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@@ -1,39 +1,4 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of It May Be True Volume 1 of 3, by Mrs. Wood - -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: It May Be True Volume 1 of 3 - -Author: Mrs. Wood - -Release Date: August 6, 2012 [EBook #40418] -[Last updated: September 23, 2013] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IT MAY BE TRUE VOLUME 1 OF 3 *** - - - - -Produced by David Edwards, Sue Fleming and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40418 *** IT MAY BE TRUE. @@ -5894,7 +5859,7 @@ TEETH WITHOUT PAIN AND WITHOUT SPRINGS. OSTEO EIDON FOR ARTIFICIAL TEETH, EQUAL TO NATURE. -Complete Sets L4 4s., L7 7s., L10 10s., L15 15s., and L21. +Complete Sets £4 4s., £7 7s., £10 10s., £15 15s., and £21. SINGLE TEETH AND PARTIAL SETS AT PROPORTIONATELY MODERATE CHARGES. @@ -6068,7 +6033,7 @@ presentation, and railway, to suit all classes. BENSON'S WATCHES. -London-made levers, gold from L10 10s., silver from L5 5s. +London-made levers, gold from £10 10s., silver from £5 5s. 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. @@ -6076,7 +6041,7 @@ London-made levers, gold from L10 10s., silver from L5 5s. BENSON'S WATCHES. -Swiss watches of guaranteed quality, gold from L5 5s; silver from L2 +Swiss watches of guaranteed quality, gold from £5 5s; silver from £2 12s. 6d. 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. @@ -6085,7 +6050,7 @@ Swiss watches of guaranteed quality, gold from L5 5s; silver from L2 Benson's Exact Watch. -Gold from L30; silver from L24. +Gold from £30; silver from £24. 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. @@ -6093,7 +6058,7 @@ Gold from L30; silver from L24. Benson's Indian Watch. -Gold, L23; silver, L11 11s. +Gold, £23; silver, £11 11s. 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. @@ -6122,7 +6087,7 @@ astronomical, regulator, shop, warehouse, office, counting house, &c., BENSON'S CLOCKS. Drawing room clocks, richly gilt, and ornamented with fine enamels from -the imperial manufactories of Sevres, from L200 to L2 2s. +the imperial manufactories of Sèvres, from £200 to £2 2s. 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. @@ -6141,7 +6106,7 @@ guineas to 2 guineas. BENSON'S CLOCKS, In the following marbles:--Black, rouge antique, Sienne, d'Egypte, rouge -vert, malachite, white, rosee, serpentine, Brocatelle, porphyry, green, +vert, malachite, white, rosée, serpentine, Brocatelle, porphyry, green, griotte, d'Ecosse, alabaster, lapis lazuli, Algerian onyx, Californian. 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. @@ -6212,7 +6177,7 @@ ISLANDS, EGYPT, &c. "Dr. Madden has been to most of the places he describes, and his book contains the advantage of a guide, with the personal experience of a traveller. To persons who have determined that they ought to have change -of climate, we can recommend Dr. Madden as a guide."--_Athenaeum._ +of climate, we can recommend Dr. Madden as a guide."--_Athenæum._ "It contains much valuable information respecting various favorite places of resort, and is evidently the work of a well-informed @@ -6249,7 +6214,7 @@ CARPETS, CHINTZES, MUSLIN CURTAINS, And every variety of textile fabric for Upholstery purposes -constituting the most recherche selection in the trade. +constituting the most recherché selection in the trade. @@ -6419,366 +6384,4 @@ following exceptions: End of Project Gutenberg's It May Be True Volume 1 of 3, by Mrs. Wood -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IT MAY BE TRUE VOLUME 1 OF 3 *** - -***** This file should be named 40418.txt or 40418.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/4/1/40418/ - -Produced by David Edwards, Sue Fleming and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: It May Be True Volume 1 of 3 - -Author: Mrs. Wood - -Release Date: August 6, 2012 [EBook #40418] -[Last updated: September 23, 2013] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IT MAY BE TRUE VOLUME 1 OF 3 *** - - - - -Produced by David Edwards, Sue Fleming and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - IT MAY BE TRUE. - - - A NOVEL. - - - IN THREE VOLUMES. - - BY - MRS. WOOD. - - - VOL. I. - - - London: - T. CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER, - 30, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE, - 1865. - - [THE RIGHT OF TRANSLATION IS RESERVED.] - - - - - IT MAY BE TRUE. - - - - - CHAPTER I. - - ASHLEIGH. - - Had'st thou lived in days of old, - O, what wonders had been told - Of thy lively countenance, - And thy humid eyes that dance - In the midst of their own brightness, - In the very fane of lightness; - Over which thine eyebrows, leaning, - Picture out each lovely meaning; - In a dainty bend they lie - Like the streaks across the sky, - Or the feathers from a crow, - Fallen on a bed of snow. - KEATS. - - -The village of Ashleigh is situated in one of the most lovely and -romantic of the English counties; where mountains, valleys, woods and -forest trees appear to vie with each other in stately magnificence. The -village is literally embosomed amongst the trees. Lofty elms, majestic -oaks, and wide-spreading beech trees grow in and around it. On one side, -as far as the eye can reach, are mountains covered with verdure, with -all their varied and lovely tints of green. On the other side the view -is partially obstructed by a mass of forest trees growing in clumps, or -forming an arch overhead, through which nevertheless may be gained a -peep of the distant sea, with its blue waves, and sometimes the white -sails of a ship; or, on a clear day, even the small fishermen's boats -can be distinguished dotted here and there like small pearls. - -Ashleigh has its country inn and ivy-mantled church, with the small -house dignified as the Parsonage, close by. Other houses are sprinkled -here and there down the green lanes, or along the road, shaded by its -lofty elms, at the end of which, on a small eminence, stands the Manor -or "Big House," as the villagers call it. - -It is a large, brick building, but with nothing grand or imposing about -it; in fact, but for the lovely grounds and plantations on a small scale -around, the clematis, jasmine and other beautiful creepers, too numerous -to mention, trained up its walls, and hanging in luxuriant festoons -about the porch, and the dark ivy which almost covers the roof, the -whole of one side, and part of the front itself, it would be an ugly, -unwieldy-looking edifice; as it was, everything appeared bright and -gladsome. - -Before you reach the village, a bridge crosses a small stream which -flows from the hill-side, and after winding gracefully and silently -through the midst, passes by the mill and being just seen like a long -thin thread of silver in the distance, is lost in the rich meadows -beyond. - -It was the beautiful spring time of the year:-- - - "The delicate-footed May, - With its slight fingers full of leaves and flowers." - -The sun was just setting in all its regal splendour beneath the deep -rich crimson sky, throwing long dim shadows from the stately trees which -over-arched the road along which a young girl was slowly wending her -way. Her figure was slight, yet her step--although she appeared very -young--had none of the buoyancy or elasticity of youth. It was slow; -almost mournful. But either the graceful figure or step itself had a -certain dignified pride, neither stately, haughty, nor commanding; -perhaps it combined all three. Her face was very lovely. Fair golden -masses of hair waved under the broad straw hat she wore, while her eyes -were shaded by long, dark silken lashes. She had a clear, high forehead, -and a delicately fair complexion. Such was Amy Neville. She paused as -she reached the bridge, and, leaning against the low masonry at the -side, looked back. Nothing could be lovelier than the scene she gazed -on. The sun, as we have said, was just setting, and the sea, distinctly -seen from the bridge, looked like one large, broad mirror, its waves -dashing here and there like glittering diamonds. Far off, touched by -the last rays of the sun, the white cliffs stood out grandly, while -birds chirped and warbled among the leafy branches; groups of merry, -noisy children played in the village, under the shade of the elms, -through which here and there long thin white wreaths of smoke curled -gracefully and slowly upwards. - -A cart, with its team of horses, roused Amy from her reverie, and she -went into the lane where the hedge-rows were one mass of wild flowers. -The delicate primrose, yellow cowslips, blue-bells, bryony, travellers' -joy, and a number of others, almost rivalling in their loveliness the -painted, petted ones in our own cultivated parterres, grew here in wild -luxuriance, and as Amy sauntered slowly on, she filled the basket she -carried on her arm with their beauty and fragrance. As she came in sight -of one of the houses before mentioned, a child of about ten years of age -came flying down the narrow garden-walk to meet her. Throwing her arms -round her neck she upset Amy's basket of treasures, covering her dark -hair with the lovely buds and blossoms. Leaving her to collect the -scattered flowers, Amy passed into the cottage, her home. - -"You are late, Amy," said a voice, as she entered the little sitting -room, "or otherwise I have wished to see you more than usual, and am -impatient. Sarah has been eagerly watching the road ever since her -return from her walk. Poor child! I fear she misses her young school -companions." - -"I think I am rather later than usual, mamma, but old Mrs. Collins was -more than usually talkative; so full of her ailments and griefs, I -really was quite vexed with her at last, as if no one in the world -suffers as she does. Then the evening was so lovely, I loitered at the -bridge to watch the sun set; you can have no idea how beautiful it was; -and the wild flowers in the lane, I could not resist gathering them," -and throwing her hat carelessly on the table, Amy seated herself on a -low stool at her mother's feet. - -"And why have you wished to see me so much, and what makes you look so -sad, dear mamma?" she asked, as Mrs. Neville laid her hand caressingly -on the masses of golden hair. - -Receiving no reply, she bent her eager, loving eyes on her mother's -face. There was a sad, almost painful expression overshadowing the eyes, -and compressing the lips, and it was some time ere Mrs. Neville met her -gaze, and then tears had gathered under the long eyelashes, though none -rested on her cheek. - -"I have been for a drive with Mrs. Elrington, Amy." - -Amy turned away her face; she dared not trust herself to meet those -mournful eyes, expressing as they did all the grief she feared to -encounter; so she turned away, lest she also should betray emotion which -must be overcome, or be wanting in firmness to adhere to the plan she -had formed, a plan she knew to be right, and therefore to be carried -out; if the courage and resolution of which she had so boasted to Mrs. -Elrington did not give way in the now wished for, yet half-dreaded -conversation. - -"And she mentioned the letter to you, mamma?" asked Amy. - -"She did. And much more beside. She tried to talk me over; tried to make -me give my consent to parting with you, my dear child." - -"And did you consent, dear mamma? Did Mrs. Elrington tell you how much I -had set my heart upon going?" - -"You wish to leave me, Amy?" asked Mrs. Neville reproachfully. "Think -how lonely I should be. How I should miss the thousand kind things you -do for me. And when I am sad, who will cheer me as you have done? I -cannot part with you, my child. It is too hard a trial. I cannot bring -myself to think of it!" - -"But, mamma," replied Amy, pausing to stifle her rising emotion. "You -have Sarah, and she is full of fun and spirits, and always laughing and -merry, or singing about the house. And then, dear old Hannah will, I -know, do her best to fill my place, so that after a while you will -scarcely miss my sober face, and I am sure it is what I ought to do, -dear mamma, instead of remaining here in idleness, and seeing you daily -deprived of all the many comforts you have been accustomed to; and think -of the pleasure it would give me to know and feel I am working for you, -my own dear mother;" and Amy drew her mother's arm fondly round her -neck. - -"Slaving for me, Amy! A governess's life is a life of slavery, though to -you it may appear all sunshine. A path of thorns; no bed of roses, such -as your excited fancy may have sketched out." - -"No, mamma; you are wrong. I have thought over all the discomforts, -mortifications, slavery, if you will, and it does not alter my opinion. -I am willing to bear them all; and Mrs. Elrington, whom you love so much -and think so highly of, told me she thought if you gave your consent it -was the very best thing I could do. Nearly a month ago the idea entered -my head; and she offered then to write to a friend who she thought -might want a governess for her children, and I have pondered upon it -ever since. Do consent, dear mamma, pray do. Indeed you must let me have -my way in this." - -"Well, Amy dear, I will say no more; I half promised Mrs. Elrington -before I came in; and now I give my consent; may I never have to regret -it," and Mrs. Neville turned away and bent her head over her work that -her daughter might not see the tears that were fast filling her eyes. - -"Oh, thank you, again and again, dear mamma," said Amy, rising and -kissing her pale cheek, "I will go at once and tell Mrs. Elrington; see -it is not yet dusk, and I shall be back before Hannah has prepared the -tea table; or if not, quite in time to make the tea." - -Mrs. Neville, Amy's mother, was dressed in deep mourning, her once dark -hair, now tinged with grey, smoothly braided beneath the close-fitting -widow's cap. The large, dark mournful eyes, the small delicate -features, the beautifully formed mouth, all told that Amy's mother must -once have been gifted with no common share of beauty. Sorrow more than -time had marked its ravages on her once fair face. - -She had married early in life, and much against the wishes of her -friends, who did not approve of the poor but handsome Captain Neville. -Some years after their marriage, by the sudden and unlooked-for death of -an uncle and cousin, he came into a large property; but whether this -unexpected accession of wealth, with the temptations with which he was -surrounded in his new sphere, changed his heart, or whether the seeds -were there before, only requiring opportunity and circumstances to call -them forth into action; who can tell? Suffice it to say, he ran a sad -career of dissipation; and at his death little indeed remained for his -widow and children. And now the once courted, flattered, and admired -Sarah Barton, bred up and nurtured in the lap of luxury, with scarcely a -wish ungratified; was living in a small cottage, and her beloved child -on the eve of departing from her home, to be that poor despised being--a -governess. Captain Neville had been dead about four months, and his -widow mourned for him as the father of her children, thought of him as -he had been to her in the first early days of their married life, the -fond and loving husband. - -Amy did not return till late. Mrs. Elrington had promised to write to -the lady that evening; and less than three days might bring the answer. - -As day after day passed, poor Amy's heart beat fast; and her slight form -trembled whenever she heard the little gate opened, leading into the -small garden before the house; yet day after day passed by, and still -Mrs. Elrington came not; and Amy almost feared her kind old friend had -forgotten her promise, or, what was still worse, her application to the -lady had failed. - -About ten days afterwards, one morning, as Amy sat with her mother in -the little sitting room, working and listening to the exclamations of -delight that fell from the lips of her little sister Sarah, who was -wondering how dear dolly would look in the smart new dress Amy was -making for her, the sound of approaching carriage wheels was dully heard -coming down the road. Presently a pony chaise drew up before the gate. -Amy could hardly draw her breath as she recognized from the window the -slow and measured step, the tall and stately figure of her kind old -friend; and gently pushing away her sister, who attempted to detain her, -probably disappointed at the unfinished state of dolly's frock, and not -daring to look at her mother, she went and met the old lady at the door. - -"Dear Mrs. Elrington, I thought you would never come! Have you heard -from the lady, and what does she say?" - -"Yes, Amy, I have heard twice from the lady since I saw you; but I -thought it best not to come until I had received a definite answer." - -"It is very kind of you to come at all, dear Mrs. Elrington. But have -you been successful? Is the answer favourable?" - -"Yes, Amy. The lady has engaged you, but there are three little girls, -not two, as I at first thought; however they are very young, and I hope -your trouble will be slight." - -Poor Amy! What she had so long sighed and wished for, now seemed in its -stern reality the greatest calamity that could have befallen her. She -thought of her mother, whose comfort, solace, and companion she was, how -lonely she would be; what could or would she do without her? Must she, -indeed, leave her and her home where, for the last few months she had -been so happy, and live amongst strangers, who cared not for her? Must -she leave her birds, her flowers, all the thousand attractions and -associations of home? Yes, she must give up all, and only bear them -closer in her heart, not see and feel them every day; and as these -thoughts crossed her mind, tears she could not keep down welled up into -her eyes; they would not be controlled, and looking up and meeting Mrs. -Elrington's pitying gaze bent full on her, with a smothered sob she hid -her face on her kind friend's shoulder. - -Mrs. Elrington suffered her to weep on in silence, and some minutes -elapsed ere Amy raised her head, and, smiling through her tears, took -Mrs. Elrington's hand and led her to the door of the room she had just -quitted and calling her sister, left the friends together. - -An hour afterwards, when Amy entered the room, her mother was alone, -Mrs. Elrington was gone. - -The widow's head rested on her hand, and tears were falling fast upon a -small miniature of Amy that her husband had had taken, for he had been -proud of his daughter's beauty. - -She heard not Amy's light step, and the daughter bent softly over her -mother, and pressed her lips gently to her forehead. "My child." "My -mother." And they were folded in one long, mournful embrace. - -It was the first--the last time Amy ever gave way before her mother; she -felt she must have strength for both; and nobly she bore up against her -own sorrowful feelings, smothered every rising emotion of her heart, and -prayed that her widowed mother might be comforted and supported during -her absence, and her own steps guided aright in the new path which lay -so gloomily before her. - -Mrs. Elrington was now almost constantly with them; Amy had begged it as -a favour, for she felt she could not do without the kind old lady, who -was ever ready with her cheerful voice and pleasant, hopeful words to -cheer her mother's drooping spirits. - -How fast the days flew by! It was Amy's last evening at home; in a few -short hours she would be far away from all those she loved. - -A heavy cloud seemed to hang over the little party assembled round the -tea table, and scarce a word was spoken. - -As the tea things were being removed, Mrs. Elrington went softly out, -and the widow, drawing her chair near her daughter's, clasped her hand -in hers, and in a low voice spoke long and earnestly words of love and -advice, such as only a mother knows how to speak. - -Often in after years did Amy call to remembrance the sad, sweet smile, -the gentle, earnest voice with which her mother's last words of love -were uttered. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - - A PROUD LADYE. - - Spring by Spring the branches duly - Clothe themselves in tender flower; - And for her sweet sake as truly - All their fruit and fragrance shower: - But the stream with careless laughter, - Runs in merry beauty by, - And it leaves me, yearning after - Lorn to weep, and lone to die. - In my eyes the syren river - Sings and smiles up in my face; - But for ever and for ever, - Runs from my embrace. - - MASSEY. - - -As we shall have occasion to speak of Mrs. Elrington often in these -pages, some description of her is necessary, though a very slight one -will suffice. - -She lived in the large house called the Manor, before described, and -had lived there for years in lonely solitude. She was a widow, and -although the widow's cap had long ago been laid aside, yet in other -respects her dress had altered little since the day she had first worn -widow's weeds; it was always black; even the bonnet was of the same -sombre hue, the cap, collar, and cuffs alone offering any relief to it. -Her features were very handsome, and her figure tall, upright, and -stately. Her hair was perfectly snow white, drawn off the high broad -forehead, under a simple cap; she was greatly beloved, as also held in -some slight awe; her voice was peculiarly soft, and when she spoke a -pleasant smile seemed to hover about her face which never failed to -gladden the hearts of those whom she addressed; but in general the -expression of her features when in repose was sad. - -Mrs. Elrington and Mrs. Neville were old friends, which accounted -perhaps for the latter's choice of Ashleigh as a home on her husband's -death. They had both been severely tried with this world's sorrows; the -one years ago, the other very recently, so that Amy's earnest entreaty -that Mrs. Elrington would come and cheer her mother was comparatively an -easy task to one who so well knew all the doubts, fears, and desponding -feelings existing in the mind and harassing the thoughts of the widow, -so lately afflicted, now so sorely tried. - -Early in the morning of the day on which Amy was to leave her home, Mrs. -Elrington was at the cottage, encouraging the daughter, and speaking -hopefully to the mother; the <i>return</i>, not departure, being what she -dwelt on to both, but it was a painful task after all, and everyone -looked sad. As Mrs. Neville left the room to see if everything was -satisfactorily prepared for the coming departure, Amy drew near her old -friend, and said---- - -"Dear Mrs. Elrington, I do hope mamma will not fret much after I am -gone; she seems very downhearted now, and full of sadness. I am keeping -up as well as I can, but I dare not look in her tearful face." - -"I make no doubt she will feel your absence much, Amy; but she knows all -is for the best and as it should be, and that, in time will help to make -her happy again. After all it is but a temporary parting from one she -loves. How many have had to bear a more lengthened, and in this world an -eternal separation! Your mother has still one child left to love. I lost -my only one--all I had." - -"It was a hard trial to you, and still harder to bear," replied Amy, as -Mrs. Elrington's voice faltered---- - -"Very, very hard to bear: God alone knows how I did bear it. But He who -dealt the blow alone gave the strength. I fear my stricken heart -murmured sadly at first; it would not be comforted nor consoled. The -thought of my poor boy's broken heart was dreadful. Amy, child, do not -trust too soon in the man who seeks your love; and oh! be very wary of -an ambitious one. Ambition sunders, breaks many hearts, the coveting -either rank or riches, whichever leads on to the one darling object of -life only to be obtained by possessing either one or both of these, and -thereby sacrificing your love or perhaps breaking your heart in the act -of stepping over it to reach the goal he longs for; and which, when -attained, must, under these circumstances bear its sting, and make him -look back regretfully to the time gone by for ever; or, perhaps worse -still, to days too painful to recall. - -"I would far rather it would be so; than that a man should love me for -either my rank or riches, but having neither, perhaps no one will think -me worth having, or take the trouble to fall in love with me." - -Mrs. Elrington smiled as she looked at the lovely, almost scornful face -now lifted to hers, and thought what a stumbling block it would prove in -many a man's path in life. - -"You are laughing at me," exclaimed Amy, as she caught the smile on the -old lady's face. "Do let us talk of something else; of Mrs. Linchmore, -for instance; I do so want to know what she is like, only you never will -tell me." - -"Because I cannot Amy; it is years since we met," replied Mrs. -Elrington, in a hard tone; "so that what she is like now I cannot -describe; you will have to do that when next we meet." - -"But then," persisted Amy, "in that long ago time what was she like?" - -"Very beautiful. A slight, tall, graceful figure, pliant as a reed. Eyes -dark as jet, and hair like a raven's wing. Are you satisfied, Amy?" - -"Not quite. I still want to know what her character was. I am quite -satisfied that she must have been very beautiful." - -"She was as a girl more than beautiful. There was a charm, a softness in -her manner that never failed to allure to her side those she essayed to -please. But in the end she grew vain of her loveliness, and paraded it -as a snare, until it led her to commit a great sin." - -"She may be altered now," exclaimed Amy, "altered for the better." - -"She must be grievously altered. Grief and remorse must have done their -work slowly but surely, for I never will believe that her heart has been -untouched by them." - -"I am afraid I shall not like her," replied Amy, "and I had so made up -my mind that as your friend I should like her at once." - -"We are not friends, Amy! Never can be now! Did we meet to-morrow it -would be as strangers. Let us speak of her no more. I cannot bear it," -exclaimed Mrs. Elrington in an agitated voice, but after a moment her -face grew calm again, and she moved away looking more sorrowful than -angry; but Amy could not help wishing with all her heart that her -journey that day were miles away from Brampton Park; but there was -scarcely time for thought, for in another moment the coach was at the -door, and although bitter tears were shed when the last kiss was given, -Amy tried to smile through her tears and to be sanguine as to the -future, while Mrs. Neville was resigned, or apparently so, and little -Sarah--the only one who gave way to her grief unrestrained--sobbed as if -her heart would break, and when old Hannah took her by force almost, -from her sister's arms, she burst into a perfect passion of tears, which -lasted long after the coach was out of sight which conveyed Amy partly -on her road to her future home. - -The morning was hot and sultry, one of those warm spring days, when -scarcely a breath of air disturbs the hum of the bee, or interrupts the -song of the birds; not a leaf stirred, even the flowers in the garden -scarcely lent their sweet perfume to the light wind; and the rippling -noise the little stream made gently gliding over the pebbly ground could -be distinctly heard from the cottage. - -In the lane just outside the gate were collected a number of men, women, -and children; some out of curiosity, but by far the greater number to -bid farewell to, and to see the last of their beloved Miss Amy; for -although so recent an inhabitant, she was a general favourite in the -village, and numberless were the blessings she received as she stepped -past them into the coach, and with a fervent "God bless you," from Mrs. -Elrington, she was gone. - -It was evening before she reached Brampton Park, her future home, and -the avenue of trees under which she passed were dimly seen in the bright -moonlight. - -It was a long avenue, much longer than the elm tree road at Ashleigh, -yet it bore some resemblance to it; the trees as large and stately, and -the road as broad; but instead of the fragrant flowers in the little -lane at one end, Amy could discern a spacious lawn stretching far away -on one side, while the house, large, old fashioned, and gloomy rose -darkly to view on the other; but within a bright lamp hung in the large, -old handsome hall, illuminating a beautifully carved oak staircase. -Pictures of lords and ladies, in old fashioned dresses, were hanging on -the walls; Amy fancied they gazed sternly at her from out their time -worn frames, as she passed by them, and entered a large handsome -drawing-room, where easy couches, soft sofas, luxurious chairs of every -size and shape, inviting to repose and ease, seemed scattered about in -happy confusion. Crimson silk curtains hung in rich heavy folds before -the windows; a carpet as soft as velvet covered the floor; alabaster -vases and figures adorned the many tables; lamps hung from the ceiling; -in short everything that taste suggested and money could buy, was there. - -At the further end of this room, or rather an inner room beyond, -connected by large folding doors, sat a lady reclining in a large arm -chair; one hand rested on a book in her lap, the other languidly on the -curly head of a little girl, kneeling at her feet; her dark hair lay in -rich glossy bands, on either temple, and was gathered in a knot at the -back of her small, beautifully shaped head, under a lace cap; a dark -silk dress fitted tight to her almost faultless figure, and fell in -graceful folds from her slender waist; a little lace collar, fastened by -a pearl brooch (the only ornament she wore), completed her attire, which -was elegant and simple. Her eyes were dark and piercing, the nose and -chin well-shaped, but perhaps a little too pointed; and the mouth small -and beautiful. Such was Mrs. Linchmore, the mother of two of Amy's -pupils. She was generally considered handsome, though few admired her -haughty manners, or the scornful expression of her face. - -Mrs. Elrington had sent Mrs. Linchmore a slight sketch of Amy's history, -and had also mentioned that she was very young; yet Mrs. Linchmore was -scarcely prepared to see so delicate and fragile a being as the young -girl before her. A feeling of compassion filled her heart as she gazed -on Amy's sweet face, and her manner was less haughty than usual, and her -voice almost kind as she spoke. - -"I fear, Miss Neville, you must have had a very unpleasant journey; the -weather to-day has been more than usually warm, and a coach--I believe -you came part of the way in one--not a very agreeable conveyance." - -"I was the only inside passenger," replied Amy, seating herself in a -chair opposite Mrs. Linchmore, "so that I did not feel the heat much; -but I am rather tired; the after journey in the train, and then the -drive from the station here, has fatigued me greatly." - -"You must indeed be very tired and depressed, one generally is after any -unusual excitement, and this must have been a very trying day for you, -Miss Neville, leaving your home and all those you love; but I trust ere -long you will consider this house your home, and I hope become -reconciled to the change, though I cannot expect it will ever compensate -for the one you have lost." - -"Oh, not lost!" exclaimed Amy, raising her tearful eyes, "not lost, only -exchanged for a time; self-exiled, I ought to say." - -"Self-exiled we will call it, if you like; a pleasant one I hope it -will be. Mr. Linchmore and I have promised Mrs. Elrington we will do all -we can to make it so. I hope we may not find it a difficult task to -perform. The _will_ will not be wanting on my part to insure success, if -I find you such as Mrs. Elrington describes." - -"She is a very kind person," murmured Amy. - -"She was always fond of young people, and very kind to them, so long as -they allowed her to have her own way; but she did not like being -thwarted. Her will was a law not to be disobeyed by those she loved, -unless they wished to incur her eternal displeasure. I suppose she is -quite the old lady now. It is," continued Mrs. Linchmore, with a -scarcely audible sigh, "nine long years since I saw her." - -"She does not appear to me very old," replied Amy, "but nine years is a -long time, and she may have altered greatly." - -"Most likely not," replied Mrs. Linchmore, in a cold tone. "Life to her -has been one bright sunshine. She has had few cares or troubles." - -"Indeed, Mrs. Linchmore!" exclaimed Amy, forgetting in her haste her new -dependent position. "I have heard Mamma say that the death of her -husband early in life was a sore trial to her, as also that of her son, -which occurred not so very long ago." - -"You mistake me, Miss Neville," replied Mrs. Linchmore, more coldly and -haughtily, "those may be trials, but were not the troubles I spoke of." - -Amy was silenced, though she longed to ask what heavier trials there -could be, but she dared not add more in her kind friend's defence; as it -was, she fancied she detected an angry light in Mrs. Linchmore's dark -eyes as they flashed on her while she was speaking, and a proud, almost -defiant curl of the under lip. - -Amy felt chilled as she recalled to mind Mrs. Elrington's words, that -she and Mrs. Linchmore never could be friends; and wondered not as she -gazed at the proud, haughty face before her, and then thought of the -gentle, loving look of her old friend. No; they could not be friends, -they could have nothing in common. How often had Mrs. Elrington -expressed a hope that Amy would learn to love her pupils, but never a -desire or wish that she might love their Mother also; and then the -description which Amy had so often eagerly asked, and which only that -morning had been granted her; how it had saddened her heart, and -predisposed her to think harshly of Mrs. Linchmore. - -There must be something hidden away from sight, something that had -separated these two years ago. What was it? Had it anything to do with -that dread sin Mrs. Elrington had lately touched upon, and of which Amy -had longed, but dared not ask an explanation? If they had loved each -other once, what had separated them now? Where was the charm and -softness of manner which almost made the loveliness Mrs. Elrington had -spoken of? Very beautiful Amy thought the lady before her, but there was -nothing about her to win a girl's love, or draw her heart to her at -first sight. - -How strange all this seemed now. She had never thought of it before. It -had never occurred to her. Her thoughts and feelings had been too -engrossed, too much wrapt up in regret at leaving her home, and -arranging for her Mother's comfort after her departure, to think of -anything else; but now, the more she pondered, the more extraordinary it -seemed, and the more difficult it was to arrive at any satisfactory -conclusion, and the impression her mind was gradually assuming was a -painful one. - -A light, mocking laugh from her companion startled Amy; it grated -harshly on her ears, and snapped the thread of her perplexing thoughts. - -"I doubt," said Mrs. Linchmore, as the laugh faded away to an almost -imperceptible curl of the lip; while her head was thrown haughtily back, -and she proudly met Amy's astonished gaze; "I doubt if Mrs. Elrington -would recognise me; nine years, as you wisely remark, may effect--though -not always--a great change. It has on me; many may possibly think for -the better; _she_ will say for the worse. But time, however hateful it -may be for many reasons, changing, as it does sadly, our outward -appearance; yet what wonderful changes it effects inwardly. It has one -very great advantage in my eyes, it brings forgetfulness; so that the -longer we live the less annoying to us are the faults and follies of -youth; they gradually fade from our vision. I could laugh now at Mrs. -Elrington's bitter remarks and sarcastic words; they would not cause me -one moment's uneasiness." - -Amy was spared any reply by little Alice suddenly rising, and claiming -her mother's attention. - -"This is the youngest of your pupils, Miss Neville. Alice dear, put down -my scissors, and go and speak to that lady." - -The little girl, who had been staring at Amy ever since she entered, now -looked sullenly on the floor, but paid no attention to her mother's -request. - -"Go, dear, go! Will you not make friends with your new governess?" - -"No I won't!" she exclaimed, with flashing eyes. "Nurse says she is a -naughty, cross woman, and I don't love her." - -"Oh, fie! Nurse is very wrong to say such things. You see how much your -services are required, Miss Neville. I fear you will find this little -one sadly spoilt; she is a great pet of her papa's and mine." - -"I trust," replied Amy, "we shall soon be good friends. Alice, dear, -will you not try and love me? I am not cross or naughty," and she -attempted to take the little hand Alice held obstinately beneath her -dress. - -"No, no! go away, go away. I won't love you!" - -At this moment the door opened, and Mr. Linchmore entered. He was a -fine, tall looking man, with a pleasing expression of countenance, and -his manner was so kind as he welcomed Amy that he won her heart at once. -"Hey-day!" he exclaimed, "was it Alice's voice I heard as I came -downstairs? I am afraid, Isabella, you keep her up too late. It is high -time she was in bed and asleep. We shall have little pale cheeks, -instead of these round rosy ones," added he, as the little girl climbed -his knee, and looked up fondly in his face. - -"She was not in the least sleepy," replied his wife, "and begged so hard -to be allowed to remain, that I indulged her for once." - -"Ah! well," said he, smiling, and glancing at Amy. "We shall have a -grand reformation soon. But where are Edith and Fanny?" - -"They were so naughty I was obliged to send them away up stairs. Fanny -broke the vase Charles gave me last winter." - -"By-the-by, I have just heard from Charles; he has leave from his -regiment for a month, and is going to Paris; but is coming down here for -a few days before he starts, just to say good-bye." - -"One of his 'flying visits,' as he calls them. How sorry I am!" - -"Sorry! why so?" - -"Because he promised to spend his leave with us. What shall we do -without him? and how dull it will be here." - -A cloud passed over her husband's face, but he made no reply; and a -silence somewhat embarrassing ensued, only broken some minutes after by -the nurse, who came to fetch Alice to bed, and Amy gladly availed -herself of Mrs. Linchmore's permission to retire at the same time. - -They went up a short flight of stairs, and down a long corridor, or -gallery, then through another longer still, when nurse, half opening a -door to the left, exclaimed,-- - -"This is to be the school-room, miss. I thought you might like to see it -before you went to bed. Madam has ordered your tea to be got ready for -you there, though I'm thinking it's little you'll eat and drink -to-night, coming all alone to a strange place. However you'll may be -like to see Miss Edith and Miss Fanny, and they're both in here, Miss -Fanny at mischief I warrant." - -Then catching up Alice in her arms, after a vain attempt on Amy's part -to obtain a kiss, she marched off with her in triumph, and Amy entered -the room. - -On a low stool, drawn close to the open window, sat a fair-haired girl, -her head bent low over the page she was reading, or trying to decipher, -as the candles threw little light on the spot where she sat. Her long, -fair curls, gently waved by the soft evening breeze, swept the pages, -and quite concealed her face from Amy's gaze on the one side; while on -the other they were held back by her hand, so as not to impede the -light. - -A scream of merry laughter arrested Amy's footsteps as she was advancing -towards her, and turning round she saw a little girl, evidently younger -than the one by the window, dancing about with wild delight, holding the -two fore paws of a little black and white spaniel, which was dressed up -in a doll's cap and frock, and evidently anything but pleased at the -ludicrous figure he cut, although obliged to gambol about on his hind -legs for the little girl's amusement. Presently a snap and a growl -showed he was also inclined to resent his young mistress's liberties, -when another peal of laughter rewarded him, while, bringing her face -close to his, she exclaimed,-- - -"Oh, you dear naughty little doggie! you know you would not dare to bite -me." Then, catching sight of Amy, she instantly released doggie, and -springing up, rushed to the window, saying in a loud whisper-- - -"Oh, Edith, Edith! here's the horrid governess." - -Edith instantly arose, and then stood somewhat abashed at seeing Amy so -close to her; but Amy held out her hand, and said-- - -"I am sorry your sister thinks me so disagreeable; but I hope Edith will -befriend me, and teach her in time to believe me kind and loving." - -"She is not my sister, but my cousin," replied Edith, drooping her long -eyelashes, and suffering her hand to remain in Amy's. - -"Is Alice your sister?" - -"No; she is my cousin, too. I have no sister." - -The tone was sorrowful, and Amy fancied the little hand tightened its -hold, while the eyes were timidly raised to hers. - -Sitting down, she drew the child towards her, while Fanny stood silently -by, gazing at her new friend. They chatted together some time, and when -nurse came to fetch them to bed, Edith still kept her place by Amy's -side, while Fanny, with Carlo in her lap, was seated at her feet, nor -did either of the little girls refuse her proffered kiss as she bade -them "good night." - -How lonely Amy felt in that large long room. - -Notwithstanding the evening was a warm one, the young girl drew her -shawl closer round her shoulders, as she sat down to her solitary tea; -and tears, the first she had shed that day, rolled slowly over her -cheeks as she thought of her mother's calm, loving face, and her -sister's merry prattle. How she missed them both! Although but a few -short hours since they parted, since she felt the warm, silent pressure -of her mother's hand, and Sarah's clinging embrace, yet the hours -seemed long; and oh, how long the months would be! But youth is hopeful, -and ere Amy went to bed, she had already begun to look forward to the -holidays as nearer than they were, to image to herself the warm welcome -home and the happy meeting hereafter with those she loved. - - - - - CHAPTER III. - - MORE ABOUT BRAMPTON. - - Alas!----how changed that mien! - How changed these timid looks have been, - Since years of guilt and of disguise, - Have steel'd her brow, and arm'd her eyes! - No more of virgin terror speaks - The blood that mantles in her cheeks; - Fierce and unfeminine are there - Frenzy for joy, for grief despair. - - SCOTT. - - -Mrs. Linchmore had married for money, yet money had not brought the -happiness she expected. At its shrine she had sacrificed all she held -dearest on earth, and with it her own self-esteem and self-respect. In -the first few months she had tried to reconcile the false step to -herself, had tried to hush the still, small voice within that was -constantly rising to upbraid her. Was not wealth hers? and with it could -she not purchase everything else? Alas! the "still, small voice" would -be heard. She could not stifle it; it pursued her everywhere: in her -pursuits abroad, in her occupations at home--Home! the name was a -mockery. It was a gilded prison, in which her heart was becoming cold -and hard, and all the best feelings of her woman's nature were being -turned to stone. - -Ten years had passed away since Mrs Linchmore stood at the altar as a -bride; ten, to her, slow, miserable years. How changed she was! Her -husband, he who ought to have been her first thought, she treated with -cold indifference; yet he still loved her so passionately that not all -her coldness had been able to root out his love. Her voice was music to -him, her very step made his heart beat more quickly, and sometimes -brought a quick flush to his face; all that she did was his delight, -even her faults he looked on with patient forbearance. But although he -loved her so devotedly, he rarely betrayed it; his face might brighten -and flush when he heard her step, yet by the time she had drawn near, -and stood, perhaps, close by his side as he wrote, it had paled again, -and he would even look up and answer her coldly and calmly, while only -the unsteadiness of his hand as he bent over the paper again, would show -the tumult within; while she, his wife, all unconscious, would stand -coldly by, and pass as coldly away out of his sight, never heeding, -never seeing, the mournful longing and love in his eyes. - -To her children Mrs. Linchmore appeared a cold, stern mother, but in -reality she was not so. She loved them devotedly. All her love was -centred in them. She was blind to their faults, and completely spoiled -them, especially Alice the youngest, a wilful affectionate little -creature, who insisted on having, if possible, her own way in -everything. She managed it somehow completely, and was in consequence a -kind of petty tyrant in the nursery. Nothing must go contrary to her -will and wishes, or a violent burst of passion was the consequence. -These paroxysms of temper were now of such common and frequent -occurrence, that Nurse Hopkins was not sorry the young governess had -arrived, and Alice been partially transferred to the school-room, where -Amy found it a hard task to manage her, and at the same time win her -love. Whenever she reproved, or even tried to reason, Alice thought it -was because she disliked her. "Mamma," she would say, "loves me, and she -never says I am naughty." - -Her sister Fanny was the veriest little romp imaginable, almost always -in mischief. Chasing the butterflies on the lawn, or sitting under the -shade of the trees, with her doll in her lap, and Carlo by her side, was -all she cared for, and Amy could scarcely gain her attention at all. She -was a bright, merry little creature, full of laughter and fun, ready to -help her young playmates out of any scrape, and yet, from utter -thoughtlessness, perpetually falling into disgrace herself. Tearing her -frock in climbing trees, and cutting her hair to make dolls' wigs of, -were among her many misdemeanours, and a scolding was a common -occurrence. But she was always so sorry for her faults, so ready to -acknowledge them, and anxious to atone further. Amy's kind yet grave -face could sober her in a moment, and, with her arms thrown round her -neck, she would exclaim, "Oh, dear Miss Neville, I am so sorry--so -sorry." She was a loveable little creature, and Amy found it one of her -hardest trials to punish her. She hated books. Nothing pleased her so -much, when the morning's task was done, as to put (so she said) the -tiresome books to sleep on their shelves. She showed no disinclination -to learn, and would sit down with the full determination of being -industrious; but the slightest accident would distract her attention, -and set her thoughts wandering, and Edith had generally nearly finished -her lessons before Fanny had learnt her daily tasks. - -Edith, a child of ten years old, was totally dissimilar, and of a -reserved, shrinking nature, rendered still more so from her peculiar -position. She was the orphan daughter of Mr. Linchmore's only sister, -bequeathed to him as a sacred trust; and he had taken her to his house -to be looked upon henceforth as his own child; but no kind voice greeted -her there, no hands clasped the little trembling one in theirs, and bade -her welcome; not a single word of encouragement or promise of future -love was hers, only the cold, calm look of her new aunt; and then total -indifference. Sad and silent, she would sit night after night in the -twilight by the nursery window, her little thoughts wandering away in a -world of her own, or more often still to her lost mother. None roused -her from them; even Fanny, giddy as she was, never disturbed her then. -Once nurse Hopkins said-- - -"Miss Edith, it isn't natural for you to be sitting here for all the -world like a grown woman; do get up, miss, and go and play with your -cousins." - -But as nurse never insisted upon it, so Edith sat on, and would have -remained for ever if she could in the bright world her fancy had -created. It was well for her Amy had come, or the girl's very nature -would have been changed by the cold atmosphere around her, so different -from the home she had lost, where all seemed one long sunshine. It was -long ere Amy understood her; so diligent, so attentive to her lessons, -so cautious of offending, so mindful of every word during school hours, -and yet never anxious to join Fanny in her play; but on a chair drawn -close to the window, and with a book in her lap, or her hands clasped -listlessly over the pages, and her eyes drooping under their long -lashes--so she sat. But a new era was opening in the child's history. - -Some few weeks after Amy's arrival, as she sat working very busily -(Edith, as usual, had taken her seat at the window), she felt that the -child, far from reading, was intently watching her. At length, without -looking up, she said-- - -"Edith, dear, if you have done reading will you come and tidy my -workbasket for me? My wools are in sad confusion. I suspect Alice's -fingers have been very busy amongst them." - -She came and busied herself with her task until it was completed. Then, -still and silent, she remained at her governess' side. - -"Who is this shawl for, Miss Neville, when it is finished?" asked she. - -"For my mother." - -Edith drew closer still. - -"Ah!" said she, "that is the reason why you look so happy; because, -though you are away from her, still you are trying to please her; and -you know she loves you, though no one else does." - -"Yes, Edith; but I should never think _no one_ loved me, and if I were -you I am sure I should be happy." - -"Ah, no! It is impossible." - -"Not so; I should be ever saying to myself would my dear mamma have -liked this, or wished me to do that. Then I should love to think she -might be watching over me, and that thought alone would, I am sure, keep -me from idleness and folly." - -"What is idleness?" - -"Waste of time. Sitting doing nothing." - -"And you think me idle, then?" - -"Often, dear Edith. Almost every day, when you sit at the window so -long." - -"But no one minds it. No one loves me." - -"I mind it, or I should not have noticed it; and I will love you if you -will let me." - -For an instant the child stood irresolute, then, with her head buried in -Amy's lap, she sobbed out, "Oh! I never thought of that. I never -thought you would love me--no one does. I will not be idle any more," -and she was not; someone loved her, both the living and the dead; and -the little craving heart was satisfied. - -And so the days flew by. The summer months passed on, only interrupted -by a visit from Charles Linchmore. He was very unlike his brother; full -of fun and spirits, as fair as he was dark, and not so tall. He seemed -to look upon Amy at once as one of the belongings of the house, was -quite at home with her, chatted, sang duets, or turned the pages of the -music while she sang. Sometimes he joined her in her morning's walk with -the children. Once he insisted on rowing her on the lake; but as it was -always "Come along, Edith, now for the walk we talked of," or, "Now -then, Fanny, I'm ready for the promised lesson in rowing;" what could -Amy say? she could only hesitate, and then follow the rest. She felt -Mrs. Linchmore look coldly on her, and one evening, on the plea of a -severe headache, she remained up stairs; but so much consideration was -expressed by Mrs. Linchmore, such anxiety lest she should be unable to -go down the next evening, that Amy fancied she must have been mistaken; -the thought, nevertheless, haunted her all night. The next morning she -had hardly commenced studies when Charles Linchmore's whistle sounded in -the passage. - -He opened the door, and insisted on the children having a holiday, and -while Amy stood half surprised, half irresolute, sent them for their -hats and a scamper on the lawn, then returned, and laughed at her -discomfiture. He had scarcely gone when Mrs. Linchmore came in; she -glanced round as Amy rose. - -"Pray sit down, Miss Neville, but--surely I heard my brother here." - -There was something in the tone Amy did not like, so she replied, -somewhat proudly, - -"He _was_ here. Madam." - -"_Was_ here? Why did he come?" - -"He came for the children, and I suppose he had your sanction for so -doing." - -"He never asked it. And I must beg, Miss Neville, that you will in -future make him distinctly understand that this is the school-room, -where he cannot possibly have any business whatever." - -With flushed cheeks, for a while Amy stood near the window, just where -Mrs. Linchmore had left her; and then, "Oh! I will not put up with it!" -she said, half aloud, "I will go and tell her so." But on turning round -there stood Nurse Hopkins. - -"It's a lovely place, miss, isn't it? such a many trees; you were -looking at it from the window, wern't you, miss? And then all those -fields do look so green and beautiful; and the lake, too; I declare it -looks every bit like silver shining among the trees." - -"It is indeed lovely; but, Nurse, I was not thinking of that when you -came." - -"No, miss? Still it does not do to sit mopy like, it makes one dull. Now -I've lived here many a year, and yet, when I think of my old home, I do -get stupid like." - -"Where is your home Nurse?" - -"I've no home but this Miss, now." - -"No home? But you said you had a home once." - -"Yes Miss, so I had, but it's passed away long ago--some one else has it -now; such a pleasant cottage as it was, with its sanded floor and neat -garden; my husband always spent every spare hour in planting and laying -it out, and all to please me. I was so fond of flowers. Ah! me," sighed -she, "many's the time they've sent from the Park here to beg a -nosegay--at least, John, the gardener has--when company was coming." - -"Your cottage was near here, then?" - -"Yes Miss, just down the lane; why you can see the top of it from here, -right between those two tall trees yonder." - -"Yes. I can just catch a far off glimpse of it." - -"You've passed it often too, Miss. It's the farm as belongs to Farmer -Rackland." - -"I know it well. But why did you give it up?" - -"My husband, or old man, as I used joke like to call him, died," and -Nurse's voice trembled, "he was young and hearty looking too when he was -took away; what a happy woman I was Miss, before that! and so proud of -him and my children." - -"How many children have you?" - -"I had three Miss; two girls and a boy. I seem to see them now playing -about on the cottage floor; but others play there now just every bit as -happy, and I've lost them all. I'm all alone," and Nurse wiped her eyes -with the corner of her white apron. - -"Not all alone Nurse," said Amy, compassionately. - -"True Miss; not all alone; I was wrong. Well, I sometimes wish those -days would come again, but there, we never knows what's best for us. I'm -getting an old woman now and no one left to care for me. But I wasn't -going to tell you all about myself and my troubles when I began; but -somehow or other it came out, and I shall like you--if I may be so bold -to say so--all the better for knowing all about me; but I want, begging -your pardon, Miss, to give you a piece of advice, if so be as you won't -be too proud to take it from me; you see I know as well as you can tell -me, that you and the Madam have fallen out; and if it's about Miss -Alice, which I suppose it is, why don't be too strong handed over her at -first; she will never abide by it, but'll scream till her Mamma hears -her, and then Madam can't stand it no how; but'll be sure to pet her -more than ever to quiet her." - -"But Nurse, I do not mean to be strong-handed with Miss Alice, that is, -if you mean severe; but she is at times naughty and must be punished." - -"Well Miss, we should most of us be sorry to lose you: you are so quiet -like, and never interferes with nobody, and they do all downstairs agree -with me, that it ain't possible to cure Miss Alice altogether at first; -you must begin by little and little, and that when Madam isn't by." - -"But that would be wrong, and I cannot consent to punish Miss Alice -without Mrs. Linchmore's free and full permission; neither can nor will -I take charge of any of the children unless I am allowed to exercise my -own judgment as to the course I am to pursue. I am not I hope, harsh or -severe towards your late charge; but I must be firm." - -"I see Miss, it's no use talking, and I hope Madam will consent to let -you do as you wish; but I fear--I very much fear--" and nurse shook her -head wisely as she walked away. - -"Well, I've done all I could, Mary," said she to the under housemaid, as -she went below, "and all to no purpose; there's no persuading Miss -Neville, more's the pity; she thinks she's right about Miss Alice, and -she'll stick to it. I wish I'd asked her not to go near Madam to-day. -I'm positive sure she was going when I surprised her after passing Mrs. -Linchmore in the passage. _She_ came from the school-room too, I know, -and vexed enough she was, or she'd never have had that hard look on her -face. Well, I only hope the Master will be by when they do meet again, -or there'll be mischief, mark me if there isn't." - -"Law! Mrs. Hopkins, how you talk. I wouldn't wait for the master -neither, if I were Miss Neville. I'd speak at once and have done with -it, that's my plan; see if I would let Miss Alice come over me with her -tantrums, if I was a lady!" - -"She speaks every bit like that lady you were reading about in the book -last night; she'd make you believe anything and love her too. Well, I -hope no harm will come of it, but I don't like that look on Madam's -face, nor on Miss Neville's, neither, for the matter of that." - -But nurse was wrong. Perhaps Amy changed her mind, and never spoke to -Mrs. Linchmore. At all events, things went on as they did before Charles -Linchmore came--whose visit, by the way, was not quite such a flying -one--and continued the same long after he had gone away. - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - - THE BOOK SHELVES - - "O my swete mother, before all other - For you I have most drede: - But now adue! I must ensue, - Where fortune doth me lede. - All this make ye: now let us flee: - The day cometh fast upon; - For in my minde, of all mankynde - I love but you alone." - - THE NUT BROWN MAID. - - -Amy spent the summer holidays with her mother. Mrs. Neville had grown -pale and thin, while a careworn expression had stolen over her face, -supplanting the former sad one; and she had a certain nervous, restless -manner unusual to her, which Amy could not fail to remark. Mrs. -Elrington attributed it to anxiety on her daughter's account during her -absence. It was a trying time for Mrs. Neville; she felt and thought -often of what her child might suffer, all that one so sensitive might -have to undergo from the neglect or taunts of the world; that world she -knew so little of, and into the gay circles of which only two short -years ago she had been introduced. How she had been admired and courted! -Perhaps some of those very acquaintances she might now meet, and how -would it be with her? How would they greet her? Not with the grasp of -friendship, but as one they had never seen, or having seen, forgotten. -She was no longer the rich heiress, but a governess working for her own -and others' support. She was no longer in the same society as -themselves, no longer worthy of a thought, and would be passed by and -forgotten; or, if remembered, looked on as a stranger. - -Mrs. Neville thought her daughter altered. She had grown quieter, more -reserved, more womanly than before, and more forbearing with little, -exacting Sarah. - -Would Amy do this, or look at that? show her how to cut out this, or -paint that--always something new; but Amy seldom expostulated or refused -assistance, but was, as her mother told Mrs. Elrington, a perfect martyr -to her sister's whims and fancies. She had changed. But why? Her mother -watched her narrowly, and doubted her being happy, and this thought made -her doubly anxious, and imprinted the careworn look more indelibly on -her face. A few mornings before Amy returned to Brampton, at the close -of the holidays, she went over to Mrs. Elrington's, and found her busy -in the garden tying up the stray shrubs, and rooting up the weeds. - -"I am afraid, Amy dear, you have come to say 'good-bye,' so I must -finish my gardening to-morrow, and devote my time for the present to -you." - -"I shall be very glad, Mrs. Elrington, for indeed I have a great deal -to say. I am so anxious about mamma." - -"Anxious, Amy! Well, come in and sit down, and tell me all about it. Sit -here close by me, and tell me what is the matter, or rather, what you -fancy is; as I think the anxiety is all on your account." - -"It's mamma, Mrs. Elrington. I am so dissatisfied about her; she is so -changed." - -"Changed! In what way?" - -"In every way. She is not so strong, the least exertion tires her, and I -so often notice the traces of tears on her face. Then she is so dull; -and will sit for hours sometimes without saying a word, always busy with -that everlasting knitting, which I hate; it is quite an event if she -drops a stitch, as then her fingers are quiet for a little. If I look up -suddenly, I find her eyes fixed on me so mournfully: at other times, -when I speak she does not hear me, being evidently deep in her own -thoughts. She is so different from what she used to be, so very -different." - -"I cannot say I have noticed any change, and I am constantly with her." - -"Ah! that is just why you don't see it. Hannah does not." - -"But, my dear, she never complains: I think she would if she felt ill." - -"Mamma never complains, dear Mrs. Elrington; I wish she would, as then I -might question her, now I feel it impossible. Does she seem happy when I -am away?" - -"Quite so; and always especially cheerful when she has your letters." - -"I will write much oftener this time; and you will also, will you not? -and tell me always exactly how she is, and do watch her, too, Mrs. -Elrington, for I am sure she is not so strong as she was." - -"I will, indeed," and Mrs. Elrington pressed Amy's hand, "but you must -not fidget yourself unnecessarily, when there is not the least occasion -for it. I assure you I see little change in your mother--I mean in -bodily health, and I hope, please God, you will find her quite well -when you come again, so do not be low-spirited, Amy." - -And so they parted. Mrs. Elrington's words comforted without convincing -Amy; and her face wore a more cheerful expression for some days after -her return to Brampton. - -Mr. Linchmore greeted her very kindly; even Mrs. Linchmore seemed -pleased to see her; while the children, especially Fanny, were -boisterous in their welcome, and buzzed about her like bees, recounting -all the little events and accidents that had happened since she left, -until they were fetched away; when Mrs. Linchmore and Amy were alone. - -"I trust you enjoyed your visit home, Miss Neville?" - -"Thank you, yes; it was a great treat being with my mother and sister -again." - -"We missed you sadly, and are not sorry to welcome you back again. Edith -and Fanny have both grown weary of themselves and idleness; as for -Alice, only yesterday, while I was dressing for dinner, having taken the -child with me into my room, she amused herself by scrubbing the floor -with my toothbrush, having managed to turn up a piece of the carpet in -one of the corners; indeed, I should weary you, did I recount half she -has been guilty of in the way of mischief." - -Amy smiled, and Mrs. Linchmore continued, - -"Did you ever leave home before for so long a time?" - -"Never. My mother and I had never been parted until I came here." - -"You must have felt it very much. I trust Mrs. Neville is well?" - -"No. I regret to say I am not quite satisfied with my mother. I do not -see any very material change, neither can I say she is ill, but I notice -a difference somewhere. I fear she frets a great deal, she is so much -alone." - -"But your sister?" - -"She is too young to be much of a companion to mamma, and I think tries -her a great deal. She has been rather a spoilt child, being so much -younger than I." - -"Younger children always are spoilt. Have you no friends besides Mrs. -Elrington?" - -"Yes; several very kind ones: there are many nice people living near, -but none like clear, good Mrs. Elrington; she is so true, so unselfish, -so kind, and devotes a great deal of her time to mamma." - -"Does she notice any change in your Mother?" - -"She assured me not. But then they meet so constantly, she would not be -likely to notice it so much as I, who only see her seldom. She has -promised to let me know if she does see any alteration for the worse, so -with that I must rest satisfied, and hope all is well, unless I hear to -the contrary." - -"How is Mrs. Elrington?" - -"Quite well, thank you, and looks much the same." - -"She asked about me, of course?" and Mrs. Linchmore half averted her -face from Amy's gaze. - -"Yes, often; and as she has not seen you for so many years, I had much -to tell her. She seemed pleased to hear of the children, and asked a -great many questions about them." - -"You _thought_ she seemed pleased to hear about them. I suspect -curiosity had a great deal to do with it, if not all. You will grow -wiser some day, Miss Neville, and learn to distinguish the true from the -false--friends from foes," and Mrs. Linchmore's eyes flashed. "Did you -give her my message, the kind remembrances I sent her, with the hope -that--that she had not forgotten me? Did she send no message in return?" - -The question was sternly asked; Amy hesitated what to say. What was the -mysterious connection between the two? and why was it Mrs. Linchmore -never spoke of Mrs. Elrington without a touch of anger or bitterness? -even the latter, who seemed ever careful of wounding the feelings of -others, never spoke of Mrs. Linchmore in a friendly manner, though she -appeared to know or have known her well at some earlier period of life. - -The question embarrassed Amy, "I was so hurried," said she, "in coming -away that I forgot--I mean she forgot--." - -Mrs. Linchmore rose haughtily, "I dislike equivocation, Miss Neville, -and here there is not the slightest occasion for it. I did not expect a -message in return; I think I told you so, if I remember aright, when I -entrusted you with mine," and very proudly she walked across the room, -seated herself at the piano and sang as if there was no such thing as -woe in the world, while Amy sat, listened, and wondered, then softly -rose and went upstairs to the school room. - -"Here we are! so busy, Miss Neville," cried Fanny, "putting all the -things to rights. It's so nice to have something to do, and I'm sorting -all the books, although I do hate lessons so," with which assertion -Fanny threw her arms round her governess' neck, while Alice begged for -a kiss, and Edith pressed closer to her side and passed her small hand -in hers. - -Certainly the children were very fond of her; Fanny had been so from the -first; it was natural for her to love everybody, she was so impulsive, -but the other two she had won over by her own strong will and gentle but -firm training. Carlo, Fanny's dog, seemed as overjoyed as any of them, -leaping, barking, and jumping about until desired rather severely by his -young mistress to be quiet. "You are making a shameful noise, sir," she -said, giving him a pat, "will you please let somebody else's voice be -heard; and do sit down, dear Miss Neville, and let us tell you all we -have done since you have been away; we have lots of news, we have not -told you half yet, have we, Edith?" - -So they began all over again, totally forgetting what they had said or -left unsaid, Amy patiently listening, pleased to think how glad they -were to see her. Each tendered a small present, to show that their -little fingers had not been quite unprofitably employed; half pleased, -half frightened lest it should not be liked. They told her amongst other -things that uncle Charles had been to Brampton again, but only for three -days; he would not remain longer, although Mrs. Linchmore had wished him -to; he had brought his dog "Bob" with him, such an ugly thing, who -growled and showed his teeth; they were all afraid of it, and were glad -when it went away. - -"Bob used to come up here, Miss Neville, and sit in the window while -uncle was at work." - -"At work! what work, Edith?" - -"The book shelves. Oh! have you not seen them? do come and look, they -are so nice. See, he put them all up by himself, and worked so hard, and -when they were done he made us bring all your books; then he set them -up, and desired us not to meddle with them as they were only for you. -Was it not kind of him? We told him it was just what you wanted." - -"How could you? I did not want them at all." - -"Yes, Miss Neville, indeed you did; you said long before you went away -how much you should like some." - -But Amy thought she neither wanted nor liked them, and felt vexed they -had been put up. - -"Ah!" said Fanny, catching the vexed expression, "you can thank him for -them when he comes again; we were to tell you so, and that he would be -here in November, and this is August Miss Neville, so it's only three -months to wait." - -"You can tell him Fanny when he comes, that I am much obliged to him, -lest I should forget to do so." - -And Amy turned away, feeling more vexed than she liked to acknowledge to -herself; she had had nothing to do with putting up the shelves, but -would Mrs. Linchmore think so if she knew it? And did she know it, and -what had she thought? "Mamma was right," said she to her self. "It is -very hard to be a governess; and _he_ has misinterpreted and misjudged -me." - -A thorn had sprung up in Amy's path, which already wounded her slightly. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - - VISITORS ARRIVE. - - O! if in this great world of strife, - This mighty round of human life, - We had no friends to cheer, - O! then how cold the world would seem! - How desolate the ebbing stream - Of life from year to year! - - J. B. KERRIDGE. - - -Autumn passed away, and winter spread its icy mantle over the earth. -Abroad all looked bleak, cold, and desolate. Trees had lost their -leaves, flowers their blossoms, and the beautiful green fields were -covered with snow; while here and there a snowdrop reared her drooping -head from under its white veil, or a crocus feebly struggled to escape -its cold embraces. Within doors, things wore a brighter aspect than -they had done for some time past. Visitors had arrived at Brampton, who, -it was hoped, would enliven the old Hall, and dissipate the dulness of -its haughty mistress. Rooms long unoccupied had bright, cheerful fires -blazing in the grates; footsteps hurried to and fro, echoing through the -long, lofty passages, where all before had been so still and silent. The -old, gloomy, melancholy look had totally disappeared, and the house -teemed with life and mirth. - -Mrs. Hopkins was no longer nurse, but had been installed as housekeeper -in the room of one who had grown too old for the office; and was all -smiles and importance, much to the disgust of Mason, the lady's maid, -who, having always considered herself a grade above the _Nurse_, now -found herself a mere cipher next to the all-important _Housekeeper_, who -seemed to sweep everything before her as she walked grandly down the -long corridor; Mason's pert toss of the head, and still perter replies, -were met with cool disdain, much to her disappointment, as she tried to -discomfort her; but all to no purpose, as Mrs. Hopkins' sway continued -paramount; and she wielded her sceptre with undiminished power, -notwithstanding all the arts used to dislodge her. - -It was a half-holiday; Amy had fetched her hat, and was on her way out; -in the corridor she met Mrs. Hopkins, who was always fond of a chat when -she could find the opportunity; besides, she had long wished for some -one to whom to unburden all Mason's impertinences. She immediately -courtesied, and began-- - -"Good morning, Miss. Isn't the old house looking different? it does my -heart good to see it, we havn't been so gay for many a year. I am so -glad Madam has given up going to foreign parts; it ain't good for the -young ladies, and I'm certain sure it ain't no good for servants, -Mason's never been the same since she went; I havn't patience with her -airs and graces!" Here she broke off abruptly, as Mason crossed the -passage, her flowing skirts sweeping the floor, and a little coquettish -cap just visible at the back of her head. "Only look at her, Miss, -thinking herself somebody in her own opinion, when in most everybody's -elses' she's a nobody. Why, Miss, a Duchess couldn't make more of -herself," said Mrs. Hopkins, testily. - -"Indeed, I do not believe she could," replied Amy, smiling, "and I am -sure would not _think_ more of herself." - -"Think, Miss! Why, it's my belief she dreams at night she's found the -hen with the golden egg, and so builds castles on the strength of it all -day long; and airy ones she'll find them, I know," and Mrs. Hopkins -laughed at the idea of Mason's supposed downfall. - -"I suppose, Nurse, you have been very busy?" - -"Yes, Miss, just what I like. I don't care to sit with my hands before -me. I'm always happy when I'm busy. It isn't natural for me to be idle." - -"How many strangers are here, Nurse? You must forgive me for calling you -Nurse, but I am so accustomed to it." - -"Forgive you, Miss! I'm Nurse to you and the children if you please, -always, I'm proud of the title; but to Mason and the rest I'm Mrs. -Hopkins," said she with firmness. "As to how many are here, why I can't -exactly say; they're not all come yet, there are several empty rooms, -but I suppose they'll be filled to-day or to-morrow at the latest; then -the young Master's to come; but his room's always ready; he comes and -goes when he likes. We call him the young Master, because he's to have -the Hall by-and-by. He's a thorough good gentleman, is Mr. Charles, and -will make a good master to them as lives to see it. But it is a pity, -Madam has no son." - -"Excuse me for interrupting you, Miss Neville," said Mrs. Linchmore's -voice close behind, "but I wish, Mrs. Hopkins, another room prepared -immediately; one of the smaller ones will do," and Mrs. Linchmore passed -on. Amy followed; while nurse shrugged her shoulders, shook her head, -and muttered, "Another man! Humph! I don't like so many of 'em roaming -about the place; it ain't respectable." - -Mrs. Linchmore, on reaching the hall, was turning off to the library, -when Edith and Fanny ran past, closely pursued by a young girl, who -stopped suddenly on perceiving them, and, addressing Mrs. Linchmore, -exclaimed, - -"Pray do not look at me, Isabella, I know my toilette is in dreadful -disorder. I have had such a run that I really feel quite warm." - -"Your face is certainly rather flushed," replied Mrs. Linchmore, as she -looked at the young girl's red face, occasioned as much by the cold wind -outside, as by her run with the children. - -"I know I'm looking a perfect fright," she added, vainly endeavouring to -smooth the dishevelled hair under her hat. - -"Your run has certainly not improved your personal appearance. Allow me, -Miss Bennet, to introduce you to Miss Neville, whom I fear you will find -a sorry companion in such wild games." - -"I don't know that!" and she gazed earnestly at Amy. "A romp is -excusable in this weather, it is so cold outside." - -"A greater reason why you should remain in the house, and employ your -time more profitably;" so saying, Mrs. Linchmore walked away, leaving -the two girls together. - -"That is so like her," observed Miss Bennet, "she takes no pleasure in a -little fun herself; consequently thinks it's wrong any one else should. -Now, children, be off," she continued, looking round, but they were -nowhere to be seen, having fled in dismay at the first sight of Mrs. -Linchmore. - -"Are you going out?" asked she, placing her hand on Amy's arm. - -"Only for a short time." - -"Then for that short time I will be your companion,--that is if you -like." - -Amy expressed her pleasure, and they were soon walking at a brisk pace -round the shrubbery. - -Julia Bennet had no pretensions to beauty, though not by any manner of -means a plain girl. She had a very fair, almost transparent complexion, -and small, fairy hands and feet. She was a good-natured, merry girl, one -who seldom took any pains to disguise her faults or thoughts, and -consequently was frequently in scrapes, from which she as often cleverly -extricated herself. If she liked persons they soon found it out, or if -she disliked them they did not long remain in ignorance of it; not that -she made them acquainted with the fact point blank, but no trouble was -taken to please; they were totally overlooked. Not being pretty, no -envious belles were jealous of her, and young men were not obliged to -pay her compliments. Nor, indeed, had she been pretty, would they have -ventured to do what she most assuredly would have made them regret; yet -she was a great favourite with most people, never wanted a partner at a -ball, but would be sought out for a dance when many other girls with -greater pretensions to beauty were neglected. She was a cousin of Mr. -Linchmore's, the youngest of five sisters, only one of whom was -married. Julia gazed over her shoulder at her companion's hat, dress, -and shawl; nothing escaped her penetrating glance. She was rarely -silent, but had always something to say, although not so inveterate a -talker as her sister Anne. The latter, however, insisted that she was -more so, and had resolutely transferred the name of "Magpie" or "Maggy," -with which her elder sisters had nicknamed her, to Julia. - -"I have quite spoilt Isabella's temper for to-day," began Julia. "She -will remember that romp, as she calls it, for ages to come. I cannot -help laughing either, when I think of the figure I must have been when I -met her. Now confess, Miss Neville, did I not look a perfect fright?" - -"You looked warm and tired, certainly," - -"Warm and tired! Now do not speak in that measured way, so exactly like -Isabella, when I was as red as this," and she pointed to the scarlet -feather in her hat, "and as for tired, I was panting for breath like -that dreadful old pet dog of hers. Well, I am glad I have made you -laugh; but do not, please, Miss Neville, if we are to be friends, speak -so like Isabella again. I hate it, and that's the truth." - -"I will not, if I know it, but will say yes or no, if you like it best, -and wish it." - -"And I do wish it, and that was not said a bit like Isabella, so I will -forgive you, and we will make up and be friends, as the children say," -and she gave her hand to Amy. "And now tell me, Miss Neville, by way of -changing the subject, where, when, and how you became acquainted with my -cousin." - -"I am governess to her children," replied Amy, quietly. - -Julia stopped suddenly, and looked at her in surprise. - -"And are you really the governess of whom Edith and Fanny have talked to -me so much? Why, you cannot be much older than I." - -"Do you not consider yourself old enough to be a governess?" - -"Well, yes, of course I do; but you are so different to what I always -pictured to myself a governess ought to be. They should be ugly, cross -old maids, odious creatures, in fact I know mine was." - -"Why so?" asked Amy. - -"Oh, she did a hundred disagreeable things. All people have manias for -something, so there is, perhaps, nothing surprising in her being fond of -_bags_. She had bags for everything; for her boots and shoes, thimble -and scissors, brushes and combs, thread, buttons,--even to her -india-rubber. A small piece of coloured calico made me literally sick, -for it was sure to be converted into a bag, and a broken needle into a -pin, with a piece of sealing-wax as the head." - -"She was not wasteful," said Amy, who could not forbear laughing at the -picture drawn. - -"Wasteful! Truly not. It was 'waste not, want not,' with her; she had it -printed and pasted on a board, and hung up in the school-room, and well -she acted up to the motto." - -"But I dare say she did you some good, notwithstanding her -peculiarities." - -"Well! 'the proof of the pudding is in the eating,' another of her wise -sayings; and it is early days to ask you what you think of me, so I -shall wait until we are better acquainted, which I hope will be soon. -How glad I was to get rid of her! I actually pulled down one of the -bells in ringing her out of the house, and would have had a large -bonfire of all the backboards and stocks, if I had dared. I could not -bear her, but I am sure I shall like you, and we will be friends, shall -we not? do not say no." - -"Why should I? I will gladly have you as my friend." - -"That is right; you will want one if Frances Strickland is coming: how -she will hate you. She likes me, so she says, so there is something to -console me for not being born a beauty; so proud and conceited as she is -too, everything she says and does is for effect. Her brother is as silly -as she is proud, and as fond of me as he is of his whiskers and -moustaches." - -"I need not ask you if you like him." - -"I shall certainly not break my heart if you are disposed to fall in -love with him." - -"Nay, your description has not prepossessed me in his favour. And who -are the other guests?" - -"I cannot tell you, for their name is legion, but you will be able to -see them soon, and review them much better than I can," and Julia turned -out of the shrubbery into one of the garden walks leading up to the -house. - -"Here is Anne," added she, in a tone of surprise, "all alone too, for a -wonder. See!" and she pointed to a young girl seemingly intent on -watching John the gardener, who was raking the gravel, and digging up a -stray weed here and there. - -"Look here, John," cried she, as they approached unperceived, "here is a -weed you have overlooked. Give me the hoe, and let me dig it up. What -fun it is!" added she, placing a tiny foot on the piece of iron, "I -declare I would far rather do this than walk about all by myself. There! -see! I have done it capitally; now I'll look for another, and just -imagine they are men I am decapitating, and won't I go with a vengeance -at some of them," and then turning she caught sight of Julia and Amy. - -"Well, Maggie," said she, "here I am talking to John, in default of a -better specimen of mankind, and really he is not so bad. I declare he is -far more amusing than Frank Smythe, and has more brains than half the -men I have danced with lately, and that's not saying much for John," and -she pouted her lips with an air of disdain. - -"This is my sister Anne, Miss Neville," said Julia, introducing them, -"and so this," and she pointed to the hoe still in her sister's hand, -"is your morning's amusement, Anne?" - -"Yes," said she, carelessly, "I was thoroughly miserable at first, -stalking about after John, and pretending to be amused with him, but -all the time looking towards the house out of the corners of my eyes; I -am sure they ache now," and she rubbed them, "but all to no purpose, not -a vestige of a man have I seen, not even the coat tail of one of them. I -was, as I say, miserable until I spied John's hoe, and then a bright -thought struck me, and I have been acting upon it ever since, and should -have cleared the walk by this time, if you had not interrupted me." - -"Pray go on," said Julia, "it is very cold standing talking here, and I -have no doubt John is delighted to have such efficient aid." - -"Now Mag, that is a little piece of jealousy on your part, because -perhaps you have not been spending the morning so pleasantly. But there -is the gong sounding for luncheon, come away," and she threw down the -hoe; "let us go and tidy ourselves; I am sure you want it," and she -pointed to her sister's hair; then went with a bounding, elastic step -towards the house. - -"Good-bye, Miss Neville; I must not increase my cousin's bad temper by -being late. My sister Anne is a strange girl, but I think you will like -her by-and-by, she is so thoroughly good natured." - -Amy watched Julia's light graceful figure as she went up the walk, then -turned and retraced her steps round the Shrubbery. - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - - "GOODY GREY." - - "A poore widow, some deal stoop'n in age, - Was whilom dwelling in a narwe cottage - Beside a grove standing in a dale. - This widow which I tell you of my Tale - Since thilke day that she was last a wife - In patience led a full simple life; - For little was her cattle and her rent." - - CHAUCER. - - -The country round Brampton was singularly beautiful and picturesque. A -thick wood skirted the park on one side, and reached to the edge of the -river that wound clearly, brightly, and silently through the valley -beyond, and at length lost itself after many turnings behind a -neighbouring hill, while hills and dales, meadows, rich pastures and -fields were seen as far as the eye could reach, with here and there -cottages scattered about, and lanes which in summer were scented with -the fragrance of wild flowers growing beneath and in the hedges, their -blossoms painting the sides with many colours, and were filled with -groups of village children culling the tiny treasures, but now were cold -and deserted. - -To the right, in a shady nook, stood the village church, quiet and -solemn, its spire just overtopping some tall trees near, and its -church-yard dotted with cypress, yew, and willow trees, waving over -graves old and new. - -Further on was the village of Brampton, containing some two or three -hundred houses, many of them very quaint and old-fashioned, but nearly -all neat and tidy, the gardens rivalling one another in the fragrance -and luxuriance of their flowers. - -In the wood to the left, and almost hidden among the trees, stood a -small thatched cottage with a look of peculiar desolate chilliness; not -a vestige of cultivation was to be seen near it, although the ground -round about was carefully swept clear of dead leaves and stray sticks, -so that an appearance of neatness though not of comfort reigned around. -It seemed as if no friendly hand ever opened the windows, no step ever -crossed the threshold of the door, or cheerful voice sounded from -within. Its walls were perfectly bare, no jasmine, no sweet scented -clematis, no wild rose ever invaded them; even the ivy had passed them -by, and crept up a friendly oak tree. - -Within might generally be seen an old woman sitting and swaying herself -backwards and forwards in a high-backed oak chair, and even appearing to -keep time with the ticking of a large clock that stood on one side of -the room, as ever and anon she sang the snatches of some old song, or -turned to speak to a large parrot perched on a stand near: a strange -inhabitant for such a cottage. Her face was very wrinkled and somewhat -forbidding, from a frown or rather scowl that seemed habitual to it. Her -hair was entirely grey, brushed up from the forehead and turned under -an old fashioned mob cap, the band round the head being bound by a piece -of broad black ribbon. A cheap cotton dress of a dark colour, and a -little handkerchief pinned across the bosom completed her attire. - -The floor of the room was partly covered with carpet; the boards round -being beautifully clean and white. A small table stood in front of the -fire-place, and a clothes' press on the opposite side of the clock, -while on a peg behind the door hung a bonnet and grey cloak. The only -ornaments in the room, if ornaments they could be called, were a feather -fan on a shelf in one corner, and by its side a small, curiously-carved -ivory box. - -The owner of the cottage was the old woman just described. Little was -known about her. The villagers called her "Goody Grey," probably on -account of the faded grey cloak she invariably wore in winter, or the -shawl of the same colour which formed part of her dress in summer. The -cottage had been built by Mr. Linchmore's father, just before his -death, and when completed, she came and took up her abode there; none -knowing who she was or where she came from; although numberless were the -villagers' conjectures as to who she could be; but their curiosity had -never been satisfied; she kept entirely to herself, and baffled the -wisest of them, until in time the curiosity as well as the interest she -excited, gradually wore away, and they grew to regard her with -superstitious awe; as one they would not vex or thwart for the world, -believing she had the power of bringing down unmitigated evil on them -and theirs; although they rarely said she exercised any such -dark power. The children of the village were forbidden to wander in the -wood, although "Goody Grey" had never been heard to say a harsh word to -them, nor indeed any word at all, as she never noticed or spoke to them. -The little creatures were not afraid of her, and seldom stopped their -play on her approach as she went through the village, which was seldom. -Unless spoken to, she rarely addressed a word to any one. Strangers -passing through Brampton looked upon her--as indeed did the inmates at -the Park--as a crazy, half-witted creature, and pitied and spoke to her -as such, but she invariably gave sharp, angry replies, or else never -answered at all, save by deepening if possible the frown on her brow. - -As she finished the last verse of her song, the parrot as if aware it -had come to an end flapped his wings, and gave a shrill cry. "Hush!" -said she, "Be still!" - -Almost at the same instant, the distant rumble of wheels was heard -passing along the high road which wound though a part of the wood near. -She rose up, went to the window, and opened it, and leaning her head -half out listened intently. Her height was about the middle stature, and -her figure gaunt and upright. - -She could see nothing: the road was not distinguishable, but the sound -of the carriage wheels was plainly heard above the breeze sighing among -the leafless trees. She listened with an angry almost savage expression -on her face. - -"Aye, there they come!" she exclaimed, drawing herself up to her full -height, "there they come! the beautiful, the rich, and the happy. -Happy!" she laughed wildly, "how many will find happiness in that house? -Woe to them! Woe! Woe! Woe!" and she waved her bony arms above her head, -looking like some evil spirit, while, as if to add more horror to her -words, the bird echoed her wild laugh. - -"Ah, laugh!" she cried, "and so may you too, ye deluded ones, but only -for awhile: by-and-by there will be weeping and mourning and woe, which, -could ye but see as I see it, how loath would ye be to come here; but -now ye are blindly running your necks into the noose," and again her -half-crazed laugh rang through the cottage. "Woe to you!" she repeated, -closing the window as she had opened it. "Woe to you! Woe! Woe!" - -Ere long the excitement passed away, or her anger exhausted itself; and -she gradually dropped her arms to her side and sank on a bench by the -window; her head dropped on her bosom, and she might be said to have -lost all consciousness but for the few unintelligible words she every -now and again muttered to herself in low indistinct tones. - -Presently she rose again, opened the clothes-press, and took out some -boiled rice and sopped bread, which she gave to the parrot. - -"Eat!" said she in a low, subdued tone, very different to her former -wild excited one, "Eat, take your fill, and keep quiet, for I'm going -out; and if I leave you idle you're sure to get into mischief before I -come back." - -The bird, as she placed the rice in a small tin attached to his perch, -took hold of her finger with his beak, and tried to perch himself upon -her hand. She pushed him gently back and smoothed his feathers, "No, -no," said she. "It's too cold for you outside, you would wish yourself -at home again, although you do love me, and are the only living thing -that does." And another dark expression flitted across her face. - -She put on the bonnet and grey cloak, and taking a thick staff in her -hand, went out. - -The air was cold and frosty. The snow of the day before had melted away, -and the ground in consequence of the thaw and subsequent frost was very -slippery; but she walked bravely and steadily on, with the help of her -staff, scarcely ever making a false step. At the outskirts of the wood -was a small gate leading on to a footpath which ran across the park, -making a short cut from the valley to the village. Here she paused, and -looked hastily about her. - -Now Goody Grey had never been known or seen to enter the Park, yet she -paused evidently undecided as to which path she should pursue, the long -or the short one. At length she resolved upon taking the long one; and -shaking her head she muttered, "No, no; may be I'll be in time the other -way;" and on she went as steadily as before, on through the village and -up by the church-yard; nor stayed, nor slackened her walk until she -gained the large gates and lodge of Brampton Park; then she halted and -gazed up the road. - -Notwithstanding the time it had taken to come round, probably half an -hour, yet the carriage she had heard approaching in the distance had -only just reached the bottom of the hill, the road taking a long round -after leaving the wood. It came on slowly, the coachman being evidently -afraid to trust his horses over the slippery road. Slowly it approached, -and eagerly was it scanned by the old woman at the gates. Presently it -was quite close, and then came to a stand still, while the great lodge -bell rang out; and Goody Grey advanced to the window, and looked in. - -On one side sat two rather elderly ladies; on the other an effeminate -looking young man and a girl. These were evidently not the people she -expected to see, for a shade of vexation and disappointment crossed her -face. After scanning the countenances of each, she fixed her eyes on the -young girl with an angry, menacing look, difficult to define, which the -latter bore for some moments without flinching; then turning her head -away, she addressed one of the ladies sitting opposite her. - -"Have you no pence, Mamma? Pray do give this wretched being some, and -let us get rid of her." - -"I do not think I have, Frances, nor indeed if I had would I give her -any. I make a point of never encouraging vagrants; she ought to be in -the Union, the proper place for people of her stamp. I have no doubt she -is an impostor, she looks like it, there are so many about now; we are -overrun with them." - -"Well, Mamma, if you won't give her any, pray desire Porter to drive on. -What is he waiting for?" - -"My dear, they have not opened the gates. There goes the bell again." - -"Really, Alfred," said the girl, turning towards the young man at her -side, "one would think you were dumb, to see you sitting there so -indifferent. I wonder you have not more politeness towards Miss Tremlow -if you have none for your mother and sister. Do not you see?" continued -she, taking the paper he was reading from his hand and holding it so as -to partly screen her face. "Do not you see what an annoyance this -dreadful old woman is to us?" - -He yawned and stretched himself, giving at the same time a side glance -at Goody Grey, as if it was too much trouble to turn his head. "Ha! yes. -Can't say I admire her. What does she want?" - -"Want! We want her sent away, but one might as well appeal to a post as -you." - -"I shall not exert my lungs in her behalf; but you are wrong as regards -your polite comparison of 'post,'" and, putting down the window, he gave -a few pence into the old woman's hand, intimating at the same time that -he should be under the painful necessity of calling the porter;--and he -pointed to the man at the gates--unless she moved away. - -"Take my blessing," said she, in reply. "The blessing of an old woman--" - -"There, that will do. I do not want thanks." - -"And I do not thank you," replied she, putting both hands on the window -so as to prevent its being closed. "I don't thank you. I give you my -blessing, which is better than thanks. But I have a word for you;" she -pointed her finger at Frances Strickland, "and mark well my words, for -they are sure to come to pass. Pride must have a fall. Evil wishes are -seldom fulfilled. Beware! you are forewarned. And now, drive on!" she -screamed to the coachman, striking at the same moment one of the horses -with the end of her staff; it plunged and reared violently, the other -horse became restive, and they set off at full speed up the avenue. -Fortunately, the road was a gradual ascent to the house, for had there -been nothing to check their mad career, some serious accident might have -happened; as it was, one of the windows was broken against the branch of -a tree, the carriage narrowly escaping an upset on a small mound of -earth thrown up at the side of the road. - -The travellers were more or less alarmed. Miss Tremlow, who was seated -opposite Alfred, seized hold of him, and frantically entreated him to -save her, until he was thrown forward almost into her lap--"All of a -heap," as that lady afterwards expressed herself--as the carriage -swerved over against a tree, when she gradually released her hold, and -sank back into a state of insensibility. - -"I hope she is dead!" said Alfred, settling himself once more in his -place by his sister, and rubbing his arm. - -"Dead!" echoed his mother. "Who is dead?" - -"Only that mad woman next you in the corner; there! let her alone, -mother; don't, for Heaven's sake, bring her round again, whatever you -do. I have had enough of her embraces to last me a precious long time." - - -The horses now slackened their speed, and were stopped by some of the -Hall servants not far from the door. - -Mr. Linchmore was at the steps of the Terrace, and helped to lift out -Miss Tremlow, who was carried into the house still insensible; while -Mrs. Strickland, who had been screaming incessantly for the last five -minutes, now talked as excitedly about an old witch in a grey cloak; -while Frances walked into the house scarcely deigning a word, good, bad, -or indifferent to any one--her pale face strangely belying her apparent -coolness--leaving her brother to relate the history of their -misadventure. - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - - AMY GOES FOR A WALK. - - "Such is life then--changing ever, - Shadows flit we day by day; - Heedless of the fleeting seasons, - Pass we to our destinies." - - THOMAS COX. - - -All the visitors had now arrived at Brampton Park, and were amusing -themselves as well as the inclement weather would allow of, the snow -still covering the ground, and the cold so intense as to keep all the -ladies within doors, with the exception of Julia Bennet, who went out -every day, accompanied by the three children, as Amy's spare time was -quite taken up with Miss Tremlow, who had continued since her fright -too unwell to leave her room. - -Julia Bennet often paid a visit to the school-room in the morning, and -sadly interrupted the studies by her incessant talking. Often did Amy -declare she would not allow her to come in until two o'clock, when the -lessons were generally ended for the afternoon's walk; but still, the -next morning, there she was, her merry face peeping from behind the -half-opened door, with a laughing, "I know I may come in; may I not?" -and Amy never refused. How could she? - -One morning, after getting her pupils ready for an earlier walk than -usual, and giving them into Julia's charge--who vainly tried to persuade -her to go with them--she bent her steps, as usual, to Miss Tremlow's -room. On entering, she was surprised to see that lady sitting up in a -large arm chair propped with cushions and looking very comfortable by -the side of the warm fire. On enquiry, she learnt that Julia had been -busy with the invalid all the morning, and had insisted on her getting -out of bed. - -"I am so very glad to see you looking so much better, and really hope -you will soon be able to go down stairs; it must be so dull for you -being so much alone," began Amy, as she quietly took a seat near. - -"Miss Bennet wished to persuade me to do so to-day; but I really did not -feel equal to it, though I do not think she believed me; she has her own -peculiar notions about most things, and especially about invalids; I -dare say she means it all kindly, but I cannot help thinking her very -odd and eccentric." - -"She is a very kind-hearted girl, it is impossible not to help liking -her." - -"She is very different from you, my dear, in a sick room, very -different." - -And well might she say so. Amy was all gentleness, so quiet in her -movements; there was something soft and amiable about her; you loved -her you scarcely knew or asked yourself why. Julia was all roughness, -bustling about, setting the room to rights--Miss Tremlow's,--whenever -she entered it; talking and laughing the while, and endeavouring to -persuade the unfortunate individual that it was not possible she could -feel otherwise than ill, when she never exerted herself or tried to get -better. Her too you loved, and loving her overlooked her faults; but she -obliged you to love her, she did not gain a place in your heart at once -as Amy did. Very different they were in temper and disposition; Julia -hasty and passionate; Amy forbearing and rarely roused; but at times her -father's proud, fiery spirit flashed forth, and then how beautiful she -looked in her indignation. - -"I think I read to the end of the sixth chapter," said Amy, taking up a -book and opening it; "for I foolishly forgot to put in a mark." - -Amy read every day to Miss Tremlow, and thus whiled away many a weary -hour that would have passed wearily for the invalid. - -"You need not read to-day, my dear, you will tire yourself; so never -mind where we were. I hope myself to be able to read soon." - -"I shall not be in the least tired; I like reading. Shall I begin?" - -Miss Tremlow fidgeted and moved restlessly among the cushions, and then -said wearily-- - -"Do you know, my dear, I think it will be too much for me; I feel so -tired with the exertion of getting up." - -The book was instantly closed, Miss Tremlow feeling quite relieved when -it was laid down. - -"You are not vexed, Miss Neville, I hope. Your reading has been such a -treat to me, when otherwise I should have been so dull and stupid." - -"Indeed, no, it has been quite a pleasure to me; but you do look weary -and tired. Shall I pour you out a glass of wine?" - -"No, my dear, no; there is not the slightest occasion for it. And now -let us talk of something else; you shall tell me all about the -visitors, so that they may not be quite strangers to me when we meet." - -"I have not seen any of them, except Mrs. Bennet and her daughters, and -Mrs. Strickland and hers." - -"But you go down of an evening, and surely there are other visitors." - -"I always used to spend my evenings with Mrs. Linchmore; but within the -last week I have remained upstairs, thinking I should be sent for if -wanted, and as no enquiries have been made, I conclude my absence is not -noticed; or if noticed I am only doing what is usual in such cases." - -"Mrs. Linchmore is very foolish, and ought to have you down; you are too -pretty and young to be allowed to mope upstairs by yourself. You may -smile, but youth does not last for ever; it too soon fades away, and -then you will become a useless, fidgetty old maid, like myself; no one -to love or care for you, and all those who ought to love and take care -of you wishing you dead, that they may quarrel for the little money you -leave behind." - -"But I have very few distant relations, and those I have do not love or -care for me." - -"More reason why you should have a husband who would do both; but that -will come soon enough, I have no doubt. In the meantime you seem very -young to have the care of these three girls, the youngest a perfect -torment, if I remember aright; so spoilt and humoured." - -"I am nearly nineteen," replied Amy. - -"Too young to be sent out into this cold world all alone; but your -mother has, of course, advised you for the best." - -"Yes, she gave me her advice; and love, and blessing, as well; the -latter was highly prized, but the first I did not follow. She did not -wish me to be a governess, but advised me strongly against it; still I -cannot think I have done wrong," added Amy, answering the enquiring look -Miss Tremlow bent on her. "Because--because--Oh! it would take too -long a time to tell you all I think, and you are weary already." - -"Not so," and she took Amy's hand in hers. "I am interested in my kind -young friend, so shall prove a good listener, though perhaps I am too -tired to talk; so tell me your history, and all about yourself and those -you love." - -Yet Amy sat silent, so that Miss Tremlow, who watched her, was troubled, -and added hastily, "never mind, my dear, I am sorry I asked you. It was -foolish and thoughtless of me." - -"No, indeed, Miss Tremlow; it is I who am foolish; mine is but the -history of an every day life. There is little to tell, but what happens, -or might happen, to anyone; still less to conceal." - -And Amy drew her chair closer still, and with faltering voice began the -history of her earlier years. A sad tale it was though she glanced but -slightly at her father's extravagance; but to speak of her mother's -patience, long suffering, and forbearance through it all, she wearied -not, forgetting that as she did so her father's conduct stood out in -all its worst light, so that when she had finished Miss Tremlow -exclaimed hastily-- - -"He must, nay, was a bold, bad man, not worthy of such a wife! It's a -mercy he is dead, or worse might have happened." - -"Do not say that, Miss Tremlow; my mother loved him so dearly." - -"That is the very reason why I cannot excuse him; no woman would; but -there now I have pained you again, and quite unintentionally; so please -read to me, and then there will be no chance of my getting into another -scrape, because I must hold my tongue, and I find that no very easy task -now, I can assure you." - -Amy silently took up the book she had previously laid down, but had -scarcely read three pages when the door opened, and in walked Julia with -a glass of jelly in her hand. - -"I have been looking for you everywhere, Miss Tremlow," she said. - -"Why did you not come here? Had you forgotten I was ill?" - -"Certainly not, witness this glass of jelly; but your room was the last -place in the world I thought of looking for you in, considering I made -you promise you would rouse yourself, and go below." - -"I wish I could rouse myself," sighed Miss Tremlow, "but I am not equal -to it, or to go down stairs amongst so many strangers." - -"Not equal to it? All stuff! You never will feel equal to either that, -or anything else, if you remain much longer shut up in this close room; -you will make yourself really ill; and now please to drink this glass of -wine, but first eat the jelly, and see how you feel after that." - -"I will drink the wine my dear, but I could not touch the jelly. I do -really think it is the fourth glass you have brought me to-day, and--no, -I could not touch it." - -"Well, you must take your choice between this, and some beef tea. Will -you toss up, as the boys do, which it shall be?" - -"No, no; I'll have nothing to do with the tossing. I suppose I must -take the jelly," and she sighed as she contemplated it. - -"Yes, and eat it too, and hate me into the bargain; when I do it -entirely for your good, because as long as you remain up here, and -complain of weakness, you must be dosed, and treated as an invalid, and -made to take strengthening things; so be thankful you have two such -nurses as Miss Neville and myself; one to talk and recount your pains -and aches to; and the other to insist upon rousing, and making you well, -whether you will or no, by forcing you to take and eat what is good for -you, and scolding you into the bargain when you require it, which is -nearly every day. Now, I am sure you are better after the jelly?" -continued she, taking the empty glass from her hand. - -"It is of no use saying I am not," replied Miss Tremlow wearily. - -"Not the slightest," said Julia, sitting down by Amy. "Why, you don't -mean to say that Miss Neville has been reading to you?" and she took -the book off Amy's lap, where it had lain forgotten. "After all my -injunctions, and your promises." - -Miss Tremlow looked somewhat abashed. - -"You really ought to be ashamed of yourself; as for Miss Neville, she -looks fagged to death; for goodness sake go out and take a walk, and try -and get a little colour into your cheeks, or there will be jelly and -beef tea for you to-morrow," and Julia laughed merrily. "And now," she -added, addressing Miss Tremlow, as Amy left the room, "Why did you allow -her to read? Did I not tell you it was bad for her; and that, not being -strong, the air of this close, hot room, is too much for her." - -"Do not scold, or go on at such a rate, my dear; I really am not strong -enough to bear it. I did refuse to hear the reading; but in the course -of conversation I made an unfortunate remark, and she looked so pained, -that to get out of the scrape I asked her to read; but she had scarcely -opened the book when you entered." - -"Never mind how long she read, you disobeyed orders; so as a punishment, -I shall put you to bed; and then I will read the whole book to you if -you like." - -Miss Tremlow was delighted; she really was beginning to feel sadly -tired, and in no humour for Julia's chattering, so submitted without a -murmur; fervently hoping Julia would not persevere in the reading, or -that some one else in the house might be taken ill, and receive the half -of Julia's attentions. - -As Amy quitted Miss Tremlow's room, she almost fell over Fanny, who came -bounding down the corridor, never heeding or looking where she went. -Fanny never walked; her steps, like her spirits, were always elastic. -Amy's lectures availed nothing in that respect. Her movements were never -slow--never would be--everything she did was done hastily, and seldom -well done; half a message would be forgotten, her lessons only -imperfectly said, because never thoroughly learnt. - -"Of course it is Fanny," said Amy, turning to help up the prostrate -child. "Have you hurt yourself, and why will you always be in such a -hurry?" - -"I was right, though, this time, Miss Neville," said the child, rising, -"because Miss Bennet told me you were going out as soon as she came in, -and Mamma wants you; so you see I am only just in time to catch you, -because you are going out, you know." - -"You would have plenty of time had you walked, instead of running in -that mad way. I am not yet dressed for walking. Are you hurt, child?" - -"Oh, no, Miss Neville, not a bit. I think I have torn my frock, though. -Isn't it tiresome? Only look!"--and she held up one of the flounces, -nearly half off the skirt. - -"I do not see how you could expect it to be otherwise. It must be mended -before you go to bed, Fanny." - -"Yes, Miss Neville; I suppose it must. Oh, dear! my fingers are always -sewing and mending. I wish Mamma would not have my dresses made with -flounces." - -"You would still tear them, Fanny." - -"Yes, I suppose I should; well, I have pinned it up as well as I can; -and now shall we go to Mamma; she is in her room, and Mason is so busy -there," said Fanny, forgetting all about her frock. "Do you know we are -going to have such a grand dinner party to-night; mamma is to wear her -pink silk dress, with black lace. I saw it on the bed; and such a lovely -wreath beside it. How I do wish I was big enough to have one just like -it!" - -"And tear the flounce like this," replied Amy, laughing, and knocking at -Mrs. Linchmore's door. - -"Come in, Miss Neville; I am sorry to trouble you, but I heard from -Fanny you were going out, and I wished to know if you would like to come -down into the drawing-room this evening, after dinner, it is both Mr. -Linchmore's wish and mine that you should do so; moreover, we shall be -glad to see you. The children will come and you could come down with -them, if you like." - -"Thank you, but if I am allowed a choice, I would far rather remain -away. I am so unaccustomed to strangers; still if you wish it I--" - -"No, you are to do just as you like in the matter, we shall be very glad -to see you if you should alter your mind, and I hope you will. And now -what news of Miss Tremlow? Is she really getting better, or still -thinking of Goody Grey?" - -"She sat up to-day for the first time, and is I think decidedly -improving, but her nerves have been sadly shaken. Miss Bennet tried to -persuade her to go downstairs to-day; but I really must say she had not -strength for the exertion." - -"I miss Julia sadly this dull weather, and I wish she would think of -others besides Miss Tremlow; she devotes nearly the whole day to her." - -"Is not her sister as merry and cheerful?" - -"Anne is all very well, but thinks only of pleasing herself, she never -helps entertain; you will scarcely see her in Miss Tremlow's, or anybody -else's sick room. And now if you are going out, I will not detain you -any longer. Perhaps you will kindly look into the conservatory as you -return, and bring me one or two flowers, and you, Fanny, can come with -me," and taking Fanny's hand she left the room, as Amy went to put on -her bonnet. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - - THE FLOWER. - - "I saw the light that made the glossy leaves - More glossy; the fair arm, the fairer cheek, - Warmed by the eye intent on its pursuit; - I saw the foot that, although half erect - From its grey slipper, could not lift her up - To what she wanted; I held down a branch - And gathered her some blossoms." - - LANDOR. - - -Amy went for a walk in the grounds; there being plenty of time before -the evening closed in, as Julia had purposely returned early. A solitary -walk is not much calculated to raise and cheer the spirits, and Amy's, -though not naturally dull or sad, were anything but cheerful during her -ramble. Miss Tremlow's questions had recalled sad scenes and memories -which she had tried to forget; but some things are never forgotten; out -of sight or laid aside for a time they may be, until some accident, or -circumstance slight and trivial perhaps in itself, recalls them; and -then there they are as vivid and fresh as ever, holding the same place -and clinging round the heart with the same weight and tightness as ever; -until again they fade away into the shade; crossed out, as a pen does a -wrong word, yet the writing is there, though faintly and imperfectly -visible, whatever pains we take to erase it. - -How Amy's thoughts wandered as she walked along over the frosty ground! -Time was when she had been as gay as Julia, and as light-hearted; but -she began to think those were by-gone days, such as would never come -again, or if they did, she would no longer be the same as before, and -therefore would not enjoy them as she once had. Then she sighed over the -past, and tried to picture to herself the future; _tried_, because very -mercifully the future of our lives, the foreseeing things that may -happen, is denied us. What a dark future it appeared! To be all her -life going over the self-same tasks, the same dull routine day by day; -her pupils might dislike their lessons, but how much more distasteful -they were to her. What a dull, dreary path lay before her! She passed -into the conservatory as these thoughts filled her heart. It was getting -dusk, and entering hastily, she gathered a few flowers, and was turning -on her way out, when she was attracted by a beautiful white Camellia, -ranged amongst a number of plants rather higher up than she could reach. -She stretched her arm over those below--in vain, the flower was beyond -her still. She made a second attempt, when an arm was suddenly passed -across her, and it was severed from its stem by some one at her side. - -"It was a thousand pities to have gathered it," said a tall, -gentlemanly-looking man; "but I saw you were determined to have it," and -he picked up the flower, which had fallen, and held it for her -acceptance. - -"Thank you," said Amy, nervously. He had startled her; his help had -been so unexpected. She told him so. - -"You did not perceive me? and yet I am by no means so small as to be -easily overlooked. I wish I could be sometimes; but I regret I -frightened you." - -"Not exactly frightened; only, not seeing you or knowing you were there, -it----" and Amy stopped short. - -"Frightened you," said he, decidedly. - -She did not contradict him. It was evident he did not intend she should, -for he scarcely allowed her time to reply as he went on, - -"There is another bud left on the same plant. Will you have it? I will -gather it in a moment." - -"Oh, no, by no means. Perhaps I ought not to have taken this; but John -is not here to guide me; I am rather sorry I have it now." - -"Never mind; it is I who am the culprit, not you. Will you have the -other? Say the word, and it is yours. It is a pity to leave it neglected -here, now its companion is gone," and he moved towards the flower. - -"Indeed I would rather not. One will be quite enough for Mrs. Linchmore, -and, besides, I have so many flowers now." - -"They are not for yourself, then? I could almost quarrel with you for -culling them for anyone else." - -"I never wear flowers," replied Amy, somewhat chillingly, with a slight -touch of hauteur, as she moved away. - -But he would not have it so, and claimed her attention again. - -"Why do you pass over this sweet flower? just in your path, too; I do -not know its name, I am so little of a gardener, but I am sure it would -grace your bouquet; see what delicate white blossoms it has." - -"Yes it is very pretty, but I have enough flowers, thank you." - -"You will not surely refuse to accept it," and at the same moment he -severed it from its stem. "Will you give me the Camellia in exchange?" - -"No. I would rather not have it." - -"It is a pity I gathered it," and he threw it on the ground, and made as -though he would have crushed it with his foot. - -"Do not do that," said Amy hastily; "give it to me, and I will place it -with the other flowers in my bouquet." - -"But those flowers are for some one else, not for yourself. You said so; -and I gathered this for you. Will you not have it?" - -"You have no right to offer it," replied Amy, determined not to be -conciliated, "and I will only accept it on the terms I have said; if you -will pull it to pieces I cannot help it." - -"No. I have not the heart to kill it so soon; I will keep it for some -other fair lady less obdurate," and he opened the door to allow of her -passing out. "I suppose we are both going the same way," said he, -overtaking her, notwithstanding she had hurried on. - -"I am going home," replied Amy, now obliged to slacken her steps, and -hardly knowing whether to feel angry or not. - -"So am I; if by home you mean Brampton House. How cold it is! are you -not very lightly clad for such inclement weather? The cold is intense." - -"This shawl is warmer than it looks. We feel it cold just leaving the -conservatory; it was so very warm there." - -"True; but we shall soon get not only warm, but out of breath if we -hurry on at this pace." - -Amy smiled, and slackened her steps again. She felt she had been -hurrying on very fast. - -"I think I saw you the day the Stricklands arrived?" - -Then as Amy looked at him enquiringly; he added, "you were coming up the -long walk with the children and helped Miss Tremlow upstairs when she -was able to leave the library." - -"I did," replied Amy, "but you? I do not remember you in the least. Oh! -yes I do, you were at the horses' heads. Yes, I remember quite well -now; it was you who first ran forward as they came up at that headlong -pace and stopped them. How stupid of me not to recollect you again." - -"Not at all. I scarcely expected you would." - -"Yes, but I ought to have, because out of the number of men collected -you were the only one who led the way; the only one it seemed to me who -had any presence of mind; there were plenty who _followed_, but none who -took the lead." Amy was quite eloquent and at home with him now, and he -smiled to himself as she went on. "I had not patience with all those -men, talking, screaming to one another, ordering here, calling there, -none knowing what ought to be done, all talking at random as the horses -dashed on, when suddenly you sprung from among them, the only one silent -amongst all the noise; the horses were stopped; the carriage stood -still; and the by-standers had nothing to do but cease talking, and -follow the example you set them." - -"Really you will make me out a hero; I only did a very simple action." -Amy was silent, she was afraid she had said too much. "Do you know how -Miss Tremlow is?" continued he; "poor lady, I fear she was seriously -alarmed." - -"She was indeed, but is now getting better, and I hope will soon make -her appearance downstairs." - -"I am not surprised she was frightened, my only wonder is the accident -did not end more seriously. This Goody Grey, whoever she is, is greatly -to blame; mad she undoubtedly must be, and I cannot understand Mr. -Linchmore's allowing her to go at large." - -"I believe she is quite harmless. I am going to see her some day; she -lives in a cottage down in the wood yonder." - -"This was no harmless action, it looks like malice prepense, unless -indeed they excited her anger unintentionally." - -"That is exactly what I have been thinking, and I intend finding out -more about it when I see her." - -"I should be cautious how I went to see her; she may not be so harmless -as you imagine. At all events do not go alone; I will accompany you with -pleasure if you will allow me?" - -"Thank you, I am not afraid. What harm could she do me? and as for her -foretelling future events I simply do not believe it, and should pay -little or no heed to anything she told, whether for good or ill," said -Amy, laughing as they reached the Terrace, when, wishing him good-bye, -she went in. - -"I hope you have had a pleasant walk with Miss Neville, Mr. Vavasour," -said Anne Bennet, coming up just behind as Amy disappeared, "Mr. Hall -and I have been close to you nearly all the way home, but you were too -busily engaged to perceive us." - -"I hope you also have had a pleasant walk. Have you been far?" asked Mr. -Vavasour, evading a direct answer. - -"An awful distance!" answered her companion, evidently a clergyman, by -the cut of his coat and white neck band. - -"You know nothing at all about it," exclaimed Anne, turning sharp round, -"or I am sure you would not call it far; why we only went across the -fields round by the church and so home again. I thought you said you -enjoyed it extremely?" - -"I am ready to take another this moment if you like. What say you? shall -we make a start of it?" - -"No, decidedly not, it is too dark; but I will hold you to your word -to-morrow. I know of a lovely walk; only three or four hedges to -scramble through, but that is a mere nothing, you know. The view when we -do reach the hill is charming, you can form no idea of it until you have -seen it," and laughing merrily at Mr. Hall's disconsolate look, Anne -left him. - -She peeped into the drawing-room; there was no one there but Mrs. -Linchmore. - -"What all alone! where's Julia?" asked she abruptly. - -"I fancy in her own room, or with Miss Tremlow; she was here a few -minutes ago, and was enquiring for you. Have you had a pleasant walk?" - -"Oh! very. Everybody asks me that question, or insinuates it, so that I -shall begin to imagine I have been in Paradise; here comes my Adam," -added she sarcastically, as Mr. Hall entered, "and really I can stand -him no longer, the character of Eve is odious to me. I cannot play it -out another moment, so leave it for you if you like to assume it." - -Away went Anne, her anger or ill temper increasing as she went up the -stairs. Flinging the door of their room wide open, and then closing it -as sharply, she quite astonished Julia, who sat with her feet on the -fender before the fire reading. - -"She's a flirt, Mag!" exclaimed she, throwing her hat on the table, and -flinging herself into an arm chair, close to her sister. "Yes, you need -not look at me in that way; I say she's a flirt; I am certain of it!" - -Julia burst out laughing. - -"You may laugh as much as you like, it will not annoy me. I shall hold -to that opinion as long as I live, and you may deny it as much as you -please; but I shall still say she's a flirt. Nothing will convince me to -the contrary, and now I think I have exhausted my rage a little; I felt -at fever heat when I came in," said she, putting her hair off her face. - -"I cannot think what your rage is all about, Anne," said Julia. "Of -course she is a flirt, no one ever asserts otherwise; it makes me laugh -to hear you go on; when not a soul, and least of all I, would take the -trouble of contradicting you." - -"More shame to you then, that is all I can say, when you pretend to be -so fond of her; I am sure I expected you to fly into a tremendous temper -at my assertion of her being a flirt. If I had a friend I would stand -up for her, no one should accuse her of sins in my presence." - -"I fond of her! well I think your walk has turned your head. I fond of -Isabella, indeed! You must be mad, when I begged mamma to leave me at -home, because I so much dislike her goings on." - -"Isabella! who talked of Isabella? I am sure I did not; I said as plain -as possible, Miss Neville." - -"Miss Neville! she is no flirt, and never will be," said Julia -decidedly. - -"Ah! there it is, I knew you would say so, although only a minute ago -you said no one would take the trouble of contradicting me." - -"Neither shall I. You can hold a solitary opinion if you like." - -"Stuff and nonsense about solitary opinions! I shall just convince you." - -"You will never do that." - -"How can you tell, seeing I have not tried? but only listen to my story, -and I am certain you will be convinced." - -"I am all attention," and Julia closed her book. - -"You must know then that after luncheon I asked Mr. Vavasour to chaperon -me out walking, or rather I gave a hint he might go with me if he liked, -and really I think it was the least he could do, considering Isabella -being 'nowhere.' I had devoted myself to him all the morning, and -positively went so far as to fetch the paper knife for him; when whom -should I find awaiting me when I came down dressed for walking, but that -dreadful Mr. Hall, his best hat and coat on. I felt just mad with -vexation, and should have given him an answer that would have sent him -flying; only I fortunately caught sight of that Vavasour's face at the -window, watching our departure, with a smile at the corners of his -mouth. I was in such a rage, but managed to wave him a smiling adieu, -before I vented it out by walking my friend Hall through all the gaps in -the hedges by way of finding short cuts; until he was in a thorough -state of disgust and despair about his new coat, etc., and not anxious -to take another walk in a hurry; when whom should I see in the distance, -as we came home, but that wretch Vavasour and Miss Neville, laughing and -talking together as thick as two peas. No wonder he would not go out -with me, when he had a walk in perspective with her." - -"Do stop Anne, you have talked yourself quite out of breath; and have -not convinced me either, for I still think you are wrong, and that most -likely he met her accidentally in the grounds. I sent her out myself; -she was very loath to go, so could not have promised to walk with -anyone." - -"Accidental fiddlestick. I am a woman, and do you suppose I do not know -a woman's ways. They looked as if they had known one another for years; -she must be a desperate flirt if they are only recently acquainted." - -"Perhaps they have met before. Suppose you ask her, instead of -condemning her unheard." - -"What a goose you are, Julia! You will never make your way in the -world. Ask, indeed! and be laughed at by both her and Mr. Vavasour for -my pains. I have not patience with you, Mag." - -"I have not patience to listen to you; so I shall go on with my book, if -you will let me." - -"No, I will not, Mag! I feel desperately annoyed, and will talk, whether -you like it or no, because if I do not, I shall feel in a rage all the -evening, and I am determined Mr. Vavasour shall not see how he has -disgusted me." - -"I dare say he does not think about it. Had you asked him point blank, -of course he would have walked with you; but most likely he never -understood your hint." - -"Upon my word, Julia, you are Job's comforter, and make me more vexed -than ever. I feel inclined to do something desperate, and have half a -mind to go down and torment that Mr. Hall afresh. I would if I thought I -should find him in the drawing-room." - -"Don't, Anne; stay where you are, and do try and leave that unfortunate -Mr. Hall alone. I am sure you tease his very life out, poor man! I do -not believe he is quite so stupid as he looks, and expect he will turn -round upon you some day." - -"I wish he would; there would be a little excitement in it; and as for -teasing him, I am sure I do not care if I do. Men wear the very life out -of us poor women." - -"Not all of them, Anne." - -"Yes, all of them; even Mr. Hall,--who is as simple as--as--I am sure I -do not know anything half bad enough to compare him to--would tyrannise -over a woman the moment he found out she loved him. Men are all alike in -that respect. Even he has sense enough for that, or, rather, it is a -man's nature, born in him, and he can no more get rid of it than he can -fly." - -"You will change your opinion some day, Anne." - -"Never! If ever I fall in love, I shall make a fool of myself, as most -women do, and be paid out the same; but my opinion will remain -unaltered all the time I am allowing myself to be trodden on. But -there, thank goodness, I am not in love, and not likely to be. My -thraldom is far off, I hope. Besides, I am wiser than I was a few years -back. 'A burnt child dreads the fire,' Mag. They will find it a hard -task to entice me into mischief. I like to pay them out. No retaliation -provokes me." - -"Not Mr. Vavasour's?" laughed Julia. - -"Oh, Mag," said Anne, rising, "how tiresome you are! You will be an old -maid, I prophesy, you are so prosy, and then we will both live together -and enjoy ourselves." - -"I do not look forward to any such lot," replied Julia. "I should be -miserable." - -"Then I will live by myself. No nephews or nieces, mind, to torment me. -That would be anything but enjoyment. How slowly the time goes! I -declare it is only five o'clock. Just call me when it is time to dress, -will you?" and she walked across the room and threw herself on the bed, -first throwing a large warm railway wrapper on the top. - -"There," said she, drawing it over her. "I am perfectly comfortable, and -intend forgetting that wretched Miss Neville and Vavasour in the arms of -Somnus, so you can go on with your book, Mag." - -She remained perfectly still for a few moments, then sitting bolt -upright, and throwing off the shawl, she exclaimed,-- - -"I have thought of a capital plan, Mag, of annoying that wretch, -Vavasour. How glad I am I lay down; it might never have entered my head, -sitting there by that cosy fire. Just watch his face, please, to-night, -will you, towards the end of the evening? I say, Maggie, do you hear? or -am I talking to a stone? Why don't you answer?" - -"Yes, yes; I hear you, I thought you were asleep." - -"Then do not think any such thing until you hear me snore; and now, -good-night, or rather good-bye, until six o'clock. Just stir up the -fire, it is awfully cold over here; do not forget we dine at seven, and -I must have an hour to dress, as I intend making myself quite killing. -And now for my bright idea again," and once more she drew the wrapper -over her, and composed herself to sleep afresh. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - WHAT BECAME OF THE FLOWER. - - "A true good man there was there of religion, - Pious and poor, the parson of a town: - But rich he was in holy thought and work; - And thereto a right holy man; a clerk - That Christ's pure gospel would sincerely preach, - And his parishioners devoutly teach. - Benign he was, and wondrous diligent, - And in adversity full patient. - - "Tho' holy in himself, and virtuous, - He still to sinful men was mild and piteous; - Not of reproach, imperious or malign; - But in his teaching soothing and benign. - To draw them on to heaven, by reason fair, - And good example was his daily care. - But were there one perverse and obstinate - Were he of lofty or of low estate, - Him would he sharply with reproof astound, - A better priest is nowhere to be found." - - CHAUCER. - - -Mrs. Linchmore was in the drawing-room, where she had been sitting ever -since Anne went off so abruptly, leaving her with Mr. Vavasour and the -curate. - -The latter _was_ awkward and ungainly; and we question much if he would -have tyrannised over a wife: certainly not, unless some unforeseen event -accidentally discovered to him that he might make a woman who loved also -fear him, and jealous; this latter thought had never entered his -head--perhaps it was to come. - -As Mrs. Linchmore and Robert Vavasour sat chatting and laughing, he -remained perfectly silent; sitting firmly upright in the chair he had -drawn close by, his long legs drawn up under him, trying in vain to find -an easy position for his hands; and those long arms, which he never -seemed to know what to do with, they certainly were too long for his -body, just like two sails of a windmill. He looked, as he sat, decidedly -like a man who could be thoroughly and completely -henpecked--notwithstanding the sometimes stern look on his brow--by any -woman possessing only half the amount of Anne Bennet's spirit; and she -would not have been edified had she returned to the drawing-room as she -threatened, and as no doubt Mr. Hall wished she would, for he looked -thoroughly uncomfortable and out of place; evidently in the way of the -two that sat there, who never addressed a single syllable to him, but -left him totally unnoticed, he all the time wishing to join in the -conversation, yet not knowing how to set about it. - -In the pulpit he was a different creature altogether. No longer the -timid, awkward curate, but, to all intents and purposes, a -straightforward, honest man, unswerving in exhorting to the right, -unshrinking in pointing out the wrong. There, his long, ungainly legs -hidden, his face lighted up, as he warmed with his subject, he became -decidedly handsome; even taken at his worst, he could never be called -plain. - -He was much liked in his parish, a small country village some few miles -distant from Brampton; smiles and kindly words greeting him whenever he -passed by the cottages; and such deep courtsies! A clergyman can -generally tell by the latter the kind of estimation in which he is held -by his parishioners. If liked, a deep courtesy and friendly voice speaks -to him. If otherwise, a slight reverence and scarcely a good morrow is -vouchsafed. Friendly voices always greeted Mr. Hall, even the children -ran to the doors to make a courtesy, and glance half slyly at his -pleasant, good humoured face. - -Whether he had fallen in love with Anne or no, was not quite certain; if -he had, she took the most sure way of curing him, by laughing at him, -and turning him into ridicule; not from ill nature, but simply because -she had nothing better to do, and found the time hung heavy on her -hands. Not an idea had she that he was pained by it, or indeed perceived -it; but there she was wrong; he did see it, and inwardly vowed each time -it happened should be the last; yet somehow or other he would be sure -soon again to find himself either next her at table, or by her side out -walking, or told off as her partner in a round game; and so his vow was -broken, and would have been had he made twenty such. - -Strange it was, that being a clever, well-read man, his powers of -conversation were so limited, but as long as those about him talked, he -did not appear to think it necessary to exert himself to amuse others, -so he passed as a dull, stupid, slow man. - -Perhaps his silent, reserved habits had grown upon him imperceptibly, -from living so much alone as he had done for the last five years, with -only an elderly woman to look after his house, and act as housekeeper; -and a boy to wait on him. - -The conversation of the two near him had sunk almost to a whisper, it -was so low; but they were mistaken if they suspected he was a listener. -He was not; his thoughts were with Anne, wondering at the time she took -in taking off her hat, and expecting every moment to see the door open. - -What would he have said, had he known she was then sound asleep, with -no thought for anyone in the whole world, least of all for him. Still -his eyes kept wandering towards the door, and at length it did open, but -it was Frances Strickland who came in and seated herself on a sofa just -behind him. - -"You are doing nothing, Mr. Hall," said she presently, "so do come here, -I want my skein of wool held." - -Mr. Hall did not like the dictatorial manner in which this was said; -still, having no excuse to offer, he advanced. - -"Pray bring a chair and sit down. How can I wind it, with you towering -above me in that way." - -"I am tired of sitting," replied Mr. Hall, mildly resenting this speech, -"so will stand if you will allow me." - -"I should never have supposed you tired of sitting, after the hedges I -saw you scrambling through with Anne Bennet." - -Mr. Hall coughed uncomfortably. "I enjoyed my walk and am accustomed to -the country. It would be well if all young ladies were as active as Miss -Bennet." - -"Or as masculine, which?" - -"The former, certainly. I see nothing of the latter about her," replied -he rather decidedly. - -"How strange! Everybody else does. I suppose you will not attempt to -deny she is a very _fast_ girl." - -"I am not sufficiently acquainted with Miss Bennet to be able to form, -or rather give an opinion as to her character; most young ladies of the -present day are _fast_, and perhaps your friend is not an exception to -the general rule." - -"Pray do not call her my friend. I am unlike the generality of girls in -that respect, and am hand and glove with no one." - -"Do you mean you have no friend?" - -"None, I am happy to say." - -"I pity you, Miss Strickland," replied Mr. Hall. - -"Reserve your commiseration," she said proudly, "for those who require -it. I should dislike having a friend even as active and _fast_ as Miss -Bennet, who, according to your idea," said Frances sarcastically, -"should have been born a grade lower in life; a housemaid for instance; -no amount of hard work would have been too much for her." - -"She would have struggled bravely through it all, I make no doubt," -replied he. "I have no mean opinion of Miss Anne's courage." - -"Or have worked herself into a consumption, and so become a heroine, as -she appears to be already in your estimation. Pray take care, Mr. Hall, -you have let half a dozen threads drop off your fingers. How excessively -careless!" - -"Yes. I do not understand holding it; excuse me," and he laid the -tangled mass in her lap. - -Was he as stupid as Anne pictured him; or would she, as Julia said, some -day find out her mistake. - -"What hopeless confusion, Miss Strickland," said Mr. Vavasour, advancing -a step, as he passed by. "Is this your doing, Hall?" and he laughed, -while Frances's eyes flashed with mortification and anger. - -"I am afraid so," replied he quietly. "The fact is Miss Strickland -enlisted my services, without making the least enquiry as to my -capabilities, hence this unfortunate failure. But I have resigned the -post I have filled so badly; will you take my place and do better?" - -"I am very sorry to refuse, but I have promised to have a game of -billiards with Strickland, and the time's up," said he, looking at his -watch. "Many thanks to you all the same, my dear fellow, for making me -the offer of such a Penelope's web to unravel." And he passed on. Mr. -Hall followed. - -"Tiresome, abominable man!" exclaimed Frances, gathering up the wool -apparently hopelessly entangled, and advancing towards the fire where -still sat Mrs. Linchmore. "Is not that Mr. Hall too bad; just see what -he has done--quite spoilt my skein." - -"How was it managed?" asked Mrs. Linchmore carelessly. - -"I asked him to hold it; of course I ought to have known better, such a -stupid creature as he is; his fingers are as awkward as his legs. I -cannot think how it is you invite him here, unless it is to be in the -way and make himself disagreeable; as in this instance." - -"Disagreeable! You are the first person, Frances, I ever heard apply -that epithet to Mr. Hall; no one ever thinks of him, and had you left -him alone, it would not have happened." - -"I know that; but I took compassion on him; you and Mr. Vavasour were so -deeply engaged," she said maliciously; "you never gave him a thought, -and because I did, this is my thanks. I shall be wiser for the future." - -"As most people are. Learn wisdom, and yet commit foolish actions every -day of their lives." - -"Perhaps I shall be different from most people," and she commenced -trying to disentangle the wool. - -"A hopeless task," said Mrs. Linchmore, "only waste of time and temper; -better let it alone, there are plenty of wools upstairs in my work -basket; I have no doubt Mason will find you a match for this, if you ask -her, you are most welcome to any I have," and she took up the book she -had laid down, as a hint to Frances she wished the conversation to end. - -So at least Frances thought, and left her alone, after first putting -away the wool in the sofa table drawer. - -But Mrs. Linchmore did not read, she laid the book carelessly in her -lap, and was soon, apparently, deep in thought, from which she was only -aroused by her husband's entrance; drawing a half sigh at the -interruption, she took up her book again, and gave no reply to his -greeting. - -"I am afraid I have disturbed you, Isabella; you were dozing, were you -not? or very nearly so." - -"Never mind. It is almost time to dress for dinner." She shut up the -book, and was rising, when he said, - -"Do not move yet, Isabella; I came here to seek you; wishing to have a -few moments' conversation." - -She looked at him enquiringly - -"I have been thinking it would be as well if you wrote and invited Mrs. -Elrington to come and spend this Christmas with us." - -"Mrs. Elrington!" cried she, in astonishment. - -"Yes, I think it would be the right thing to do; nay, I am sure of it, -and wonder it has never struck either of us before." - -"It would be the last thing I should think of; as I am sure there is not -the slightest use in asking her." - -"Why not?" - -"She would never come; but would send a refusal, perhaps not couched in -very civil terms." - -"I think you may be wrong. I hope so, at least. It is true she held -aloof when we married, why, or wherefore, I never knew; and has -continued estranged ever since; but surely her sending Miss Neville is a -proof she might be conciliated; at all events, there can be no harm in -attempting it." - -"She will never be conciliated, never! Besides, why should she be; you -surely are not at all anxious about it?" - -"She brought you up, Isabella; was as a mother to you when you lost your -own; surely you are in her debt for that, and owe her some kindness for -all she bestowed on you." - -"She has never taken the slightest notice of me during my ten years of -married life; therefore, however deep my debt of gratitude, I consider -it to have been cancelled after so much neglect and coldness." - -"But recollect the kindness that went before. You owe her some gratitude -and kindly feeling for that; however misjudging, or mistaken, she may -be; at least, I think so." - -"I cannot see it." - -"I am sorry you do not, Isabella, and that I have failed in convincing -you; little as I know of Mrs. Elrington," continued he, rather -decidedly, "I cannot believe she, or indeed any woman, would bear -malice so long, and not be anxious at some time during their life to -make amends; it is unlike their nature; besides, she is no longer young, -years are creeping on her slowly, but surely; depend upon it she will -take the invitation kindly." - -"Never!" said his wife again; "she does not think herself in the wrong, -and is so different from most women; she is sternness itself; and I -hope, Robert, you will give up the idea of asking her." - -"I cannot do that. You know, Isabella, I never speak, or express a wish, -unless I have fully considered the question at stake. It is my wish you -should write, and I cannot but think the reply will be different from -what you seem to expect." - -"Do not force me to write, Robert. It is disagreeable to me." - -"Force you!" exclaimed he, in surprise. "Certainly not; but I wish it, -Isabella, most decidedly." - -"How can I write, or what can I say? when she has never addressed a line -to me for such a length of time, or taken the slightest notice of me -whatever," said she half pettishly, half mournfully, very different from -Mrs. Linchmore's usual haughty tone. - -He looked half irresolute as he noticed it; her anger and coldness would -only have made him more stern; but one symptom of softness melted him at -once. - -"Isabella, dear," and he came near, and took her hand, "I am sorry to -have to ask you to do anything disagreeable, and what is evidently so -painful to you; you will forgive me, dear one, will you not?" - -But she looked up coldly in his face, and drawing away her hand, -returned not the pressure of his; and his irresolution faded away while -he said, - -"You must not forget, Isabella, she opened a correspondence with you, -after her long neglect and silence, and sent us Miss Neville; surely -that was a sign her coldness was giving way." - -"She heard we wanted a governess through Mrs. Murchison. I never had a -line from her on the subject; our correspondence was carried on entirely -through a third person, from first to last." - -"You forget the letter she wrote when Miss Neville came?" - -"No; I remember that perfectly. A very cold, stiff letter, I thought -it." - -"A very cold one, certainly. Well, perhaps it would be better I should -write; I will if you wish it; I am quite decided in my opinion that one -of us ought to do so." - -"No, no, by no means," replied Mrs. Linchmore, hurriedly. "I will do as -you like about it; and write to-morrow morning, since you think I ought, -and you wish it so much." - -"Thank you, Isabella." He stooped down over her again, and kissed her -forehead; but she received it coldly as before, her face half averted. -"I fear," he added, "it will give you pain; but it is right." - -"Pain! He little knows or even guesses how much," said Mrs. Linchmore -half aloud when he was gone, "or how much misery he has raked up during -the one short half-hour he has been here. I wish he had never come; or -rather never thought about the invitation." - -With a sigh she arose slowly, and went to dress for dinner. To be gay -and light, with a secret woe gnawing and tearing at her heart strings. - -Seated at the glass, Mason brushing and plaiting her hair, the book -still in her hand, apparently Mrs. Linchmore read, but it was not so; -her thoughts wandered; several times she turned back the pages, and -re-read what had gone before. - -Presently Amy came in, bringing the flowers she had gathered. - -"Come in, Miss Neville. What a lovely bouquet you have brought me. I -hope you have changed your mind about coming down this evening, and that -we are to have the pleasure of seeing you after all." - -"No indeed, Mrs. Linchmore, I have not. I should much prefer remaining -away, unless, as I said before, you particularly wish me to go down." - -"No, you must please yourself entirely, and do just as you like. But I -think Mr. Linchmore will be disappointed if you do not. He wished it; as -he said you must find it so especially dull all alone by yourself." - -"I do not, I assure you; and have several letters to write to go by -to-morrow's post. I am glad you like the flowers Mrs. Linchmore," and -she laid them on the table with the Camellia. - -"Thank you. How beautifully you have arranged them! But the Camellia, -why not place it with the rest?" - -"I thought you would wear it in your hair as you did the other evening. -Is it not beautiful? so purely white." - -"Mason has taken out this Italian spray," and she took up an elegant -silver ornament of Maltese work, "but I do not intend wearing it, -neither can I this lovely Camellia; kindly place it amongst the other -flowers you have arranged so nicely," and she gave the bouquet into -Amy's hand. - -"What a thousand pities, Ma'am!" said Mason. "It would look beautiful; -far better than the ornament." - -"Tastes differ," replied her mistress. "Thank you, Miss Neville, that -will do very nicely; I thought, or rather feared, you would have to take -the bouquet to pieces, but you have managed it admirably." - -"I had not secured the flowers so very tightly, or perhaps the string -had become loose." - -"How tiresome the weather is, keeping so very cold; everyone seems out -of temper with it, and must find Brampton especially dull. I am sure I -scarcely know what to suggest as an amusement by way of novelty. Can you -think of anything, Miss Neville? for I have exhausted all my ideas." - -"I cannot imagine how any one can find it dull here," replied Amy, "so -many to talk to, and so much to do." - -"Everyone is not so easily satisfied. I am quite weary of it, and think -I must give a ball. That will afford a little excitement for some time -to come, and please everybody except Mr. Hall; and he can go and look -after his parishioners for that day." - -Mason had now finished the last plait, and inquired what ornament her -mistress intended wearing in her hair, as she must arrange it -accordingly. - -Mrs. Linchmore turned to Amy. - -"Would you kindly bring the flowers on my work table yonder? and Mason -wind the plaits round my head so as to hang rather low." - -Amy crossed the room, and took the flower out of the tumbler. Could it -be possible? She examined it closely. Yes, there was no mistaking it. It -was the self-same spray Mr. Vavasour had gathered, and offered her an -hour or two before; there were the delicate white blossoms he had so -admired. A beautiful little flower, or rather spray, it was; but too -small, too insignificant to be worn in that rich dark hair. - -An unconscious smile hovered on her lips as she returned and gave it to -Mason, who turned up her eyes on beholding it. _That_ miserable little -piece of green and white to adorn the plaits she had arranged? It was -not worthy of a place there, but Mason dared not say so; she merely -ventured on the enquiry as to whether Miss Neville had brought the right -flower. - -"Certainly," was the reply. "Place it on the left side, and almost as -low down as the hair itself." - -But Mason was cross, and pinned it in badly, she would not understand -Mrs. Linchmore's directions. - -"What are you doing! Mason; I never knew you so awkward. How badly you -have arranged it; not in the least as I like." - -"Mrs. Linchmore wishes the spray to hang a little lower," suggested Amy. - - -"Perhaps, Miss Neville, you will very kindly pin it; as Mason seems to -be so excessively stupid." - -"I never pinned in such a flower before Ma'am," replied Mason, shrugging -her shoulders, while she made way for Amy to take her place, who soon -arranged it to Mrs. Linchmore's satisfaction. - -The dress was put on, its rich silk folds falling round her graceful -figure. Her dark hair, almost throwing the black lace trimmings into the -shade, wound round her small head in thick bands. Very beautiful she -looked; and so Amy thought, as she stood gazing at her, while Mason -fastened the bracelets round the fair white arms, and drew a shawl round -the still fairer shoulders. - -"You will find it cold, Ma'am, going down the corridor and stairs." - -"I dare say. Good night, Miss Neville. I regret we are not to have the -pleasure of seeing you," and with a proud, firm step, Mrs. Linchmore -went out. - -Would she have entered the drawing room so haughtily, had she known she -was wearing a flower that had been offered; nay, gathered for her -governess! The room was a blaze of light, as with a proud, yet graceful -step, a slight, haughty movement, perceptible about the small beautiful -head, Mrs. Linchmore bowed, and shook hands with her guests. - -Even in that shake there was haughtiness. It was no cordial grasp of the -hand, but a slight, very slight pressure, as the small taper fingers met -yours, and they were withdrawn, while a smile just curled the corner of -the lips, and she passed on; each tiny foot firmly, gracefully, yet -proudly planted on the ground: the same mocking smile, the same haughty -bend repeated, ere, gathering the rich silk dress in one hand, and -dropping at the same moment the splendid Cashmere that had partially -concealed her beautiful figure, she leant back, as if tired of the -exertion, amongst the soft crimson cushions of the sofa. - -"What a beautiful, cold-hearted creature she is," thought Robert -Vavasour, as he watched her. - -"What airs she gives herself," muttered Sotto Voce, a rather pretty -woman, and a neighbour, "coming in as if she were an Empress, after we -have all been assembled here the last ten minutes! For my part, I wonder -she condescends to come at all." - -How fortunate it is opinions differ, as well as tastes; but I am not so -sure this lady was singular in hers; certain I am, it would not have -caused Mrs. Linchmore one moment's uneasiness; she did not care a straw -what women thought of either her pride or her looks; she knew well that -by far the greater number envied her, therefore she could afford to -laugh at such speeches; but it was a rule with her--perhaps a studied -one--not to make her appearance until nearly all her guests were -assembled. - -She was never, even when an invited guest, early, but always amongst the -late comers; never actually unpunctual, but generally last, when she -would walk in as she had done now, haughty and graceful, the perfection -of ease in every slow and measured movement, totally unmindful of, or -apparently careless and unconcerned at the glances of admiration or the -many eyes bent on her as she passed. - -Few could have entered a room filled with company so calmly and -gracefully, with the _lady_ stamped in every step she took, every turn -of the head, every bend of the swan-like throat, or easy, graceful -figure: the pretty neighbour might have practised it for hours--nay, -days, and failed. It was innate in Mrs. Linchmore: it was impossible to -conceive her doing anything awkwardly, or out of place. Even now, as she -leant amongst the soft cushions, she was grace itself; while a lady -near, sat stiffly upright, looking most uncomfortable, though the -self-same cushions were behind and around her, inviting to repose and -ease. - -"My flower is highly honoured," said Robert Vavasour, as he drew near, -and partly leant over the back of the sofa. - -"Your flower!" exclaimed Mrs. Linchmore, with a well-acted glance of -astonishment. - -"It is scarcely worthy of a place amongst those rich dark braids," added -he, softly. - -"Ah, yes," replied she, raising her hand to her head, "I had quite -forgotten all about it. It is a lovely spray." - -"It would have looked better in the bouquet. Those braids require no -addition to set them off." - -"So Miss Neville said when she pinned it in. I am sorry she has done it -awkwardly, and that it does not please you," said she carelessly, "It is -too late to remedy the defect now." - -"Defect," said he, rather hastily, "the word is unwisely chosen; it is -impossible to find fault. The only defect, since you will it so, is the -unworthiness of the flower itself." - -"Do you condemn my poor bouquet also?" - -"It is exquisite," he said, taking it from her hand, "and a great deal -of taste displayed in its arrangement; the colours harmonize so well. -The flowers are lovely." - -"I suppose they are lovely; everything that costs money is. I used to be -just as well pleased once with the wild flowers growing in the hedges. -Take care, Mr. Vavasour, you will crush my poor Camellia. See, it has -fallen at your feet." - -"Not for worlds!" replied he, stooping and raising it from the ground; -"how loosely it was tied in; see, the stem is not broken, but has been -cleverly fastened with a piece of thread. I may keep it, may I not?" -asked he, as she stretched out her hand for it. - -"It is not worth the keeping." - -"Say not so, for I prize it highly. Is it to be mine?" - -"Yes, if you wish it," replied Mrs. Linchmore, with a faint attempt at a -smile, while the thought flashed across her mind that she wished she had -thrown his flower away. - -Then she rose and led the way in to dinner, anything but pleased with -the result of her conversation either with Robert Vavasour or her -husband, and it required a great effort on her part to fulfil her -character of hostess for that evening; and many noticed how far more -haughty she was than usual, and how absent and at random the answers she -gave. - -"So I have the Camellia at last," thought Mr. Vavasour, "and Miss -Neville pinned in the flower I gathered, which she refused to accept; -well, strange things happen sometimes; I am certain she never -foresaw this." - -And he too moved away and followed his hostess. - - - - - CHAPTER X. - - A PASSING GLANCE. - - "And what is life?--An hour glass on the run, - A mist retreating from the morning sun, - A busy, bustling, still-repeated dream, - Its length?--A minute's pause, a moment's thought; - And happiness?--A bubble on the stream, - That, in the act of seizing, shrinks to naught. - What is vain hope?--the puffing gale of morn, - That robs each flow'ret of its gem,--and dies; - A cobweb, hiding disappointment's thorn, - Which stings more keenly through the thin disguise." - - JOHN CLARE. - - -The eight o'clock train came whizzing and puffing into the Standale -station; Standale was a large town about ten miles distant from -Brampton, and the nearest railway station to the Park. Charles Linchmore -had barely time to step on to the platform, ere it was off again and out -of sight, puffing as hard and fast as ever. - -"Tom has sent me a horse?" questioned he of the porter. - -"Yes, Sir. Waiting for you the last ten minutes, Sir." - -Charles Linchmore passed out, and was soon wending his way along the -road to Brampton Park. The moon had not yet risen, and owing to the -slippery state of the roads, on account of the heavy fall of snow and -recent frost, he rode on leisurely enough. - -"Come along, Bob," said he to a shaggy Scotch terrier, who kept close to -the hind legs of the horse; "come along, old fellow, I'd give you a run -after your pent-up journey, only the roads are so confoundedly slippery, -and her majesty is determined to hide herself behind the clouds -to-night." - -The dog wagged his tail as though he understood his master, and kept on -as before. He was not much of a companion, but what with an occasional -puff at his cigar, and talk to his dog, Charles Linchmore went on -comfortably enough. As the smoke curled about his handsome mouth, his -thoughts wandered. What were they doing at the Hall? Was Miss Neville -still there, or absent as when he last paid his visit? and if there, had -any of the numerous visitors found out what a nice girl she was? - -"Of course they think her pretty, of that there can be no doubt," -thought he, "and I dare say she has found it out too by this time, and -gives herself airs; unless such an example as my brother's wife before -her eyes gives her timely warning, and she steers on another tack. -There's no being up to the girls now-a-days; as to prying into their -hearts it's impossible, and not to be imagined for a moment; they are -growing too deep for us men, and beat us out-and-out in deceit and -man[oe]uvring." - -"She has magnificent hair," thought he after a pause, "I suppose it's -all her own--just the colour I like, though she has a ridiculous fashion -of binding it up about her head. Perhaps she thinks it makes her look -like a Madonna;" here he took a long puff at his cigar. "Well, I could -not fall in love with a Madonna, it's not my style, and I do not think -she is like one either; an angel's eyes don't flash like hers do -sometimes. Perhaps Robert thinks his wife an angel, there is no -accounting for tastes, but if Miss Neville has grown one iota like her, -I'll--" here he paused again, "I'll have a flirtation with her, and--and -then go back to my regiment." - -The idea made him savage, and throwing away his cigar, he halted until -the groom who rode behind came up. - -"You can ride on, home, Tom, I don't want you," said he, and then he -listened to the clatter of the horse's hoofs on the hard frosty ground, -until they faded away in the distance out of hearing. - -"We are all selfish," mused he, "that man would have ridden more slowly -and carefully had it been his own horse. I dare say though, I am just as -selfish if I only knew it." - -He lit another cigar, and rode on some miles without interruption, until -stopped by the Brampton Turnpike Gate. - -"Hulloa!" called he. - -But no notice was taken of his repeated shouts, although a faint gleam -of light shone partly across the road from a slight crack in one of the -shutters, showing that some of the inmates were at least awake. - -"Confound the fellow!" muttered Charles as he called again. - -When the door suddenly opened, and the figure of a man stood in the -doorway. - -"I tell yer I can undo it very well myself, and will too, so just stand -fast," said he in a thick voice, to somebody inside the cottage, while -and with anything but a steady gait he managed somehow between a shuffle -and scramble to get over the one step of the cottage,--lifting his legs -at the same time, as if the steps was so many feet, instead of inches -high,--and reach the gate. Here, steadying himself by leaning both arms -across the top, he looked up to where Charles Linchmore stood. - -"I say young, man!" exclaimed he. "What do yer mean by hollering and -bawling in that way? Havn't yer any patience. If ye're in sich a mortal -hurry, why don't yer take and jump the gate? Eh!" - -"Open the gate, you blockhead, or I will make you," exclaimed Charles, -angrily. - -"Speak civil, can't yer? I ain't going to open the gate with them words -for my pains." - -Just then the moon emerged from behind a cloud, and shone full on -Charles Linchmore's face. The man recognised him in a moment, -notwithstanding his tipsy state. - -"In course, Sir, I'll open, who says I shan't? Bless yer sir, I'll open -it as wide as ever he'll go. Dang me! if I can though," muttered he, as -he fumbled at the fastening. - -"Bring a lanthorn, Jem, can't yer," called he, turning his face towards -the cottage, the door of which still remained open. "Bring a light; yer -was mighty anxious just now to come out when yer wasn't wanted, and now -yer are, yer don't care to show yer face." - -He had scarcely finished speaking when another man emerged from the -cottage, a hand was placed on the lock, and with a clatter the gate -swung back to the other side of the road. - -"I've half a mind to give you a sound horsewhipping," said Charles, -passing through, followed by Bob, the latter venting his displeasure in -a low suppressed growl, "but I hope your wife will save me the trouble, -so I shall reserve it for some future opportunity." - -"Thank yer Sir. She takes to it kindly she do, and don't want no -'swading." - -"I hope she will give you an extra dose of it at all events," said -Charles. "Is that you, Grant?" he added, addressing the other man. "It's -scarcely safe for you to be out so late, is it?" - -"You've heard all about the trial then, Sir?" questioned Grant. - -"I read an account of it in the papers, and was sorry enough for poor -Tom." - -"Most everybody was Sir, and the parson gave us a fine discourse the -Sunday after his funeral; but somehow preaching don't heal a broken -heart, and Susan do take on awful at times; she haven't forgotten him, -and it's my belief never will." - -"Poor thing! Her husband's was a sudden and sad death, shot down like a -dog by the poachers. The gang are still prowling about, so they say." - -"Yes, Sir, and will do more mischief yet, they're a bad, desperate set, -the lot that's here this year." - -"I suppose you are keeping this man company, or looking after him in his -drunken state. You would scarcely be going home alone at this late hour -of the evening?" - -"No, Sir. I am going home. I've been up to the Hall, and stayed there -longer than I ought." - -"It is too late a great deal for you to be out, and the whole country -round about swarming with poachers." - -"True, Sir. But I shan't go before my time--" - -"Nonsense!" interrupted Charles. "Come, I tell you what; I'll see you -home, I have nothing better to do; but first get that man safely housed -somewhere, do not leave him out here to be run over." - -"Oh! I'll soon settle him, sir." - -And while Charles Linchmore struck a light and lit another cigar, Grant -went once more into the cottage. - -Opening a door, he called up the stairs, "Mrs. Marks! Here's your -husband. I've brought him home rather unsteady on his pins; you'd better -come down and see after him at once afore he gets into mischief." - -"He is! Is he?" screamed a shrill voice from the top. "I expected as -much. I warrant I'll soon make him steady again!" - -With which satisfactory reply Grant rejoined Charles Linchmore, and they -left the 'pikeman singing a drunken song, and vainly trying to shut the -gate, the opening of which had previously so baffled his endeavours. - -Turning off the high road, they struck into a side path or narrow lane, -the tall hedges towering above them on either side, while here and -there a tree loomed like a giant overhead. - -"So you have been gossiping up at the Hall, Grant?" began Charles, -encouraging his companion to talk. - -"Yes, Sir; and a sight of company there is there now; not a man or maid -able or willing to talk to you; so it's not much in the way of a gossip -I've had. No, sir, I went to see my daughter Mary, but she was busy with -the young ladies, getting them ready for a big dinner. Sich a sight of -carriages in the yard, and the dogs barking like mad. You'd scarce know -the place again, Sir. It's so changed." - -"I'm glad of it. It used to be as dull as ditch water." - -"Lord love ye, Sir! You won't find it dull or lonesome now. Why afore -the frost set in, the roads were all alive with ladies and gentlemen -riding over them. Matthew the Pikeman hadn't no time scarce to eat his -victuals, let alone take a drop. So there's some excuse, Sir, for him -getting muddled a bit now, and he didn't forsee the party up at the -Hall to-night." - -"I see," replied Charles, smiling, "he was overworked, poor man, I've no -doubt it is so." - -"Well, as to that Sir, I can't say he's got much to worry himself about -on that score. His wife says he's an idle dog; but then that's her way, -she never says he's over-burthened with brains." - -"A vixen, eh? It's a good thing all women don't resemble Mrs. Marks." - -"Yes, Sir, it is. Which same is a comfort if you're thinking of taking a -wife; I ask your pardon, Sir, for being so bold." - -"I Grant! I take a wife! That is anything but a sensible speech of -yours, and requires a great deal of thought." - -"Well, Sir, I dare say when your time comes, you'll get one as'll suit -you, as Mrs. Marks suits her husband, he'd be nothing without her, and -though he brags and bullies about awful behind her back, he's like a -tame cat afore her. To every word he gives, she lets fly more than a -dozen. It's my belief she'd talk any man dumb in half an hour." - -"A pleasant life for Marks, upon my soul! I no longer wonder he -frequents the public house." - -"He don't go there often, Sir, don't think it. No, he most allays -manages to go on the sly, and it ain't so easy to 'scape her eyes. -Sometimes when he thinks she's safe at the wash-tub, he sneaks off; but -he darn't for the life of him go on if he hears her voice calling out -after him behind. Then he's forced to turn tail, and go back home with -it 'tween his legs, with scarce even a growl. But it 'grees with him, he -don't get so _very_ thin; most others would be worn to skin and bone -afore this. And now I'm in sight of the cottage, sir, so I needn't -trouble you to come any further, and I'm much beholden to you, Sir, for -coming so far." - -But Charles Linchmore saw him safe to the door, then turned his horse's -head once more towards the Hall. - -This time he had not long to wait at the Turnpike Gate. It was swung -open by a tall, bony, masculine looking woman,--apparently quite a match -for the thin, spare Pikeman--who wished him good night in a loud, shrill -voice. - -"Mrs. Marks," thought Charles. "Her voice sounds hoarse, as though she -had been pitching into that unfortunate husband of hers pretty -considerably. I hope there's no second Mrs. M. to be had, or reserved -for me, as Grant half hinted, in some snug corner." - -As he entered the Lodge gate, he wondered if Miss Neville had joined the -guests at dinner; who had taken her in, sat next her, and talked to her; -and whether he should find her the centre of an admiring circle, or -flirting in some "snuggery," or on the "causeuse," where he had had such -a desperate flirtation with his cousin, Frances Strickland, only a year -ago. - -But he had scarcely taken half-a-dozen steps in the Hall, before he saw -her standing at the further end, by the large roaring Christmas fire. - -He crossed at once to where she was; holding out his hand cordially, -forgetting in a moment all his savage thoughts and suspicions. - -"Good evening, Miss Neville. You have not forgotten an old friend?" - -Amy gave him her hand, but not quite so eagerly as it was clasped in -those strong fingers of his. - -"The sight of the fire is quite cheering. I am half frozen with the -cold," continued he, drawing nearer to it. - -"It is a bleak drive from the station; and I always fancy colder on that -road than any other." - -"I rode it; and should have been warm enough if the frosty roads would -have allowed of a gallop. I met Grant, the head Keeper, as I came along, -and saw him home; it was too late for him to be out alone, and a price -set on his head by those cowardly ruffians, the poachers." - -"You heard about the fight then. What a sad affair it was from beginning -to end. It has made us all nervous and fearful for Grant, as he gave -the principal evidence against the unfortunate man who was hung; and -they have vowed to be revenged on him; but Mr. Linchmore has doubled the -number of Keepers nearly, so we hope that will intimidate them." - -"I hope it may; and now suppose we talk about something more lively; the -dinner for instance. How many people are here?" - -"About thirty altogether. But they have all left the dining-room now -some little time. You are late." - -"I meant to be. I hate dinners," he said crossly, half inclined to be -out of temper again, as of course she must be waiting for somebody out -there; otherwise why all alone? - -"Here Bob," said he aloud, "here's room for you, old fellow; come and -warm your toes. He's no beauty, Miss Neville, is he?" and he glanced -inquiringly in her face. "Would she think him a horror, as his Cousin -Frances had done? - -"Decidedly not," replied Amy, "but I like dogs." - -"I am glad of it. I am very fond of Bob, I believe he is the only -creature who cares for me. By-the-by how is my sister's fat pet? Poor -beast, what a specimen of a dog he is! Bob and he never got on well -together." - -"He is as asthmatic as ever, and has not had a fit for an age. I cannot -say what the sight of your dog may do, especially if he turns the right -side of his face towards him." - -"Yes. That eye is certainly rather so-so; and the lip uncomfortably -short; but I am proud of those marks, and so is he; they are most -honourable wounds, and show he has borne the brunt of many a battle -without flinching." - -While Amy and he both laughed, Frances Strickland came into the hall. -She glanced at the two in surprise, and stood for a moment irresolute. -Once she made as though she would have gone towards them, then turning, -went swiftly into the music-room; came back as softly, and with another -look re-entered the drawing-room. - -Closing the door, her eyes wandered restlessly until they fixed their -gaze on Mrs. Linchmore, who, seated on the music stool, was carelessly -turning the pages of a book, while two or three young men seemed eagerly -proffering their services, or selecting from among a number of songs the -one she was to sing. - -An expression of disappointment flitted over Frances' face while going -towards the piano. One of the gentlemen had just moved away to another -part of the room. So laying down the music she held in her hand, she -advanced towards the vacant seat, and had nearly secured it, when it was -filled by another, just as Mrs. Linchmore began one of the airs from -"Lurline." - -Again that vexed, baffled look, with a dimly perceptible frown. As she -turned away, Anne Bennet rose and seated herself by Julia. - -"Look at Frances, Maggie," whispered she, "and tell me what you see in -her face." - -"What should I see?" laughed Julia, "but pride. I have never been able -to find any other expression." - -"Then you are a greater simpleton than I; and if I had the stick the -fool gave to the king on his death bed, you should have it; for I see a -great deal more." - -"Wise sister Anne. What do you see?" - -"An angry, spiteful, vexed look; as if she had seen a ghost in the -music-room, where I know she went just now." - -"Nonsense! Even if she had it would not frighten her, she would think it -had only made its appearance to fall down and worship her; and would -spurn it with her foot." - -"I am certain she saw something out there, and I am determined to see -what it was." - -"Of course," said Julia demurely, "and here comes Mr. Hall to help you." - -"Always coming when he is not wanted," exclaimed Anne crossly. "I shall -not say a word to him; or if I do, I will be abominably rude." - -Quite unconscious of what was awaiting him Mr. Hall advanced, and said -good humouredly, - -"I have been thinking Miss Anne, where we shall go to-morrow for the -walk you have so kindly threatened me with." - -"It will most likely pour in torrents," replied she. - -"I do not anticipate it, the glass is rising, so there is every prospect -of our walk coming off; and if I might be allowed to choose, I know of a -very lovely one, even in winter time." - -"That is impossible," said she sharply, "everything looks cold and -bleak." - -"Not while the snow remains in the branches of the trees; even then the -Oak Glen can never look ugly; the large rocks prevent that." - -"The Oak Glen! Oh, pray do not trouble yourself to take me there; I will -lead you blind-fold." That will settle him, thought she. - -But no, Mr. Hall was not to be defeated in that style, and went on again -quite unconcernedly. - -"You have sketched it, perhaps. It would make a lovely painting." - -"I do not paint; that is to say only caricatures of people that make -themselves ridiculous." That must finish him, thought she, as Julia -gave her dress a slight pull. - -But Mr. Hall had not the slightest idea of leaving, and seemed as though -he heard not; and quite out of temper Anne said; - -"What are you pulling at my dress for, Julia? I think she has a secret -to tell me Mr. Hall, so you really must go away." - -"I dare say it will keep until to-morrow," replied the impenetrable Mr. -Hall; "young ladies never have any very serious secrets." - -"You are quite right, Mr. Hall," said Julia, "my secret will keep very -well until to-morrow." - -"What a wretch he is!" thought Anne, tapping her tiny foot impatiently -on the ground; "Isabella will have finished that song soon, and then it -will be too late. How tiresome I cannot get rid of him, when every -moment is so precious." - -"Mr. Hall," said she aloud, "If Julia's secret will keep, mine will not; -and since you are determined to remain here, why you must be a sharer in -it; there is no help for it." - -"By all means," replied he, coolly, "I am all attention." - -"You will only hear part of it; but men are so curious, I dare say you -will soon ferret out the rest. Can I trust you?" - -"Of course. It is only the fair sex that are not to be trusted." - -"I have no time to quarrel with you, or I would resent such a rude -speech. Now will you attend, please. I am going to ask you to help -me--that is if you will." - -"Certainly I will. I am all attention." - -"I am desirous of leaving the room without Miss Strickland's knowledge; -can you help me to manage it?" - -"Is that all? You shall see." - -He went over to where Frances still stood by the piano; with huge, -ungainly strides, as though a newly ploughed field was under his feet, -instead of the soft velvet carpet. - -"What an awkward bear he is!" said Anne to her sister, as she watched -him; "I shall give him a hint to get drilled, or become a volunteer -parson, he would be sure to shoot himself the very first time he -handled a rifle; do only look at him Mag, he is like a large tub -rolling along." - -"Do not abuse him Anne, see how quickly he has done what you wished; I -am sure he deserves praise for that." - -"I wish he always would do what I wish; and then I should not be -tormented with him so often," replied Anne. - - - - - CHAPTER XI. - - THE MEETING IN THE SCHOOL-ROOM. - - Thus, when I felt the force of love, - When all the passion fill'd my breast,-- - When, trembling, with the storm I strove, - And pray'd, but vainly pray'd, for rest; - 'Twas tempest all, a dreadful strife - For ease, for joy, for more than life: - 'Twas every hour to groan and sigh - In grief, in fear, in jealousy. - - CRABBE. - - -Frances did not look very well pleased when she saw Mr. Hall advancing; -in fact turned away her head almost rudely, so that any very timid man -would have taken the hint and retreated. - -But Mr. Hall, however simple he looked, was not timid; he had a way of -always carrying his point. That strong unflinching will of his would -have subdued a much more formidable enemy than a proud, weak woman. I -say weak, because when a woman gives way to or does not strive against -any besetting sin, she lays herself open to attack, and is easily -wounded when that most palpable fault is assailed. So it was with -Frances. - -Her mother and Mrs. Bennet were sisters, the first had married a rich -merchant, the other a comparatively poor man, whose five daughters did -not conduce to enrich him, however much they might his family fireside. -Mrs. Linchmore's mother was an elder sister, she had died young leaving -her only child to the care, as has been seen, of Mrs. Elrington. Frances -and Mrs. Linchmore somewhat resembled one another. The same haughty -look, and at times, scornful expression appeared in both, but with this -difference, that the former could command hers at will almost, while the -latter was either not so well versed in the art of concealment or -scorned to use means to prevent its being visible. - -They were both rich. Riches do not of necessity bring pride, although -they in a great measure foster and increase it. They make the seeds bear -fruit which otherwise would remain dormant for ever, and Frances being -an only daughter had been early taught to believe she was a magnet, -towards which all hearts would turn, and that wealth was necessary to -happiness, while her cousins the Bennets were quoted as examples of -poverty, until she thoroughly learnt to despise and pity them, believing -in her ignorance that they and all must envy her and her parents wealth. - -Mr. Hall, in her ideas, was a poor simpleton almost beneath her regard, -and she would have taken no notice of him had it not been for his -admiration of Anne. She could not bear another should receive worship -while she was present. He was simply a being to be made useful, as in -the instance of the skein of wool; though that little episode had in -some slight measure induced her to think he was not quite such a Simon -Pure as he looked, and although Mr. Hall on this occasion really -exerted himself to be agreeable, the tangled mass lying in the sofa -table drawer, was too recent an injury to be easily forgotten; and he -only received monosyllables in reply to his remarks. - -But he was not to be defeated. Anne had asked him to help her, and help -her he would; so notwithstanding Frances' ungraciousness he talked on, -and so engrossed her attention that he soon had the satisfaction of -watching Anne's unobserved escape from the room, and of thinking that -perhaps she would like him a little better for his clever management. - -Alas! Anne had far too much curiosity to think of anything but -gratifying that. Until that had been satisfied not a thought had she for -anything else. Her inquisitiveness was as great almost as Frances' -pride. There never was a plot concocted at home, or a pleasure planned -as a surprise for her, but she had found out all about it before it was -in a fair way of completion. Her sisters were constantly foreboding -scrapes and troubles for her, but nothing as in this instance daunted -her. She would not be baffled. She guessed from Frances' face that -something had annoyed her; that trouble was in consequence in store for -some one, and she was resolved to find out what that something was. - -As she stood outside in the hall, she saw at a glance Frances' ghosts, -and ever impulsive, was beside them in a moment. - -"Good evening, Charles. There are at least a dozen cousins in there," -and she pointed in the direction of the drawing-room, "waiting to say -the same to you." - -"Then let them wait, until I have warned and nerved myself to encounter -such an immense array of females." - -"Most men would have been roasted in less time; but you have had very -pleasant company," and she glanced at Amy, "to perform your deed of -martyrdom in." - -"I had a cold ride," replied he drily, "and only arrived a short time -ago from the Brampton Station." - -"In these fast days even the clocks are somehow in the fashion, and go -faster than they did formerly. I remember when I used to think -half-an-hour an awful long time to wait for anybody, and I suspect -Mrs. Linchmore's patience is fast evaporating." - -"Nonsense! How should she know I have arrived?" - -"Because all ill news travels fast." - -"Do not be surprised, Miss Neville," said Charles, apologetically, "at -any thing you hear fall from Miss Bennet's lips, she is--," he hesitated -a moment, "rather peculiar." - -Anne's laugh rang loud and clear through the hall; then coming close -beside him, and standing on tiptoe, she whispered a few words in his -ear, evidently by the sudden start he gave and the quick flush that -succeeded it, something that annoyed him; for while Anne still laughed -he wished Miss Neville good-night, and, whistling to his dog, went away -upstairs. - -Then Anne no longer laughed, but with a sigh turned suddenly to Miss -Neville, and as she did so caught sight of Mr. Hall's face at the -half-open drawing-room door. - -"Is it possible!" exclaimed she, "that I caught sight of Mr. Hall's ugly -phiz peeping through the door?" - -"Yes; he was there not long ago; at least I saw him when you were -whispering to Mr. Linchmore." - -"Upon my word, I am losing all patience with that man. How I do wish -Charles had been a little more cousinly; how astonished he would have -been, and what a lecture he would have read me. Keep a secret, indeed! -Not he. Why he is a thousand times worse that I. Good-bye, Miss -Neville, I am sorry to have interrupted your cosy chat, but I could not -possibly help it; you will forgive me, won't you." - -Amy told her there was nothing to forgive. That she had promised the -children she would take them upstairs, and was merely waiting for them. - -"Then do not wait any longer," Anne said, "but take my advice, go to -bed, and send Mary. You do not know Mrs. Linchmore as well as I do, -_she_ is _peculiar_ in some things; and--now do not be angry--but I -doubt if she would like your being here." And without waiting to see the -effect of her speech, Anne went off. - -"You _cannot_ keep a secret, Mr. Hall," said she, stumbling upon him as -she entered the drawing-room. "I have tried you, and you are not to be -trusted in the very slightest." - -"You forget, Miss Anne, you did not trust me, otherwise--" - -"You would not have peeped," she said, finishing the sentence. - -"True. I should not." - -"But a secret is no secret when it is entrusted to a multitude. If you -have found out mine--which, mind, I doubt--do not divulge it." - -Ten minutes later Mrs. Linchmore herself left the room with the -children, and Anne again enlisted Mr. Hall's services, asking him to see -if Miss Neville was in the Hall. "Do not trouble to come and tell me, I -do not wish it; but just shake your head, or nod as the case may be, yes -or no; I shall understand you." - -"I have found it all out, Mag," said she, crossing the room as Mr. Hall -disappeared; and with no little pride Anne once more seated herself in -the still vacant chair. - -"I do not doubt you, Anne. Was it worth the trouble?" - -"I should think so. There would have been a flame before now, the train -was laid and the match all ready, but before it could be set fire to I -dispersed it. So you see curiosity is not always a fault, but in some -instances praiseworthy." - -Julia laughed. "What reasoning," she said. - -"It is sound, good reasoning though, Mag; and now do tell me if Mr. Hall -is in the room?" - -"Yes, and looking at you, Anne." - -This should have satisfied her, and she should have given Mr. Hall the -chance of making the promised signal; but no, she could not resist the -pleasure of tormenting him a little, so went on talking to her sister -and giving no heed. - -Presently, a few minutes later, she again asked, "What is Mr. Hall doing -Mag? Has he left off looking in this direction?" - -"No, he is still looking," replied Julia, laughing. - -"Oh what a wretch; and how foolish he is. I suppose he will go on -looking until everybody in the room sees him," and slowly raising her -eyes she received the promised shake, and really felt happy at having -extricated Amy out of some trouble, though she hardly knew what. She -remained where she was for the rest of the evening, expecting every -moment to see her cousin Charles come in at the opposite door, but he -never made his appearance. Frances' eyes were also constantly wandering -in the same direction; perhaps she too expected him, but he disappointed -them both. They saw no more of him until the next morning at breakfast, -when approaching Anne as she stood at the window inwardly abusing the -unpromising state of the weather--it was snowing fast--he asked who had -told her of his arrival the evening before. "I am determined to know," -said he, "so you had better make a clean breast of it at once, and tell -me who acted as I am inclined to think so spitefully." - -But Anne pretended not to understand him. He had been asleep and -dreaming since. She had never even hinted that any one had been -spiteful; it was a pure invention of his brain, and leaving him, she -went to the table. There seeing Mr. Hall busy helping some cold fowl, -she walked round and took a seat as far off from him as she possibly -could. But what was her astonishment at seeing him, as she began cutting -a piece of bread, deliberately walk round to where she was; and taking -the knife from her hand, cut a slice which he put on her plate, and then -seat himself beside her. She dared not look at her sister, knowing full -well she was laughing, and that was sufficient to make her feel angry -and indignant, so turning her face away, she vouchsafed him not one -word, but listened to the conversation going on around. - -"I am very glad to see you, Charles," Mrs. Linchmore was saying. "How -early you must have arrived. Did you sleep at Standale? I believe the -place does boast of an hotel of some kind." - -"No. I arrived last night, but having indulged in a cigar as I came -along, with Bob for a companion,--two of your abominations--I had to -divest myself of my travelling costume lest you should detect the first; -see Bob safely housed for the second, and take a glass of brandy and -water for the third; and by the time I had finished that, I thought the -bed looked uncommonly comfortable, so just tried it to see if it was, -and suppose I was right, for I only awoke about twenty minutes ago, and -have had a scramble to get down in time." - -"Three very poor excuses. I did hear a whisper that you were here, but -could not believe it, as I thought you would of course come and make -yourself agreeable to my visitors, if not to myself and your cousins," -said Mrs. Linchmore, with a slight symptom of annoyance in her tone, -"however, Bob, if he was your only companion was, I have no doubt more -pleasant company. By what train did you arrive?" - -"By one of the late trains," replied he, catching a glimpse of Anne's -face, the expression of which rather puzzled him, but he fancied it told -him to be on his guard, so he added, "I was not in a fit state to be -seen by any lady just from that dusty, smoky railway." - -"I saw you," said Frances, quietly looking up, "but you were too busily -engaged to perceive me." - -"And--" Mr. Hall was on the point of adding "_I_--" and perhaps telling -that he had seen Amy also; but before the latter word had escaped his -lips Anne, turned round quickly and catching his arm whispered, - -"My secret! Beware, beware!" - -"Is that your secret?" asked Mr. Hall, "Remember I am still in -ignorance; you only half trusted me. Pray forgive me." - -Anne felt astonished and abashed. A great tall man like Mr. Hall ask her -pardon so humbly; she thought she should like him a little better from -that time forth. So full of wonderment was she, that she failed to -notice the quick triumphant glance Charles flashed at her across the -table, on hearing Frances' words. - -It did not snow incessantly; some days were fine enough, and what with -hunting, riding, shooting and skating, they passed pleasantly for the -visitors, notwithstanding Mrs. Linchmore's fears that they were finding -Brampton Hall dull and stupid. - -The ball had not as yet been talked of, except in the housekeeper's -room, where of course Mason carried the news, to the no small vexation -of Mrs. Hopkins, who thought the place quite gay enough as it was; and -sighed for the good old times, when she could walk about without being -obliged to drop a courtesy at every step she took, as she encountered -some fair girl, or man with fierce moustaches and whiskers; these latter -she regarded as so many birds of prey, waiting for some unfortunate -victim to pounce down upon and bear away in their fierce talons. - -Charles Linchmore did not apparently care much for any of the gay party -assembled, and often loitered away half the morning in the library, -where setting the door ajar, and seating himself so that he could catch -a glimpse of any one passing, he lounged impatiently until the gong -sounded for luncheon. Then throwing down his book, with a gesture half -of weariness, half of vexation, he either remained where he was, and -took no notice of the summons, or went into the dining-room with -anything but a happy or contented expression of face; feeling -uncomfortably out of sorts and out of temper with himself and the whole -world, and in no mood for Frances' soft smiles--who, proud as she was, -could and did unbend to him--or for Anne's sharp retorts. - -What had become of Miss Neville? Where was she? Did she never go out? It -was an unheard-of piece of eccentricity, remaining so long shut up in -the house; besides it was bad for the children. Surely a cold walk was -better than none at all? These and many other questions Charles asked -himself, until he grew tired and out of patience, and tried to think of -other things, but it was useless; his thoughts always came back to the -one starting point, Miss Neville; she was evidently uppermost in his -mind; although he stood a good chance, or seemed to do so, of returning -to his regiment, without even the flirtation he had threatened her with -as a punishment, if he should find her at all resembling his brother's -wife, or spoilt with mixing amongst the small world at Brampton. - -Had he only wandered near the door leading out into the shrubbery from -the flight of stairs in the wing appropriated to the children and Miss -Neville, he would have seen her every day, and not wasted his mornings -in vain wishes and surmises as to what had become of her. - -One cold, raw day after a gallop with his cousin Frances, and almost a -renewal of his old flirtation--she was a fearless horsewoman, and he -could never help admiring a woman who rode well--he walked round to the -stables to have a look at the horses. - -As he passed in sight of the school-room window, he could not resist the -temptation of looking up, and saw Amy, whom a few minutes ago he had -almost forgotten, standing by the window. Scarcely knowing whether she -noticed him or not, he raised his hat. She bowed slightly ere she moved -away out of his sight. - -Was it his fancy, or did he really detect a mocking smile on her lips? -Was it possible she was glorying in having deluded him so successfully -ever since the night of his arrival? The idea aroused him at once; he -would no longer be inactive. The chase was becoming exciting, since she -would not leave the citadel, he would storm it. - -Instead of going to the stables, he turned back, and went to his own -room, changed his thick, heavy riding boots, and then made for the -school-room, passing Mrs. Linchmore's door on his way with a defiant, -determined step; but he was uninterrupted in his journey; he met no one. -He soon reached the corridor, stood before the school-room door and -knocked. But the soft voice he had expected to hear in reply was silent. - -Again he knocked. No reply still. He grew bolder, opened the door -softly, and with Bob at his heels, walked in. - -The room was tenantless. Amy and her pupils were nowhere. - -So she had guessed his intention, perhaps seen him from the window -turning back, and divining his motive, flown. He was angry, indignant, -but his time was his own, he would wait where he was half the day; he -would see her, she should not elude him thus. - -Being in a bad temper, he vented it on unoffending Bob. - -"How dare you follow me here, Sir?" The poor animal looked up wistfully, -not knowing in what he had offended, since his master patted his head so -caressingly as they stood outside the door together. - -On the table was a half finished drawing, the paper still damp with the -last touches, the brushes all scattered about; one had fallen on the -edge of the paper; Charles took it up, carefully washed out the mark it -had left, and laid it by carefully. - -Amy's work-box stood invitingly open. He looked in, and turned over the -contents: there was a piece of embroidery; small holes that had been cut -out and sewn over, the "_holy work_," as he called it, that he hated so -much. - -Somehow this small piece appeared to have a curious interest in his -eyes, he looked at it, put it down and then looked at it again. There -was the needle still in the half finished flower, and a small mark as -though the finger had been injured in the sewing. This decided him, and -with a half frightened, guilty look he put it in his pocket, just as -Bob, evidently with the view of making friends, rubbed against his legs. - -"Ah! my friend," said Charles, looking down, "Your warning -comes too late. The deed is done." - -"What is too late?" asked Frances advancing into the room, "and what -have you done?" - -"You here," stammered Charles. - -"Yes, why not? since Mr. Charles Linchmore designs to come." - -"Then I came--, that is you forget," said he recovering himself, "I -sometimes take my nieces for a walk." - -"I forget nothing," replied she, "my memory serves me well." - -"Why are you here?" asked he, "surely you can have no excuse for -coming." - -"It was chance directed my footsteps," replied she carelessly. - -This was scarcely true. Ever since Frances had seen Amy talking with her -cousin on the evening of his arrival, a strange fascination to speak -with the governess had taken possession of her; why she hardly knew or -questioned; but now at this moment, as she stood so unexpectedly face to -face with Charles and marked his confusion, a jealous hatred crept -slowly, yet surely over her heart, a jealousy that was to be the bane of -her after life, to influence her every action, almost thought, and lead -her to follow blindly all its revengeful promptings, undeterred either -by the oft-times whispered voice of conscience, or the evident and -consequent sufferings of others. - -What woman is not jealous of the one she fears is supplanting her, or -obtaining an interest in the heart of him she loves? but here Frances -had barely reason for her jealousy, Charles never having given her -sufficient cause to think he cared for her, beyond a cousinly regard; -yet she loved him as much as her proud heart was capable of loving. - -"This drawing is beautifully done," said she, advancing and examining it -closely. "What have you done with the copy?" - -The copy? What if she had named the "Holy Work?" - -He cast a furtive glance at his pocket as he replied, "I have not seen -it. I suppose Miss Neville draws without one." - -"I have never heard Isabella say she was an artist." - -"I suspect my 'brother's wife.'" This was a favourite term of Charles's; -he generally spoke of Mrs. Linchmore as my 'brother's wife.' "I suspect -my brother's wife knows very little about Miss Neville's -accomplishments; she is not in her line; no two people could be more -dissimilar." - -"No. They are very different." - -"Very." - -"But you are wrong, Charles, in thinking Isabella does not trouble her -head about her governess; she laughingly told me one day that she -thought her rather inclined to flirt." - -"Indeed!" said he, consciously. "When was that?" - -"I almost forget--last month I think, she noticed it, so you see she -must know something about her." - -"Or next to nothing," replied he. - -"I believe she thought _that_ her only fault; and you know it did not -look very well to see her come home so late with Mr. Vavasour." - -"With Vavasour! When was that." - -"Oh! I forget when; just a few days before you came." - -"Flirting with Vavasour!" exclaimed Charles, thrown off his guard by the -suddenness of the announcement. "I won't believe it!" - -"You had better ask Anne, then; she can tell you all about it, as she -and Mr. Hall walked home behind them, and talked about it afterwards; it -made quite a stir at the time." - -"I dare say. I don't doubt you," said Charles, whistling apparently -quite unconcerned, when in reality he was infinitely disgusted. - -"Well, if you do, you have only to come to the window," said Frances -triumphantly, "and judge for yourself." - -With quick, hasty footsteps he was by her side in a moment. Yes, there -was Miss Neville, picking her way over the snow with Vavasour beside -her, the children some few yards ahead, so that the two were alone. _He_ -had found out a way of meeting and joining her, though Charles had not; -no doubt they had been carrying on this game for days, while he had been -wasting his in hopeless guesses and surmises as to what had become of -her, imagining her miserably dull, shut up in the school room. - -Yes, the secret was out now. It was for him she had left the drawing so -hastily, and all her things ruthlessly scattered about. For this he -himself had waited so patiently, and had thought to wait half the day. -He would have snatched the "Holy work" from his pocket and torn it into -shreds if he could, but other eyes than Bob's were on him now, and -without another word he strode away, passing through the door which -separated these rooms from the large corridor, just as Amy's and the -children's voices were heard on the stairs leading from the garden. - -Frances watched his exit with a triumphant look; had she given him a bad -opinion of Amy Neville? and had he believed her? - -She remained where she was, still and silent, until the door opened and -Amy came in, her face lighted up with smiles, and her cheeks glowing -with a faint tinge of colour from her walk. Frances' face flushed hotly -as she thought how beautiful she was; and passing by her with a scornful -bend of the head in acknowledgment of the governess's greeting, she -gained her own room, and bolted the door. - -There throwing herself on her knees, she clasped her hands over her face -as she murmured passionately, "I hate her! But he shall not love her! He -shall not love her!" - - - - - CHAPTER XII. - - THE ACCIDENT. - - "All shod with steel, - We hissed along the polished ice, in games - Confederate, imitative of the chace - And woodland pleasures." - - _Wordsworth_. - - - "I will forget her! All dear recollections - Pressed in my heart, like flowers within a book, - Shall be torn out, and scattered to the winds! - I will forget her!" - - LONGFELLOW. - - -Alfred Strickland had chosen the breakfast-room as being the least -likely to be visited by any one after the morning's meal had been -despatched, and had made himself tolerably comfortable before the fire -in a large easy chair with a book, where he remained undisturbed by the -rustling of dresses and crinolines. - -No two people were more dissimilar than Alfred and his sister. Their -features were as unlike as their tastes, disposition, and temper. -Indolence, not pride, was his failing; he seldom troubled his head about -any one but himself, not that he was selfishly inclined; he was not, -excepting on this one point of laziness, but would help any one out of a -difficulty so long as it cost him little or no trouble, but if that -"loomed in the distance," then his aid was very reluctantly given; -advice you were welcome to, and might have plenty of it; it required no -bodily exertion to talk, he could lie down and do that; but what inward -sighs and groans if his legs were put into requisition! - -Good-natured to a fault, his sister's taunts, and she gave him plenty of -them--failed to rouse the lion within him, so he generally came off -victorious in their pitched battles, and was just as friendly as ever -the next time they met, whereas she would nurse her ill feeling for -days. - -He had been brought up to no profession. His father's hardly amassed -wealth descended to him as only son, and perhaps the idea of having as -much money at command as he could possibly want, first fostered his -indolence and made him gradually sink into a state of quiet laziness -which soon grew habitual, and from which as yet he had been roused but -on one occasion. - -If the book he happened to be reading accidentally fell to the ground, -there it might remain until some one by chance saw it, and placed it on -the table again. He was good looking, somewhat of a fop, and had rather -a good opinion of himself, as most men of the present day have; and was -always dressed with scrupulous regard as to taste and fashion. - -The one occasion on which he had been aroused was, when returning home -one day by the river side in his dog-cart, he saw a boy struggling in -the water, evidently for life. - -In a moment the reins were on the horse's neck, he had plunged in and -brought him safe to land; then had to walk about a mile in his wet -things, his horse having taken fright at the cries of the boy's -companions. - -Frances never believed this story, but always declared he had been -thrown into the river by the jerk the horse gave when starting off. - -Alfred Strickland was not the only one who had chosen the breakfast room -as being the least likely to be interrupted by visitors. Julia had -persuaded Miss Tremlow at last to come down stairs, and was even now -advancing with the invalid on her arm to invade his fancied peace and -quietness. As their voices sounded at the door, Alfred turned in dismay, -and with no little disgust saw the two approach the fire near which he -had made himself so comfortable, and as he thought secure from all -invaders. - -"We scarcely expected to find anyone here," Julia said, "but you will -not interfere with my patient, being too lazy to move." - -Alfred took the hint, and remained quiet, watching Julia as she first -wheeled a chair nearer the fire, then placed some soft cushions, and a -footstool and small table in readiness, all so nicely, and without the -least exertion or trouble to the invalid, who seemed a mere puppet -swayed about at the other's will; and he could not help thinking what a -nice wife she would make. - -"I don't mind having a cushion too, Julia," said he, "if you have one to -spare." - -"A cushion, you lazy creature. I've half a mind to throw it at your -head. The idea of my waiting on you!" - -"Thank you," replied Alfred, inwardly thinking what a vile temper she -had, and how foolish it was to form hasty opinions. - -"You will be paid out some day," said Julia. "I shall live to see you a -perfect martyr to your wife's whims and fancies." - -"God forbid that I should ever be so foolish as to marry at all, much -less an invalid wife--of all things the most detestable." - -"Well I will ask Goody Grey next time I see her what she prophecies." - -"My dear," exclaimed Miss Tremlow, "pray do not mention that name; it -sets me all of a tremble. I have not forgotten that dreadful day, and -how the horses ran when she struck them. Have you, Mr. Strickland?" - -"I? No indeed, I am not likely to forget it in a hurry, I shall be -reminded of it for some time to come," and he rubbed his arm as though -he still felt the grasp of her fingers. - -"Let us talk of something else," said Julia; "this conversation is -against orders, and strictly prohibited. I am going to fetch your port -wine, Miss Tremlow, as I think you need it; now read your book, and do -not think of anything else, least of all of that horrid old woman." - -"She does it all out of kindness, I dare say," said Miss Tremlow as the -door closed on Julia, "but I do so dislike being dosed." - -"What an ungrateful being," said Alfred, "why, you ought to think -yourself in luck at being so waited on. I wish I was." - -"I wish you were, with all my heart." - -"Here she comes," said Alfred, "armed to the teeth," as a few minutes -after Julia returned with the wine in one hand and a shawl in the other. - -"And your tormentor following in my train," laughed Julia, "my sister -Anne, most anxious to persuade you to join the skaters." - -There was no resisting Anne, who had made up her mind to stay and -torment him, unless he gave up his book and went; so with many a sigh of -reluctance, he slowly rose and prepared to accompany her. - -"Here is your hat and coat," said she. "I do not mind getting them as a -kind of preparatory recompense for fixing our skates, which you will -have to do presently. Good bye, Miss Tremlow, I am glad to see you down -again; how cosy you look! just like a dormouse wrapped up in flannel." - -"Here's Charles," said Alfred, as they stumbled upon him in the passage. -"Will not he do as well; he is partial to all these kind of amusements." - -No; Charles was going for a ride, his horse already waiting for him at -the door; besides he was in no mood for joining a party of pleasure; he -had felt in a restless, dissatisfied mood ever since the day he had -detected Amy walking with Mr. Vavasour, and he had carried away the -piece of embroidery and gone to his own room so angrily; and while -Frances was sobbing passionately he had thrown it on the fire, and paced -up and down with hasty impatience. - -Yet what right had he to be angry? He was not in love with her; no; he -admired her, thought her different to most girls he had ever seen, -inasmuch as she was no flirt; was agreeable, and did not give herself -airs. It was her supposed flirtation with another that annoyed him. Had -not his brother's wife given him black looks, smiling yet sharp hints -about going into the school-room. What right had Vavasour to become -acquainted with the governess? What right had he to walk and talk with -her? perhaps visit her, where he had been forbidden to set foot, nay -avoided. - -Yet while he blamed and accused her, those soft, melancholy eyes pursued -him, until in a softened mood he drew the work from the grate where it -had lain scarcely singed, and locked it away in his desk. He could not -return it, that was impossible; but he would never look at it, he would -forget its existence, as well as Amy Neville's. - -But was it so easy to forget her? As he rode slowly away from the Hall -door, down the long avenue--avoiding the short cut by the stables, which -would of necessity lead him past the school-room window,--he still -thought of her, otherwise why go down the avenue? unless he feared Miss -Neville might think he wished to see or watch her; he who had ceased to -take any interest in her movements. - -What was it to him where she went or who she walked with? His horses and -dog were all he cared for in the whole world, and were worth a dozen -women, who only existed in excitement, or a whirlwind of gaiety and -pleasure. There was no such thing as a pretty, quiet girl to be met -with; a score of plain ones; but if pretty, then flirts, coquettes; -beings whose sole delight was angling for hearts, gaining and then -breaking them. - -But his was not to be lost in that way. The more he thought of Amy's -supposed flirtation with Vavasour, the more bitter he grew. He was very -sorry he had not joined the party on the ice. Why make himself -miserable? It was not too late; he would ride round now, and if she were -there, show her how little he cared for her. - -He turned his horse's head, and cantered down the lane, nor slackened -his speed until he came in sight of the lake, then dismounting and -throwing the reins over his arm, he walked to a spot which commanded a -view of almost the whole piece of water; but his eyes in vain sought -Miss Neville, she was not amongst the skaters. - -Many of the neighbouring gentry had come over to Brampton, and the lake -presented a picturesque and lively scene. Conspicuous in the midst of -the gay assemblage, on account of her tall and commanding figure, was -Mrs. Linchmore, one hand rested on Mr. Vavasour's supporting arm, while -seemingly with the utmost care and gentleness he guided her wavering and -unsteady feet, as she glided over the slippery surface. - -Frances Strickland, with a small coquettish-looking hat, white ermine -boa and muff, was describing circles, semicircles, and all the most -difficult and intricate man[oe]uvres known only to experienced skaters; -now she approached so near as to make Mrs. Linchmore cling rather closer -to the protecting arm of her companion, but just as a faint exclamation -of alarm escaped her lips, with a smile Frances would take a sudden -swerve to the right, and be almost at the other end of the lake before -Vavasour had succeeded in quieting the fears of the haughty lady at his -side. - -It was strange, but Frances seemed to excel in everything. She was -apparently as fearless a skater as horsewoman. Charles had seen her put -her horse at a leap that even he, bold as he was, glanced at twice -before following in her wake; yet she had never swerved, nay, scarcely -moved in her saddle. - -Now he gazed after her until the small hat with its waving scarlet -feather was scarcely distinguishable in the distance; yet fearless as -she was, he could not allow there was anything at all masculine about -her; no, the proud bend of the head, the small pliant figure forbade -that, yet still he was not altogether satisfied; there was a something -wanting, something that did not please him; and then involuntarily, his -thoughts wandered towards Miss Neville again. - -"She takes the shine out of us all, does not she?" asked Julia, who had -advanced unperceived to his side. "Is that what you were so deep in -thought about?" - -"Not exactly. She does skate admirably, it is true; but I was thinking -if Lawless, a friend of mine could but see her, he would lose his heart -in no time. She is just the sort of woman he is always raving about." - -"Oh, ask him down by all means, and let him go mad if it pleases him, so -long as we get rid of Frances." - -"That speech savours of jealousy or rivalry. Which is it, Julia?" - -"Neither the one nor the other." - -"She is a girl many women would fear as a rival." - -"Nonsense, Charles; she is so different to most women, so proud, and as -cold as the ice she is skating on. If I were a man, I could not fall in -love with Frances." - -"Why not? She may be a little cold and proud perhaps, but that would -only entail a little more trouble in winning her, and make her love the -more valued when won." - -"If she has any love to win. I doubt it; she is so utterly -cold-hearted." - -"I see nothing to find fault with on the score of coldness; few girls -now-a-days--though not absolutely cold-hearted--have hearts worth the -having, or wooing and winning." - -"How bitter you are against us." - -"Not more so than you were yourself. Did you not call Frances a -petrifaction?" said he, laughing. "But, if Frances does not please you, -who, may I ask, comes nearer perfection in your eyes?" - -"Oh! lots of women. She and Miss Neville, for instance, ought not to be -named in the same breath together." - -Then, as Charles made no reply, she added, "I wonder if she skates?" - -"Skates! Pshaw! she would be afraid to trust that dainty foot of hers on -the slippery ice. I hate a woman with no nerve, afraid of her own -shadow." - -"If being an accomplished skater is the only proof of a woman's nerve -and courage, what a set of cowards more than half our sex must be! I -very much doubt if one in a dozen of us are acquainted with the art." - -"Well, if not, you are well up in a dozen and one others wherewith to -drive us poor men out of our seven senses at times." - -"I know what is the matter with him now," thought Julia; "and why he is -so cross, some girl he cares for has been paying him out. I hope it is -not Frances. I cannot bear the idea of his having fallen in love with -her, although I strongly suspected he was on the high road to it last -night." - -"Uncle Charles," said a small voice, while a tiny hand was laid on his -arm, "I should so like to have a slide." - -It was Fanny. Charles lifted his hat courteously but indifferently to -Miss Neville's almost friendly greeting, and watched her furtively as -she gazed over the lake. - -What would she think of Vavasour's attentions to his brother's wife? Now -she would find out that he could be as devoted to other women; could -guide another's footsteps over the ice just as carefully as he had -directed and picked her way for her over the snow; but whatever Amy -thought she looked calm and unconcerned as she turned round and desired -Fanny not to go so near the horse's feet. Charles assured her the horse -was quiet enough; he had never known him indulge in the vicious -propensity of kicking. - -"He might disappoint you this time," suggested Julia, "and prove -treacherous, there is no certainty about it." - -"He might, but he will not," was the reply, "not that I place such -implicit reliance in him as I would in Bob; a look is enough for him." - -"I would not trust either of them," said Julia, "I have seen Bob's -teeth, and heard his growl; and as for the horse, why it was as much as -you could do to mount him yesterday, when you went out with Frances. I -heard Mr. Hall say he would not insure your life for a pound." - -"My thanks to Hall for his kind consideration in valuing my neck at so -cheap a rate. Just assure him the next time you see him that I have not -the very remotest idea of having it broken yet." - -"He has not the very remotest idea of riding," laughed Julia; "only -imagine those long legs of his dangling like ribbons on the side of a -horse." - -"Where is Hall? I do not see him among the skaters, though Anne is." - -"No; he has gone over to see how they are getting on in that wretched -little parish of his, and tried hard to persuade Anne and me to go with -him, but my sister does not care for looking over churches, even if they -were built in the time of Methuselah, and preferred the skating, much to -his regret, and I must confess I was not at all sorry to do the same." - -"Uncle Charles, do take me for a slide, please," pleaded Fanny, again -undeterred by timid Edith, pulling at her sleeve and begging her not to -go. - -"I would take you with the greatest pleasure in life, Fanny; but what is -to become of my horse?" - -"Cousin Julia will hold him. Won't you, cousin?" asked the child, flying -to her side. - -"I hold him?" exclaimed Julia. "No, thank you, Fanny, I value my life -too well; besides, child, I should be frightened." - -"Miss Neville will, then, she is so fond of horses," cried Fanny, -darting off to where her governess stood. - -"A fruitless errand," muttered Charles, turning on his heels, "she has -not a grain of courage. I wish she had." - -But as if to shame him for this assertion, or to gratify his wish, when -he looked up, there stood the governess. - -"I shall be happy to hold your horse for you, Mr. Linchmore," she said, -while Fanny clapped her hands and capered about with delight. - -"You, Miss Neville!" he repeated incredulously. "Impossible!" - -"And why not? he seems to stand very quietly. Is he inclined to be -vicious?" - -"Vicious! Far from it. But I am afraid--" - -"I will hold him," interrupted Amy, decidedly, and without hesitation, -"there is nothing to be afraid of." - -"Charles thinks," said Julia, maliciously, "you have not the nerve for -it." - -"I see no occasion for any display of nerve," replied Amy, while, with -little show of opposition on his part, she took the reins from his -almost unwilling hand, and before he had well recovered from his -surprise, he found himself on the ice with Fanny's hand fast locked in -his. - -And where was Frances all this time? Had she forgotten her -determination--her newly-born hatred of Amy? Had she thought better of -her secret machinations? No. Time only increased her dislike; more -deeply rooted her jealousy, while molehills became mountains in her -eyes. - -Should she see herself supplanted by a governess, one so inferior to her -in wealth and station, one whom _he_ had known but a few hours. A few -hours? Was it possible so short a time could have overthrown the power -she fancied she had held in his heart for years. Impossible! It could -not be, and again that bitter cry arose in her heart, and she inwardly -exclaimed: - -"He shall not love her!" - -But Frances drove back the bitter feelings at her heart, and met him as -he advanced on the ice with smiles and pleasant words, as though she -knew not what sorrow or unhappiness was; but Charles, although he -answered her courteously enough, was absent, and often gave random -replies, wide of the mark. - -Secretly angry, she was not baffled, and suddenly declared her intention -of taking off her skates, she would then be better able to talk to -Charles than flying round about him, and putting in a word here and -there. She had had enough of the amusement for one morning, would -Charles kindly come and help her? He was too polite to refuse, although -it took him further away from the bank where Amy still held his horse. -He gave one glance as he turned away--and yet another--the latter look -betrayed him. Frances saw it, and a bitter remark rose to her lips, the -only one she was guilty of that day; but it came angrily and vehemently; -she could not help it, could not subdue it; she would have given worlds -to have afterwards unsaid it. - -"Miss Neville makes a capital groom. I suppose she has been accustomed -to that sort of thing." - -"I never heard Miss Neville say an unkind word of any one," was the -severe rejoinder. - -"I shall hate myself for that false move," thought Frances. "I must try -and hide my feelings better," and she raised her foot to his knee, but -even while she did so, a scream from Julia made him spring to his feet. - -But he was too late; his horse was plunging and rearing violently, while -Amy's weak arm seemed barely sufficient to curb and control him, -although she was trying her utmost to pacify and quiet him. - -Charles took it all in at a glance. - -"I shall love that girl in spite of myself," he said, as he sprang -across the frozen surface to her side. - -How tenderly anxious he was, even his voice slightly trembled as he -asked the question: - -"Are you hurt?" - -No, she was not. But her hand dropped helplessly to her side as he drew -the reins from it. - -"This is the wonderfully quiet horse," cried Julia. "I never saw such -behaviour; astonishing in one of his meek temper, but of course this is -the first time he has ever been guilty of such tricks." - -"How did it happen?" asked Charles, of Amy. - -"I scarcely know, it was all so sudden." - -"But something must have frightened him?" - -"Yes; I fancy the sound of a horse's feet galloping by excited him, and -one of the hounds rushed to his side, and then he became almost beyond -my control." - -His sorrow was expressed on his face, and was more expressive than any -words could be. His regrets--but before he could speak those, Amy had -bowed, wished him good morning, and was gone. - -The sorrow faded away from his face; a vexed look succeeded. Why had she -left him so hastily? Could she not have spared him a few moments wherein -to express his regret. Was she angry? No, he could not think so, her -temper appeared unruffled, and her face wore its usual soft and sweet -expression. - -As Frances advanced to his side he impatiently sprang on his horse and -cantered off, but Frances thought as she stood listening to his horse's -receding steps on the hard frosty ground, that ere long the canter -sounded in her ears far more like a gallop. - -Some twenty minutes later, as Amy was returning home through the lane, -her attention was drawn towards a horseman going at headlong speed -across the distant fields. The children wondered who it could be, but -Amy never wondered at all; she knew well enough. - -"It is your uncle," she said. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII. - - THE MYSTERIOUS LIGHT. - - "Still further on she crept with trembling feet, - With hope a friend, with fear a foe to meet; - And there was something fearful in the sight - And in the sound of what appear'd to-night; - For now, of night and nervous terror bred, - Arose a strong and superstitious dread; - She heard strange noises, and the shapes she saw - Of fancied beings bound her soul in awe." - - CRABBE. - - -But few of the party returned home in the very best of spirits, or -appeared to have enjoyed their afternoon's pleasure on the ice. Charles -scarcely raised his eyes during dinner, or addressed a word to any one. -Anne was infinitely disgusted at his inattention and dulness, having -made up her mind during Mr. Hall's absence to thoroughly enjoy herself, -being in no fear of a look from those earnest eyes of his, as she -rattled away almost heedless of what fell from her lips, or hazarded -trifling, thoughtless remarks. - -Frances' face, if possible, wore a more scornful expression than usual; -she was inwardly chafing at her want of tact and judgment in giving way -to temper, and allowing Charles to see that Amy was the cause of it. -That thought vexed her proud spirit beyond measure, and although to all -appearance she was calm and self-possessed, yet inwardly her heart -trembled with angry passions, and her mind was filled with forebodings -and dim shadowings of the future and what it would reveal to her. - -Was it possible she could be supplanted by another, and that other no -proud beauty like herself, but a governess! The thought was gall and -wormwood to her. It was not only her pride that was touched. No; as I -have said before, she loved her cousin with all the love of that proud, -and to all appearance, cold heart. Should he not love her in return? -Yes, he must. He should never be Amy's. Never! And she pressed her lips -together and contracted the delicately-pencilled brows at the bare -supposition. She would not believe--could not--that in so short a time -his heart was another's. It was merely a liking, not love, and it must -be her care to prevent the latter. - -What right had he in the school-room? What was he doing there when she -entered so inopportunely? - -Ah! she had never guessed that secret yet, or found out the theft of the -"Holy work," or her heart would have been even sorer than it was, and -her thoughts more bitter and revengeful towards Amy. - -Frances had never been thwarted; all had as yet gone smoothly with her; -the bare possibility of the one great object in life--her love--being -unvalued only made her the more determined to succeed. She had no -softness, no gentleness of nature; her love was fierce and -strong--headlong in its course; like a torrent it swept along, and -carried away all and everything that impeded its course. There was no -calm, no sunshine, no breaking of the heavy clouds; all was storm--would -be until the end might be gained, and then--even then, there was a -question if the troubled, angry spirit would be quiet, or at rest, or -ever satisfied. - -Charles did not re-enter the drawing room after dinner. "Gone for a -smoke or prefers the company of Bob," was Alfred's ungracious rejoinder -when his sister questioned him; so retiring to an ottoman in a far-off -corner, Frances wrapt herself up in her thoughts, or, as Anne remarked, -made herself as disagreeable as she could by refusing to join in any one -game or amusement proposed. After fruitless attempts to strike up a -flirtation with somebody, Anne walked off to bed, thinking a quiet chat -with her sister was preferable to the dulness below. - -As she reached the first landing on her way up stairs, a gust of cold -wind from the sudden opening of the hall door made her pause and look -round; and presently Mr. Hall's voice reached her: very pleasant and -cheery she thought it sounded, and she could not resist the temptation -of peeping over, just to see how he looked after his cold ride. - -Yes, there he was, close by the fire, full in the light of the lamp, -shaking himself like a large dog, his thick hair in a shocking tangled -mass, but this was nothing unusual. - -Anne smiled. "What a figure he is!" thought she, "such a great unwieldy -creature!" and then half turned, as if to retrace her steps, but -woman-like, fearful lest he should guess why she returned, magnanimously -went on, but on reaching her own room, no Julia was there to unburden -her vexations to, or talk herself into a more congenial mood with. - -"She plays me this trick every night," said she, taking off her dress -and throwing a shawl round her shoulders; then stirring up the fire into -a blaze, she sat down and reviewed in her own mind the events of the day -and the evening's dulness. - -Some minutes slipped by; and then, whether she grew tired of being alone -in that large room or vexed at her sister's prolonged absence she -determined on going in quest of her. - -Springing up, away she went to Miss Tremlow's room, and receiving no -reply to her repeated knocks for admission, cautiously opened the door -and went in, expecting to find her sister. - -Miss Tremlow was disrobed for the night, and had tied a large yellow -handkerchief round her head, the only symptom of a cap being the huge -border overshadowing her small thin face like a pall; while one or two -curl-papers--Miss Tremlow wore her hair in ringlets--made themselves -guiltily perceptible here and there. Anne burst out laughing. - -"My goodness, Miss Tremlow! how extraordinary you look," exclaimed she. -"Do you always dress yourself out in this style when you have a cold?" - -"A cold, Miss Anne? I have no cold." - -"Then why on earth have you decked yourself out with that handkerchief. -Oh! I know, you are afraid of thieves, and think the sight will frighten -them. Well, you are not far wrong there." - -"No such thing; I am subject to rheumatism, so take every precaution -against it," replied Miss Tremlow stiffly, not exactly knowing whether -to feel offended or not. - -"Of course, quite right," replied Anne, not daring to raise her eyes -until Miss Tremlow turned her back, and then the corner of the bright -handkerchief stood out so oddly over the high-crowned cap, while a -border almost as wide and stiffly starched as the front one drooped from -under it, that the incentive to mirth was irresistible, and Anne laughed -again. - -"I cannot help it, indeed I cannot," said she, as the lady's now angry -face met her gaze. "It is of no use looking so vexed, you should not -make such a figure of yourself." - -"You had better go to bed, Miss Anne," said Miss Tremlow sharply, -opening the door. - -And very submissively Anne went out of the room, but instead of going to -bed, bent her steps towards the school-room, and there found the object -of her search; her sister with Miss Neville. - -"Such a scrape as you have led me into, Mag," began she, still laughing, -and drawing a chair near the two round the fire. "Of course I thought -you were in that queer sick creature's room. What a fright she has made -of herself with her head tied up in that yellow handkerchief, enough to -make any one laugh." - -"I hope, Anne, you did not," replied her sister. - -"Then hope no such thing, for I laughed outright, and so would Miss -Neville, I am sure. I defy even that sober Mr. Hall to have stood it," -and again Anne laughed at the bare recollection. "It's all your fault, -Mag, had you gone quietly to bed as you ought, I should never like the -Caliph have roamed abroad in search of adventure." - -"Why did you come up to bed so soon?" asked Julia. - -"So soon! I am sure I never spent so dull an evening; I suppose people's -hearts were frozen as well as their toes with coming in contact with the -ice. As to Frances, she behaved abominably, and turned the cold-shoulder -to everybody. If it is to be like this every evening, I would far rather -have the 'short commons' of home than the dainty fare here." - -"For shame, Anne! What will Miss Neville think?" - -"Think that I am in a bad temper, that's all. Isabella might have tried -to amuse us a little; but no, she only thought of self, sitting so -cosily flirting with Mr. Vavasour. How I do dislike that man! I am sure -he is no good, and no one seems to know who he is. I do wish that -handsome Captain Styles were here. Do you remember last year, what fun -we used to have? We never had a dull evening then," and Anne sighed, and -looked so comically sad that Julia and Amy both laughed. - -"It is just as well he is not here," replied the former. "And as for -Mr. Vavasour, everyone knows how intimate old Mr. Vavasour and Mr. -Linchmore's father were." - -"Yes; but that gives no clue as to who young Mr. Vavasour is." - -Who Vavasour's parents were had never transpired. All he himself knew -was, that he had been left an orphan at an early age, and entrusted to -Mr. Vavasour. The utmost care had been bestowed on his education; no -pains, no money had been spared. - -Mr. Vavasour was an eccentric, passionate old bachelor, fond and proud -of his adopted son, or, as some supposed, his own son; but this latter -was mere idle surmise. He was certainly treated and regarded by the -servants and even friends as such; and yet they had not a shadow of -proof that he was so. - -It must not be imagined that Robert rested calmly, or made no attempts -to obtain a clue to his history, and clear up the doubt under which his -proud, impatient spirit chafed. He did. He battled and waged war at -times against the other's will, when the weight became more intolerable -than he could bear; but only to meet with stern rebuffs, and a will as -determined as his own. In that one particular, the two resembled each -other; not otherwise. In outward form they were unlike. - -It was after one of these battles, in which as usual Robert was -vanquished, that wounded to the quick by the other's violence, and -seeing the hopelessness of ever moving that iron will, Robert left the -only home he had ever known, and went abroad. - -After that nothing went right. The old man fretted, grew more and more -exacting to those about him, and gave way more frequently to violent -fits of rage. There was no Robert to act as mediator, or control and -subdue him; and few were surprised to hear of his almost sudden death. -He bequeathed not only his forgiveness but his wealth to Robert, who -only returned in time to follow him to the grave. - -He sought amongst the old man's papers for some document to throw a -light on his birth. There was none. The only letter--if such it could be -called--bearing at all on the subject was addressed to his lawyer, and -ran thus-- - -"This is to certify that Robert Vavasour is not my son, as some fools as -well as wise men suppose. The secret of his birth was never made known -to me. He was entrusted to my care as a helpless orphan, under a solemn -promise that I would never reveal by whom. That promise I have -faithfully kept, and will, with God's help, keep to the end; believing -it can answer no good purpose to reveal it, but only entail much -unhappiness and sorrow." - -He was not the old man's son then. There was comfort in that, small as -it was: perhaps after all there was no shame attached to him. It was too -late to remedy now his disbelief of Mr. Vavasour's word, and the angry -manner in which they had parted, but it pained and grieved him deeply; -until now that he was dead, Robert had never thought how much he had -loved the only friend he had ever known. - -Perhaps the person who had entrusted him to old Mr. Vavasour was still -alive, perhaps even now watched over him. He thought it could not be his -mother; she would not have left him so long without some token of her -love. He would still hope that some day his birth might be no secret, -but as clear as day: yet it weighed on his mind, and made him appear -older than he was, and more reserved; and his manner at times was cold -and distant, with no fancy for the light talk and every-day trifles -passing around him. - -No wonder Anne disliked him. Here was a something which checked her -thoughtlessness far more decidedly than poor Mr. Hall's sober face. The -one she had no fear of, while the other's sometimes sarcastic look -annoyed and vexed her, and made her anxious to escape into a far corner -away from him, whenever she saw that peculiar curl of the lip betokening -so utter a contempt for what she was saying. No wonder she tried to -prejudice Amy against him; her pride having been wounded ever since the -day she thought he had neglected her so shamefully, and walked out with -Miss Neville, leaving her to fare as best she could with Mr. Hall. - -Seeing Julia determined on taking his part, she turned to Amy. - -"You do not like him, do you, Miss Neville? I am sure Charles is worth -twenty such men as Mr. Vavasour." - -"I know so little of either." - -"Oh, nonsense! It is a very safe reply, no doubt, but it will not do. My -cousin was here half the summer." - -"Only a fortnight the first time he came; and the second visit he made, -I was at Ashleigh, at home." - -"Quite long enough for you to find out what a good-for-nothing, -kind-hearted creature he is. Besides, for the fortnight you had the -field all to yourself, and after that advantage ought not to allow -another to bowl you out." - -"How you do talk, Anne; I am sure Miss Neville does not understand one -half you are saying, you go on at such a rate." - -"Of course I do; what is the use of sitting like this?" and she clasped -her two hands together on her lap and twirled her thumbs. "Do tell me -what you two say to one another when I am not here, for if Mag comes -every night, and I suppose she does not go to that sick-body's room, -seeing she dresses herself up in a style enough to frighten half a dozen -children, with the belief she is the veritable 'Bogy,' you surely do not -sit like two Quakeresses, without a word, waiting for the spirit to move -you. Positively, Miss Neville, I look upon Mag's coming here as an -invasion of my rights, since I am left shivering in bed, and frightened -to death for fear of ghosts. They do say the house is haunted; and once -I nearly fainted when a coal dropped out of the fire into the fender. I -really thought the ghost had come, and durst not emerge from under the -bedcloths until I was pretty nearly smothered." - -"You surely are not afraid of ghosts, Miss Bennet?" - -"Oh, but I am, though, ghosts, hobgoblins, thieves, and every other -existing and non-existing horror; and if we are to talk of such things, -I vote for the door being locked. Do stir the fire, and turn up the -lamp. There, it does look rather less gloomy now. But how cold it is!" - -"Cold?" said Julia, "I am as warm as a toast." - -"No doubt of it Mag, so cosily as you are wrapped up in 'joint-stock -property.' I wonder you are not ashamed to let me see you looking so -comfortable, even your feet tucked up too. Would you believe it, Miss -Neville, 'joint-stock property' is that dressing-gown, and belongs to -both of us, hence its name, but Mag coolly walks off with it in this -most shameful way every night." - -"Perhaps she thinks you do not want it." - -"I suppose she does; but having, as I say a share in it, I think I might -be allowed to wear it sometimes." - -"By all means, Anne. Why not?" said her sister. - -"Why not? You shall hear, Miss Neville, and judge whether I complain -without reason. You must know Mag and I have an allowance, and we found -out we could not get on without a dressing-gown; so, as we are neither -of us doomed to gruel and hot water at the same time, we agreed to club -together and have a joint property one, since which the number of colds -Miss Julia has had is quite unaccountable and shocking. I declare to -goodness the gown--look when I will--is never on the peg, but for ever -round her shoulders; however, it certainly will be my turn next, for I -never felt so frozen in all my life. There!" said she, sneezing, or -pretending to do so, "what do you think of that signal? does it not -portend stormy weather ahead? And now cease laughing, and let us go to -bed, for I am awfully sleepy, and tired into the bargain; quite done -up." - -"And no wonder," said Julia. "Did you ever hear anyone talk as she -does? She never knows when to stop." - -Amy thought she never had; but it was amusing and pleasant talk; there -could be no dismals where Anne was. It was light talk, but still it was -pleasant, and made everyone in a good mood, or at least cheerful. - -"I shall see you early to-morrow, Miss Neville," said Julia. "I have so -much to say to you." - -"If you do not come to bed, Mag," said Anne, from the half-opened door, -"I declare I will talk in my sleep to vex you." - -Amy went with them as far as the baize door which separated this wing of -the house from the other rooms, and then bid good-night to her visitors. - -As the light from the candle Anne carried vanished, she was surprised at -seeing a dim light glimmering through the key-hole of an unoccupied room -opposite. It was but momentary, yet while it lasted it threw a long, -thin, bright streak of light across the corridor, full against the wall -close beside where she stood. - -In some surprise, she retraced her steps, and drew aside the window -curtain of her room and tried to look out. But there was no moon; it was -one of those dark, pitchy nights, with not a star visible, betokening -either rain or another fall of snow. - -Full of conjecture as to whether her eyes had deceived her or not, and -feeling too timid to venture out again, Amy went to bed, and tried to -imagine all manner of solutions as to the cause of the light, all of -which she in turn rejected as utterly improbable. She had satisfied -herself it was not the moon's rays; then what could it be? - -She recalled to memory the day Nurse Hopkins showed her over the house. -The picture gallery, with its secret stairs leading into some quaint old -unused rooms, with their old worn-out hangings and antique furniture; -ghostly-looking, and certainly dismal and solitary, in being so far -removed from that part of the house now teeming with life and gaiety; -yet Nurse apparently had no fear, but walked boldly on, and appeared in -no hurry to emerge into the life beyond, as she talked of the former -greatness of the Hall. To Amy, however, the feeling of utter loneliness, -the dull, dead sound of the opening and shutting of doors, as they -passed through, sent a chill to her heart. Even the jingling of the -ponderous bunch of keys Nurse carried jarred against her nerves, so that -perhaps her own shadow might have startled and alarmed her. - -But although Nurse, in a loud tone of voice, seemed never tired of -recounting the by-gone grandeur, which had been handed down to her from -the sayings of former housekeepers, yet her voice had sunk into a -whisper, as in passing by that door, she stopped and said, "No one ever -goes in there. It was old Mrs. Linchmore's room," as if the simple fact -of its having been old Mrs. Linchmore's room forbade further enquiry, -and was in itself sufficient to check all idle curiosity. - -Amy passed by the door whenever she went into the long corridor. The -room stood at one end, facing the entire length of the passage; but the -door was at the side adjoining the door of another room, and opposite -the baize door, so that Amy's dress almost brushed its panels in passing -by, and never could she recollect having once seen the door standing -open, or the signs of a housemaid's work near it. - -Perhaps the room was held sacred by Mr. Linchmore as having been his -mother's; perhaps he it was who was there now, although it did seem -strange his going at such an hour, being past twelve o'clock by Anne's -watch when they parted. Still, it might be his peculiar fancy to go, -when secure from interruption and the remarks of others. - -All people had strange fancies; perhaps this was his. And partly -comforted and assured with the conclusion she had arrived at, and partly -wearied with the effort, Amy fell asleep. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV. - - MEMORIES OF THE PAST. - - - "And the hours of darkness and the days of gloom, - That shadow and shut out joys are come; - And there's a mist on the laughing sea, - And the flowers and leaves are nought to me; - And on my brow are furrows left, - And my lip of ease and smile is reft; - And the time of gray hairs and trembling limbs, - And the time when sorrow the bright eye dims, - And the time when death seems nought to fear, - So sad is life,--is here, is here!" - - MARY ANNE BROWN. - - -Amy passed a restless night, and awoke oppressed in spirit. It was yet -early, but she arose and dressed hastily, determined on seeking the -fresh air, hoping that, that, would in a measure restore her drooping -spirits. - -It was a bright, clear morning, and Amy felt some of its brightness -creep over her as she picked her way across the hard, uneven ground -towards the wood. Here the trees glistened with the frost, and birds -chirped among the bare boughs, or hopped fearlessly about the path. She -walked on heedlessly, striking deeper into the wood, and approached, -almost before she was aware of it, Goody Grey's cottage. How bleak and -desolate it looked now the branches of the tall trees stripped of their -green foliage waved over it; while the dim, uncertain shadows streamed -through them palely, and the wind whistled and moaned mournfully as it -rushed past the spot where Amy stood deliberating whether she should -continue her walk or not. A moment decided her on knocking lightly at -the door, but receiving no reply, she lifted the latch and entered. - -Goody Grey was seated in the high-backed arm chair, but no song issued -from her lips; they were compressed together with some strong inward -emotion, and she either did not see, or took no notice of Amy's -entrance. The ivory box stood open on the table beside her, while in -her hand she held some glittering object, seemingly a child's coral. On -this Goody Grey's eyes were fixed with an expression of intense emotion. -She clasped it in her hands, pressing it to her lips and bosom, while -groans and sobs shook her frame, choking the words that now and then -rose to her lips, and she seemed to Amy's pitying eyes to be suffering -uncontrollable agony. How lovingly sometimes, in the midst of her -anguish, she gazed at the toy! How she fondled and caressed it; rocking -her body backwards and forwards in the extremity of her emotion. Amy -stood quietly in the doorway, not venturing to speak, although she -longed to utter the compassionate words that filled her heart. At -length, feeling that under the present circumstances her visit would -only be considered an intrusion, and could scarcely be a time to offer -or attempt consolation, she turned to go. As she did so, the skirt of -her dress became entangled in a chair close by, and overturned it. The -noise roused Goody Grey; she hastily thrust the trinket into her bosom, -and started up. - -"Who are you?" she exclaimed fiercely. "What do you here? How dare you -come?" - -"I did not mean to disturb you," replied Amy, somewhat alarmed at her -voice and manner. - -Goody Grey paid no heed to her words, but walked up and down the small -room with hasty steps, her excitement increasing every moment, while her -features became convulsed with passion; some of her hair escaped from -under her cap, and floated in long, loose locks down her shoulders, -while her eyes looked so bright and piercing that Amy shrank within -herself as the old woman approached her, and exclaimed passionately-- - -"Do you think it possible a woman could die with a lie on her lips, and -revenge at her heart? with no repentance!--no remorse!--no pity for one -breaking heart!--no thought of an hereafter!--no hope of heaven! Do you -think it possible a woman could die so?" - -"No. It is not possible," replied Amy; striving to speak calmly, "no -woman could die so." - -"True,--true; she was no woman, but a fiend! a very devil in her hate -and revenge!" - -"Ah, speak not so," replied Amy, as the first startling effect of her -words and wild looks had passed away. "Say not such dreadful words. If -any woman could have lived and died as you say, she deserves your pity, -not your condemnation." - -"Pity! she'll have none from me. I hated her! she wrecked my happiness -when I was a young girl, and for what? but to gratify her insane -jealousy. Do you see this?" said she, taking off her cap, and shaking -down the thick masses of almost snow-white hair; "it was once golden, -and as fair as yours, but a few short months of--of agony changed it to -what you see, and drove me mad; _she_ worked the wreck; _she_ caused -the--the madness, and gloried in it. And yet you wonder that I condemn -her?" - -Her hair was the silvered hair of an old woman, and as it fell from its -concealment down her shoulders almost to her feet, throwing a pale, -softened, mournful shadow over her excited features, Amy was struck with -the beauty of her face; she must once have been very beautiful; while -her face, lighted up as it now was, was not the face of an aged woman. -No; it must have been, as she herself said, a sudden, severe sorrow -years ago that had helped to change that once luxuriant golden hair to -grey. Her figure, as she stood confronting Amy, was slight, and by no -means ungraceful; that also bore no trace of age, and although she -generally walked with the aid of a thick staff, it was more to steady -the weakness of her steps than to support the tottering, uncertain ones -of old age. - -Who? and what had caused such a wreck? It must have been some terrible -blow to have sent her mad in her youth, and to have left her even now, -at times--whenever the dark remembrance of it swept over her--hardly -sane in more mature age. Would the divulging of the secret remove the -sad weight from her heart, or quiet the agony of her thoughts? It might -in a measure do so, but Amy shrank from sustaining alone the frenzy that -might ensue, and as Goody Grey repeated her last question of "Do you -wonder that I condemn her?" Amy, with the view of soothing her, replied -gently-- - -"She may have lived hardened in sin, but through the dark shadows -remorse must have swept at times, and stung her deeply. Besides, her -life and death were most wretched, and deserve your pity more than -anger." - -"Had she known remorse, she never could have died so revengefully. I -don't believe she ever felt its sting, and as for pity, she would have -scorned it!" and Goody Grey laughed a wild, bitter laugh at the thought. - -"Did she injure you so very deeply?" - -"How dare you ask me that question? Are not you afraid to? Don't you -know it stirs up all my worst passions within me, and sends me mad, ---mad do I say? No, no, I am not mad now; I was once, but that, like -the rest, is past--past for ever!" and her voice changed suddenly from -its fierceness to an almost mournful sadness. - -"Did you know her well?" Amy ventured to ask, notwithstanding the rebuff -her last question had met with. - -"Aye, did I; too well--too well! Would to God I had never seen her, it -would have been better had I died first: but I live, if such a life as -mine can be called living. And _she_ is dead and I haven't forgiven her; -never will; unless," said she, correcting herself, "unless--oh God! I -dare not think of _that_; does it not bring sorrow--deep, intense, -despairing sorrow, sorrow that scorches my brain?" and either exhausted -with her fierce excitement, or overwhelmed with the recollection of the -cause of her grief, she sank down in a chair, and covering her face with -her hands, moaned and rocked herself about afresh. - -For the moment Amy felt half inclined to leave her--her strange words -and wild manner had so unnerved her--but a glance at the -sorrow-stricken face, as it was suddenly lifted away from the hands that -had screened it, decided her upon remaining for at least a few minutes -longer. Perhaps the compassionate feeling at her heart had something to -do with the decision, or it might be she hoped to say a few words of -comfort to the sorrowing creature so relentless in her bitter feelings -towards one who had evidently been remorseless in her revenge, and -unforgiving even in her death; one who had injured her, if not -irreparably, at least deeply and lastingly. - -As Amy stood deliberating how best to shape her words so as not to -irritate her afresh, Goody Grey spoke, and her voice was no longer -fierce or passionate, but mournfully sad. - -"I am lonely," she said, "very lonely. There are days when the thoughts -of my heart drive me wild, and are more than I can bear; there are days -when I feel as if death would be welcome, were it not for one hope, one -craving wish. Will this hope, this wish, ever be realised? Shall I ever -be any other than a broken-hearted, despairing woman?" - -"The clouds may clear--sunshine may burst forth when least expected." - -"May! That's what I repeat to myself day and night--day and night. The -two words, '_Hope on_,' are ever beating to and fro in my brain, like -the tickings of that clock, and sometimes I persuade myself that the -time-piece says, '_Hope on, hope on_.' But only the years roll on--the -hope is never realised; and soon my heart will whisper, and the clock -will tick, '_no hope, no hope_.'" - -"Do you never earnestly pray that God will lighten the heavy load that -weighs on your spirits or that He will bring comfort to your sorrowing -heart?" - -"Do I ever cease to pray; or is there not one fervent prayer always on -my lips and heart? Day after day I bewail my sins, and ask God's -forgiveness and mercy for my poor, broken, contrite heart, and sometimes -I rise from my knees, feeling at peace with--with even _her_. But then -wild thoughts come back; thoughts that utterly distract me, and which I -can neither control nor prevent, and then I go mad, and don't know what -I say or think. But enough of my sufferings. You can neither heal nor -cure them; even now you have seen too much, and betrayed me into saying -more than I ought. Tell me what led you to my cottage so early?" - -"I could not sleep last night," replied Amy, "and so strolled out, -thinking the air would revive me." - -"It is strange you could not sleep," replied Goody Grey, speaking as she -usually did to strangers, in a half solemn, impressive manner. "You who -have health, youth, and innocence to help you. I seldom sleep, but then -I am old and careworn. Why could you not sleep?" and she looked as -though she would pierce the inmost recesses of Amy's heart. - -"I can scarcely tell you why, perhaps my fancy misled me; but whatever -the cause, I would rather not speak of it." - -"Well perhaps it were best so, and better still if the parent bird -looked after her young, when the kite may find its way to her nest." - -Amy looked up quickly. - -"I scarcely understand your words," she replied, "or I am at a loss to -understand their meaning." - -"I meant you no harm, 'twas for your good I spoke. Others have thought -like you and been deceived. Others have hoped like you, and been -deceived. Others have been as loving and true as you _may be_, and been -deceived. When you think yourself the safest, then remember my words, -'when you think that you stand, take heed lest you fall.'" - -There was a tone of kindness lurking beneath her words, so that Amy -regretted she had spoken so hastily, and felt half inclined to tell her -so, when Goody Grey again spoke. - -"Who is that tall, dark, fine-looking man; a Linchmore in his walk, and -perhaps his manner and proud bearing, but there the resemblance ceases; -the expression of the face is different, the eye has no cunning in it, -but looks at you steadily, without fear? He is brave and noble-looking. -Who is he?" - -"I think you must mean Mr. Vavasour," replied Amy. - -"Vavasour," repeated Goody Grey, thoughtfully, "the name is strange to -me, yet--stay--a dim recollection floats across my brain that I have -heard the name before; but my memory fails me sadly at times, and my -thoughts grow confused as I strive to catch the thread of some -long-forgotten, long-buried vision of the past. Well, perhaps it is best -so. Life is but a span, and I am weary of it--very weary." - -"We are all at times desponding," said Amy; "even I feel so sometimes at -the Hall, and there you know the house is filled with visitors, and is -one continued round of gaiety." - -"Yes," said Goody Grey, as if speaking to herself. "Amidst the gayest -scenes the heart is often the saddest. But," continued she, addressing -Amy, "your sweet face looks as though no harsh wind had ever blown -across it; may it be long before a cold word or look mars its sunshine. -But there is a young girl at the Hall; one amongst the many visiting -there who has a proud look that will work her no good. I have warned -her, for I can trace her destiny clearly. But she has a spirit; a -revengeful spirit, that will never bend till it breaks. She scorned my -warning and thought me mad; yet evil will overtake her, and that, too, -when least she expects it. Have nothing to do with her. Avoid her. Trust -her not. And now go you away, and let the events of this morning be -buried in your heart. I would not that all should know Goody Grey, as -you know her; think of the old woman with pity; not with doubt and -suspicion." - -"I will. I do think of you with pity," replied Amy. "How can I do -otherwise when I have seen the anguish of your heart." - -"Hush! recall not thoughts that have passed almost as quickly as they -came. And now farewell, I am tired and would be alone." - -As Amy came in sight of the Hall on her way home, she met Mr. Vavasour. - -"Where have you been to so early?" said he; "I have watched you more -than an hour ago cross the park and make for the wood, but there I lost -sight of you, and have been wandering about ever since in the vain hope -of finding you. Where have you been?" - -But Amy was in no mood for being questioned. She felt almost vexed at -it, and answered crossly-- - -"I should have thought Mr. Vavasour might have found something better to -do than to dog my footsteps. I had no idea my conduct was viewed with -suspicion." - -"You are mistaken, Miss Neville, if you think I view any conduct of -yours with suspicion; such an unworthy thought never entered my head. If -I have unwittingly offended, allow me to apologise for that and my -unpardonable curiosity which has led me into this scrape." - -"Where no offence is meant, no apology is required," said Amy, coldly. -"It would have been better had Mr. Vavasour remained at home instead of -venturing abroad to play the spy!" - -"You compare me Miss Neville, to one of the most despicable of mankind, -when I am far from deserving of the epithet." - -"We judge men by their actions not by their words. I have yet to learn -that Mr. Vavasour did not enact the spy, when both his actions and his -words condemn him." - -"Be it so," replied Robert Vavasour, almost as coldly as she had spoken. -"But I would fain Miss Neville had conceived a different opinion of me." - -Amy made no reply, and in silence they reached the house; his manner -being kind, almost tender, as he bid her farewell. - - - - - CHAPTER XV. - - THE GALLERY WINDOW. - - "Know you not there is a power - Strong as death, which from above - Once was given--a fadeless dower, - Blessed with the name of love! - On it hangs how many a tale! - Tales of human joys and woes; - Fan it with an adverse gale, - Then it strong and stronger grows. - - J. B. KERRIDGE. - - -"Such a fuss about a piece of embroidery!" exclaimed Mason, entering the -servants' hall; "one would think Miss Neville had lost half a fortune -instead of a trumpery piece of needle-work. I'm sure she's welcome to -any of mine," and she tossed over the contents of her work-box with a -contemptuous nod of the head. "I don't suppose it was very much better -than this--or this!" and she drew forth an elaborate strip of work; -either a careless gift from her mistress, or one of her righteous -cribbings, such as servants in places like hers think it no robbery to -appropriate to themselves. - -"Law! Mrs. Mason, however did you work it?" asked Mary, in her -simplicity. - -"It's one of Madam's cast-offs, I expect," said Mrs. Hopkins, with some -asperity of manner. - -"It don't much signify where I got it, or who it belonged to; it's mine -now, and as good, I know, as the piece Miss Neville's turning the house -upside down for. Governesses always make places disagreeable; they're -sure to lose something or another, and then wonder who's taken it, and -then make us out a pack of thieves. I've made up my mind never to take a -situation again where there's a governess." - -"Does Miss Neville accuse anybody of having taken it?" asked Mrs. -Hopkins, more sternly than before, and certainly more sharply. - -"Well; no, Mrs. Hopkins, she doesn't exactly do that, she wouldn't dare -to; but a hint's as good as a plain-spoken word sometimes. I know I -could scarcely stand quiet in Madam's room just now. I did say I was -surprised she hadn't lost something more valuable, and should have -spoken my mind more plainly than that, but you know Madam's temper as -well as I do, Mrs. Hopkins; it isn't for me to tell you; and I can't -always say what I wish. She had been put out, too, about that new violet -silk dress; it's been cut a trifle too short waisted--a nasty fault--and -doesn't fit as it ought, so it couldn't have happened at a more awkward -time. Besides, I believe Madam thinks Miss Neville an angel, so quiet -and '_mum_;' for my part I dislike people that can't say 'bo' to a -goose; and I don't think Miss Neville would jump if a thunderbolt fell -at her feet." - -This remark set Mary, and Jane, Frances Strickland's maid, laughing; -but not a muscle of Mrs. Hopkin's face moved as she asked-- - -"How did you happen to hear of the loss of the piece of work?" - -"Oh! Miss Fanny came in open-mouthed to tell her Mamma of it, and said -'wasn't it strange that though they had hunted high and low for it, they -could not find it.' Miss Edith accused Carlo;--you know what a -rampacious dog he is;--but then they would have found some of the -shreds, but not a vestige of it could they see, rummage as they would. -There's the school-room bell, Mary, that's for you to hear all about it, -and be put on your trial, and be frightened to death." She added as Mary -left the room, "She's no more spirit in her than the cat," and she -glanced contemptuously at the sleepy tortoise-shell curled up before the -fire. - -"Mary's plenty of spirit when she's put to it," replied Mrs. Hopkins, -"she's not like some people, ready to let fly at every word that's -said." - -"And quite right too, I say; when words are spoke that make one's heart -leap up to one's throat; but there, servants ain't supposed to have -hearts or tongues neither for the matter of that now-a-days; why if a -man only looks at us, we're everything that's bad, when I'm sure I'd -scorn to have the lots of 'followers' some young ladies have." - -"Mrs. Mason," said Mrs. Hopkins, rising with dignity, "this talk does -not become you to speak, nor me to listen to; leastways I won't allow it -in this room," and she rose and drew up her portly figure in some pride, -and no little expression of anger on her face, while she shook out the -stiff folds of her black silk dress. "If the place doesn't suit you; you -can leave and get a better if you can; but not one word shall you say in -my hearing against any of Madam's friends." - -"Good gracious, Mrs. Hopkins, you're enough to frighten anyone. I wasn't -aware I'd said anything against anybody, and I'm sure and certain if I -did, I didn't mean it. I have no fault to find with my place, I'm well -enough satisfied with it, but I'm not partial to Miss Neville," yet at -the same time Mason gathered up her work, and thrust it hastily into -the box which she closed noisily, as if the spirit was ready to fly out, -if she only dare let it. - -But Mason knew well enough that Mrs. Hopkins was not to be trifled with, -she could say a great deal, but beyond a certain point she dare not go; -for as soon as the other chose she could silence her. All her airs and -assumed grandeur were as nothing, and were regarded with cool disdain -and contempt, but reign paramount the housekeeper would--and did; her -quiet decided way at once checked and subdued the lady's maid, and all -her pertness and boasting fell to the ground, but the sweep of her full -ample skirts expanded with crinoline annoyed and vexed Mrs. Hopkins much -more than her words; the one she could and did check; the other she had -no power over, since Mrs. Linchmore tolerated them, and found no fault. - -Mason partly guessed it was so, for she invariably swept over something -that stood in her way when Mrs. Hopkins was present, either some coals -from the coal box, or the fender-irons, the latter were the more often -knocked down as Nurse so particularly disliked the noise. Mason had even -ventured upon the tall basket of odds and ends from which Mrs. Hopkins -always found something to work at, and which stood close by her side as -she sat sewing. It would have stood small chance now of escape could -Mason have found an excuse for going near it. - -"Well Mary, has the work been found?" asked Mrs. Hopkins, as the girl -came back. - -"No Ma'am, it hasn't; Miss Neville says she supposes she must have -mislaid it somewhere," while Mason curled her lip as much as to say, "I -could have told you that." - -"Well, you had better go and look over your young ladies' wardrobes; -there's no telling sometimes where things get put to, at all events it's -as well to search everywhere." - -And Mary went, but of course with small chance of finding what she -sought for, as it still lay snugly enough under the shelf in Charles' -desk, while he appeared totally unmindful of it or indifferent as to -its existence; but then the last two days he had been indifferent to -almost every thing. He could not account for Miss Neville's coldness and -stiffness; surely he had done nothing to offend her, yet why had she -treated him so discourteously at the lake, and turned away with scarcely -a word? - -He had seen her walking with Vavasour; surely if she had done that, -there could be no great harm in her remaining to say three words to him. -He had also seen Mr. Hall one morning hasten after her with a glove she -had dropped accidentally, and she had turned and thanked him civilly -enough, even walked a few paces with him; then why was he to be the only -one snubbed? - -It irritated and annoyed him. He thought of the hundred-and-one girls -that he knew all ready to be talked to and admired. There was even his -proud cousin Frances unbent to him; yet he was only conscious of a -feeling of weariness and unconcern at her condescension. - -Amy's manner puzzled him, and at times he determined on meeting her -coldly; at others that he would make her come round. What had he done to -deserve such treatment? he could not accuse himself in one single -instance. But then Charles knew nothing of his sister-in-law's -interference. That one visit of hers to the school-room had determined -Amy on the line of conduct she ought to adopt. There was no help for it, -she must be cold to him; must show she did not want, would not have his -attentions, they only troubled her and brought annoyance with them. She -was every bit as proud as Charles. What if he thought as Mrs. Linchmore -did? She would show him how little she valued his apparent kindness, or -wished for his attentions. - -Ah! Amy was little versed in men's hearts, or she would have known that -her very coldness and indifference only urged the young man on; and made -the gain of one loving smile from her, worth all the world beside. - -Charles was sauntering quietly home through the grounds from the next -day's skating on the lake, when the children's voices sounded in the -distance; he unconsciously quickened his steps, and soon reached the -spot where they were playing. - -"Another holiday!" he exclaimed, as he saw at a glance that Miss Neville -was not there. - -"Oh! yes, Uncle, isn't it nice. We have enjoyed ourselves so much." - -"I wish I had known it," he replied, "for I would just as soon have had -a game of romps with you, as gone skating. You must let me know when you -have a holiday again." - -"That won't be for a long time," said Edith, "Fanny's birthday comes -next, and it isn't for another six months." - -"Whose birthday is it to-day then?" - -"No one's. We have been having a regular turn-out of the school-room, -all the books taken down and the cupboards emptied, because Miss Neville -has lost her work." - -"Lost her work, has she?" said Charles, not daring to look the two -girls in the face, as he took a long pull at his cigar, and watched the -smoke as it curled upwards. - -"Yes, Uncle, lost her work; such a beautiful piece she was doing; we -can't find it anywhere, and Miss Neville is so vexed about it." - -Vexed, was she? He wished he had taken the thimble and scissors as well. -He felt a strange satisfaction in learning something had roused her, and -that she was not quite so invulnerable as he thought. - -"Was she very angry?" he asked. - -"Miss Neville is never very angry," replied Edith, "but she looked very -much vexed about it. I think she thought some one had been playing her a -trick, as she would not allow Fanny to say it had been stolen." - -"I dare say she will find it again. It will turn up somewhere or other; -you must have another search," and away he walked, knowing full well -that unless he brought it to light it never would be found, and that -all search would be fruitless. - -Soon after, as the children walked towards the house, they met Robert -Vavasour. - -"Well young lady, and where are you going to?" asked he of Fanny, who, -having Carlo attached to a chain, was some way behind her sister and -cousin. - -"We are going home, Sir," said Fanny, with some difficulty making the -dog keep up, by occasionally scolding him, which he seemed not to mind -one bit, but only walked the slower, and tugged the more obstinately at -his chain. - -"I have a little favour to ask of you," said he, "will you grant it?" - -"What is it, Sir?" asked Fanny. - -"Will you wait here a few minutes until my return?" - -"Yes. But oh! please don't be long." - -"Not three minutes," said he, as he disappeared. - -"Fanny! Fanny! are you coming?" called Edith, returning; "we are late, -it is nearly four o'clock." - -"I cannot come," said Fanny, "I have promised to wait for him," with -which unsatisfactory reply, Edith went on and left her. - -And Fanny did wait, some--instead of three--ten minutes, until her -little feet ached, and her hands were blue with the cold, and her -patience, as well as Carlo's, was well-nigh exhausted, he evincing his -annoyance by sundry sharp barks and jumping up with his fore paws on her -dress. At last, her patience quite worn out, Fanny walked round to the -front of the house, where, just as she reached the terrace, she met Mr. -Vavasour. - -"There," said he, placing a Camellia in her hand, "hold it as carefully -as you can, for it is not fresh gathered, and may fall to pieces, and -take it very gently to your governess." - -"Yes Sir, I will; but oh! what a time you have been, and how she will -scold me for being so late, because it rang out four o'clock ever such -a time ago, and Edith and Alice are long gone in." - -"Then do not stand talking, Fanny, but make haste in, and be careful of -the flower." - -"But you must please take Carlo round to the left wing door for me, as -Mamma does not like his coming in this way. You see his paws are quite -dirty." - -"I suppose I must, but it's an intolerable nuisance." - -But the dog had not the slightest idea of losing his young mistress, and -being dragged off in that ignominious way, but resisted the chain with -all his might. - -"Suppose we undo his chain, and let him loose," suggested Robert. "I -dare say Mamma will excuse his intrusion for this once." - -Away went Fanny, faithfully following out the instructions she had -received, and carrying the flower most carefully, when suddenly a hand -grasped her shoulder rather roughly. - -"Oh! cousin Frances, how you startled me!" said Fanny. - -"Where are you going to with that flower?" and she pointed to the -Camellia Fanny held so gently between her small fingers. - -"It's for Miss Neville, cousin." - -"For Miss Neville is it? I suspected as much. Give it to me; let me look -at it." - -"No, it will fall to pieces. He said so; and that I was to be very -careful of it; so you musn't have it." - -"Who gave it you? Speak, child; I will know." - -But little Fanny inherited the Linchmore's spirit, and was nothing -daunted at the other's stern, overbearing manner. In fact her little -heart rose to fever heat; so tossing back her long, thick hair with one -hand, while with the other she put the flower behind her, and looking -her tall cousin steadily in the face, she replied defiantly-- - -"I shan't tell you." - -"How dare you say that, how dare you speak to me in that rude way; I -will know who gave it to you. Tell me directly." - -"No I won't, cousin." - -Frances raised her hand to strike, but Fanny quailed not; she still held -the flower behind her back, away from the other, and made her small -figure as tall as she could, planting her little foot firmly so as to -resist the blow to her utmost when it did come. - -But it came not. The hand fell, but not on Fanny. - -With a strong effort Frances controlled herself, and determined on -trying persuasion; for she would find out where she got the flower. - -Now Frances had been dressing in her room, and had accidentally seen -from her window Charles talking to the children; so when she, -unfortunately for Fanny, met her in the passage, and saw the Camellia, -she naturally enough concluded he had sent it. If not he, who had? but -she was certain it was Charles; her new-born jealousy told her so. - -Still the child must confess and satisfy her, must confirm her -suspicions, and then--but though Frances shut her teeth firmly, as some -sudden thought flashed through her, yet she could not quite tell what -her vengeance was to be, or what measures she would take; she only felt, -only knew she must annihilate and crush her rival, and remove her out of -her path. - -"I do not want the flower, Fanny," commenced she in a low voice, meant -to propitiate and coax. - -"You would not have it, if you did!" replied Fanny, not a bit -conciliated or deceived at the change of tone and voice. - -Frances could scarcely control her anger. - -"You need not hold it so determinately behind you. I am not going to -take it from you." - -"No! I should not let you." - -"Nonsense! I could take it if I liked, but I do not want it; and I know -where you got it too, Fanny." - -"No you don't, cousin. I am sure you don't." - -"But I do; for I saw your uncle give it you, just now." - -"If you saw him, why did you bother so? But I know you did not see him. -You are telling me a fib, cousin Frances, and it's very wicked of you!" -said Fanny, looking up reproachfully. - -At this, as Frances thought, confirmation of her doubts, her rage burst -forth. - -"You little abominable, good-for-nothing creature! you have the face to -accuse me of telling a falsehood; I will have you punished for it. Your -Mamma shall know how shamefully you are being brought up by that -would-be-saint, Miss Neville." - -"If you say a word against my governess," retorted Fanny, "I will tell -Mamma, too; all I know you've done." - -"What have I done? you little bold thing, speak!" and she grasped the -child's arm again, so sharply that Fanny's face flushed hotly with the -pain; but she bore it firmly, and never uttered a cry, or said a word in -reply. - -"Say what have I done. I will know." - -"You stole Miss Neville's work," replied Fanny fearlessly. "No one -thinks it's you, but I know it, and could tell if I liked." - -"Tell what?" - -"That you took my governess's work," repeated Fanny. "I know it was you; -because I saw her put it away in her basket before we went out, and when -we came home again it was gone, and she has never found it since." - -"What are you talking about? I think you are crazed." - -"No, I am not. What did you go into the school-room for that day, while -we were out? There's nothing of yours there; and why did you look so -angry at Miss Neville, when we all came upstairs, if you had not taken -away her piece of embroidery to vex and annoy her." - -"Was it on that day Miss Neville lost a piece of work?" - -"Yes, it was only half finished, too; and you took it, you know you -did." - -"And you say some one took it while you were out walking?" - -"Yes." - -Frances lifted away her hand from Fanny's arm, where it had been placed -so roughly, and let it fall helplessly to her side. - -Gradually she drooped her eyes, and slowly moved away. - -"It is too much," she said, with a deep sigh, while the child stood mute -with astonishment at the effect of her words, she being old and wise -enough to see they had not only disarmed, but wounded and hurt Frances, -and stung her to the quick. - -And so they had. - -Frances knew well enough _she_ had not taken the work. Was it Charles? -and was that the reason why he had looked so guilty when she -unexpectedly entered? It was not the mere fact of being caught in the -school-room. No; it was a cowardly fear lest she should have seen the -theft that had made him start, and answer at random, and appear so -confused. All was accounted for now. - -Yes; he it was who had taken it, and for what? She paused and looked -back. Fanny was following at a respectful distance. She waited until she -came up. - -"You know not what you have done, child," she said, sternly, with just a -slight tremble of the lips and lower part of the face. "I will never -forgive you for telling me." - -She went on, and the now startled child went on too, knowing full well -that her governess must be growing anxious. - -And Amy had grown anxious at her prolonged absence, and after awaiting -Mary's fruitless search for her in the shrubbery and garden, had gone -herself in quest of her, first to Julia's room, thinking she might be -there, or at the least they might be able to give her some information; -but neither of the sisters had, of course, seen anything of her, so Amy -retraced her steps, and had reached the end of the gallery, when -Charles turned the corner. - -They met face to face. - -He held out his hand. Amy could not refuse to take it, indeed it was all -so sudden, she never thought of refusing. - -"Have you hurt your hand, Miss Neville?" he inquired, seeing she held -out the left, while the right was in some measure supported by the thumb -being thrust into the waist belt. - -"Slightly," replied Amy, and would have passed on, but he was determined -this time she should not evade him. - -"What is the matter with it? How did you hurt it?" - -"It was wrenched," she said, hesitatingly, and a little confusedly. "I -do not think there is much the matter with it." - -"Wrenched!" echoed he, in some surprise. Then, all at once, the thought -seemed to strike him as to how it was done, and he added, decidedly, -"It was yesterday, at the lake, holding my horse. Confound him!" - -Amy did not deny his assertion, indeed she could not, as it was true. - -"Are you much hurt?" he asked again, in a kind voice. - -"I think not. It is bruised or sprained, that is all." - -"All!" he repeated, reproachfully and tenderly. - -But Amy would not raise her eyes, and replied, coldly, "Yes; I can -scarcely tell you which." - -"But I can, if you will allow me." - -And in spite of her still averted face, he drew her towards the long -window, near where they were standing, she having no power of resisting, -not knowing well how to, so she held out her hand as well as she was -able. - -He held the small, soft fingers in his, and took off from her wrist the -ribbon with which she had bound it. - -It was much swollen and inflamed, and was decidedly sprained. He looked -closer still, until his breath blew over those clear blue veins, and he -could scarcely resist the temptation of pressing his lips on -them--might, perhaps, have done so--when they were both startled. - -A dark shadow floated towards them, and danced in the light reflected -from the windows by the last red rays of the fast fading sun, right -across them. - -It was Frances, returning, full of anger and wounded feeling, after her -meeting with Fanny. - -Scornfully she stood and looked at both, while both quailed at her -glance, and the proud, angry look in her eyes. - -Charles was the first to recover himself. "Miss Neville has sprained her -wrist badly, Frances. Come and see." - -More scornfully still, she returned his gaze, and then saying, with -cutting sarcasm, "Pray do not let me disturb you," she swept on, as -though the ground was scarcely good enough for her to walk on, or that -her pride would at all hazards o'er master any and every thing that -came in her way. - -So she passed out of their sight. - -"It is too much," she repeated again, "and more than I can bear," but -this time there was no rebellious sigh, nothing but pride and -determination struggling in her heart. - -She went into her own room, and locked the door, so that the loud click -of the key, as she turned it in the lock, startled again those she had -left in the gallery. - -"My cousin is not blessed with a good temper," remarked Charles, "though -what she has had to vex her I know not, and do not much care;" but at -the same time, if Amy could have read his heart, she would have seen -that he was inwardly uncomfortable at her having caught him. - -"I am sorry," was all Amy said, but it expressed much, as taking the -ribbon from his hand, and gently declining his proffered assistance of -again binding it round the injured wrist, she left him. - -And Amy was sorry. She could not think she had done wrong in allowing -Charles Linchmore to look at the sprain, simply because she could not -well have refused him without awkwardness; besides, he took her hand as -a matter of course, and never asked her permission at all; but then -might not Miss Strickland imagine thousands of other things, put a -number of other constructions upon finding them in the embrasure of the -window together alone. - -It was very evident from her manner that she had done so, and Amy shrank -within herself at the idea that perhaps she also would think she was -leading him on, and endeavouring to gain his heart, and he, too, as Mrs. -Hopkins had told her, the inheritor of the very house she lived in. - -As a governess, perhaps she had done wrong, she ought not to have -allowed him to evince so much sympathy; but what if she explained to -Miss Strickland how it had all happened, there would then be an end to -her suspicions; her woman's heart and feeling would at once see how -little she had intended doing wrong, and feel for her and exonerate her -from all blame or censure. - -So Amy determined on seeking an interview with Frances. It was, as far -as she could see, the right thing to do; and she went; when how Frances -received her, and how far she helped her, must be seen in another -chapter. - - - END OF VOL. I. - - -T. C. NEWBY, 30, Welbeck Street, Cavendish Square, London. - - - - -[Illustration] - -TEETH WITHOUT PAIN AND WITHOUT SPRINGS. - -OSTEO EIDON FOR ARTIFICIAL TEETH, EQUAL TO NATURE. - -Complete Sets £4 4s., £7 7s., £10 10s., £15 15s., and £21. - -SINGLE TEETH AND PARTIAL SETS AT PROPORTIONATELY MODERATE CHARGES. - -A PERFECT FIT GUARANTEED. - -[Illustration] - -London: - -27, HARLEY STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE, W. - -134, DUKE STREET, LIVERPOOL. - -65, NEW STREET, BIRMINGHAM. - -CITY ADDRESS: - -64, LUDGATE HILL, 64. - -(4 doors from the Railway Bridge). - - -ONLY ONE VISIT REQUIRED FROM COUNTRY PATIENTS. - - -Gabriel's Treatise on the Teeth, explaining their patented mode of -supplying Teeth without Springs or Wires, may be had gratis on -application, or free by post. - - - - -FAMILY MOURNING. - -MESSRS. JAY - -Would respectfully announce that great saving may be made by purchasing -Mourning at their Establishment, - -THEIR STOCK OF - -FAMILY MOURNING - -BEING - -THE LARGEST IN EUROPE. - -MOURNING COSTUME - -OF EVERY DESCRIPTION - -KEPT READY-MADE, - -And can be forwarded to Town or Country at a moment's notice. - -The most reasonable Prices are charged, and the wear of every Article -Guaranteed. - -THE LONDON - -GENERAL MOURNING WAREHOUSE, - -247 & 248, REGENT STREET, - -(NEXT THE CIRCUS.) - -JAY'S. - - - - -BEDSTEADS, BEDDING, AND BED ROOM FURNITURE. - -HEAL & SON'S - - -Show Rooms contain a large assortment of Brass Bedsteads, suitable both -for home use and for Tropical Climates. - -Handsome Iron Bedsteads, with Brass Mountings, and elegantly Japanned. - -Plain Iron Bedsteads for Servants. - -Every description of Woodstead, in Mahogany, Birch, and Walnut Tree -Woods, Polished Deal and Japanned, all fitted with Bedding and -Furnitures complete. - -Also, every description of Bed Room Furniture, consisting of Wardrobes, -Chests of Drawers, Washstands, Tables, Chairs, Sofas, Couches, and every -article for the complete furnishing of a Bed Room. - -AN - -ILLUSTRATED CATALOGUE, - -Containing Designs and Prices of 150 articles of Bed Room Furniture, as -well as of 100 Bedsteads, and Prices of every description of -Bedding. - -Sent Free by Post. - -HEAL & SON, - -BEDSTEAD, BEDDING, - -and - -BED ROOM FURNITURE MANUFACTURERS - -196, TOTTENHAM COURT ROAD, - -LONDON, W. - - - - -J. W. BENSON, - -WATCH AND CLOCK MAKER, BY WARRANT OF APPOINTMENT, TO H.R.H. THE PRINCE -OF WALES, - -Maker of the Great Clock for the Exhibition, 1862, and of the -Chronograph Dial, by which was timed "The Derby" of 1862, 1863, and -1864, Prize Medallist, Class XXXIII., and Honourable Mention, Class XV, -begs respectfully to invite the attention of the nobility, gentry, and -public to his establishment at - -33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, - -Which, having recently been increased in size by the incorporation of -the two houses in the rear, is now the most extensive and richly stocked -in London. In - -THE WATCH DEPARTMENT - -Will be found every description of Pocket Horological Machine, from the -most expensive instruments of precision to the working man's substantial -time-keeper. The stock comprises Watches, with every kind of case, gold -and silver, plain, engine-turned, engraved, enamelled, chased, and -jewelled, and with dials of enamel, silver, or gold, either neatly -ornamented or richly embellished. - -BENSON'S WATCHES. - -"The movements are of the finest quality which the art of horology is at -present capable of producing."--_Illustrated London News_ 8th Nov., -1862. - -33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. - - * * * * * - -BENSON'S WATCHES. - -Adapted for every class, climate, and country. Wholesale and retail from -200 guineas to 2-1/2 guineas each. - -33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. - - * * * * * - -BENSON'S WATCHES. - -Chronometer, duplex, lever, horizontal, repeating, centre seconds, -keyless, astronomical, reversible, chronograph, blind men's, Indian, -presentation, and railway, to suit all classes. - -33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. - - * * * * * - -BENSON'S WATCHES. - -London-made levers, gold from £10 10s., silver from £5 5s. - -33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. - - * * * * * - -BENSON'S WATCHES. - -Swiss watches of guaranteed quality, gold from £5 5s; silver from £2 -12s. 6d. - -33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. - - * * * * * - -Benson's Exact Watch. - -Gold from £30; silver from £24. - -33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. - - * * * * * - -Benson's Indian Watch. - -Gold, £23; silver, £11 11s. - -33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. - - * * * * * - -BENSON'S CLOCKS. - -"The clocks and watches were objects of great attraction, and well -repaid the trouble of an inspection."--_Illustrated London News_, 8th -November, 1862. - -33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. - - * * * * * - -BENSON'S CLOCKS. - -Suitable for the dining and drawing rooms, library, bedroom, hall, -staircase, bracket, carriage, skeleton, chime, musical, night, -astronomical, regulator, shop, warehouse, office, counting house, &c., - -33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. - - * * * * * - -BENSON'S CLOCKS. - -Drawing room clocks, richly gilt, and ornamented with fine enamels from -the imperial manufactories of Sèvres, from £200 to £2 2s. - -33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. - - * * * * * - -BENSON'S CLOCKS, - -For the dining room, in every shape, style, and variety of bronze--red, -green, copper, Florentine, &c. A thousand can be selected from, from 100 -guineas to 2 guineas. - -33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. - - * * * * * - -BENSON'S CLOCKS, - -In the following marbles:--Black, rouge antique, Sienne, d'Egypte, rouge -vert, malachite, white, rosée, serpentine, Brocatelle, porphyry, green, -griotte, d'Ecosse, alabaster, lapis lazuli, Algerian onyx, Californian. - -33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. - - * * * * * - -THE HOUSE-CLOCK DEPARTMENT, - -For whose more convenient accommodation J. W. Benson has opened spacious -show rooms at Ludgate Hill, will be found to contain the largest and -most varied stock of Clocks of every description, in gilt, bronze, -marbles, porcelain, and woods of the choicest kinds. - -In this department is also included a very fine collection of - -BRONZES D'ART, - -BENSON'S ILLUSTRATED PAMPHLET; free by post for three stamps, contains a -short history of Horology, with prices and patterns of every description -of watch and clock, and enables those who live in any part of the world -to select a watch, and have it sent safe by post. - -33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, E.C. - - - - -WILSON'S - -PATENT DRAWING-ROOM - -BAGATELLE AND BILLIARD TABLES, - -WITH REVERSIBLE TOPS. - -Circular, Oblong, Oval, and other Shapes, in various Sizes FORMING A -HANDSOME TABLE. - -[Illustration: Patent Bagatelle Table--Open. Prices from 5 to 25 -Guineas.] - -[Illustration: Patent Bagatelle Table--Closed. Prospectus Free by post.] - - * * * * * - -WILSON AND CO., PATENTEES, - -Cabinet Makers, Upholsterers, House Agents, Undertakers, &c., 18, -WIGMORE STREET (Corner of Welbeck Street), LONDON, W.; also at the -MANUFACTURING COURT, CRYSTAL PALACE, SYDENHAM. - - * * * * * - -In 1 Vol. Price 12s. - -ON CHANGE OF CLIMATE, A GUIDE FOR TRAVELLERS IN PURSUIT OF HEALTH. BY -THOMAS MORE MADDEN, M.D., M.R.C.S. ENG. - - Illustrative of the Advantages of the various localities resorted - to by Invalids, for the cure or alleviation of chronic diseases, - especially consumption. With Observations on Climate, and its - Influences on Health and Disease, the result of extensive - personal experience of many Southern Climes. - -SPAIN, PORTUGAL, ALGERIA, MOROCCO, FRANCE, ITALY, THE MEDITERRANEAN -ISLANDS, EGYPT, &c. - -"Dr. Madden has been to most of the places he describes, and his book -contains the advantage of a guide, with the personal experience of a -traveller. To persons who have determined that they ought to have change -of climate, we can recommend Dr. Madden as a guide."--_Athenæum._ - -"It contains much valuable information respecting various favorite -places of resort, and is evidently the work of a well-informed -physician."--_Lancet._ - -"Dr. Madden's book deserves confidence--a most accurate and excellent -work."--_Dublin Medical Review._ - - - - -THE - -GENERAL FURNISHING - -AND - -UPHOLSTERY COMPANY - -(LIMITED), - -F. J. ACRES, MANAGER, - -24 and 25. Baker Street, W. - - * * * * * - -The Company are now Exhibiting all the most approved Novelties - -of the Season in - -CARPETS, CHINTZES, - -MUSLIN CURTAINS, - -And every variety of textile fabric for Upholstery purposes -constituting the most recherché selection in the trade. - - - - -NOW READY. - - * * * * * - -In Three Vols. - -THE NAVAL LIEUTENANT. - -BY F. C. ARMSTRONG, - -Author of "The Two Midshipmen," "The Medora," "The -Lily of Devon," "The Queen of the Seas," &c. - - * * * * * - -IN THE PRESS. - -In Three Vols. Price 31s. 6d. - -AN OLD MAN'S SECRET. - -A Novel. - -BY FRANK TROLLOPE, - -Author of "A Right-Minded Woman." - - -THE TOILET.--A due attention to the gifts and graces of the person, and -a becoming preservation of the advantages of nature, are of more value -and importance with reference to our health and well-being, than many -parties are inclined to suppose. Several of the most attractive portions -of the human frame are delicate and fragile, in proportion as they are -graceful and pleasing; and the due conservation of them is intimately -associated with our health and comfort. The hair, for example, from the -delicacy of its growth and texture, and its evident sympathy with the -emotions of the mind; the skin, with its intimate relation to the most -vital of our organs, as those of respiration, circulation and digestion, -together with the delicacy and susceptibility of its own texture; and -the teeth, also, from their peculiar structure, formed as they are, of -bone or dentine, and cased with a fibrous investment of enamel; these -admirable and highly essential portions of our frames, are all to be -regarded not merely as objects of external beauty and display, but as -having an intimate relation to our health, and the due discharge of the -vital functions. The care of them ought never to be entrusted to -ignorant or unskilful hands; and it is highly satisfactory to point out -as protectors of these vital portions of our frame the preparations -which have emanated from the laboratories of the Messrs. Rowlands, their -unrivalled Macassar for the hair, their Kalydor for improving and -beautifying the complexion, and their Odonto for the teeth and gums. - - * * * * * - -NEW NOVELS IN THE PRESS. - - * * * * * - -In Three Vols. - -THE MAITLANDS. - - * * * * * - -In Three Vols. - -TREASON AT HOME. - -By MRS. GREENOUGH. - - - -NEW WORKS IN THE PRESS. - - -I. - -In One Vol. Price 10s. 6d. - -THE ADVENTURES OF A SERF WIFE - -AMONG THE MINES OF SIBERIA. - - -II. - -In Three Vols. Price 31s. 6d. - -AN OLD MAN'S SECRET. - -A Novel. - -By FRANK TROLLOPE, - -Author of "A Right-Minded Woman." - - -III. - -In Three Vols. Price 31s. 6d. - -TREASON AT HOME. - -A Novel. - -By MRS. GREENOUGH. - -FAMILY MOURNING. - - -MESSRS. JAY - -Would respectfully announce that great saving may be -made by purchasing Mourning at their Establishment, - -THEIR STOCK OF - -FAMILY MOURNING - -BEING - -THE LARGEST IN EUROPE. - - -MOURNING COSTUME - -OF EVERY DESCRIPTION - -KEPT READY-MADE, - -And can be forwarded to Town or Country at a moment's -notice. - - -The most reasonable Prices are charged, and the wear -of every Article Guaranteed. - - -THE LONDON - -GENERAL MOURNING WAREHOUSE, - -247 & 248, REGENT STREET, - -(NEXT THE CIRCUS.) - -JAY'S. - - -Transcriber's Note: The oe ligature is shown as [oe]. The spelling and -punctuation are as printed in the original publication, with the -following exceptions: - - chidren is now children, beome is now become, recoun is now - recount, Lichmore is now Litchmore, atlhough is now although, - exercisd is now exercised, hinself is now himself, unfortuate is - now unfortunate, remostest is now remotest, Beding is now Bedding - and pacifiy is now pacify. - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's It May Be True Volume 1 of 3, by Mrs. Wood - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IT MAY BE TRUE VOLUME 1 OF 3 *** - -***** This file should be named 40418-8.txt or 40418-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/4/1/40418/ - -Produced by David Edwards, Sue Fleming and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - http://www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/40418-8.zip b/40418-8.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index a64ac0c..0000000 --- a/40418-8.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/40418-h.zip b/40418-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 0414d98..0000000 --- a/40418-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/40418-h/40418-h.htm b/40418-h/40418-h.htm index 58e8f9e..0040cd6 100644 --- a/40418-h/40418-h.htm +++ b/40418-h/40418-h.htm @@ -2,7 +2,7 @@ "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> <html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> <title> The Project Gutenberg eBook of It May Be True, Volume I by Mrs. Wood. @@ -75,47 +75,7 @@ hr.tb {width: 45%;} </style> </head> <body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of It May Be True Volume 1 of 3, by Mrs. Wood - -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: It May Be True Volume 1 of 3 - -Author: Mrs. Wood - -Release Date: August 6, 2012 [EBook #40418] -[Last updated: September 23, 2013] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IT MAY BE TRUE VOLUME 1 OF 3 *** - - - - -Produced by David Edwards, Sue Fleming and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40418 ***</div> <div class="figcenter" style="width: 233px;"> <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="233" height="400" alt="" /> @@ -6183,15 +6143,15 @@ presentation, and railway, to suit all classes.</p></blockquote> <p class="center">BENSON'S WATCHES.</p> -<p class="center">London-made levers, gold from £10 -10s., silver from £5 5s.</p> +<p class="center">London-made levers, gold from £10 +10s., silver from £5 5s.</p> <p class="center">33 & 34, <span class="smcap">Ludgate Hill</span>, London.</p> <p class="center">BENSON'S WATCHES.</p> -<blockquote><p>Swiss watches of guaranteed quality, gold from £5 5s.; silver from £2 +<blockquote><p>Swiss watches of guaranteed quality, gold from £5 5s.; silver from £2 12s. 6d.</p></blockquote> <p class="center">33 & 34, <span class="smcap">Ludgate Hill</span>, London.</p> @@ -6199,14 +6159,14 @@ presentation, and railway, to suit all classes.</p></blockquote> <p class="center">Benson's Exact Watch.</p> -<p class="center">Gold from £30; silver from £24.</p> +<p class="center">Gold from £30; silver from £24.</p> <p class="center">33 & 34, <span class="smcap">Ludgate Hill</span>, London.</p> <p class="center">Benson's Indian Watch.</p> -<p class="center">Gold, £23; silver, £11 11s.</p> +<p class="center">Gold, £23; silver, £11 11s.</p> <p class="center">33 & 34, <span class="smcap">Ludgate Hill</span>, London.</p> @@ -6232,7 +6192,7 @@ astronomical, regulator, shop, warehouse, office, counting house, &c.,</p></ <p class="center">BENSON'S CLOCKS.</p> <blockquote><p>Drawing room clocks, richly gilt, and ornamented with fine enamels from -the imperial manufactories of Sévres, from £200 to £2 2s.</p></blockquote> +the imperial manufactories of Sévres, from £200 to £2 2s.</p></blockquote> <p class="center">33 & 34. <span class="smcap">Ludgate Hill</span>, London.</p> @@ -6318,7 +6278,7 @@ THE MEDITERRANEAN ISLANDS, EGYPT, &c.</p></blockquote> <blockquote><p>"Dr. Madden has been to most of the places he describes, and his book contains the advantage of a guide, with the personal experience of a traveller. To persons who have determined that they ought to have change -of climate, we can recommend Dr. Madden as a guide."—<i>Athenæum.</i></p></blockquote> +of climate, we can recommend Dr. Madden as a guide."—<i>Athenæum.</i></p></blockquote> <blockquote><p>"It contains much valuable information respecting various favorite places of resort, and is evidently the work of a well-informed @@ -6512,387 +6472,6 @@ following exceptions: now unfortunate, remostest is now remotest, Beding is now Bedding and pacifiy is now pacify.</div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's It May Be True Volume 1 of 3, by Mrs. Wood - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IT MAY BE TRUE VOLUME 1 OF 3 *** - -***** This file should be named 40418-h.htm or 40418-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/4/1/40418/ - -Produced by David Edwards, Sue Fleming and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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