speak so of my poor mother, I cannot -bear. Ha--" she added, slightly startling on perceiving Hargrave, who -had entered by another door, and who was standing by her. - -Their eyes met for an instant and then hers sought the ground. - -"Miss Lesly," said he, coldly and peculiarly, "we have never met -before." - -She looked up to read his meaning. His countenance was impenetrable, -except that he seemed impatient for reply. There had been a time when -her lightest word could move him, and when, to her, his smile was -happiness, and his frown brought misery. Yet neither testified now the -least emotion. After a pause she replied. - -"You need not fear me, but I cannot, if I would, utter a falsehood. What -does it signify that we have met." - -"The past is forgotten, then?" he enquired. - -"It shall be as if it had never been," replied Mabel; "but as you were -candid then, be candid now." - -"Why?" - -"Because you cannot be happy without perfect confidence." - -A fleeting smile passed over his lips, but she saw it not. - -"You need not fear--no one shall take me under false pretences--I am -fallen indeed in your estimation, since you believe that possible." - -"No," replied Mabel, "I reverence and admire the beauty of the -structure, but I do distrust the foundation on which it is built." - -"Ah, some people do not think so deeply," he returned, gaily. - -"I fear not," said she, sadly. - -"Well, you have had trials sufficient," he added, "without adding mine -to them--do not fear for me, I hope some day to hear you congratulate me -on my happiness." - -Without waiting for a reply he took up a book, which he had made the -nominal reason for his visit to the morning room, and disappeared. - -She hurried quickly to her own little chamber, to think over this -strange conversation, which she believed conclusive of his attachment -to Caroline. But was she worthy of him, would she influence him -rightly--she tried to believe that the character drawn by her own quick -judgment was only wrought by jealousy. Not a little did she feel pained -at their quarrel, for she thought how easily might she prejudice her in -his opinion. - -"I can bear to lose his love," she thought, "but not his esteem--and yet -I must, if necessary, do both, perhaps, if she speaks ill of me, and he -will surely believe her." - -Those who have experienced many trials will remember, that sometimes, by -their quick succession, the mind becomes braced to endurance. It was so -with Mabel; besides, she had certain fixed principles, and though she -often erred from them, her mind almost invariably recovered its -strength; and she now endeavoured to school it to the endurance of those -small trials, which in her happy home at Aston, she had almost entirely -escaped. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - The hope of fame may in his heart have place, - But he has dread and horror of disgrace, - Nor has he that confiding easy way, - That might his learning and himself display; - But to his work, he from the world retreats, - And frets and glories o'er the favorite sheets. - - CRABBE. - - -When Caroline quitted Mabel she hurried to her mother, with all the -petulance of a wayward child, and, with her, vented on Mabel the spleen -which she had not had the courage fully to express. Great was her -surprise when she found, that, instead of joining in her opinion, Mrs. -Villars only endeavoured to extenuate and defend Mabel's conduct, -though with that weakness which Caroline always had the hope of -overcoming; but, for once she was mistaken, and, more than ever -chagrined, the bitterness with which she regarded her cousin, only -increased. This Mabel had soon an opportunity of learning, and her -situation in the house became more and more uncomfortable, influenced as -it was, by those secret prejudices and envious feelings, which there is -no possibility of openly opposing. - -Lucy, too, though still an object of solicitude to her, seemed shy of -her company, and, indeed, held herself much aloof from every one but -Beauclerc, whose attentions were now very generally remarked. - -Still there was one room in the house where her presence was welcomed as -a real blessing, and this consciousness atoned to her for much that was -elsewhere almost unbearable. - -At first, with the shyness which often attends the student, Mr. Villars -frequently locked his door, but gradually the habit ceased altogether. - -One afternoon, he was sitting alone, his manner was restless, and his -eye absent in its expression. - -The atmosphere without was unusually humid; small rain, which, in the -distance, looked almost like fog, hid the prospect, and made the room -dark, giving nothing of the inspiriting feeling produced by a hearty -shower. Within, the room seemed heavy and sombre. But within Mr. -Villars' own thoughts there was something darker still, something cold -and numbing--something that said the world was a dark and gloomy -world--something that said he lived alone and uncared-for in it. He rose -and walked up and down the room--that dark feeling haunted him still. He -turned to the window--on its ledge lay his pen-knife--he looked at it -uneasily--then walked away--then returned--and again regarded it as if -it had the power to injure him. He returned to the table, on it lay a -bundle of closely written papers--he turned from them, and again found -himself at the window. - -That knife again. - -His thoughts grew darker--that something again stole over him, till the -sweat stood in drops upon his brow, and his eyes glared feverishly. - -Hark! He listens. The sound of a light footfall is in the passage--a -quick hand is on the lock, the door is opened, and Mabel is by his side, -looking uneasily and affectionately at him, with that expression of -light and beauty so peculiar to her. - -"You are ill--I am sure you are," she said; "let me call my aunt." - -"No, no," he replied, hurriedly, "I am better--if you will stay with me. -You must not go--you will not let them drive you from me." - -Mabel looked puzzled--but eagerly promised anything he desired. - -"Ah," said she, rallying her spirits, "I see it now. You have those -papers out again. Why are you always unhappy when you take them out?" - -"Because they remind me of disappointment," he replied, bitterly. - -"I have a great curiosity about them," said Mabel, "and have some fancy -that it is the manuscript of a book you have written." - -"You do not deny it--then do read it to me." - -"It would not give you any amusement." - -"Now, uncle, how can you tell that? I am sure it will not make you so -miserable, if you do." - -"Well, my little sage--but I must first tell you the circumstances under -which I wrote it, and the reasons I have for being disappointed." - -"Stay one moment then," said she, drawing his arm-chair to the fire, -which she stirred, till it sent a good flame up the chimney, then -seating herself opposite, she begged him to go on. Beginning to feel -happier, he scarce knew why he sat down, and, after a moment's -hesitation, he said-- - -"I was always very fond of writing, when a young man--I dare say, -thought myself something of a genius--but though I wished to devote -myself entirely to study, this was so much opposed by my more prudent -father, that I gave up my own inclinations, and entered into a lucrative -mercantile establishment in London. Not long after this, I married, and -then it appeared to me, to be my duty to devote myself entirely to -business, in order that I might acquire wealth for my wife, and -increasing family--but I gave myself too rigidly to the task--I gave -myself no ease--always fearing that I longed for it, only from the -desire for selfish indulgence. The consequence has been that my family -has been educated in a manner of which I strongly disapprove--and, alas! -I feel the evil is so great as to require something stronger even than a -father's displeasure to remedy it." - -Mr. Villars sighed, and then continued-- - -"In the short intervals of business, I noted down, from time to time, -scenes which were drawn either from real life, or my own fancy--together -with numerous remarks on the manners of my own times, which I thought -might be amusing--pining always to indulge what I falsely believed to be -a talent. - -"How often desired blessings bring a curse. A few years since my -speculations were successful beyond my expectations, and I found myself -enabled to retire from business with a good conscience. This place was -the scene of my happy boyhood, and of my school days, and here I -resolved to settle, since it offered pleasures suited to us all. - -"With the eagerness of a schoolboy I fitted up this study; it was the -very perfection of my taste, it contains every book I take any pleasure -in, and yet," he said, looking gloomily round him, "it has been to me -the scene of greater misery than even you, seemingly deprived of almost -every blessing, can calculate upon. - -"Secure as I believed of the interest of my family, for year after year -of, to me, heavy toil had, I believe, purchased it beyond a doubt. I -thought I would prepare them a treat, and so set about collecting my -scattered writings, and forming them into a whole, promising them a -reading every Saturday of what I had done in the week. - -"I never shall forget the first Saturday evening. You have, I dare say, -often heard that an author's vanity is capable of blinding him to the -opinions of others. I cannot understand the feeling myself, and I was -not slow in perceiving that my book soon failed to interest--but I tire -you." - -"You pain, but interest me," replied Mabel. - -"Well, it is hard to believe that one's composition is too bad to -interest those whose affection ought to make them indulgent to the -dullest of our pursuits; but so it was; they eagerly courted any other -Saturday engagement, and when they did come, they yawned or whispered -over their work, and seemed so completely wearied with my reading that -one day I threw down the book, and refused to continue. I forget what -followed, but I know I was never asked to resume my readings. From that -time I have been more and more alone, and I am sorry to confess that, -after years of well rewarded toil, I find life losing interest with me." - -Mabel started at the last words; there was an ominous meaning in them, -that terrified her--while she watched him now pacing the room again, -with a disturbed air, muttering exclamations of despair. She hastened to -interrupt him. - -"How very much I should like to hear your manuscript. Would you have -patience to read it to me?" - -Mr. Villars turned and looked full upon her; but she repeated her -request eagerly. She saw the coming of that mental cloud, which has -obscured many a noble intellect, and her eyes sparkled as she saw him -yielding to her request, and that the dawn of hope was again upon the -face of the disappointed student. - -"Evening is the time for a work of fiction," she observed, "but let us -have the first chapter now. If it will not tire you to read." - -"If you really wish it," he said, handling the papers with trembling -fingers. - -"Oh, yes, I do wish it, but let me first get my work, for that is to us -what chipping is to the Americans, it only assists our attention. While -you find the first part I will go and fetch it." - -Her errand took her longer than she had anticipated, for in the morning -room she found her aunt, with Hargrave, Caroline, and Selina discussing -a print with some eagerness. - -"I would give anything to have such a head-dress," exclaimed Caroline. - -"Well, my dear," said her mother, "I should be glad for you to have it -too, but I fear you must give it up. I am sure, Henry, you ought to be -complimented, for Caroline has been trying this hour to please you." - -"Well, it is a pity," said Hargrave; "she would look well in it, but I -am sorry I spoke of it, if it has given her so much trouble." - -Mabel stopped at the table, and taking up the print, exclaimed-- - -"I remember seeing something like this at Gibraltar. Perhaps I could -make it--may I try," she said, glancing at the crape which Caroline had -been cutting and wasting. - -"If you think you can do it," returned Caroline, "do take it and -try--but I want to wear it to-night, at the ball." - -"Then give me everything," said she, her manner excited from the scene -in the library; and gathering up the crape, ribbon, and wire into her -apron, she took the print and hurried to the library. When she entered, -Mr. Villars was seated by the fire, with some papers on his knees, but -the look of gloom had again settled on his usually patient face. "Oh, I -am so sorry to have kept you waiting," she said, anxiously, "but look -how much work I had to bring--now I am quite ready." - -Mr. Villars said nothing, but appeased by the affectionate warmth of her -manner began reading. - -She listened attentively, and gladly found herself interested, without -an effort, as she heard with surprise sentences, in a style of boldness, -and purity of devotion, which she had scarcely expected. - -Mutually pleased, the hours slipped away, Mr. Villars charmed by the -attention of his listener, while she busily continued her work. - -The small greasy rain dimmed the window, and darkened the room, till the -shades of evening closed upon them, but its influence had ceased. A -cheerful smile shewed the pleasure of the author, and the renewed hope -with which he began to feel inspired. - -"I scarcely know if I like the name--'The Merchant's Recollections;' it -is scarcely striking enough," said Mabel, when he stopped to rest. - -"I do not think I could call it anything else, after knowing it so long -by that name." - -"Well then, I suppose you must keep its name, but do make an effort to -have it published, or do so yourself. I am certain it would be popular. -Pray let me have what is in your hand, and I will give you the novelty -of listening to your own composition; but first, let me light your -little candle." - -With thrilling voice, and the purest accent, she read, and Mr. Villars -felt that he had never appreciated his own composition before. As he -listened, old recollections revived--an elasticity seemed given to his -thoughts. So carefully had the influence been obtained, which was now so -so cleverly exercised, that the sensitive author, with his keen -perception and acute sense of the finest tone of feeling, was impressed -with respect for his younger companion, who united sympathy in these to -a healthy strength of mind. - -Now as he looked, and listened to her, who had so timely rendered -succour to intellect sinking, from discouragement, into despair, he -gladly welcomed the new current of ideas which were crowding upon his -attention. The thought of giving to the world the work which had so long -occupied him, the chance of popularity, even the bitterness of failure, -would be far preferable to the state of apathy into which he had been -gradually falling. There was something stirring and exciting in the -idea; there was life and employment in it, and he embraced it with -rapidity. - -The dressing bell put an end to their reading, and Mabel then called -upon him to admire her workmanship, displayed in the pretty ornament she -had prepared, in imitation of that worn by the Spanish girl, in the -print, whose face was not unlike Caroline's. - -"Are you going to the ball, to-night?" she enquired. - -"I seldom go to those places." - -"But I think you would enjoy it to-night, for they are all going, and I -am sure would be glad of your company." - -"Well, I may perhaps; I might enjoy it." - -"I think you will, and then you will enter better into this to-morrow, -for you have a great deal to do, and I am bent on seeing it completed." - -"My good girl," said Mr. Villars, taking her hand with considerable -emotion; "you little know the obligations you have conferred upon me -to-day. I would give you all I possess for the power of conferring -happiness as skilfully as you can. Heaven bless you for it." - -"Providence often chooses the weakest instruments," said Mabel, "to -fulfil its missions; and I endeavour to keep myself ready for service, -lest I may lose the chance of being employed;" then blushing at her own -speech, she withdrew her hand, and hurried from the room. - -When they met at dinner, she begged Caroline to allow her to dress her -hair for the evening, to suit the head-dress she had been preparing. -The offer was readily accepted, and they retired together to the -dressing-room already mentioned. The comfort, and almost finical luxury -with which it was furnished, occurred to Caroline, as no very agreeable -contrast to that which she had prepared for the houseless orphan, so -lately deprived of all the comforts of home--but her attention was soon -occupied by her toilette, in which she took so great an interest. -Perhaps she would have been glad if their maid could have performed the -same services for her, with as much taste as Mabel; but as she could -not, she forced herself to accept her kindness with the best grace she -could command. The beautiful head-dress, contrasted well with her raven -hair; and when Mabel held the mirror before her, she scarcely believed -her eyes as she gazed upon her reflected self. - -"Come, I do believe you are a good girl," exclaimed Maria; "one of the -right sort, after all. I wish you would concoct something for -me--singularity is what I affect--but, I fear me, nothing will do," she -added, going off singing. - - There's nobody coming to marry me, - Nobody coming to woo; - O dear what can the matter be, - Oh dear what shall I do. - -The gay party were soon assembled in the drawing-room. Hargrave looked -pleased when he saw the head-dress, and made many observations on its -beauty, which delighted Mrs. Villars, and made Caroline's cheek flush -with pleasure. - -"Who knows," whispered Mrs. Villars, playfully pinching Mabel's arm, -"but that your pretty cap may hasten the denouement; look how pleased he -is." - -Mabel felt sick, but no one saw the sudden pallor of her cheek, for the -carriages which were ordered to take them to the rooms were announced. - -Caroline, drawing her ermine tippet closer round her shoulders, took -Hargrave's un-offered arm, saving:-- - -"You must be my first partner to-night, remember," and then walked down -stairs with him, talking playfully, and gaily. Mabel thought she had -never seen her look more beautiful. When they had all gone, she sunk -upon a chair, suffering from the revulsion of over exerted feelings. She -laid her hand upon her heart to still its beating; that heart, which -spite of all its chastenings, beat true to nature still. Had she only -decked Caroline to win a heart which was dearer to her than -life--dearest when she had rejected it, in the name of heaven. - -Oh, if Caroline were but one likely to lead back his truant heart to the -duties he had more than neglected. Yet she felt little hope when she -remembered her lifeless and listless Sundays--her wandering eyes in -church, and the witty remarks which told how her thoughts had there been -occupied. - -But she also felt that she had done right, and with this consciousness, -she could afford to abide by the consequences of her actions. Her -delicacy, also, soon reminded her of the necessity of putting a strict -guard over her imagination, lest even the pity and sorrow she felt for -him, might shew themselves, and be misunderstood. Grieve over him she -must, but she resolved that even he should not know it. It was a -difficult part for one so candid to play, but her delicacy stood upon -the defensive, and warned her to be firm. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - Lady Clara Vere de Vere, - Some meeker pupil you must find, - For were you queen of all that is, - I could not stoop to such a mind. - - TENNYSON. - - -Mrs. Villars returned from the ball full of triumphant feelings. Never, -since her first appearance at the rooms, had Caroline appeared to such -advantage. Hargrave, who seldom did more than walk through a quadrille, -had twice asked her to waltz. Mrs. Villars had received, with gracious -smiles, many premature congratulations--and her husband, who had -despaired of Caroline's marriage, looked on with satisfaction, and -began to think everything was taking a brighter turn. - -The next morning, Mrs. Villars overwhelmed Mabel with thanks for her -ingenuity--and even, in the excess of her gratitude, confided to her a -long and exaggerated account of the ball, mixed with many speculations -on the probable causes which led Hargrave to delay his proposals. She -ended by announcing her intention, (if she did not consider it hurtful -to her feelings,) of giving a grand rout the following week. - -Mabel begged her not to think of her, as she could easily, if she -preferred doing so, spend the evening alone. Her aunt was, however, bent -on displaying herself as her benefactress, though she thought it better -to be contented, at first, with getting no opposition to her plan. - -Invitations were soon issued. Colonel Hargrave was persuaded to give up -a hunting party he had intended joining, and even to discuss the -numerous arrangements, of which none but good entertainers can -appreciate the difficulty. The music, the dances, the company, the -decorations of the rooms, were all thoroughly talked over, and -everything promised to make it the most popular party of the Bath -season. - -The girls were in high spirits, and congratulated themselves on -Hargrave's continued good humour. - -Selina declared he must have made up his mind, at last, and anticipated -looking pretty on a Shetland pony, at Aston, while Maria declared that -she had nearly "hooked" a Gloucestershire squire, and hoped Caroline -would give her an opportunity of landing him. - -On the morning of the party, Mabel was sitting in the library alone, -finishing some ornaments for the wax tapers, which her aunt had -requested her to make. Mr. Villars was gone to put a letter to a London -publisher in the post--and finding herself alone, she had given herself -up to thoughts of her mother and Amy--that dear sister, whose life she -had hoped to see so much happier than her own--then came to her memory, -which was well stored with every antidote to discontent, those beautiful -lines of Milman-- - - "We thank thee for our lost, our beauteous child, - The tears less bitter she has made us shed." - -And these told her how Amy's artless love had beguiled her first -disappointment of its bitterness, and called her to exert her energies -in a life of activity. - -As she continued this more cheerful train of thought, she heard a step -in the passage, whose echo thrilled to her very heart. How often had she -sprung at that signal in all the buoyancy of unchecked love; cold and -dark had been the change--the elastic step was now firm and majestic, -and she listened to it with attempted indifference, for they had learnt -to meet as strangers. - -Colonel Hargrave entered, and instead of leaving the room, as he now -always did, when he found her alone, he walked up to the fire, and stood -looking at her, for a moment, as her varying color made her face look -something more than beautiful. - -"I have a request to make," he said, at length. - -"One that I can grant, I hope," said Mabel; for the silence broken, her -courage was at once restored. - -"I would ask you to do violence to your own feelings, and appear at the -dance to-night?" - -"Why need I appear in a circle, where, being unknown, I cannot be -missed, when I feel naturally disinclined for gaiety?" - -"Because your influence is needed there. Do not think I am frivolous -enough to believe, that the admiration you may possibly excite, would -give you any compensation for the pain of appearing in that mourning -dress, amongst the light and gay; but there is one over whom you seemed -once to have some influence, who must be there, and you will have an -opportunity of seeing her in society." - -"Do you mean Lucy?" - -"Yes--I have watched her narrowly, for some time, and think she may be -made something better under proper guidance. Where is she to find that -but in you? She is now attracted by a man, whose attentions are, I fear, -too general to mean anything." - -"Are you certain Mr. Beauclerc means nothing?" said Mabel, -incredulously; "it is so difficult to decide--and almost impossible to -interfere." - -"Except by advice. Could you not persuade her to remain passive, and not -to pay him so much open admiration?" - -"Impossible;" said Mabel, "it must be that he is more reserved in the -display of his attentions than she is. Are you not severe?" - -"Depend upon it," returned Hargrave, "the truth is often more charitable -than falsehood, and I am not speaking now in the common spirit of -criticism. Lucy is rendering herself an object of general observation, -and even ridicule, to the gentlemen of her acquaintance, and though I -may be able to prevent such remarks being made in my presence, my -influence cannot extend further. She offends all her former ball-room -admirers by having eyes for no one but Beauclerc--she will dance with no -one else, and pays him an open tribute of admiration, which cannot but -be flattering from a pretty girl." - -"But I do not see why you suppose he is indifferent to her?" - -"If my observation has not deceived me, he shares, in common with many -men of talent--a belief in a feeling warmer than friendship, but colder -and more spiritual than love. I once knew a man, in fact, who carried on -such a flirtation, for I can give it no other name, with a very -superior, enthusiastic girl, but when every one expected him to propose -to her in form, she heard of his marriage with a woman of the most -ordinary understanding, but who, I dare say, made him a very good wife. -As I was attached to him, I ventured to remonstrate with him on his -conduct. In excuse, he brought so many really flimsy and poetical -apologies, and proofs of the pure minded nature of his attachment, that -though they appeared to me in their right light, they yet convinced me -that he had not intended wrong, but that his vanity had led him astray, -into the belief that he could be the object of an admiration superior to -love; altogether foolish, but he was sincere, I believe. When I last -heard of the poor girl she was sinking in a decline. Now I suspect -Beauclerc to be such another as I have described, and I want you to see -if you can make Lucy aware of it." "But you must first judge for -yourself, and no such opportunity is likely to occur again, as you might -not like to go out." - -"You set me a difficult task; the more difficult, because Lucy has -seemed so estranged from me lately." - -"Ah, that reminds me of something else, I had to say. Do you happen to -have met Miss Foster, a beautiful girl, one of the most striking women -in Bath?" - -"No, but I have heard Lucy speak of her." - -"Yes, so she used to do, most enthusiastically; and her beauty, if -nothing more, deserved admiration. I remember meeting her in the -park--she was sitting down, and, as I afterwards learnt, had sprained -her ankle. She looked so near fainting, that I did not hesitate to -dismount--(for I was riding)--and offer her my assistance. After a -little persuasion she gave me her direction and suffered me to place her -on my horse, which I carefully led to her house, in the Circus. The -grace with which she accepted my services, and the reserve with which -she withdrew from my attentions, when they were no longer required, -excited some curiosity in me; but, though I was repeatedly congratulated -for such a singular opportunity of meeting the mysterious beauty, I am -afraid I must confess that I was never able to improve the acquaintance. -Now, lately, she has withdrawn entirely from society, and, indeed, -up-stairs there is a polite note from her, declining Mrs. Villars' -invitation for to-night. I have heard it frequently remarked that she is -never seen out of doors, though some of her professed admirers have been -anxiously watching for her. Lucy seems entirely to have forgotten her, -and colored violently when I asked for her, the other day." - -"A long string of evidence," said Mabel, with a half smile, "now tell me -how you connect Miss Foster, with Lucy and Mr. Beauclerc." - -"Why, she was at an evening party the day before he arrived in Bath, and -has not been seen since; but this would be nothing perhaps had not my -groom--who, one morning, took my horses to air, through the Circus--seen -him call at her house, early, and thought, that when he was denied, he -turned away with disappointment. I immediately ordered him to air the -horses every morning in the Circus, though certainly not the best place -for them, which I might have chosen. However, the result of his -information is, that almost every day, before the fashionable world is -stirring, Beauclerc calls on Miss Foster, and is as strictly denied. To -me, this looks suspicious, and Beauclerc seems carrying on a double -game." - -"Perhaps she is only some relation, and he calls to leave the morning -paper," said Mabel. - -"Well, only judge for yourself, if he is sincere with Lucy; if you think -he is, we will leave them to themselves, but if not, the poor girl -should be warned before her affections are too deeply implicated." - -"Yes, I will appear to-night," said Mabel. - -What more she might have added was stopped by the entrance of Caroline, -whose jealous surveillance had discovered the _tête-à-tête_. Casting a -fiery glance of suspicion on both, which was received with admirable -coolness, she turned to Hargrave, and rather peremptorily informed him, -that the case of fruit and flowers which he had ordered from his -gardens, at Aston, was arrived, and they waited his permission to open -it. - -"Oh, I will come," said he, looking rather amused, than either sorry or -angry at her displeasure. "Miss Lesly, you will like to see some flowers -from Aston." - -Accepting the half implied invitation to accompany them, Mabel followed -to the morning room, where an immense basket was surrounded by Mrs. -Villars and her daughters, in anxious expectation, while china and glass -dishes were waiting to receive the fruit. - -The basket fully answered the demand upon it--and satisfied Hargrave as -to the state of his green-houses and hot-house, by producing some -excellent specimens of forced early fruit, which Mrs. Villars had been -anticipating, not only as an additional charm to her supper-table, but -as a public proof of his anxiety to please her. - -Besides flowers for vases, Hargrave drew from the basket, bouquets, -arranged with a gardener's nicety, which he presented to Mrs. Villars -and her daughters. They were composed of the most beautiful hot-house -flowers, and were all in exquisite taste--but by some chance, it -happened that the one presented to Caroline, far excelled the others in -beauty. The sisters exchanged glances, and Caroline's haughty eye beamed -with triumph. - -"Stay, what is this?" said the unconscious Hargrave, dipping his hand -again into the basket, and drawing forth from the moss, with which it -was carefully packed, a bouquet, much smaller in size, and singularly -pretty, because composed entirely of white flowers of the rarest kind. -"Is it not beautiful?" he exclaimed, holding it up to view; "it really -does my gardener credit." - -"Beautiful indeed!" exclaimed every one. - -"What is that paper round it?" said Maria. - -Hargrave turned to the small strip of rather untidy paper, which was -fastened to it, and read-- - - "Miss Lesly will accept this, with my respects." - -"From my gardener, Dibden, I declare," said he--a look of childlike -pleasure taking possession of his features, as he regarded the flowers -which smelt sweeter than all the rest--and then handing them to Mabel, -he begged her to accept them. - -Mabel held out her hand, and looked much gratified as she took them; but -no sooner had she done so, than the color rushed to Caroline's cheek, -and a scowl darkened her beautiful features, as she regarded her with -ill-concealed malignity. Her own bouquet no longer appeared the finest, -and flinging it on the table with such violence, that the head of a -camelia was broken from it, she said, angrily-- - -"I will have no second bests." - -"My dear," said her mother, trembling, "yours is, I am sure, the -prettiest." - -"Do you think I have no eyes," returned Caroline, "or that I am going to -be eclipsed in my own house?" - -Hargrave stood amazed, for hitherto her temper had been greatly -concealed from him, and he was surprised to see features, lately beaming -with smiles, now darkened and disfigured by rage, while he felt -something very like disgust at the jealousy which so openly betokened a -preference for himself. Mabel stood, with her eyes fixed on the flowers -she held in her hand, too pained to look up; then suddenly remembering -herself, she offered them to Caroline, saying-- - -"I am glad I have anything to offer you, that you really like--pray take -it." - -Caroline, however, was too provoked to be easily pacified by this -display, as she believed it, of superior sweetness of temper, and -roughly pushing aside Mabel's extended hand, the flowers fell to the -ground. - -Hargrave looked from one to the other in mute surprise; and Mrs. -Villars, terrified at her daughter's ungovernable temper, and mistaking -his look for vexation, hurriedly interposed. - -"Oh, my dear, now do take what Mabel offers you--do, my dear, if you -have a fancy for it--I am sure Henry intended to give you the best--who -could think you would prefer a few white flowers to that lovely -collection of geraniums. Come, my dear, now do have it." - -"I am sure," said Hargrave, indifferently, "I knew no difference in the -bouquets--I have nothing to do with poor Dibden's unfortunate present." - -"There now," said Mrs. Villars, "now do take them, if it is a fancy of -yours." - -"Don't be angry, love," said Selina; "only think what is to become of -the party if you and Henry quarrel. No one will have spirits for -anything. Don't, dear, be angry." - -"For my part," said Maria, "I see nothing to be angry about." - -"Nor I," said Hargrave, as he left the room. - -"Now see," said Mrs. Villars, "how you have vexed him." - -"Something more than that, I fear," said Maria. - -"Well, I really have no patience," observed her mother; "with lovers' -quarrels--there, smile and make it all right again. We all know what -your feelings are; but do, there is a dear girl, cheer up, for all our -sakes. Is she not a silly girl, Mabel." - -The latter was too candid to venture on a reply, as she stood busied in -restoring the bouquet to order. - -Caroline received these offerings to her wrath, with haughty -indifference; but, at length, she suffered herself to be appeased by -their repeated entreaties, and Mrs. Villars whispered to her niece, that -if she now offered the flowers, she thought the dear girl would receive -them. - -Mabel could scarcely allow herself to minister to so much selfishness, -and it was with some appearance of reserve, that she placed the bouquet -on the table, by her side, not choosing to subject it to a second -rebuff. - -But Caroline's good humour was now happily restored, for she had gained -all she could by her violence. Not only obtaining possession of the -desired object, but being entreated to accept it. She, therefore, -rewarded the patience of her mother and sisters, by entering into the -arrangements of the evening with renewed animation. - -"Mabel," said Lucy, as passing her arm through hers, they walked up -stairs together; "where did you get such an angelic temper?" - -"Whatever good I do possess," said Mabel, gravely; "is not mine; but is -borrowed from a treasure house, which is as free to you as to me." - -"But, tell me," urged Lucy, stopping on the landing place; "do you not -despise the weakness to which you minister." - -"What right have I to do so," answered Mabel; "who knows how proud and -self-willed I might have become, if I had not early suffered -deprivation, sorrow, and humiliation, as I have done. And who can say, I -shall be as strong to-morrow as I am to-day; when a thousand temptations -surround us on every side; and we cannot tell under which we may fall, -if we once lose sight of the true humility which alone brings strength -and power. How, then, can I dare to despise the frailty of others. But, -dearest, what is the matter, how can I have pained you." - -"You have not pained me," replied Lucy, a momentary color banishing the -pallor of her cheek; "but sometimes I feel as if there were something -wanting in me, which I find in you--yet, if it has been purchased by -suffering, I must not wish for it, for I have not courage for such an -ordeal." - -"But, only consider," replied Mabel; "how much more noble, how much more -worthy--if any could be worthy--would be the offering, to heaven, of a -young heart, in the midst of joy and prosperity--than the tearful -tribute of the worn spirit, which can find no other refuge. It is only -our own rebellion which makes sorrow needed." - -"Beautiful words," said Lucy, mournfully, "and something within tells me -that they are true;" she stopped for a moment, and looked down upon her -own share of the beautiful flowers, which she held in her hand, and a -tear hung upon the lash, which shrouded her bright blue eye; then -turning again to her cousin, she said:-- - -"To-morrow, dearest, I will think: to-night, must be all mirth and -gladness." - -Mabel would have remonstrated, but she saw that the serious fit had -passed away, by the beaming smile that lighted her face, and dimpled -round her mouth; and she knew her temper too well, to hope to recall it. -So the two girls separated. Lucy to think over the pleasures of the -evening; while Mabel, meditated how she might serve her, by screening -her from the consequences of her indiscretion. She could not, however, -refrain from reverting to the disagreeable scene in which she had taken -a part. She could not help feeling almost humiliated for Caroline, while -she regarded Hargrave's situation with commiseration; for she fancied -that, however he might have implicated the honor on which he so strictly -prided himself, with regard to Caroline, he displayed very little love; -and she sincerely pitied him, as she knew that, if he had once committed -himself, he would probably be too proud to retract. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - He spake of virtue: not the gods - More purely, when they wish to charm-- - Pallas and Juno sitting by. - - TENNYSON. - - -The united taste of the whole family had not been exerted without -effect--and their guests might well be delighted with the preparations -which had been made for them. - -On entering the house, tea and coffee waited them in the dining-room on -the right hand, and, after an opportunity of taking this refreshment, -they next ascended the staircase, which was brilliantly lighted, and -ornamented with evergreens. This led to the ante-room, from which -several doors opened on apartments all dedicated to the service of the -evening; something, indeed, to the detriment of the family comfort. -There might be seen, evergreens of the richest varieties, which were -intermingled with flowering and beautiful geraniums. - -On the left, a door opened into the apartment chosen for the reception -room, where was arranged everything that could minister to comfort. The -softest couches, the most lounging easy chairs, worked ottomans, and -foot-stools, which had occupied much of the sisters' time. This was -intended for those chaperones, who, through the folding doors which led -to the ball-room, preferred watching the dances, to joining in the whist -parties; for wherever they were seated, the ever revolving waltz would -be almost certain to bring to their view, those in whom they were most -interested. - -A more distant room, the one furthest removed from the sound of the -music, was selected for a card-room. - -But the ball-room had occupied most attention, and a brilliant effect it -certainly presented, that evening. Colonel Hargrave had had so many -expensive whims which no one hindered him from gratifying, and evidences -of his expenditure or his taste might be seen in every part of the house -that night. Round the room, seats were arranged for the dancers, which -being here and there interrupted by evergreens, and hot-house plants, -formed, as the sisters well knew agreeable opportunities for those -_tête-à-têtes_ which they were so clever in sustaining. - -Mrs. Villars looked forward to this evening with elation, but yet with -some share of anxiety also. Nothing, she felt, but the complete success -of her schemes could justify to her husband, the expenditure in which -she had lately been so lavish, and, though she was indifferent to his -censure in trifles, she feared to excite his serious displeasure by any -great offence. - -She was thinking of this as she stood with him and Hargrave, in the -lounging room, where they waited to receive their guests, watching to -observe the effect caused by Caroline's entrance. - -"The girls are late," said, Mr. Villars, nervously consulting his watch, -"it will be awkward if any one comes." - -"I think I hear them, sir," said Hargrave. - -At the same time the door opened, and the four sisters entered; even -Maria looked well in the studied _negligé_ of her appearance, but -Caroline looked brilliant as she entered, with her majestic steady step, -and well-pleased countenance; while the pure white flowers for which she -had so bitterly contended, rested in all their simplicity upon her -haughty breast. - -"Yon have not forgotten your promise, I hope," she said, playfully -resting her fan upon Hargrave's arm, "of inviting a great many of your -gentlemen friends." - -"Oh, no, I have selected a few of my acquaintances, but with care; for -when entrusted with the privilege of affording introductions to ladies, -one cannot be too careful." - -"Fudge," exclaimed Maria; "as if it signified who one waltzed with for -an evening." - -"What," exclaimed Hargrave, "does it not signify whose arm encircles -your waist?" - -"Oh, come, do not squabble, do you know we are to have the pleasure of -Perfection's company, to-night; I should not be surprised to see her -come down with a dress up to the throat, and down to the wrist, a -walking sermon on the degeneracy of the age." - -"Really, mamma," said Caroline, smiling at the latter remark, "you ought -to have ascertained if she had a dress fit to appear in." - -"Mabel is always dressed well," said Lucy, "though she seems to take so -little pains about it." - -"Oh, perfect, most perfect," said Maria, holding up her hands and -raising her eyes in affected admiration, "Henry, do you not appear very -small in her company." - -"Perfectly infantine," he returned, with a good-natured smile; "but -hush, here she comes." - -Maria took up the hush, and repeated it so loudly that it deadened every -other sound, and caused a blush to mantle on Mabel's cheek, as she -entered. She looked a little timid as she advanced into the little -circle. - -To tell the truth, her garret toilet had had only the assistance of the -good-natured cook, who, alone, in the general bustle, had found time to -think of her; yet there was not a single fault to be found with it, and -Caroline bit her lip with vexation, when, instead of the ill-dressed -bashfulness she had expected, she felt the influence of a something -wholly indescribable, yet all fascinating, in her appearance, as she -quietly stood by her uncle's side. - -As if seized by sudden impulse, Hargrave stepped forward, and requested -the favour of her hand for the first dance. Mabel replied that she did -not intend dancing at all that evening, and, though, apparently -dissatisfied, he was compelled to submit. - -Mrs. Villars drew him a little aside, for Caroline's glowing eyes -preluded a storm. - -"You know," she said, laying her hand confidentially on his arm, "that -Caroline has been hoping for the pleasure of opening the evening with -you--you will not disappoint her?" - -"Pray tell her I shall be very happy," he replied, a little peevishly. - -"Caroline, my love," she said, immediately turning to her daughter, -"Henry feared you were engaged, but as I do not think you are, I have -ventured to promise him your hand for the first." - -Hargrave could scarcely repress a smile at this adroit falsehood, and as -he seconded her request, Caroline graciously consented. - -Mabel felt slightly annoyed, she scarce knew why--perhaps because she -had been too pleased a moment before--at seeing how quick the cloud -passed from Hargrave's brow: it never occurred to her to doubt the truth -of what Mrs. Villars said. - -They were, however, no longer left to their own entertainment, for -guests began to crowd in, till the rooms were filled to overflowing; -young and old, pleased, to-night, with the entertainment they would -criticise on the morrow, prepared to enjoy themselves. - -Upon the principal sofa in the reception-room, two old ladies were -seated, the Lady Scratchal and the dowager Mrs. Pierce, who, from some -reason or other, claimed a double share of respect in the houses where -they visited, partly, perhaps, because they both possessed unlimited -power over the large fortunes they enjoyed, and appeared to have not -altogether determined how to dispose of them. There is an instinctive -power in wealth, which the world often feels without stopping to -analyse, and this these two ladies exercised with ready tact over their -acquaintance. - -"No one gets up a party like Mrs. Villars," observed Mrs. Pierce to her -friend. - -"But I think there is a great deal more of display than there ought to -be," returned Lady Scratchal, whose hollow cheeks and sunken eyes, -formed a melancholy contrast to the sparkling diamonds which encircled -her wrinkled brow, and the youthful hair which surmounted it. - -"Ah!" said Mrs. Pierce, "I am afraid, she is silly enough to reckon on -the rich colonel for her Caroline--but I am greatly mistaken if there is -any love there." - -"Men did not make love in that way, in my time, certainly," observed -Lady Scratchal, the ominous shake of her head covering the shades of -many departed admirers. - -"Well, and you know," observed Mrs. Pierce, "that I have my doubts about -that other gentleman--we need not mention names--for you know who I -mean, I am sure." - -"With Lucy?" enquired her friend. - -"Yes," replied Mrs. Pierce; "I am sadly afraid--" - -She did not finish her sentence, but followed it up with many dreadful -shakes of the head, and other symbolical actions, which Lady Scratchal -seemed perfectly to understand. - -Their attention was, however, diverted, by seeing Hargrave hurrying to -the door to receive, with a hearty shake of the hand, a young man, who -was entering with rather an abstracted air, till roused by the -heartiness of his welcome, to which he immediately responded. Hargrave -then hurried him to his hostess, who started, when she heard his name -given as Captain Clair, yet concealed every sensation of annoyance, for -fear of offending her wealthy relation. Mabel met him with unfeigned -pleasure, and eagerly enquired for news of Aston, and her kind friends -at the rectory; but Lucy having given him a trembling, feverish hand, -for an instant, turned away, impatiently, and fixed her eyes upon the -door. - -It was so tantalising to see one after another enter, well-dressed, -good-looking, and welcome to all but her. Her head was giddy with -watching, and her ear had become so acute from listening, that she could -distinguish footsteps on the stairs, from the hum of many voices, and -the merry music which made her poor head ache. - -How gladly, too, in the presence of Arthur Clair, would she have -appeared the admired and loved of the far more talented Beauclerc. -Regardless of the eyes of the watchful dowagers, she thought and teased -herself till her very beauty seemed to fade before the workings of her -restless and ill-governed imagination. And Clair seemed to watch her -with a pitiful expression--perhaps, he believed her as broken-hearted -for him, as he was for Mabel. Enraged at this idea, she would accept the -first partner, who presented himself, and suffer him to lead her to the -giddy round, where, with excited, restless spirits, she would seem the -merriest of them all; but tired, in a few minutes, she would take the -first opportunity of returning to the lounging-room, and there, sinking -into a chair, she would indulge in a fit of thought, more soothing from -its very painfulness, than the merriment in which she had so lately -joined. - -She was sitting thus, late in the evening, under the severe, but -unheeded scrutiny, of Lady Scratchal and her friend, when the well-known -and long watched-for step was heard, and Beauclerc, looking more -handsome and more pensive than ever, entered. Entirely forgetful of -everything but the long hours of dreary monotony, which had preceded his -coming, she started up, and her face was, in an instant, radiant with -smiles, as she walked quickly across the room to meet him, extending her -pretty hand with a mingling of playfulness and pleasure in her manner. - -"Where have you been, truant?" she cried, suffering him to retain the -hand which she had so warmly extended; "did you not know how dull -everything would be without you?" - -"Had I really guessed as much, I might have delayed the business which -detained me, though at some inconvenience," he said, kindly, but -gravely, leading her to one of the recesses, where he took a seat beside -her. - -"Ah," he added, thoughtfully, "you little know of how great a value your -kindness has been to me--now, while my spirits seem to sink within me. -How should I ever have borne my heavy trial without such a sweet -comforter, as you have proved yourself to be to me." - -"Ah," said Lucy, her eyes falling beneath his anxious glance, "how proud -I ought to be, to have been able to administer comfort to such a mind as -yours." - -"All the mental energy we possess," returned Beauclerc, in the same sad -tone, "does not equal the magic of one kind word from a feeling woman." - -"I am too glad to have the power of serving you," said Lucy, as her eyes -sparkled with pleasure. - -"And is it really a pleasure to you to serve me," repeated Beauclerc, -looking at her with liquid eyes--"then yes--I think--yes, I will be bold -enough to ask you to serve me still further; but first you shall know my -history--a painful story indeed--but it is fair that you should know it, -before you bestow any further kindness upon me. But when could I find -such an opportunity?" - -Lucy thought, for a moment, and then replied-- - -"I often walk before breakfast--and if you happen to meet me any morning -in the park, you can tell it me there undisturbed." - -"Will you walk to-morrow?" he enquired. - -"Very likely I may; but stay, I will go to-morrow, because they will not -be down till eleven, I know, so there will be plenty of time for you to -say anything you like." - -"Ingenuous, kind-hearted girl," he exclaimed; "I know some who hide -their coldness, for the feelings of others, behind a prudish reserve, -which would not allow them to do such a vastly improper thing, as meet a -gentleman in their morning walk--but you are not of the number of those -worldly beings--I will be waiting for you at that corner, where there -is, if I remember rightly, an old Jupiter's head." - -"Very well," said Lucy; "but you must take the chance of my coming, as -it is very late now. Is it not nearly three o'clock? I never spent so -long an evening." - -"You are tired, I see; but we will join this last waltz--for such it -ought to be, I am sure." - -So saying, he passed his arm lightly round her waist, and was soon -amongst the dancers. - -Mabel had been no inattentive observer of Mr. Beauclerc's entrance, and -she perceived that Lucy seemed to excuse to herself the open admiration -she paid him, by considering him as a kind of demi-god, while he -appeared contented rather to suffer than to encourage that admiration -which he too plainly perceived. - -"Hargrave had, for some time, stood by her in silence, bent on the same -observation. - -"Well," he said, speaking at length--as if he would challenge her -thoughts. - -"I hope--but fear," she replied; "how lovely she looks to-night." - -Hargrave gave vent to an impatient "hum." - -"What influence can I possess against such an infatuation?" enquired -Mabel. - -"The influence of common sense," he replied; "I never witnessed such -absurdity in my life." - -Mabel sighed, for she knew how impossible it was to govern Lucy, when -bent on having her own way. - -She perceived, also, for the first time, that Hargrave was either out of -spirits, or in one of his obstinate humours; and, when Caroline joined -them, which she did almost immediately, he broke from them, and -retreated to a group of gentlemen near the door-way, with whom he had -spent the greater part of the evening, much to his fair cousin's -chagrin. Perhaps, an incautious remark of Mrs. Villars, on his intimacy -with her daughter, which, possibly, he had overheard, might have led to -this inconsistent conduct; for he had ably resisted all her little plans -to bring them together. - -Mrs. Villars was sensibly annoyed; and Caroline, who, in the course of -the evening, had overheard many remarks in praise of Mabel's beauty, and -had been repeatedly called upon to join in praising her--felt enraged -with her, as, what she termed, the under-ground cause of her failure. - -In vain Selina looked all that was fascinating, and smiled all that was -good-natured--in vain Maria jested--the spirits of the hostess were -infectious, and soon communicated their influence to her guests, who, -one by one, took their leave, and hurried away, sooner, perhaps, than -they might have done. - -The family party were once more alone--and when the last guest had been -civilly disposed of, stood regarding each other in bewildered silence, -surrounded by failing wax-lights, and the ruins of gay bouquets; with -the echoes of the now silent music still sounding, in fancy, in their -ears. - -Hargrave, without waiting to discuss the evening, during which he knew -he had taken so unpopular a part, bade them, hastily, good night, and -hurried down stairs, where he encountered Clair, who, as if spell-bound, -had lingered till the last, and now busied himself in a forlorn search -for his hat. - -Hargrave offered to lend him one, and took him into his room. They found -the fire burning so brightly, and all looking so snug, that they were -tempted to remain talking over it, till the lost hat was forgotten. - -Mabel, anxious to offer a word of counsel, proposed to accompany Lucy to -her room, to assist her in untwisting her hair; but this Lucy declined -coolly and evasively, and she too, departed, feeling a depression -arising from the lateness of the hour, and an evening spent in heated -and noisy rooms, with which she was hitherto unacquainted; and it was -some time before she could shut out the moving panorama, which -perpetually presented itself, and close her eyes in sleep. - -In order to make arrangements for the display shewn that evening, the -whole house had been overturned; but, in the amusement of the -preparations, none had felt the many little inconveniences to which they -had all laughingly subjected themselves; but now the scene was changed. -Nothing appeared more wretched to the sisters than all being obliged to -occupy the same sleeping apartment, and submit to all the little acts of -self-denial, which good-nature would only have discovered to be amused -with. Wearied, fatigued, and disappointed, few felt so chagrined as Mrs. -Villars, when, after seeing to some necessary household duties, and -waiting till her kitchen was cleared of half intoxicated waiters, she -retired to her room, anxious to shut out the unpleasant thoughts of the -evening in sleep. She was not therefore very agreeably surprised to find -her eldest daughter waiting for her. - -It was with difficulty that Caroline had suppressed her temper till that -minute; and, though it was already morning, she felt it impossible to -retire to rest without first venting it upon her indulgent parent, whom -she regarded, (as most spoilt children do their parents), as the -malignant cause of all her sufferings, real or imaginary. Mrs. Villars -would willingly have escaped, feeling herself too distressed, and too -tired to frame those excuses and cunning falsehoods which had been so -often applied, to heal the wounds of an acrimonious temper; but it was -in vain; for Caroline indignantly flinging herself down into a chair; -exclaimed-- - -"I knew how it would be--it is all your doing--and I do think if you had -felt like any other mother, you would have spared me such a -mortification." - -"I!" replied her mother, almost equally irritated by fatigue and -disappointment, "I spare you mortification! how can I make the man love -you! It is your own vile temper which is in fault." - -"Whatever I may be," replied Caroline, bitterly, "I am what you have -made me; but I can tell you, that if that girl is to be suffered to -queen it over us all, I am not the one to stand it, I would rather go -out as a governess." - -"Mabel! what has she to do with it?" enquired Mrs. Villars, not sorry to -have the blame thrown off her own shoulders. - -"Did you not see Henry speaking to her, and to no one else; and did he -not ask her to dance before me; and did not Lady Scratchal say that, if -she were you, she would not suffer such an artful girl--who knew how to -make such use of her good looks--to be with her daughters, if she had -any." - -"But, Cary dear, remember the poor child has no home, and I promised -her mother she should find one here." - -"Very well," said Caroline, tossing her head angrily, "I see how it is; -she has already supplanted us with papa, and she is going to do the same -with you." - -"My love," said Mrs. Villars, quite overcome by this appeal to her -parental affection, "you know better than that; you know how much I -would sacrifice for you--any thing--everything." - -"Then send her away," said Caroline, bursting into tears. - -"I will see about it, I will think to-morrow," replied her mother. - -"No; say you will, to-night," urged Caroline, kissing her, "just say you -will." - -"Go my love, now--there is your papa, on the stairs--and he will not -like to find you here." - -Caroline was, reluctantly, forced to hurry away, and her mother, once -more alone, endeavoured, in vain, to reconcile her desire with her -policy. Almost equally with her daughter, she wished to get rid of -Mabel, for she was not blind to the fact, that her gentle dignity of -manner, joined to her self-denying temper, contrasted ill with the -characters of her daughters; yet, there was one obstacle which she had -no power to remove; for, possibly, Mabel was aware of the loan granted -by her mother, and might be regarding her stay in the house, as the -condition upon which it would be cancelled; otherwise, how could she -have so cheerfully evaded every attempt to humiliate her. - -Finding it impossible to meet this view of the subject in any -satisfactory manner, she thought that the most comfortable plan would be -to postpone the consideration of it till Caroline should again renew the -topic; trusting to her ingenuity for some plan for getting out of the -difficulty, should Caroline's obstinacy force her to do any thing which -would oblige Mabel to seek some other refuge. And, having come to this -decision, she sunk into a dreamy sleep, from which she was only awakened -by the noon-day sun. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - But oh, to know that our heart has been, - Like the toy of an Indian queen, - Torn, trampled, without thought or care, - Where is despair like this despair. - - L. E. L. - - -The next morning was the beginning of one of those early and fleeting -days of spring, which are so gladly welcomed at the close of a long -winter. The rising sun smiled mildly and pleasantly, and all nature -welcomed its beams by dewy freshness from herb and flower. Here and -there, some few buds, the graceful blossom of the nut, and the silken -tuft of the palm, gave promise of coming leaves and flowers, while the -yellow crocus and the primrose, soon to become so plentifully luxurious -in meadow and hedgerow--here and there looked forth from their dewy -bed--rich treasures for those who sought them. - -It was not, however, to welcome these early harbingers of spring, that -Lucy Villars hurried past the streets, and entered the Victoria Park, -which, though at a late hour of the day, the fashionable lounge of the -inhabitants of the gay city, was now scarcely the resort of a single -person. - -As she went on with rapid step, her cheeks flushed, and her bright eyes -beamed with expected triumph. - -"Why," she hastily reasoned, as she entered the silent walks, "why -should Beauclerc have sought such an interview, if not to make her -acquainted, rather with the history of his present feelings, than with -his past life; and what could those feelings be, if they referred not to -her. Or, perhaps, some obstacle lay in his way, which one light word of -hers might be able to remove." - -But she had reached the appointed spot, and now stood there alone. A -mass of rock-work, surmounted by the cumbrous head of some heathen God, -was the place appointed. Was it like a lover, to be so unpunctual! -rather should he come an hour too soon, than one minute too late--for -the first time, she began to feel an uneasy conviction of the -impropriety of her situation; but sophistry seldom, till too late, -deserts those who trust in it. The grim head frowned down upon her; as -she walked up and down before it, reasoning with herself, that there -could be no possible harm in taking a morning walk, to dissipate the -weariness of a ball. She had a quarter of an hour for reflection, but, -as it was spent in such reasoning it was of little service to her. At -the end of it, Beauclerc was seen advancing in the distance. He must -perceive her, and now retreat would be foolish and unavailing, had she -even desired it, which she did not; for the thought of being able to -announce her proposed marriage to her mamma and sisters, not as a matter -of speculation, but of certainty, made her heart beat vehemently; and -she did not stop to analyse the feeling of infatuation or vanity, which, -in its effect, seemed so akin to love. - -"Have you waited for me, Miss Villars?" he enquired, when he reached -her, with his usual earnest manner, but with less of ardour than she had -expected--so she replied hastily and carelessly-- - -"Oh, no, only a few minutes; but I see I am a better riser than you -are." - -"Perhaps an earlier sleeper; I have scarcely closed my eyes since we -parted; but you will take my arm and then--." He stopped and sighed. - -"And then," replied Lucy, "and then." - -"I will, if you still desire it," he replied, in a tone which checked -her playfulness, "repeat some part of my own sad history, in order that -you may give me that assistance which I am told you have the power to -afford me. If, indeed, I am not mistaken in hoping that you feel some -kindly sentiments towards me. Some part you know already." - -Lucy raised her eyes archly, but said nothing. Her companion seemed -satisfied, for he continued, still more gravely-- - -"Where, or how shall I begin?" - -"Who are you--what are you--and why are you sad?" said Lucy. - -"Who am I? Yes, that will do very well," said he, suddenly assuming the -quick flow of language most natural to him. - -"Like your father, mine was a wealthy merchant; I was his only son, and -he earnestly prided himself on bestowing upon me all the learning and -accomplishments which money could procure. The advantages of a -first-rate education, joined, perhaps, to some natural ability, enabled -me to shine at the University; and I left Oxford to pursue the study of -the bar in Lincoln's Inn, trusting to be able to use my money skilfully -in the pursuit of fame; but how fallacious are all the expectations of -human life! My father made some enormous speculations, and, after years -of successful ventures, failed this once and for ever. He did not many -days survive his loss, and dying broken-hearted, left me heir to his -poverty; but how unfit for it--accustomed, from infancy, to the -gratification of every whim--lavish in my expenditure, and boundless in -my ambition, with nothing but a profession, yet untried, and a feeble -dependence on a sick uncle. What a fall for one accustomed to all the -elegances of life. But this was not all; I had at this time become -acquainted with the daughter of a banker, reported to possess enormous -wealth." - -"What can be coming," thought Lucy, beginning to feel uncomfortable. - -"I had not hesitated to seek her," continued Beauclerc; "she returned my -affection, and we fondly looked forward to our union. But, when my poor -father died, I felt that we must meet on different terms, and that I had -no right to claim a promise given under such different circumstances. I -felt, indeed, the curse of poverty, too bitterly, to wish to make her a -sharer in it; and so I went to her at once, and offered to resign all -pretensions to her hand." - -"You may imagine how a generous warm-hearted girl would receive such an -offer. She saw at once, that nothing but my love for her induced me to -make it; and declared that she was ready to share my poverty, and would -become my wife, as soon as I was able to marry. She only stipulated that -I should enter on my professional duties, with some chance of success, -in which case she promised to obtain her father's consent." - -Lucy began to listen with that constrained attention which a person -possessed by nightmare, might give to some horrid vision, from which -they would willingly break, though obliged to wait its conclusion in -silence. Beauclerc, however, seemed too much occupied by his own -thoughts to regard hers, and presently, continued:-- - -"I was then almost without money or resources; but, being of a confident -disposition, I felt there were few things which love could not -surmount. I knew, besides, that my wife must be the heiress to her -father's wealth, for she was an only child--but, as I was unable to -settle any thing of my own upon her, I was timid of approaching the -subject; particularly, as, whenever I did so, her father seemed so -pained, that I instantly dropped it again. I could not but feel -gratitude for this delicacy towards my feelings, and this trust in my -honour, where so dear a child was concerned, and I resolved to deserve -it. I was far too proud to be dependent on him; and, therefore, -privately borrowed money on bond--took chambers, furnished a small -house, and obtained a few briefs through the interest of some of my -father's friends; and probably, had I been careful, I might have done -well. - -"This industrious commencement induced my intended father-in-law to give -his consent to our marriage; and, in a few months, I had the -satisfaction of seeing my wife at the head of a small, but elegant -establishment. Poor thing, she had been so accustomed to the luxuries -of her old home, that she never doubted me when I told her that mine -was arranged with the greatest economy. - -"But the consciousness of deceiving her, and the perpetual dread of that -wretched debt always hovering round me, insensibly soured my temper, and -wore upon my spirits. But this only called forth the depth of her -affection. She was never weary of pleasing me, and my very fretfulness -rendered her more sweet and patient. It was beautiful to see," he -continued with emotion, "how she schooled her naturally fiery and -uncurbed temper, to bear my sour complaint, or peevish rebuke. Beautiful -to see how little it humbled her when she was most patient; and what a -sweet, and gentle, and loving wife, the spoilt child of wealth had -become, at my bidding. But, let me spare myself the agony of -remembrance. A greater trial was yet in store for her; for we had -scarcely been married six months, when her father died. I had by that -time become so deeply in debt, that, though I hated myself for it, I -felt relieved by the news which fell so heavily on my wife. - -"If the clouds we so much dread, are often big with blessing--how often -is the sunshine only the fore-runner of the storm? - -"In a few days I had cause to know this; for I found, when affairs were -inspected, that, instead of being, as I expected, possessed of -thousands, I was again the heir of a ruined man. And, even worse, ruined -myself; for it was only upon this tacit expectation that I had obtained -credit, and creditors would soon press upon me. I knew, now, that all -hope was gone. Ah, wretch that I had become, simply, perhaps, because, I -had despised the common-place business of money matters. - -"Almost mad with the intelligence I had just learned, I rushed home to -insult my innocent wife, with the knowledge of her parent's disgrace. -Heaven forgive me, I must have been mad, or I could not have done it. - -"I well remember it was morning, and I found my way, I scarce knew how, -to her dressing-room--she was weeping--but when I entered, she tried to -dry her tears. I was, however, past control, and bitterly did I reproach -her for the deception, I alleged she had practised upon me--taunting her -with angry violence. At first, she seemed stunned, by what she learnt -from my wretched complaints--but then, as if suddenly stung to the -quick, she retorted on me, accusing me, with bitter calmness, of having -loved her for her expected fortune. I hardly know what I replied--but -bad enough it was, I know--I, passionate and abusive; she, cold and -contemptuous--and then, with a bitter curse, I left the house. - -"I hurried out of town; any where to forget myself--some where to the -country; it did not signify where. The cool air refreshed me, and nature -called me to better feelings, for, happily, passion is of short -duration--it told me, as I lingered amongst its beauties, of our happy -honeymoon--it told me how, from that time, I had declined in my kindness -to the wife whom I believed I loved better than self, and how, through -all the trying months which had followed, she had preserved an unvarying -meekness of temper, till that one day, when, galled beyond endurance, -she had ventured to oppose passion to passion. Such sweetness might well -atone for this single act of opposition--and spent with rage, and half -repentant, I resolved to return and forgive her, though in a dignified -manner; and to offer her my continued love and protection, if she -desired to accompany my flight abroad, which I felt certain she would be -too willing to do. - -"There was a stillness about my house when I returned, which I was not -surprised to find, for it was a house of sorrow--yet I had not noticed -it so much before--I was late, as I intended, hoping to find my wife -frightened and penitent--yet she did not come to meet me--no one did but -my man, who asked me, with the tone of one accustomed to a sharp answer, -'if I intended waiting dinner for his mistress?' I hastily replied in -the affirmative--and concealing my alarm, I hurried to the room where I -had left her. A note lay upon her dressing-table, and, in the haste with -which I opened it, something fell jingling to the ground. The note -itself contained a few lines, written in a decisive tone, expressive of -farewell, and telling her determination of renouncing, at once, my -protection and my name. I stooped to pick up what had fallen--it was her -wedding ring--that ring which, in happier days, we had so delighted to -look upon, because the pledge of a faith which, it seemed, she could so -easily cast aside. - -"Let me pass over that dreadful day of stupefaction, and bitter -repentance, at the end of which I found myself in prison, for all care -for liberty had passed from me when she went--and I had not even tried -to fly. You see," he continued, perceiving that Lucy listened with -breathless attention, "that I was, thus, prevented from instituting any -enquiry; and, indeed, I felt glad to hide myself from her eyes, for how -could I wish her to acknowledge me in a prison--I believe I was -completely humbled, and when I say that, I say a good deal--and that I -was truly so, must be seen by the candour with which I have unveiled my -meanness. Tell me, do you not pity me?" - -Lucy made no reply. - -He continued, in a more agitated voice-- - -"Do not turn from me--you can, you will serve me, I know. Stay, I forgot -to finish my story. Only two months since, my old uncle died, and -bequeathed me his whole fortune. He did not know I was in prison, or he -might have cancelled this will. It found me there, wretched and -desponding, and relieved me from its chilling influence. Once more free, -I discharged every debt of honesty or honor, and then sought for my -wife. I found that she had again taken her maiden name, which enabled me -to trace her to this city. The rest you know." - -"I don't," screamed Lucy. - -"Good Heavens," cried Beauclerc, seizing her hand, "the bosom friend of -Millie Foster, and not know--" - -A hysterical scream, and another, and another, burst from the poor -girl--she sunk fainting in his arms. - -What was to be done--Lucy could not be left--yet Beauclerc felt the -increasing awkwardness of the scene. In his interest in his own -narrative, he had not had time to mark her rising agitation till too -late to check its effects. - -As he was bending over her, endeavouring, with trembling hands, to untie -the strings of her bonnet, a hasty step struck upon his ear, and turning -quickly, he confronted Captain Clair. - -"Beauclerc," said the latter, sternly, "what does this mean?" - -And, as he said this, he turned full upon him, with anger flashing in -his eyes. - -Beauclerc turned pale, and then red, as he answered his angry glance, -saying, hurriedly-- - -"There has been some fearful mistake here: indeed, indeed, it has been -no fault of mine." - -"No fault of yours," said Clair, even more sternly, "that you have drawn -the eyes of all Bath upon your heartless flirtation, and subjected a -young girl's name to the ribald jest of any who chose to comment upon -it. As I am a soldier, you shall answer for it." - -"Whatever you do," said Beauclerc, with a face of ashy paleness, "let us -think of her first. Do not let this get abroad." - -"Canting hypocrite," cried Clair, fiercely, "do you not know that you -have made her a jest, in every place where men congregate, and you would -ask me not to let this get abroad--stand back from her I tell you." - -Beauclerc, however, did not heed the latter remark, for, having -succeeded in loosening the strings, he threw back her bonnet, and -suffered the morning air to play, undisturbed, among her fair tresses, -and over her heated brow, and, as it did so, the color slowly returned -to her blanched lips, and again breathing more freely she slowly raised -her head; and then, perhaps, feeling able to stand, she drew herself -from the support of Beauclerc's arm, and, as she did so, encountered -Clair; she looked at him for an instant, with a terrified expression, -and then hid her face in her shawl. - -"Will you let me take you home, Miss Lucy," he said, in an abrupt, but -kind voice, at the same time, handing her, her bonnet, which he held in -his hand, and studiously turning his back on Beauclerc. - -"Home!" said Lucy, almost wildly. - -Clair made no reply, except by placing himself by her side. - -"Yes, I will go anywhere," said Lucy, in the same vacant tone. - -He drew her hand within his arm, and without a second glance at -Beauclerc, who stood like one who had lost his senses, he hurried her -forward at a brisk pace. - -She did not speak, and, it is probable, almost forgot whose arm -supported her; neither did Clair attempt to gain her attention, till -they reached her father's door. He suffered her to enter alone, waiting -a short interval before he himself gained admission, when he hurried to -Hargrave's room. The latter was waiting for him with some anxiety, and -turned towards him as he entered. - -"Well!" he exclaimed, "nothing, after all, I trust?" - -"Nothing!" said Clair, "nothing! when I found her in the Park, lying in -his arms in a fainting fit--scoundrel." - -"And you have brought her home?" - -"Yes; she came very willingly when I asked her. What had passed I cannot -divine, but if she does not know the truth already, the sooner she does, -no doubt, the better. Have you seen Miss Lesly?" - -"Yes; she promised to keep watch for her, and they are together by this -time." - -"So far so good, then," said Clair, endeavouring to compose himself into -his naturally careless air, "now for Beauclerc--I declare," he added, -brushing his hand angrily over his eyes, "it almost unmans me to see a -woman in distress." - -"And yet, my dear Arthur," said Hargrave, laying his hand kindly on his -shoulder, "I fear you are not guiltless." - -"Well, if I have given her pain, nobody else shall. Come Hargrave, will -you go to him, I can trust no one so implicitly as I can you." - -"If you are determined on meeting him, I will go, certainly, but only -consider, first, how little right you have to take up her quarrel, and -the unnecessary publicity you give to the affair." - -"With regard to that, how, I cannot tell, but, depend upon it, before -to-morrow night, the affair will be discussed in every _coterie_ in the -town." - -"What do you require, then?" said Hargrave, taking up his hat. - -"The most ample apology." - -"And who shall I say you are--a friend of the family?" - -"Never mind that--he knows me, I was his friend once, and he will not -enquire into my right to question his motives." - -"Very well then, wait for me in your rooms at the Lion, and I will join -you directly." - -"I have seen him--stay, where is he?" - -"We are both at the Lion, so we will walk there together," said Clair, -following him into the street. - -A few minutes walk brought them to the hotel, and, parting at the public -entrance, Clair proceeded to his room, while Hargrave sent in his card -to Beauclerc. - -He was immediately admitted. - -Beauclerc was standing by the table, his face expressing much internal -agitation, while his usual self-possessed air was entirely gone. - -Hargrave, on the contrary, was perfectly cool, but very grave, as he -bowed to him somewhat stiffly, and said, courteously-- - -"My friend, Captain Clair, was--" - -"I know what you would say, Colonel Hargrave," interrupted Beauclerc, -quickly, "he would ask me for an explanation of the strange -circumstances under which he met me this morning--I will not ask what -right he has to question my conduct--I am too angry with myself to seek -to take shelter under any such subterfuge--I have done wrong, I now see, -but how to atone for that I cannot tell." - -"I fear there is no atonement to be made, except the poor satisfaction -of an open explanation and apology." - -"That I am most ready to make," replied Beauclerc, with unaffected -sadness, "and I wish I had more to offer." - -He then hurried over what he had repeated before to Lucy, while -Hargrave listened with that acute attention which seldom failed to give -him an insight into the characters of those about him, when he chose to -exercise it. - -"Miss Lucy Villars," said Beauclerc, in conclusion, "was the first -acquaintance I made here, and, knowing her to be the intimate friend, -nay, almost the only admitted friend of my wife, I looked upon her with -peculiar interest--not for an instant doubting her knowledge of the -connection existing between her friend and myself, from the readiness -with which she fell into my confidence--and, indeed, from her replies to -all my allusions to the subject. Believing that she knew me to be a -married man, I never (pardon my alluding to this subject,) thought the -attention she bestowed upon me any other than that, which love for her -friend, and pity for my situation, called for." - -"Are you sincere in that?" said Hargrave suddenly, changing his tone of -courteous attention to deeper earnestness, as, with his dark eyes fixed -upon him, he waited his answer. - -"I am," returned Beauclerc, decidedly. - -"And you were not aware of the danger in which you placed a young girl -of ardent imagination?" - -"I might, had I considered; but I did not consider." - -"And I may suppose myself warranted in conveying to my friend this -explanation, together with the fullest apology for the mischief you have -unknowingly caused." - -"Most certainly." - -"Then, sir," said Hargrave, rising, "however deeply I may regret the -mistake which has arisen between you and Miss Villars, I feel bound to -offer my testimony to the sincerity of your purpose." - -"Thank you, thank you," cried Beauclerc; "where I was wrong, was, -perhaps, in believing the possibility of a friendship of so much warmth -existing between a young girl of singular attraction, and myself, a -married man." - -"Why, yes," replied Hargrave, sternly; "I am not a married man myself, -yet I have my own peculiar, and, perhaps, very strict notions of the -duties of married life, which would scarcely admit of the freedom you -have allowed yourself." - -"You open my eyes," said Beauclerc, as if a sudden idea had occurred to -him; but then, remembering he was speaking to a stranger, he colored, -and was silent. - -Hargrave, unwilling to intrude on his private confidence, by any further -remark, immediately wished him good morning, extending his hand, as he -did so. Beauclerc shook it warmly, thanking him for his patience and -temper, and, with many repeated assurances of regret, suffered him to -withdraw. - -He immediately went to Clair, who was waiting for him, with some -impatience, and, in a few words, repeated the subject of his -interview. - -"There," he said, in conclusion, "I have done my best, and so I think -have you. It is as I suspected--Beauclerc had really no intention of -doing harm--and Lucy would have suffered none, had she not jumped to the -conclusion that, of course, he admired her. We cannot, with the best -will in the world to serve her, atone for the consequences of her own -folly--and this, I fear, she has displayed in the whole affair. What a -pity it is that girls possessing so many natural attractions should not -wait to be sought." - -"A great pity, indeed," said Clair; "I know few girls who would be more -attractive than Lucy Villars, if she had but the one necessary -appendage--sterling principle." - -"Perhaps, it may be so," said Hargrave, "and if she had, besides, a -greater, and a less reliance, on her own powers. But we have had -excitement enough for one morning in settling her affairs. I am going -into the country, will you walk with me?" - -"Willingly," said Clare, taking his hat and stick. - -And the two young men sallied forth together for a long country -excursion. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - - Oh, pass not, pass not, heedless by, - Perhaps thou canst redeem - The breaking heart from misery, - Go, share thy lot with him. - - -When Lucy reached her own room, she found Mabel waiting there--but -without taking any notice of her, she sunk down upon her bed, and -remained gloomily silent. - -Mabel offered no consolation, for there is a dignity in grief which -calls for something like respect; she, therefore, busied herself in -getting the chamber restored to something like order, that Lucy might -not be disturbed; and as soon as she heard her aunt stirring, she went -to her, though most reluctantly, to communicate as much as she knew of -the morning's adventure. As she anticipated, she had to bear the brunt -of her wrath, for Mrs. Villars, with the unreasonable temper of -disappointment, was almost ready to blame _her_ for the whole -occurrence. Mabel, however, listened to her patiently, glad to shield -the unhappy Lucy from the angry observations which she had herself to -endure. She then returned to her cousin, and remained with her for the -rest of the day--though there seemed very little to repay this patient -attention to her feelings. Lucy turned with peevishness from her -sisters, when they either offered their pity, or attempted to gratify -their curiosity, and they soon left her to herself. - -For the last few weeks, her spirits had been kept up to an unnatural -pitch of excitement, and she had danced late, and walked early, without -shewing the slightest fatigue; but now her nerves suffered from -reaction; and sleepless nights, and fatiguing days, all seemed to -oppress her then; and before that evening had closed in, her burning -brow, which could scarcely find rest upon the pillow--her parched lips, -and feverish pulse, frightened her companion, and she hastened to Mrs. -Villars, begging her, that she might be allowed to send for a doctor. - -"What!" exclaimed the latter, indignantly, when she heard this request, -and speaking very loud; "what! send for Mr. Mildman, that he may carry -the scandal all over Bath? No; I will do no such thing. She never took -to these absurd whims, till she went to Aston, and I will not have them, -and that you may tell her. Say, it is my wish that she should get up and -shew herself." - -"Shew herself where?" thought Mabel, as she slowly retreated; "in the -Pump-room--the assembly rooms--or the crowded streets? and what chance -of real comfort could they offer? callous they might indeed make her to -the sufferings of life, but to its better feelings also." And she -returned, with renewed diligence to the couch of her restless patient, -resolved that no want of kindness at home, should make her seek it -abroad; but she was soon convinced, also, that her aunt was so far right -in believing that Lucy's sufferings were rather mental than bodily. - -She seemed sullen and selfish in her grief; and, heedless of her -cousin's presence, she would turn her face away, or, burying it in the -clothes, seemed resolved to hug her disappointment, as closely as she -had cherished her former infatuation. She answered, with peevish -bitterness, any attempt to cheer her, and when her mother or sisters -paid her a visit, she obstinately refused, either to speak or listen to -them. This conduct they were little inclined to bear; and one after -another, as she gave up the task, readily agreed, that, as Mabel did not -mind it, it was better to leave the two alone; so that she spent her -time almost entirely in the sick room, unless when she went down to the -study to give some passing word to Mr. Villars, and to run away with -some passage which he wished copied. As she was one day returning from -him, a servant handed her a letter, which she stopped on the -landing-place to read--it ran as follows:-- - - "Miss Lesly will, I trust, pardon the liberty I am now taking in - addressing her--and will allow me, through her, to say some words - in vindication of myself to Miss Lucy Villars--and to tell her, - that, when I first sought an introduction to her, it was under the - impression that she was the bosom friend of my wife, from whom - circumstances had separated me--and with the hope that she might - aid me in obtaining a quiet reconciliation. That we never spoke - openly on the subject, I allow--but I frequently alluded to - it--believing that she understood me. That she did not, I lament; - and if in the course of our friendship, I have displayed so much of - my admiration for her artless candour, and ingenuous beauty, as to - place my sentiments in a doubtful light, I most sincerely repent - having done so, and entreat her to forgive me. Again soliciting - Miss Lesly's pardon, and begging her to convey all the apology - which a delicate mind can with delicacy accept, I remain, her - obedient servant, - - "ALFRED BEAUCLERC." - -At this moment Hargrave ascended the stairs, and Mabel handed him the -letter, saying-- - -"Pray read this, for you are a better judge of character than I am." - -"You cannot, then," replied Hargrave, "detect the deception which -prevents some people from reading themselves. Now I really do not think -this man knew he was exactly flirting, for the knowledge that he was a -married man made him admire the confidence and freedom which would have -disgusted him had he been single." - -"Why?" - -"Because," replied Hargrave, smiling, "he would have suspected motives, -which, being married, he knew could not exist." - -"But this was still very, very wrong." - -"I own it; marriage should be like the Devonshire lane of the poet's -song; and he is most unhappy who looks over its high hedges to discover -more beauties in the scenery beyond, which he has given up for ever. -Still, I do not think Beauclerc meant any harm; at least, when I called, -on the part of Captain Clair, to demand an explanation, he assured me -so, in such a simple manner, that I felt it impossible to doubt him; and -you must know how very imprudent Lucy has been; she was likely to bring -such a thing upon herself, becoming attached to him, without enquiry as -to who or what he was, and having no certainty with regard to his -sentiments. So I think it would be much better to hush this foolish -affair up as quietly and quickly as possible." - -"Then what shall I do?" enquired Mabel, taking the letter. - -"Try to make Lucy think no more than may be beneficial to her. Write to -Beauclerc, absolve him, and treat his offence as trifling, and, promise -that she will do as he desired--become a mediator between him and his -wife." - -"Thank you," said Mabel, scarcely suppressing a smile at the difficulty -of her task; and she went on to Lucy's room; as she did so, she heard a -step hastily retreat from the top of the stairs, and the rustling of a -silk dress. - -For the first time, Mabel found Lucy in a sound sleep, and, fearful of -waking her, she took up a book, and seated herself by the fireplace, for -fire there was none, though the day, for February, was particularly cold -and cheerless. - -She had been sitting thus for nearly an hour, when looking to see if -Lucy still slept, she found that she was awake, and with her large -light blue eyes filled with tears, was gazing at her with a gentle -earnestness, which was a relief to see, after the angry flush, which had -before so constantly marked her countenance. - -"Will you ring the bell, if you please," said Lucy. - -Mabel did as she was desired, and, when the servant entered, Lucy said-- - -"I wonder that Miss Lesly has been suffered to sit so long without a -fire. Will you light one directly, Jemima?" - -As Jemima did so, she watched the preparations with more interest than -she had lately regarded any thing. - -When they were again alone she said-- - -"Can you tell me how it was that Captain Clair happened to see me in the -Park that morning?" - -"Because he went out on purpose to meet you." - -"And why?" - -"Do you remember, that after the party, Colonel Hargrave went to bed -earlier than we did?" - -"Yes; I think I do." - -"Well, when he went down stairs, he found Captain Clair, who had lost -his hat, so he offered to lend him one, and took him into his -room,--where they found the fire blazing so temptingly, that, late as it -was, they sat down to talk, and in the course of conversation, Captain -Clair remarked on your intimacy with Mr. Beauclerc, which he had noticed -that evening, and, in return, Colonel Hargrave observed, he was supposed -to be paying you attention, and that it was generally expected that he -would soon come forward. But why need I tell you all this?" - -"Because I wish to know--pray go on, what then?" - -"Why, then, Captain Clair startled him by saying, that he knew him very -well, and that he was married, though separated from his wife. Colonel -Hargrave, feeling very much distressed, for he is very kindly -interested in you, and had many doubts of Mr. Beauclerc, before--went on -talking and planning with Captain Clair, how to break such disagreeable -news to you--and, while they were doing so, you came down stairs, and -went out. Now, as this appeared to them very singular--after a night of -such fatigue--they suspected something wrong, and, with the hope of -being able to serve you, Captain Clair followed you at a distance, -keeping you in sight, though he did not like to interfere till he saw -you faint." - -Lucy listened with attention, but made no remark, and when Mabel left -off speaking, she again buried her face in the bed-clothes, and seemed -to sleep. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mabel, Vol. II (of 3), by Emma Newby - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MABEL, VOL. 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