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@@ -1,39 +1,4 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mabel, Vol. I (of 3), by Emma Warburton - -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 - - -Title: Mabel, Vol. I (of 3) - A Novel - -Author: Emma Warburton - -Release Date: December 5, 2012 [EBook #41564] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MABEL, VOL. I (OF 3) *** - - - - -Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Veronika Redfern 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 41564 *** MABEL. @@ -1540,7 +1505,7 @@ himself so now. Why, he must be nearly seventy." "Then who was that fine young man that was walking down the road just now, with light whiskers, and a military air. I did not expect to see -such a handsome, _distingue_ looking young man down in the country +such a handsome, _distingué_ looking young man down in the country here." "That is Mr. Ware's nephew," said Mabel. @@ -1619,7 +1584,7 @@ marriages, and of their coming to nothing after all." "But that is why I think match-making anything but amusing," said Mabel. -"But then all the _eclat_ of a conquest would be gone," suggested Lucy, +"But then all the _éclat_ of a conquest would be gone," suggested Lucy, "if there were no talking beforehand. I assure you, last year, there were I do not know how many half offers in our family. Selina and I used to walk round the Crescent and count them all up, and they helped us @@ -2457,7 +2422,7 @@ the door, and Mabel entered to tell them that luncheon waited them in the sitting-room. Mrs. Villars started up, full of business and bustle, which she felt to -be a welcome relief after the morning's _tete-a-tete_, and hurried down +be a welcome relief after the morning's _tête-à -tête_, and hurried down stairs. Mabel regarded her mother's pale looks with affectionate anxiety; but there was little time for thought, as Mrs. Villars and her maid kept the house in a perfect ferment for the next five minutes. @@ -2921,7 +2886,7 @@ promise to show her some improvements he had been making amongst the evergreens in the shrubbery; and Lucy Villars gladly seized the opportunity of commencing a flirting conversation with Captain Clair, who, being well drilled in the accomplishment of small talk, by long -practice, easily fell into a _tete-a-tete_. +practice, easily fell into a _tête-à -tête_. Mabel's hand was placed affectionately in the old man's arm, as they walked on together, finding some kindred thought from every topic they @@ -4855,7 +4820,7 @@ with contempt. Mabel herself, as keenly susceptible to pain as she was open to pleasure, could scarcely understand the variable nature of her cousin's -disposition, which, at times attracted her by its _naivete_ and candour, +disposition, which, at times attracted her by its _naiveté_ and candour, at others, alarmed her by its indifference and frivolity. Though really a little hurt at the coolness with which she prepared to leave her, directly it suited her own convenience, after her many professions, she @@ -6373,7 +6338,7 @@ you will do well.") Page 158, "siezed" changed to "seized". (Lucy Villars gladly seized the opportunity of commencing a flirting conversation with Captain Clair, who, being well drilled in the accomplishment of small talk, by long -practice, easily fell into a _tete-a-tete_.) +practice, easily fell into a _tête-à -tête_.) Page 163, "compostion" changed to "composition". (My dear uncle, you should allow a prisoner to state his own case fairly--if he has not @@ -6475,362 +6440,4 @@ me," murmured Amy ...) End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mabel, Vol. I (of 3), by Emma Warburton -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MABEL, VOL. 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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 - - -Title: Mabel, Vol. I (of 3) - A Novel - -Author: Emma Warburton - -Release Date: December 5, 2012 [EBook #41564] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MABEL, VOL. I (OF 3) *** - - - - -Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Veronika Redfern and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net -(This file was produced from images generously made -available by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - MABEL. - - A NOVEL, - BY EMMA WARBURTON. - - _IN THREE VOLUMES._ - - VOL. I. - - - LONDON: - - THOMAS CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER, - 30, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE. - 1854. - - - - - TO - MISS EMMA TYLNEY LONG, - THIS WORK - IS INSCRIBED - AS A SLIGHT BUT SINCERE EXPRESSION - OF GRATEFUL ESTEEM. - - - - - MABEL. - - - - - CHAPTER I. - - Oh, timely, happy, timely wise, - Hearts that with rising morn arise, - Eyes that the beam celestial view, - Which evermore makes all things new. - - New every morning is the love, - Our waking and uprising prove, - Through sleep and darkness safely brought, - Restored to life, and power, and thought. - - KEEBLE. - - -One morning, early in the month of August, a few years since, the sun -rose lazily and luxuriously over the hills that bounded the little -village of Aston, which lay in one of the prettiest valleys of -Gloucestershire. The golden beams of that glorious luminary falling -first upon the ivy-covered tower of the little church, seemed, to the -eye of fancy, to linger with pleasure round the sacred edifice, as if -glad to recognize the altar of Him, who, from the beginning, had fixed -his daily course through the bright circle of the heavens, then pouring -a flood of brilliancy on the simple rectory, danced over the hills, and -played with the many windows of the old Manor House, which, situated at -a short distance from the church, formed one of the most striking -objects of the village. - -Only here and there a thick volume of smoke rose from the cottages -scattered over the valley, while the only living object visible was a -young man, who thus early walked down the steep and winding path, which -led from the rectory, and strolled leisurely forward, as if attracted by -the beauties of the early morning. The slow pace with which he moved -seemed to betoken either indolence or fatigue, while his dress, which -was of the latest fashion, slightly contrasted with the ancient-looking -simplicity of the place. - -Captain Clair, for such was his name, had quitted his regiment, then in -India, and returned to England, with the hope of recruiting his health, -which had been considerably impaired by his residence abroad. - -On the preceding evening, he had arrived at the rectory, upon a visit to -his uncle, who wished him to try the bracing air of Gloucestershire as a -change from town, where he had been lingering for some little time since -his return to England. - -In person, the young officer was slight and well made, with a becoming -military air; his countenance light and fresh colored, spite of Indian -suns, and, on the whole, prepossessing, though not untinged by certain -worldly characters, as if he had entered perhaps too thoughtlessly on a -world of sin and temptation. - -There is, however, something still and holy in the early morning, when -the sin and folly of nature has slept, or seemed to sleep, and life -again awakes with fresh energy to labor. The dew from heaven has not -fallen upon the herb alone, it seems to rest upon the spirit of man -which rises full of renewed strength to that toil before which it sank -heavily at eve; and as Captain Clair felt the breeze rising with its -dewy incense to heaven, his mind seemed to receive fresh impetus, and -his thoughts a higher tone. Languidly as he pursued his way, his eye -drank in the beauties of a new country, with all the fervour of a -poetical imagination. - -On the right and left of the village, as he entered it, were high hills, -covered with brushwood, a few cottages, with their simple gardens, lay -in the hollow, and the church, standing nearly alone, was built a -little above these, having the hill on the left immediately behind it. -There was great beauty in that simple church, with that thickly covered -hill above, and nothing near to disturb its solemnity. - -Further on, the hills opened, and gave a view of the whole country -beyond, presenting a scene of loveliness very common in our fertile -island. A small but beautiful river wound through the valley, carrying -life and fertility along its banks. Wide spreading oaks and tall -beeches, with the graceful birch and chestnut trees bending their lower -branches nearly to the green turf beneath, enclosed the grounds of the -Manor House, which, built on a gentle ascent, looked down on the -peaceful valley below. - -The house, itself, was a fine old building, well suited to the habits of -a country gentleman, though not so large as the gardens and plantation -surrounding it, might have admitted. These had been gradually acquired -by each successive owner of the mansion, who took pleasure in adding to -the family estate by purchasing all property immediately adjoining, but -had wisely refrained from patching and spoiling the house itself. - -Captain Clair was determined to admire every thing; he had got up -unusually early, and that in itself was a meritorious action, which put -him in perfect good humour with himself. It was a very pleasant morning, -too, numbers of insects, he had scarcely ever seen or thought of since -he was a boy, attracted his attention, and flew out from the dewy -hedges, over which the white lily, or bindweed, hung in careless grace. -The butterfly awoke, and sported in the sunshine--and the bee went forth -to the busy labors of the day, humming the song of cheerful industry. -All combined to bring back long forgotten days of innocent childhood and -boyish mirth; the pulse which an Indian clime had weakened, beat -quicker, and his spirits revived before the influence of happy memories -and the healthy breezes of the Cotswold. Then, as the morning advanced, -he lingered to watch the movements of the villagers, and to muse upon -the characters of the inmates of the different cottages as he passed -them, and to observe that those who dwelt in the neatest were those who -stirred the first. The labourers had gone to their work, and now the -windows and doors were opened, and children came forth to play. - -As he returned again to reach the rectory in time for its early -breakfast, he perceived one dwelling much superior in character to those -around it, with its antique gable front ornamented with carefully -arranged trelliswork, over which creepers twined in flowery luxuriance, -and the simple lawn sloping down towards the road, from which a low, -sunk fence divided it. Here, careless of observation, a young child had -seated herself--her straw hat upon the turf beside her, while she was -busily engaged in twining for it a wreath of the wild lily, forgetful -that in a few minutes its beauty would perish; she was a lovely child, -the outline of her infantine features was almost faultless, and her -little face dimpled with smiles as she looked up from her occupation to -nod some brief salutation to the poor men as they passed her on their -way home. - -Arthur Clair could scarcely tell, why, of all the objects he had -observed that morning, none should make so deep an impression as the -sight of that young child, or why he felt almost sad, as he thought of -her twining those fading flowers, and as he strolled on, why, he looked -at nothing further, but still found himself musing on the delicate -features of that young face. - -When he reached the garden gate, he found his uncle strolling about, -waiting for him. - -Mr. Ware was a fine looking old gentleman, with silver hair curling over -a wide and expansive forehead. Though a little under the middle height, -there was a gentle dignity in his manner that could scarcely fail to be -noticed, or if not noticed, it was sure to be felt. He was neither very -witty, nor very learned--yet none knew him very long without liking him. -His face, not originally striking, had become more handsome as he had -grown older--for the struggle between good and evil, which must be in -every well principled mind, a perpetual struggle, had been carried on by -him for many years, and so successfully, that each year brought heaven -nearer to the good man's thoughts; and now, as the race was so nearly -finished, his zeal became more earnest, and his conscience more tender; -fearing, lest, after a life spent in his Master's service, he might be -found lingering at the last, and lose the prize for which he had been so -long striving. In his eye was that look of serenity and peace which -seemed to say, "he feared no evil tidings;" for he walked continually -under the protection, which only can give that feeling of security which -those who have it not would bestow great riches to possess. We have -lingered longer than we at first intended in description, but, perhaps -not too long. - -When we look back to the innocence of childhood, we sigh to think that -we can never be children again; we recall that happy time when the world -had not written its own characters of sin and falsehood in our hearts; -we sigh to think that childhood is gone--but no sigh will recall it. But -when we see an old man who has passed the waves of this troublesome -world, true to the faith with which he entered life, we feel that here -is an example which we may follow. Childhood we have left behind, but -old age is before us, and if we live on, must come; and, as the body -decays, do we not feel that the spirit should increase in holiness and -strength, preparing itself for that beautiful world of light which it -must enter or die. - -Mr. Ware had resided for many years at Aston; when a younger man, he had -been tutor, for a few months, to Colonel Hargrave, the present -possessor of the Aston property--and though with his pupil, only during -a tour through Italy, the attachment between them was such, that the -young man solicited his father to prefer his tutor to Aston, when that -living became vacant, partly, he told him, from his wish to secure -himself a friend and companion, whenever he visited home. Mr. Ware -gratefully accepted an offer which at once placed him in independence; -and, as soon as he had settled himself in his new house, he carried one -of his favourite projects into execution, by sending for his only -sister, who had been obliged to procure her livelihood as a governess; -his own small means being, since their father's death, insufficient for -both. - -It was not then for his own sake entirely that he rejoiced in his -improved circumstances. When he drove his neat little carriage to meet -his sister, and when he brought her home, and shewed her his -house--their house as he called it--with its pretty comfortable -sitting-room, looking out upon the garden, and the neat little chamber, -where all her old favourite books--recovered from the friend who had -taken charge of them during her wanderings--rested upon the neatly -arranged shelves, he felt as happy as man can wish to be. And when, with -eyes glistening with pleasure, he assured her that it was her home as -long as she lived--he said what he never found reason to repent, for the -cheerful face of his companion bore perpetual remembrance of his -brotherly kindness. - -He had once thought of marriage; but the idea had now passed away -entirely. In early years, he had been sincerely attached to a school -friend of his sister's, whom he had met during one of his Oxford -vacations; but she died early, leaving her memory too deeply impressed, -to make him wish to replace it by giving his affection to another. His -sister, now almost his only near relative, had sympathised, most -sincerely, in his loss, and had endeavoured to aid his own manly -judgment in regaining that cheerfulness of tone so necessary for the -right discharge of the every-day duties of life. She had been rewarded -by the more than usual continuation of a brother's early love and -esteem, and she had, therefore, no scruple of accepting his offer of -protection, and a home. - -From that time, she had continued to keep his house with the most -cheerful attention to his wishes and whims, and with an evenness of -temper which had always been peculiar to her. - -There was an air of gaiety about the whole house; the two maid-servants -and the old gardener seemed to possess peculiarly good tempers--they -were, indeed, scarcely ever disturbed, and we may venture to add, that -they were not very much overworked. - -There were hives of bees in the garden, chickens in the court-yard, and -the gaily-feathered cock strutting about, giving a lazy crow now and -then--all seeming to take their ease, and enjoy themselves. In fact, -there was a blessing on the good man's home, that was always smiling -round it. - -It was to this pleasant abode that the young soldier had come down -wearied with London amusements, like some strange being who had yet to -find a place in its social order. - -"You are fortunate, sir," he said, as he strolled down the garden by his -uncle's side, "in your neighbourhood. I have seldom seen anything before -more comfortably beautiful, if I may use the expression." - -"I am glad you like it," replied Mr. Ware, "and I assure you I shall be -quite contented if it has the power to make you spend a month or two -here agreeably. If you are fond of scenery, there are many places worth -seeing, even within a walking distance." - -"I suppose the Manor House is amongst the number?" observed his nephew, -"I have been admiring it extremely. I cannot think why Hargrave does -not come down here. Has he been since he came into the property?" - -"Yes--but only once, and then only for a short while; but you speak as -if you knew him?" - -"A little," replied Clair, "he came home with us from Malta; but -friendship, sometimes, ripen fast. He found out my relationship to you, -which commenced our acquaintance; I was charmed with him--indeed, I -scarcely ever met more variety in any character. Sometimes I could -scarcely keep pace with his flow of spirits, and then he would fall into -a fit of musing, piquing my curiosity to discover why so great a change -should take place, as it were, in an instant--in short, I'd defy any one -to get into his confidence. But you know him, sir?" - -"Yes," said Mr. Ware, "I knew him very well at one time; his father sent -me with him to Italy, and in return, the generous boy obtained me this -preferment. But I have not seen him now, I think, for six or seven -years--though we write to each other occasionally. You must tell me more -about him at your leisure, however, for he is a great favourite with -Mary as well as myself; but now, I think, you must be ready for -breakfast--Mary is waiting for us, I see. Afterwards, if you are not -tired, we will pay a visit to the church--there are two or three -monuments of the Hargrave family worth looking at." - -"You are very kind," replied Clair, "I am sure I feel better already -with the fresh country air--and health after sickness is happiness -itself, sometimes." - -At this moment, Miss Ware opened the glass door which led into the -garden. She was dressed, with studied simplicity, in a black silk gown, -with white muslin apron, and her cap, looking as white as snow, fastened -round the head by a broad lilac ribbon; but the smile upon her face was -the best of all, and was never wanting at the breakfast-table, for she -always maintained that no one had a right to be dull after a good -night's rest, or to anticipate the troubles of the day before they came. - -"Good morning, Edmund," said she to her brother, "and good morning, -Arthur," giving her hand to her nephew. "I was just preparing to send -your breakfast up-stairs, when I heard you had been out for more than -two hours." - -"I am not sorry to save you the trouble of nursing me, aunt--I have had -enough of that in London," said Clair, gaily, as he followed her to the -morning-room, where breakfast waited them. The meal was dispatched with -cheerfulness, and he amused his aunt by an account of his walk, and the -guesses which it had allowed him to make of the character of their -poorer neighbours, with whom she was herself well acquainted. - -After breakfast, Mr. Ware invited him to join his morning ramble. - -"I shall have an opportunity," he said, as they descended the hill -leading to the lower part of the village, "of pointing out to you some -of the evils of absenteeism--of which you have, doubtless, heard much. I -have always noticed, that what we gain from our own observation is worth -much more than the information of others. In this little spot, -unhappily, you will see very much to condemn. I have already told you -that our landlord, Colonel Hargrave, has not been here for more than six -years, and before that visit, which was chiefly occupied in field -sports, his sojourn here had been very rare, for his talented mind led -him to seek the more extensive knowledge to be gained from foreign -travel, even before he entered the army. His father, who has now been -dead some years, constantly resided here, till the death of his wife, -which made Aston a very different place from what it is at present. Poor -Mrs. Hargrave was universally beneficent, and was so much loved and -respected by the people in this neighbourhood, rich as well as poor, -that her name is scarcely ever mentioned without the title of 'good' -being added to it. The time when good Mrs. Hargrave lived is always -looked back upon with affectionate regret. When she died, however, her -husband, who was passionately fond of her, took a distaste to a place -which constantly reminded him of his loss, and he only paid very casual -visits to it during the remainder of his life, which did not last long -after the domestic blow he had sustained. At present, the estate is in -the hands of a rapacious bailiff, who amply fulfils that proverb, which -says, 'A poor man that oppresseth the poor is like a sweeping rain which -leaveth no food.' Unfortunately, I have no influence with him, and as he -has to pay me tithe, he regards me in the light of others who are -dependent upon him. It is an unhappy state of things, certainly, for the -wages of the poor laborers employed on the estate, are, in some cases, -kept back for months together. You may easily fancy how difficult it is -for men to live under these circumstances, having no other resource -beyond the fruit of their labors." - -They had, by this time, reached the hollow between the two hills, where -a great many cottages were situated. About them was an appearance of -neglect, that is, at all times, disagreeable to contemplate. In most -parts, the thatch had become blackened by the weather, and here and -there pieces of it had been blown off by the high winds, or were kept in -place only by heavy stones laid upon the roof. In some places the walls, -which bounded the little gardens, had been suffered to crumble -down--loose stones lying in the gaps, but no effort seemed to have been -made to replace them. A ditch ran along the road, partially covered with -long grass and weeds; but the glimpses here and there afforded of it, -told that it was used as a receptacle for the drains of that part of the -parish--and a noxious stench arose from it exercising a baneful -influence, as might be seen by the pale faces of the children who played -about it. - -Added to this, there was a desponding tone over the general features of -the place, which might have accounted for the wastes of ground which -might be seen, here and there, covered with weeds, rather than converted -to any useful purpose. - -"Surely," said Clair, attracting his uncle's attention, "this -self-neglect cannot be attributed to Hargrave?" - -"Not altogether," replied Mr. Ware, "this is an evil which I hope time -will remedy; there is, indeed, no excuse for it; yet the reason I -believe simply to be, that the people, losing their accustomed -stimulant, arising from a resident family, and depressed by the low and -uncertain wages they receive from an oppressive bailiff, have not yet -learned to take care of themselves; but yet I hope, from day to day," -said the good man, looking round, "it would not do for me to despond as -well as the rest." - -Stepping over a small plank that crossed the ditch, they entered one of -the cottages. The interior presented a kind of untidy comfort; a large -heap of fuel lay in one corner, and a bed was at one side, and seemed -used as a substitute for a seat during the day. The windows, where panes -had been broken, were filled up with dirty rags; two or three children -were playing about with naked feet, and their mother, a remarkably -pretty young woman, was working at the darkened window. By the fire was -seated a strong hale young man, with his hands upon his knees, -contemplating it with gloomy fixedness. A red cap ornamented his head, -and partly shaded a pair of dark eyes, and a scowling countenance. - -Mr. Ware could not but enter the cottage with the consciousness that he -was not particularly welcome; yet this did not render his visits less -frequent. - -"Well, Martin," said he, "I am sorry to see you at home, for I fear you -are out of work." - -The man answered, without rising from his seat-- - -"I am out of work, and so I am likely to remain, I suppose. It is -up-hill work to have nothing better to look to than this comes to--and -it is very hard to be owed ever so much money, which I have earned by as -honest labor as was ever given in exchange for money. I have heard you -read--'_cursed is he that keepeth a man's wages all night by him until -the morning_,'--but I don't know what would be said to him that can keep -them for months, letting a poor man starve, without thinking of him for -a moment. When rent day comes round, then it must be rent, or turn out; -we hav'nt got no power in our hands; but I say 'tis a very hard case." - -"It is very hard, I allow, Martin," said Mr. Ware, "but the wrong done -you does not excuse your sitting here idle; have you been trying for -work?" - -"Yes, I've been to all the farmers round; but there's none to be got." - -"How do you manage to get on then?" - -"We live as we can," answered the man, sullenly. - -"Well, my good fellow," said Mr. Ware, kindly, "make another effort, and -do not sit down here idle all day. I hear that Colonel Hargrave is -coming to England shortly, if, indeed, he is not already here." - -"We have heard that so often," growled Martin, "that we cannot put any -faith in it. He'll never come to do us any good, I reckon." - -Mr. Ware offered him a little more advice as to exerting himself, and -then, with a small gratuity to his wife, left the cottage with his -nephew. - -"He is a notorious poacher," said he, as they walked on, "and his excuse -is, if they do not give us our own money, we must take an equivalent. -It is difficult to preach while poverty and starvation are opposed to -the maxims we would wish to inculcate. I wish something could make the -Colonel believe the actual state of things; but I do sometimes fear he -entirely forgets us. In that neat-looking dwelling," he continued, after -a pause, "lives a woman, who has hitherto obtained her livelihood by -supplying the poor inhabitants with bread and other necessaries; for -some months past, however, Rogers, the bailiff, has found excuses to -withhold the wages from most of the workmen engaged in repairing the -premises at Aston, and they have been obliged to live upon credit, which -this poor woman has been persuaded to give them--in consequence, she -tells me, she is nearly ruined; and from the confusion in which her -money matters stand, she has fallen quite into a state of melancholy. I -went to her yesterday, so that I will not ask you to see her to-day; but -we will come in here," he said, at the same time lifting the latch of a -door, which opened into a small room, more like some hovel, attached to -a tenement which contained several families. - -It was a wretched-looking place, and Clair could scarcely suppress a -shudder as he entered it. It was but badly lighted from a broken window; -an old piece of furniture served, at once, for a table and a sort of -cupboard; two chairs, and a stool, completed the furniture, with the -exception of a shelf, on which the poverty of the house was displayed, -in half a loaf of bread which rested on it. Here an old man sat by the -smouldering embers of a wood fire, holding his hands as close to it as -possible, as if he hoped to find comfort in the miserable heat it -afforded, for his thin hands looked cold, though it was still early in -autumn. He welcomed them with pleasure, and offered his two chairs to -the gentlemen with ready alacrity, taking possession of the stool for -himself. - -While Mr. Ware continued talking to the old man, Clair gave a searching -glance round the poor dwelling, and trembled to think how the cold -December wind would whistle through the old window; but when he thought -of asking some questions concerning it, he was checked, by hearing the -two old men discourse with such apparent ease and cordiality, as if they -had entirely forgotten where they were. - -"Is it really possible, sir," said he, when they had left, "that nothing -can be done for that poor old man?" - -"I fear nothing can be done," returned Mr. Ware, "unless we can persuade -Hargrave to return to us." - -"But how," enquired Clair, "would his coming remedy the evil." - -"It would do so in a great measure," replied Mr. Ware, as they turned -homewards. "A man with his wealth could afford to keep all that are now -out of labour, well employed. A farmer cannot well afford to pay an old -man for the little labour he can give, but a rich landlord can easily -find him employment; at a lower rate of wages, of course. Formerly, -those who were too old for hard work, were allowed to sweep away the -leaves, or clean the weeds from the walks on the estate, which were a -few years since beautifully kept. The absence of a rich family in a -place where the people have learnt to depend upon them, is a serious -loss. You will wonder, perhaps, that I do not instantly, and fully -relieve the situation of the old man we visited just now, but the -poverty which has prevailed in almost every house during the past year, -has been very great; and I have been obliged to divide my charity so as -to make it more extensive. Besides, I do not much approve of giving -where it can be avoided; and, therefore, husband my means for the -scarcity of the coming winter." - -"I should have guessed," said his nephew, "that some such motive -influenced you, or I know such cases would meet with instant -relief--but of one thing, I am certain, Hargrave cannot be aware of -this." - -"We will hope not," said Mr. Ware, somewhat sadly; "but I have written -to him frequently, and if Rogers gave me the proper directions, it is -hardly likely my letters have not reached him. It is too probable, that, -like many more, he relies too much upon his bailiff." - -They had, by this time, reached the rectory, and Clair, exhausted from -unusual exercise, threw himself into an arm-chair, and took up a book. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - - From dream to dream, with her to rove, - Like faery nurse, with hermit child, - Teach her to think, to pray, to love, - Make grief less bitter, joy less wild. - These were thy tasks,--. - - CHURCH POETRY. - - -About a quarter of a mile from the rectory, and close to the Church, was -the pretty little residence which had attracted Clair's attention in his -morning walk. It was an old fashioned little house, with gable front, -and latticed windows, with ivy climbing over the walls, and jasmine and -honeysuckle creeping in rich luxuriance over the old porch. In front, -the grass-plot sloped down, with a wide gravel walk running round it, -to the gate, which shut it in from the high road. At the back lay a -spacious vegetable garden, irregularly laid out, and interrupted here -and there by a rose-bush, or bed of beautiful carnations, as it suited -the old gardener's taste--for he had lived in the family so many years, -that no one dared dispute his will in the garden--it was conducted on -his most approved style of good gardening; and old John would have -defended that style against all the world. To have discharged him from -her service would have been one of the last things his mistress would -have thought of; therefore, the only alternative was to let him have his -own way in every thing. One part of his system was to put every thing in -the place best suited to its growth, without much regard to order, and -the garden often presented a strange medley in consequence; the hottest -corners were shared by early lettuces, and rich double stocks, and -radish beds, and so on, throughout the garden; but there was something -not unpleasing in the mixture, though it looked a little singular, and -the general neatness was not to be found fault with--and the turf walks -cutting the garden in many directions, were always smoothly cut and -rolled. - -The spot where old John was most certain to be found, was just in the -middle of the garden, where he had enclosed a small piece of ground by a -high and closely clipped yew hedge, to keep out the wind. In this small -enclosure, were two or three hot-beds, with cucumbers, melons, or some -very early radishes, or cress under glass frames. He had always -something to do round these beds, the matting covers were to be put on -or taken off, and the glasses opened a little more, and more, as the day -advanced, and then, of course, to be closed again, by degrees, towards -evening. If any one touched them but himself, he looked as if his whole -crop must inevitably be spoilt; but the secret might have been, that, he -had always some little surprise to bring out of them, such as a -cucumber ten days earlier than could have been expected; or some mustard -and cress, before any one else thought of planting any, which, of -course, was not to be seen till quite ready for the table. - -There was an appearance about the inside of the house, as well as of the -garden, as if a great deal of money had been spent upon it formerly, for -there were many solid and ornamental comforts in both, which might have -been dispensed with if required. - -The drawing-room, though small, was substantially and elegantly -furnished, though old fashioned; every thing in the room too bore the -evidence of refined habits, but nothing told of any present expenditure. -Such as it had been ten years before, it very much remained now. The -dining-room and usual sitting-room, had much of the same appearance -though it did not give quite the same reflective, feeling--ladies' work, -and a child's playthings, gave life and animation to it. - -Colonel Lesly had lived here for many years since his retirement from -the army, having lost a leg during the Peninsular war, where he had -served as a brave officer, and only retired from the service when unable -to be of further use to it. On his return to England, he, with his wife -and child, settled in his native county--and fixed on this cottage for -his residence. His wife was most sincerely attached to him, and her -society with that of their daughter Mabel, made him scarcely regret, -being obliged so soon to retire from a profession so well adapted to his -tastes. He had been fond of reading, when a boy, and had not neglected -the opportunities presented by his wandering abroad, to cultivate his -taste for general information. One of his chief pleasures soon became -that of teaching his little Mabel all he knew, and her intelligent -questions often led him to take an interest in subjects he might -otherwise have neglected. - -Since their settling at Aston, Colonel and Mrs. Lesly had had several -children, who had all died in infancy, still leaving Mabel as the only -object of parental love; fondly did her father guard the young girl's -mind, growing in intelligence, and beauty, whilst her speaking features -lighted up with smiles whenever he came near. Proudly did he watch her -as each year gave her something more soft, more touching, more womanly; -and earnestly did he hope that life would be spared him to guide aright -a mind of such firmness and power, joined to feelings so warm and eager, -that it seemed to him a question which would have the ascendancy, heart -or mind. But that wish was not to be granted, and Mabel's first real -sorrow, was her father's death. He had gone on a short visit to London, -upon some urgent business, and had there taken the typhus fever, which -made its appearance soon after his return home, and, acting on an -enfeebled constitution, carried him to his grave, after a short illness. -A few days after his death, Mabel's youngest sister was born. It was, -indeed, to a house of sorrow and mourning, that the little child came, -for her mother's constitution never recovered the shock she had -sustained in the loss of one, not only most dear, but on whom she had -become almost wholly dependent. - -It was then that Mabel felt the benefit of her father's lessons so -firmly impressed on her mind, and resolved to act as she believed he -would have led her to do, could he have been allowed the power of -guiding her still. So severely did her mother feel the loss she had -sustained, both in health and spirits, that she rather required support -herself than felt able to afford it to those dependent on her; Mabel, -therefore, soon felt the necessity of exerting herself, as all the -family responsibilities seemed left entirely to her care. - -As soon then as she could at all recover from the blow occasioned by her -father's death, she applied herself to the management of their now -reduced income, and busied herself in cutting off all the expenses -which the Colonel's liberal habits had rendered almost necessary to his -happiness, but which were now quite beyond their means. - -In the course of her enquiries, she had no greater opponent than old -John; he first insisted that he himself was quite indispensable to the -arrangements of the family; and when he had gained that point, he was -equally obstinate about the carriage and ponies. But Mabel had the -advantage in that particular, at least; the old gardener was left in -quiet possession--but the coach-house and stable were shut up--and after -many a battle with their old friend, everything else that could be -dispensed with, was cut off, till the expenditure was reduced to -something within their income. John pined and fretted, but his young -mistress had such a winning way, he could not keep his ill-humour long. -He had declared, during one of his contests, that she never could be -happy without the pretty pony which had carried her up and down the -hills so often; but he was obliged to give up the point, when he saw the -delight with which she carried her infant sister in her arms and danced -her in the sunshine, with half a mother's hope and pride, as if she -wanted nothing more to make her perfectly happy. - -Sometimes, when the child grew older, she would take her to gather the -yellow cress, or the cowslip, and watch her trembling steps with the -most careful attention, or lead her to the church-yard, and there, -seated on their father's tomb, give her her first lesson in eternal -things. And then they would return together to cheer their mother's -solitude, and try to divert her from her never ceasing regrets; and thus -years passed by, and if sorrow laid again its heavy hand on Mabel's -brow, resignation had followed to smooth away its lines, and leave it -soft and gentle as before. - -On that bright August morning, which we have before described, she was -sitting with her little sister, now a beautiful but weak and unhealthy -child, of seven or eight, at her lessons in the cheerful little -sitting-room. Mabel--with her bright, quick eye, changing color, and -speaking countenance over which a thought, perhaps a single shade of -mournfulness had been cast, and the little girl by her side looked well -together, and they were almost always in company. Amy was at her French -lesson, which that morning seemed peculiarly hard to learn, and much as -she always tried to please her sister, she could not help turning her -wandering eyes rather often to the open window to watch the butterflies -flit past in the merry sunshine. - -"It is so difficult, Mabel dear," said she, at length, "I learnt it -perfectly this morning, but I cannot remember the words now." - -"Well, try once more," replied Mabel; "but you must not look out of the -window." - -"But my head aches so," said Amy, coaxingly, knowing that Mabel could -hardly ever resist her plea of illness. - -"Well, there is mamma's bell, and while I go to dress her, you can take -a run round the garden--but do not be long, or I shall have to call -you." - -Mabel went up-stairs, and Amy ran off to the garden--her first object -was the fruit trees, to see if any were on the ground--she found -none--but many beautiful ripe peaches were on one tree, which was -carefully trained against the wall, and one finer than the rest, -perfectly ready, and peeping out from the leaves, looked peculiarly -tempting. She stopped to look, then felt it gently, then tried to see if -it were loose, till one unfortunate push, and the peach tumbled to the -ground. Amy looked frightened, and gazed round to see if any one was in -sight, but seeing no one, she picked it up, and began to eat it. - -Suddenly the awful step of old John was heard coming from the -cucumber-bed. - -"How did you get that peach, miss?" he said, roughly. - -The child turned red, but answered quickly, - -"I picked it up." - -"Well, I would not have lost that peach," said he, "for half-a-dozen -others. Miss Mabel told me to save half-a-dozen for Mr. Ware, and this -was the best of the lot--I shan't have such another beauty this year. -Oh, miss." - -"But you said I might have all I picked up," answered Amy, clinging to -her subterfuge. - -"Yes; but I thought this was too firm to fall, watching it as I did -too," said he, as he looked in consternation from the tree to the half -eaten peach in Amy's hand. - -The child was not long in taking advantage of his silence, and ran into -the house just in time to take up the French lesson before Mabel -returned. - -There was a look of indignation not easily mistaken by Amy on her -sister's face, when she entered the room. - -"Oh, Amy," she said, in tones of anger and surprise. - -Amy looked up, but said nothing--she was frightened, for she knew that -she had been doing wrong. - -"I did not think," said Mabel, while an expression of contempt curled -her beautiful lip, "I did not think you could be so mean as to screen -yourself from blame by a falsehood." - -Amy was going to speak, but her sister interrupted her. - -"I know every word you would say; but it is all, all wrong. I heard -every word, and I dare say, guessed every thought. You did not really -mean to pick the peach, but you could not resist the temptation to -loosen its hold. When it fell, you were surprised and sorry; but you -could not resist the temptation to eat, because you were alone, and -thought that no one saw you; then, when John came, you turned coward, -because you were wrong, and told him you had picked it up--and this was -true, though it was also true that you were the means of knocking it -down first--so you had neither the courage to speak the truth, nor tell -a falsehood." - -Mabel spoke quickly and impetuously, and as the whole truth glared on -the child's mind, the hot tears fell quickly on her burning cheek. - -"You do not love me, Mabel," she said. - -"Because I will not let you be mean, deceitful, and wicked. What would -papa have said had he seen his child act so?" - -"Oh, forgive me, dear Mabel, and do not talk like that," said Amy. - -There was a tear in Mabel's eye that softened the severity of her tone, -and sitting down by her, she said, more quietly-- - -"Amy, love, in that little action, I saw enough to make me indignant, -and more to make me sorry; for if you do not get rid of that deceit, -which has led you wrong now, it will go on, leading you into worse -errors, and how can I take care of you if I am not certain you are -speaking the truth. Falsehood is the beginning of all sin; and you will -learn to deceive me; and when I think my darling is all I wish her, I -shall discover something hidden and sinful, that will tell me I am -wrong. Oh, I am so vexed." - -"Forgive me--oh, do say you forgive me?" cried the punished child. - -"Have I the power to forgive what is sinful?" said Mabel, kissing her -affectionately. - -Amy understood, and running to the chamber where they both slept, she -fell upon her knees, and clasped her little hands in prayer. - -A child's repentance is not very long, and Amy soon returned, her -countenance meek and subdued, and looked timidly at her sister. - -"Now then, Amy," said Mabel, "prepare yourself for a difficult -duty--come and tell John all you have done." - -Amy hesitated and trembled. - -"He will be so cross," said she, entreatingly. - -"Very likely; but you are not a coward now--you are not afraid to do -right. It is difficult, I know, for John will not understand what you -feel, and may remember it for a long time; but still you will come." - -Amy gave her trembling hand to her sister, and, with a very blank -countenance, accompanied her in search of John. - -They had to go all over the garden; but found him, at length, standing -disconsolate by the peach-tree. - -"John," said Amy. - -"Yes, miss," replied the old man, gloomily, and half angrily. - -"John," she continued, "I touched the peach, and that was why it fell -down." - -He looked too amazed to answer. - -"I am very, very sorry--will you forgive me for telling a falsehood?" -murmured Amy, beseechingly. - -John looked still very surprised and angry. - -"Miss Amy," he began, "I could not have thought you--" - -"But forgive her this time," interposed Mabel, "she is very sorry, and -it has been a hard struggle to come and tell you how very wrong she has -been." - -"Bless you, miss," answered the old gardener, quickly, "you are your own -father's child, and I know how much you must have suffered when you -found any kindred of your'n a telling lies. But I forgive you, Miss Amy, -and never you do wrong like that again. Bless you, Miss Mabel, for you -be leading the dear young lady in the right path, as well as walking in -it yourself." - - - - - CHAPTER III. - - Love not, love not, the thing you love may change. - - -What general interest is excited by the arrival of the post. Who ever -settled himself in a new place, for the shortest time, without making -himself acquainted with its details, the time when it arrives and -leaves? And who ever entirely loses this interest, spite of its often -more than daily occurrence? There is no sameness in it, because there is -no certainty. - -Letters only came to Aston twice in a week, and then they were brought -by a man--who could hardly be dignified by the title of postman--at -some uncertain time in the middle of the day. - -On these days the road by which he came was an object of interest to -Mabel and her sister, and they often walked in that direction to secure -any letters there might be for them, without waiting for their tardy -delivery. They were often joined by Mr. Ware on the same errand, and -that afternoon they overtook him as he was leisurely mounting the first -hill on the road. - -"Well, young ladies," said he, greeting them with a smile, "we are all -going to meet the postman as usual I suppose?" - -"Yes, sir," replied Mabel, "the post always seems to have sufficient -interest to make even you choose this road on Tuesdays and Fridays." - -"Well, I confess," he replied, "I always have great pleasure in seeing -the man turn the corner, besides, as he is so uncertain, one is tempted -to take a longer walk, expecting to see him every moment." - -"Yes," said Mabel, "we almost always meet him, and yet there is seldom -more than the possibility of a letter after all." - -"My hopes are not quite so indefinite," said Mr. Ware, "I am always -certain of a paper, which is often worth more to me than a letter. I -used to think when a person took great interest in the post it was a -sign that they were not quite happy at home or in themselves." - -"And do you not think so still?" said Mabel. - -"Not so much, certainly," he replied, "I think it often arises from the -feeling that we are not quite independent of the outer world till the -letters of the day have been read. Good and bad news must frequently -come by letter, and, therefore, as long as we have any friends separated -from us, we must feel a little anxious to know if there be any news at -all." - -"Do you not think," said Mabel, "that this is sometimes carried too far, -and may degenerate into almost a sickly feeling?" - -"Yes, certainly; I would not have any one indifferent on common -subjects, but too great attention to things of this kind must be wrong." - -"I have often thought so," said Mabel, thoughtfully, "when I have felt -quite anxious on seeing the man coming, and then when I open my letters, -full of the most ordinary business, I feel quite ashamed of myself." - -"And what were you really hoping for, dear child?" said Mr. Ware. - -The color rose fast over her truthful countenance, but at this moment -the postman himself was seen, and saved her the pain of answering. - -Mr. Ware soon secured his papers, and one or two letters, and being -anxious to convey one home to his nephew, he took leave of them where -the road separated. - -"Now then," said Mabel, when they had parted from him, "let us see which -will get home first, for mamma will be glad to get this letter from aunt -Villars." - -Amy reached home first, but Mabel quickly followed her to the -drawing-room. - -"Here, mamma, is a letter from aunt Villars," said Mabel, echoed by Amy. - -"From Caroline," said Mrs. Lesly, "I do not think it can be from -Caroline, for there is no Bath post-mark, it comes from Cheltenham." - -"Do open it mamma, and see if they are at Cheltenham," said Mabel. - -"Fetch me my glasses then," returned her mother, "stay--here they are, -but you must not hurry me, or my head will begin to ache again, it has -been very bad all the morning." - -"Oh, yes, mamma, there is plenty of time; come, Amy dear, and take your -bonnet off." - -Mabel had taken up her work before she again ventured to ask any -questions. At length she said-- - -"Is aunt Villars at Cheltenham, mamma?" - -"Yes, my dear, but only for a week or ten days." - -"Will she come and see us now she is so near?" she enquired. - -"I will read what she says about that, my dear," said Mrs. Lesly, taking -up the letter, (some part of the aunt's communications being always -mysteriously reserved). - -Here it is:-- - - "I cannot leave Gloucestershire without coming to see you, dear - Annie, and your sweet children, and therefore, if you say nothing - to the contrary, I will drive over some how on Monday, and remain - till Tuesday. If not asking too much of my dear sister, I shall - leave Lucy with you; she is not quite well, and a run in the - country will do her good, after the heat of Bath. My little girl - finds pleasure in anything, and I promise you she shall be very - good if you will let her come to you." - -"Oh, how nice, mamma," cried Amy. - -"Very nice that your aunt is coming, I allow," said Mrs. Lesly, "but I -do not know what to say to Lucy, all little girls are not so good as my -Amy." - -"It would be unkind to refuse her," said Mabel. - -"And if she is not well, poor child," added her mother. "I quite forget -how old Lucy is, she cannot be so very little after all." - -"But," said Amy, "aunt calls her, her little girl, and says she will be -very good; if she were grown up like Mabel, of course she would not be -naughty." - -"I do not know that," said Mrs. Lesly, with a smile, "grown up people -are often as naughty as little ones; so either way she was right to -promise. Well, we must have the spare room opened, it must be quite -damp, I fear, after being shut up so long." - -"Oh, no, mamma," said Mabel, "I open the windows every morning, myself, -so that I am sure the room is well aired." - -"There must be a fire there, however, I suppose," replied her mother, -trying to exert herself to think. - -"Yes, Betsy shall light a fire there to-day, and I will see that the -room is comfortable." - -"But stay," said Mrs. Lesly, who was always troubled by anything like -arrangements, "who is to sleep in Lucy's room when Caroline is gone. I -am afraid we cannot manage it." - -"We will see how old she is when she comes," suggested Mabel, "and if -she is afraid to sleep by herself Betsy must sleep with her; but from -what I remember she cannot be very young." - -"Well then, my dear," said her mother, "and so you will promise to -contrive to make everything comfortable; now nothing makes me so ill as -arranging, and your poor papa never left me anything of that kind to -think of. I remember once going down to Weymouth, when you were a baby. -I could not tell what I should do there, being obliged to sleep at an -hotel, for the first night, for we could not find a lodging, the town -was so very full. So when we came there, we could get nothing but a -small, uncomfortable room; and some how or other, we could not find any -of the baby's things without pulling our boxes all about so, and I was -so tired and teased, that I sat down, and--and-- - -"'Annie,' said he, 'now don't cry--I can bear anything better than your -tears--leave everything to me--it will be much the easiest plan.' - -"And so I did--and he put my nurse to work so busily, that my baby was -asleep before I could think about it; and the next morning he was up -early, managed to secure us a lodging, and made us all comfortable. Ah, -I am afraid he spoilt me, I do not know how to do anything now, I -fear." - -"Well, dear mamma," said Mabel, twining her arm round her neck, and -kissing her affectionately, "I would not have you miss my dear papa less -than you do; but you must not tease yourself about anything. Did I not -promise to try and supply his place? I do not mean to let you have any -trouble at all. Here is your desk and a new pen--the ink is a little too -light, but it writes freely--and now, while you answer my aunt's letter, -you will be glad to get rid of us." - -"I do not want to drive you away, love," replied her mother; "but you -know I can never write if there is the least noise--so, perhaps, you had -better go, and take Amy with you. I have not written for such an age, it -makes me quite nervous." - -"Oh, yes, I know, mamma dear; come, Amy, we will go and look to the -spare room. I will seal your letter, mamma, when it is finished." - -Mabel was soon busy in thinking over the accommodations necessary for -visitors, with Betsy's aid, amidst Amy's incessant questions. - -"Do you think, Mabel," she began, "that Lucy is very little?" - -"I do not much think she is little at all," replied Mabel. - -"But aunt Villars called her, my little girl," persisted Amy. - -"Yes, but many mammas talk of grown up children in the same way." - -"Do you think," said Amy, after watching her sister for a few minutes in -silence, "I had better put some of my books on the shelf for her to -read, if she happens to like them?" - -"If you have any that will look pretty, you may put them there -certainly." - -"Do you think she will like the swing at Mr. Ware's?" - -"If she is like you, perhaps she may; but whether she be little or not, -we must both try and make her pass her time pleasantly, you know," said -Mabel, as she glanced round the room with approval. - -The chintz curtains had been re-hung--the snow-white coverlet had been -placed upon the bed--and the dressing-table arranged with the most -careful attention to comfort and convenience. Everything, in the careful -arrangement which Mabel had bestowed upon the room, seemed to speak a -welcome; and through the open window the fresh breezes of the Cotswold -hills passed freely. - -"Does it not look comfortable?" said Mabel, appealing to her talkative -companion. - -"Yes, Mabel, dear, everything looks nice that you manage; but," added -she, returning to the former subject, "if she is a great girl, what can -I do to amuse her?" - -"Oh, many things," returned Mabel; "even you can do, I think, if you -try; you must not talk to her very much, and ask her too many -questions." - -"Do I tease you, Mabel, dear, when I ask you questions?" - -"Not often; but then you know I love you," said her sister, "and -therefore do not get teased." - -"But why do you think she will not love me?" - -"I think it very likely she will love you," said Mabel, looking down -upon her affectionately, "if you are good; but not till she knows you, -not very much, at least. You know, we must buy people's love." - -"Do you mean by making them presents?" said Amy, looking a little -shocked at the idea. - -"Not what you mean by presents certainly," said Mabel, smiling. - -"What then?" - -"Well then, first, you must give them your love, before you consider -what they think of you." - -"Is that a certain way of buying love?" - -"It will be nearly certain," said Mabel, "to get you good will, at -least, from every one, whose esteem is really valuable, for when we -love, we try to do everything that is kind; we are not easily offended -by little things that might annoy us, if we did not love; and then the -wish to avoid giving offence, will lead us to govern our feelings, so -that we may not be sullen, or out of temper, which would make us -disoblige them by saying anything to wound their feelings." - -"Would it do anything else?" said Amy, who always liked to hear her -sister talk. - -"Yes, I think it would lead us to speak the truth, for fear of -encouraging them in any bad thing; for if we must not do wrong, we must -not let it be done by others, if we can help it, particularly by those -we love." - -"But then," said Amy, "if a person is bad, do not you think it would be -better to wait and see? We ought not to like a bad person, you said, one -day." - -"Not exactly that; I told you not to be intimate with Mary Watson, -because she did many things I did not like, and knew a good many little -girls, who could not teach her any good; but still, I think, if, for -some reason, we were obliged to have Mary Watson here, you might love -her just as much as I told you to love Lucy, for if you spoke the truth, -she could not think you liked any of her naughty ways." - -"Then why may I not know her now--could I not speak the truth?" - -"Perhaps you might," said Mabel; "but I think, sometimes, that not to -avoid temptation, is taking one step to evil; so I thought it best to -avoid Mary Watson, as I could scarcely hope you would do her very much -good, and she might do you harm." - -"You always think of me, Mabel," said Amy; "when do you find time to -think of yourself?" - -"When I go to bed," she replied, "and then I ask myself if I have been -as kind to my little orphan sister as I ought to be?" - -"But, Mabel, dear, when you sit alone, sometimes, and look so very sad, -and I come in, and see tears on your face, is that about me?" - -"No; but it is not often so." - -"Not often; but I am so vexed when it is. Why is it, Mabel dear?" - -"Because," she said, her eyes filling with tears as she spoke, "somebody -loved me once, who does not love me now." - -"No, I am sure that is not true--every one loves you; mamma, Mr. Ware, -Miss Ware, Betsy, John, every one." "I am sure that can't be true, and -it is naughty to fancy unkind things; Mabel, dear, dear, Mabel," said -the child, jumping on a stool and throwing her arms lightly round her -neck, "and you are never naughty." - -"Oh, yes I am, many many times a-day," said Mabel, hiding her face on -Amy's shoulder, "my good, good, child, what should I do without you." - -"Oh, nothing without me, you could not get on at all without me." - -"Not very well, I think, certainly," said Mabel, smiling through her -tears at Amy's satisfaction, "but we have been a long time away, and -mamma must have finished her letter--come and let us seal it before the -man calls again, for if it is not ready, what will become of our -visitors." - -"But, Amy," said she, sinking her voice almost to a whisper, "never tell -mamma or any one that I ever cry, or why I cry." - -"Oh, never, you know I can keep a secret." - -"You promise," said Mabel. - -"Yes, I promise faithfully." - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - - This is a likeness may they all declare, - And I have seen him, but I know not where. - - CRABBE. - - -Mrs. Lesly had been, as a girl, both beautiful and accomplished, gifted -with good natural talents, though possessing little perseverance and -much indolence of character. Upon her marriage every faculty of her mind -became absorbed in devotion to her husband, and an almost indolent -dependence on his will. Since his death she had continued so very -depressed that, at the time when both Mabel and Amy might have much -needed a mother's care, she felt every exertion too great for her -weakened nerves and failing health. - -She had, by her marriage, entered a family a little above her own, and -now suffered the too general consequence, in the neglect of her -husband's relations. She felt all things deeply, and this, if possible, -aggravated her loss. The Lesly and Hargrave families were closely -connected, but the absence of the Colonel, whose family mansion lay so -near them, prevented her receiving that attention which the -neighbourhood of a rich relation might have procured her. The secluded -life to which she now clung so earnestly, only increased the extreme -sensitiveness of her feelings. Her mind therefore, suffered to prey upon -itself, became a curse instead of a blessing, as it might have been, had -it been employed in any useful purpose; and the delicacy and refinement -of her nature, now only quickened her perception of the slightest -coldness, or unkindness in those around her; spreading about her a kind -of atmosphere of refined suffering, which duller eyes would never have -discovered. - -Yet the indulgence which she claimed from others always rendered her an -object of affection, and her devotion to the memory of her husband -veiled many failings, and excused her indolence sometimes even in the -eyes of the most ascetic. Joined to this weakness of character, however, -she possessed many fine qualities. She was generous in the extreme, and -liberal to a total forgetfulness of self, and would forgive, where no -injury was intended, with a magnanimity, which, applied to a real -offence, would have been noble. She was also very patient under the -oppression of continual ill health, and though too indolent to exert -herself, she was capable of suffering without complaint. - -Mabel inherited her mother's intellect and delicacy of feeling, but -seconded by a strong will and great common sense. She possessed also -beauty equal, if not superior, to hers, though in her face it always -seemed secondary to the feelings which were spoken by it. But there was -one peculiar charm in her character, which secured the love of those -around her as powerfully as an Eastern talisman. It was a reliance on -the good will of others, drawn perhaps from the reflection of her own -heart--a kind of security in the feeling that there is always good to -those who rightly seek it; a trust in the virtue of others which often -proves a touchstone to wake its hidden springs, whilst all feel ashamed -of disappointing a hope, founded more on the truest feelings of charity, -than on weakness or pusillanimity. - -Unlike her mother, she scarcely ever suffered from illness, and -gratefully used the blessing of strong nerves and untiring strength in -aiding the weakness or bearing with the irritability of others. - -Happy the child who possessed such a guide and playfellow, to listen to -all the questions and trifles so wearisome to the sick or weak. - -Mabel's patience was often called in requisition during the few days -which passed before the arrival of the aunt and niece from Cheltenham. -At least half a dozen questions would be asked almost in the same form, -to which she had to give answers. - -At length however, the long expected hour arrived, and Amy had seated -herself on the lawn to catch the first sight of that corner of the road -which was the furthest point visible, and Mabel was frequently sent to -the gate to watch for the carriage, by Mrs. Lesly, who was enduring all -the discomfort and nervousness of being quite ready to receive them a -long while before it was at all probable they would arrive. - -Captain Clair, too, who had, as Mr. Ware's nephew, established a kind of -intimacy at the cottage, was leaning over the gate, refusing to come in, -lest he should disturb the family meeting, yet seeming well inclined to -chat away the time with either of the sisters. - -"I am sure you are spoiling your sister, Miss Lesly," said he, after -hearing the patient answer to the sixth repetition of 'do you think they -are coming;' and Amy had ran in to her mamma to report. - -"That is a very grave accusation, but I do not think you quite believe -it," said Mabel; "indulge, but not spoil." - -"Well, indeed," said he, "it would be difficult to find fault with such -persevering self-denial, so we will say, indulgence." - -"It requires little self-denial," said Mabel; "to be kind to a very -young, and very dear sister. No, self-denial will not do, I will not -take the praise of a martyr for doing what I love best. Are you -certain," she added, "you do not feel the sun too much, where you are -standing, had you not better come in and speak to mamma?" - -"Not on any account, thank you," he replied, smiling; "I intend to -vanish when the carriage comes up, and present only the very -interesting appearance of a departing friend, in order to give a little -life to such a landscape." - -Mabel laughed. - -"Here they are, then, now you may look picturesque." - -"Not quite yet, wait a bit, I must be a little more prominent first, or -they would never see me. Now is the very moment," raising his hat to -Mabel, and with these concluding words, he walked slowly away. - -Mabel was seized with momentary shyness, and retreated unobserved, to -seek Mrs. Lesly, whose head began to ache, from waiting so long--but, as -the party took a long time in alighting, and collecting from the vehicle -a multiplicity of boxes, she felt ashamed of being afraid of strangers, -and ran down again to meet them. - -"Oh, my charming niece," exclaimed her aunt, with apparent cordiality, -and kissing her warmly; "how do you do, my sweet girl, let me make you -acquainted with my Lucy." - -Lucy, who, to Amy's disappointed eye, did not look at all little, took -Mabel's hand with earnestness, and putting one arm round her neck, -kissed her with extreme warmth, exclaiming:-- - -"We shall be dear friends, I know." - -"I hope so," said Mabel, startled alike at her relation's warmth, and -her own composure, which appeared something like coldness. - -Mrs. Lesly was met by her sister with the same enthusiasm which quite -overcame her weak nerves, and she burst into tears; she could not tell -why, she thought it might be joy, or that her head was overpowered by -the sweet scent on their pocket-handkerchiefs, or the rapidity of her -sister's conversation, and expressions of endearment. Mabel looked on in -dismay, a scene had been produced which she was puzzled to remove. - -"Dear mamma, do not cry," said she, then turning to Mrs. Villars who was -overwhelming her with caresses, she added, hastily; "mamma is not quite -well to-day, but she will be better presently, if she is quiet a little -while. Will you come and take your bonnet off, aunt, for you must be -tired after your drive." - -"No, my dear, but I think I will venture to leave her a moment while I -run down and see if our boxes are all right; an immense deal of luggage, -but then, I am going home, you know. I brought my maid too, though I -forgot to mention her in my note." Mrs. Lesly looked alarmed. "I really -do not know if she has looked to every thing, but I will go and see, I -always like to see things right myself," and with an important air, she -hurried down stairs. - -Mrs. Villars was of imposing appearance, though too bustling in her -manners to be altogether dignified, with colour a little too brilliant, -and hair a little too stiffly curled, to be quite natural. Yet, whatever -was artificial, was very well added to a good figure, and fine face. - -Poor Amy was quite awed into a bewildered silence. Mrs. Villars -presently bustled back again, telling Mabel she was now quite ready to -go to her room. - -"This way, then," said Mabel, shewing them to the chamber she had so -carefully prepared; "this is your room, and I hope you will find every -thing comfortable." - -"Oh, I dare say," she said, looking round, as if approving a child's -doll's-house; "everything so very neat and nice, and where is Lucy to -sleep." - -"This is the only spare room we have furnished and fit for sleeping in -now; the rest are shut up," said Mabel, a little timidly, "and we -thought you would not mind sleeping together for one night, as you say -you cannot stay longer, aunt." - -"Oh, yes, we will contrive--but what is to be done with our maid." - -"I must manage for her presently," said Mabel; "Betsy has been told to -make her comfortable for the present." - -"What time do you dine, dear," said Mrs. Villars; "the air of these -hills makes one hungry. I really could dine unfashionably early to-day." - -"I fancied so, and therefore ordered dinner to be ready half an hour -after your expected arrival," said Mabel; who tried to keep them in -conversation till Mrs. Lesly should have time to recover herself; and -this delay so far succeeded, that on their return to the drawing-room, -they found her quite composed. - -Dinner being soon after announced, Mrs. Villars gave her arm to her -sister, in the tenderest manner possible, saying. - -"Well, dear, I hoped to find you quite strong, I must not have any more -of these naughty hysterics, or I shall think you are not glad to see -me." - -"Indeed--indeed, Caroline, you mistake my feelings." - -"Well, then, smile away, and I shall read them right. What do you think -of my Lucy?" she added, in a whisper; "I wish I could shew you all my -girls--for admiring beauty, and accomplishments, as you always did--I do -not know what you would say, if you saw them all together. Now, in my -opinion, Mabel is perfect." - -The last speech reached Mabel's ear, and, perhaps, was intended to do -so--but quick as she was in the ready perception of virtue, she had -never feebly blinded herself to the faults of others. These few words -made her feel uncomfortable--for she was immediately aware that there -was a want of sincerity in her aunt's manner, which, betraying some -latent reason for dissimulation, always produces a feeling of dislike, -or fear. - -To Mrs. Villars Mabel soon became an object of fear--she could not tell -why, but she had scarcely been a few minutes in her company without -perceiving that superiority which the weak-minded find it difficult -cheerfully to recognise. Superiority in what, she did not stop to -analyse--but even while most lavish of her endearments, she was secretly -almost uncomfortable in her presence. - -Mrs. Villars had given herself a worldly education, which, though it had -moulded even her virtues and foibles according to its own fashion, had -never yet been able, entirely, to eradicate the sense of right which had -been inculcated in earlier years; yet she only preserved it as a -continual punishment for every act of dissimulation and wrong, without -ever allowing it to regain entire ascendency over her; though it was a -conscience to which she felt bound perpetually to excuse herself. So -false, indeed, had she turned to herself, that Mabel's open, honest, -truth-telling eyes seemed something like a reproach. - -Love for her children--one of the greatest virtues of a woman's -heart--had become one of her greatest failings. Her natural disposition -rendered her love strong and untiring; but worldliness had warped its -usefulness, rendering that love, in its foolish extreme, only a means of -making herself miserable, without really serving them. She learned to -spoil, but had no resolution to reprove; and they had grown up in -accordance with such training. - -As children they had been coaxed and bribed to appear sweet-tempered and -obliging in company--the plan succeeded; but only left them more -ill-tempered and unmanageable when the restraint was removed. This -system was, however, too readily followed; and as they grew older, their -foolish parent saw no other efficient plan for securing their position -in society, than that of continuing the same course of indulgence. She -now tried, by the most unbounded gratification of their wishes, to -secure to herself that love which timely discipline might easily have -preserved in tempers not naturally degenerate. But veiling this -weakness, she prided herself on the greatness of her parental love, and -threatened to weary every one else by the excess to which she carried -it. - -Glad of an opportunity of touching on her favorite topic, she said to -her sister-- - -"You must come and see us all some day. Mr. Villars would be so glad to -see you, and I should have an opportunity of shewing you my pet girls." - -"I never stir out now," returned Mrs. Lesly, shaking her head -mournfully, "scarcely even beyond my own door. But Lucy will, I dare -say, give us a specimen of all your sayings and doings in time. I should -much like to see the children; but fear there is but little inducement -to ask any of them to a place where there is so very little going on. My -Mabel is very fond of the country, or I should often have been vexed at -our seeing so little company." - -"Oh, you are quite mistaken, my dear," said Mrs. Villars, quickly. -"Caroline and Selina are very fond of the country, and so are you, -Lucy." - -"Yes, I like it very well in the summer," said Lucy, languidly. - -"Do you like the snow?" asked Amy, speaking for the first time. - -"No, not much; but we had better not talk of snow in August--it is too -near to be pleasant," said Lucy, a little impatiently. - -"You forget the balls, my dear," said her mama, soothingly, and watchful -of her children's tempers as a lover of his mistress. - -"No, mama, I was speaking of snow in the country, and there, I suppose, -there is not much dancing. Are you fond of balls, Mabel? but I forgot, I -need not ask, for, of course, you are." - -"I have never been to a public ball," replied Mabel, "but I have often -enjoyed a dance at a friend's house." - -"Have you really never been to a ball," exclaimed Lucy, opening her -pretty blue eyes wide, with half real and half affected astonishment. -"You would be enchanted with Bath. We have such delightful balls once a -week. The Thursday balls they are called, and then every season--" - -"Lucy, love, you will tire your aunt with your prattle," said her mama, -"now confess, Annie, does she not make your head ache?" - -"A little," replied her sister, "but do not let my weakness interfere -with her enjoyment. She will have little else to listen to besides her -own voice," Mrs. Lesly added, trying to smile away her sister's chagrin -at finding it really possible that she could be tired at hearing Lucy -talk. - -There was a momentary pause, when Mrs. Lesly, anxious to conciliate by -returning to the subject she perceived gave most interest, enquired-- - -"Is Lucy your eldest?" - -"Oh, dear no! Caroline is the eldest, Selina second, and Lucy the -youngest." - -"But I think you have one more, have you not?" said Mrs. Lesly. - -"How can you forget how many children your own sister has?" said Mrs. -Villars. - -"My memory is getting feeble, and you must excuse me," replied Mrs. -Lesly anxiously, "my forgetfulness arises from no want of affection; but -I have not seen you for a year or two now." - -"I had forgotten," returned Mrs. Villars, "how time flies. I really must -write oftener to you, and keep up your knowledge of us. Well, there is -my Maria--but, poor child, I am in despair with her--so unfortunate." - -"Not ill, I hope?" enquired Mrs. Lesly. - -"No, no--that could be cured--a doctor might cure that; but this, -nothing can cure. She is ugly--positively ugly--by the side of her -sisters at least; and more than that, she is ungraceful. I have tried -the best academy in the town, but nothing will do her any good--such a -contrast to the rest, she never will settle I fear." - -Mabel glanced at Amy, who was drinking in her aunt's words with the -eager curiosity natural to a child, and fearing the effects of this -worldly conversation upon her young sister, she persuaded Lucy to come -with them into the garden. - -Lucy put her arm in Mabel's, whilst Amy watched the movement jealously. - -"Here is a lovely peep at the hills," said Mabel, leading their guest to -one of the prettiest parts of the garden, where a stone seat was placed -near a break in the trees, commanding a view of the country beyond. - -Here they seated themselves, looking for a short while, in silence, on -the landscape, which the setting sun rendered still more lovely. Had -Mabel expected any fine remark to follow this momentary pause in the -conversation, she would have been disappointed, for Lucy's next enquiry -was whether there were many nice people in the neighbourhood. - -"Yes," said Mabel. "Mr. and Miss Ware are very nice people." - -"Who are they?" asked Lucy. - -"Our rector and his sister." - -"Is he unmarried?" enquired Lucy, with increasing interest. - -"Yes," replied Mabel, smiling, "but not very young." - -"But still marriageable, I suppose?" - -"Barely," said Mabel, "at least, I do not think he would consider -himself so now. Why, he must be nearly seventy." - -"Then who was that fine young man that was walking down the road just -now, with light whiskers, and a military air. I did not expect to see -such a handsome, _distingué_ looking young man down in the country -here." - -"That is Mr. Ware's nephew," said Mabel. - -"Oh! then he does live here--what is his name?" - -"Captain Clair; he is only here for a short time, for his health," -replied Mabel; "but how could you tell he had light whiskers?" - -"Because he passed while we were at dinner, so that I had a good look at -him," said Lucy, half blushing. - -"Amy," said Mabel, "there is Captain Clair beckoning for you to run to -him, and I dare say he will get you the blackberries he promised you." - -Amy ran away to the garden-gate, where Captain Clair was waiting for -her, and hand in hand they were soon down the blackberry lane that led -to the fields. - -"What a very fine young man," exclaimed Lucy, as she watched them out of -sight; "do you see him often--I suppose he is a beau of yours?" - -"No, oh, no," said Mabel; "a sort of friend he has made himself--but -certainly not a beau." - -"Ah, you say so." - -"And I mean so," said Mabel. - -"You mean then, that he is free for conquest," laughed Lucy, -coquettishly. - -"As far as I am concerned, he is as free as air," said Mabel; "but I -would not have you attempt such a conquest, I should think he was too -easily won to be kept long in subjection." - -"Ah, I know what you mean," said Lucy; "a sort of man that falls in love -with every tolerable girl he meets--the very thing for a country visit." - -"Well, I suppose neither party would be in much danger if those are your -real sentiments," said Mabel. "Captain Clair is too discerning to be -entangled by a mock feeling, and you are wise enough to think of nothing -more." - -"Exactly so," replied Lucy; "but oh, whose pretty house is that amongst -the trees?" - -"Colonel Hargrave's," said Mabel. - -"Colonel Hargrave!" cried Lucy, "cousin Henry, as we call him now. Do -you know, Mabel, he is just come back to England, and mamma wrote to ask -him to come and see us in Bath. I am so longing to meet him; and we have -made up in our minds, already, a match between him and Caroline--that -you know would do very well, for she is just thirty, and he must be a -few years older, must he not?" - -"Yes, I think so," said Mabel. - -"And that would be a very nice difference, you know. I am quite longing -for him to come. I have talked the match over with Selina so often, that -I cannot help looking upon it as quite certain; and then we should have -such a nice house to come and stay at; and you would be so delightfully -near--would it not be pleasant?" - -"You will find it cold without your bonnet," said Mabel, evasively, -"shall we go in and fetch it." - -"No, thank you," said Lucy; "but I see you are not fond of -match-making." - -"No, I confess I am not," said Mabel; "but I suppose you hear a great -deal of it in Bath, where so many matches must be talked over." - -"Oh! an immense deal--it is quite amusing to hear of so many projected -marriages, and of their coming to nothing after all." - -"But that is why I think match-making anything but amusing," said Mabel. - -"But then all the _éclat_ of a conquest would be gone," suggested Lucy, -"if there were no talking beforehand. I assure you, last year, there -were I do not know how many half offers in our family. Selina and I used -to walk round the Crescent and count them all up, and they helped us -through the dull weather amazingly; something like the nibbling of a -trout, which just serves to keep up the hope of ultimately catching one. -Mamma talks a great deal about Caroline's beauty, and her charming -spirits--but she does not know how to sleep for wishing her married. It -would be horrible to have her an old maid--so I hope and trust the good -Colonel, with, I dare say, Indian guineas, and an Indian face, will take -pity on her, and bring her here." - -"Give me a description of Caroline," said Mabel, suddenly. "Is she not -very beautiful and accomplished?" - -"How you startle me," said Lucy. "Why she is very tall--fine features, -people say--she has black hair and black eyes, and dances -splendidly--polks to admiration--so very good-natured--and witty before -company--and rather the reverse behind the scenes--in short, would do -much better for Mrs. Hargrave than for the eldest of four maiden -sisters--and so, in all due affection, I should be very glad to see her -married." - -"Is she clever as well as beautiful?" said Mabel. - -"She sings and plays beautifully. Yes, I believe she is clever--knows -French well." - -Mabel sighed. - -"I do not know how it is," said Lucy, when after a short silence, they -prepared to return to the house, "but I feel you to be quite a friend -already. I must love you, whether you will let me or not." - -"I shall be very glad to have you love me," said Mabel, gently; "but -wait till you know me better." - -"I can never wait and deliberate, when loving is the question," said -Lucy; "it is like me; I am always quick in my likes and dislikes--and I -feel now as if I could tell you every secret of my heart--I am only -nineteen, so such want of consideration is pardonable--is it not, dear -Mabel?" - -"It is not quite safe, perhaps," replied Mabel; "but yet rather easy to -forgive, in the present--instance--at least, when I feel myself to be -concerned. But if you make me your friend, you must give me the power of -an elder sister." - -"Not like Caroline," said Lucy, with a look of pretended terror. - -"I shall not let you find fault with Caroline," said Mabel, "that is my -first effort of authority; but you have chosen to love me, and you must -take my friendship on my own terms." - -"Well, I think I will take it on any terms. I dare say it will be worth -having," said Lucy; "but first, you must seal our friendship with a -kiss, and tell me that you love me as much as I do you." - -"My love is of slower growth," replied Mabel, smiling; "but I promise to -deal with you as if I loved you. Will that do?" - -"I suppose it must," said Lucy. - -"You are right," said Mabel, kissing her pouting lips, "that must do -till we know each other better." - - - - - CHAPTER V. - - Whence then that peace - So dovelike? settling o'er a soul that loved - Earth and its treasures? Whence that angel smile - With which the allurements of a world so dear - Were counted and resigned? - - MRS. SIGOURNEY. - - -Mabel and Lucy retired that night early, in order that they might leave -the sisters time to talk quietly over the fire, which a chilly evening -rendered not unwelcome. - -Mrs. Villars placed her feet on the fender, and turning up her dress to -prevent the fire injuring it, she made herself perfectly comfortable in -preparation for a long chat. Mrs. Lesly had seated herself opposite in -her arm-chair, with a glass of lemonade on a small table by her side, -which she sipped from time to time, as she listened to long accounts of -her sister's hopes and fears for her children's welfare, together with -various anecdotes, tending to show the admiration they excited wherever -they appeared. At length, these long and varied narrations came to an -end--and Mrs. Villars, turning to her sister, enquired, in a tone which -seemed to say, confidence claimed confidence, if there had not been some -story about Mabel's marrying. - -A very sensible feeling of pain passed for an instant over Mrs. Lesly's -countenance before she replied-- - -"Yes, but that was a long time ago, and I cannot bear to think of it -now." - -"But," said Mrs. Villars, who always peculiarily interested herself in -anything relative to marriage, "you never told me the particulars, and I -should so like to know them." - -"No," said Mrs. Lesly, "I remember I only just mentioned it for I was so -much pained at the time, that I could not write on the subject." - -"You never even told me the gentleman's name," said Mrs. Villars. - -"No, Mabel made me promise to mention that to no one; I felt it was -delicate and right in her to wish it, and I have never spoken of him -openly since, indeed amongst ourselves he is as if forgotten." - -"A man of property, was he not?" said Mrs. Villars, "and quite young I -think you said?" - -"Yes," said Mrs. Lesly, with a half sigh, "the marriage seemed in every -way desirable, they were well suited in age, and I thought in character, -and rejoiced to think that she would have a companion in life so well -calculated to show her off to advantage. He was, besides, a man of -considerable fortune, and my Mabel is, I think, particularly fitted for -a station above that which she at present enjoys. Her taste in painting -and sculpture, has been acknowledged by masters--and tho' so kind and -useful and simple hearted now, I always thought she was fitted to -dispense even patronage. Ah, well, these were the dreams of days gone -by, and I do not know why I bring them up to-night, except to shew you -that the sacrifice she made was no ordinary one. Ah, poor girl, the -contrast is striking, now she is soon likely to want even a home." - -"Was it not a long attachment?" said Mrs. Villars as her sister paused. - -"Yes," returned, Mrs. Lesly, rousing herself, "they had been more or -less attached from childhood. There was always a kind of wayward -goodness in Mabel, that was very attractive. She had generally her own -way, but that way seemed so unselfish that I had neither the power nor -the wish to complain. He admired this spirit, mixed with so much -sweetness; nothing she did seemed wrong, and even when she was -indiscreet, which I dare say she might have been very often--he said, it -was because she was more pure-minded than other people." - -"Well, I do not see anything very sad in all this. I should have been -highly flattered," said Mrs. Villars, "now my Selina is so like what you -describe, she does the most indiscreet and pretty things imaginable -sometimes." - -Mrs. Lesly continued silent for a few minutes, then again rousing -herself she continued-- - -"He used to call Mabel his little wife, long before her papa died, and I -used to think over it all, as you remember we used to talk of things a -long time since." - -"I see," thought Mrs. Villars, "a case of jilt, very distressing, but an -old story to those who know the world as well as I do." She felt a -slight sensation of comfort at arriving at this idea, when she -remembered her own unmarried daughters. - -"Well," continued, Mrs. Lesly, "whenever he came to the neighbourhood, -which he often did, they were almost always together. Sometimes they -would walk in the fields at the back of our house, Mabel leaning on his -arm, whilst he carried Amy. But unfortunately when his father died he -went to Paris, and staid there about a twelve-month. When he returned he -was altered, how or why I could not tell, but it seemed as if the -simplicity of his character was gone, though I tried hard to think him -only more manly. Mabel was a beautiful girl when he returned, and it was -soon easy to perceive that however changed he might be in other -respects, his affection for her remained unaltered." Mrs. Lesly stopped -to sip her lemonade, and then with some little effort continued--"His -return," she said, "to which we looked forward so much, did not make us -happier. He would persuade her to go out sometimes, but she always came -back soon, and often looked as though she had been crying, though she -never said any thing--I then noticed and watched him more carefully, -and at length I found that he had not entered the church since his -return from France, a practice he never before neglected. I then paid -more attention to his conversation, and often brought up serious -questions on purpose. Here I discovered the sad truth; he talked very -seriously of virtue and moral responsibility, but if I spoke of religion -in connexion with it, he changed the subject or looked at Mabel, and was -silent. - -"I was now quite puzzled, it seemed hard to find fault with one so good -in every other respect, but in religion, which he spoke of as a curious -and useful superstition, acting as a guide to vulgar minds. 'Mabel,' -said I, one day, 'what does all this mean? What has come over him to -make him think as he does?' - -"You must know, Caroline, that indolent as my weak health has made me, -and careless of imparting things, I used so much to value, I had not -neglected my child in the most important of all points of knowledge; -sickness had made me prize that, in proportion as every thing else lost -interest; but I did fear for her when, with only my weak lessons she -had, perhaps, to answer the arguments of a man of peculiar talent, and -great though mistaken penetration, aided by the love, I was well aware, -she felt for him." - -"But you studied these points well I know," said Mrs. Villars, "and I -dare say fully explained them." - -"You are right," replied Mrs. Lesly, "at least I tried to do so, I -always have endeavoured to make the heart and head act together. You -will see that I succeeded, beyond my hopes. It seemed that he had been -in the constant habit, of confiding every thing to her, and had always -found an admiring listener to his thoughts on most subjects. On his -return from France, he was too candid to conceal from her, the change -his opinions had undergone. It appeared, from his own account, that -while abroad, his society had been mostly composed of those generally -distinguished by the name of free thinkers. Perhaps, feeling that he -could argue well, and with a too presumptuous trust in himself, he -courted every opportunity of disputing with them on the nature of their -opinions. With daring intellect, he trusted every thing to his -understanding, and nothing to his faith. He found superior intellect, -and the consequences were too natural--I do not think he had any settled -views afterwards, and I very much fear became little less than an -infidel. All this I gleaned by repeated questions from my poor, -broken-hearted child. - -"'Now,' said I, 'my Mabel, this is too serious a point for husband and -wife to differ upon, this I once hoped you would be to each other, but -he is no longer worthy of you. Now you must prove what and how you -believe.' I spoke sternly, for I feared for her, she kissed me fervently -but she could not speak. 'Do you understand me, Mabel,' I said. - -"She only replied, 'I do,' but that was sufficient, my heart ached for -her, but I was at peace. It was not long after this conversation, that -the last scene occurred; I remember I had been sitting in my room all -the morning, finishing some work that Mabel had begun for me. At length, -I grew tired of being alone, and, taking up my work, I went down stairs. -I heard a voice speaking loudly in the sitting-room, and I guessed whose -it was. I felt frightened--for since my William's death, everything -affects me--so I stopped; but I heard my child sobbing, and I opened the -door directly. She was seated at the table, leaning down, and covering -her face with her hands. She always feared to vex me by letting me see -her grieve; but I saw she was too agitated even to think of me at that -moment. He was standing opposite, glaring on her like a maniac. - -"'Madam,' said he, turning to me as I looked for an explanation, 'it is -well, perhaps, that you are here, to witness your daughter's coquetry, -or her madness.' - -"'Sir,' replied I, 'pray remember to whom you speak; there may be a -slight difference in our rank, or wealth rather, but none that I -recognise where my child is concerned.' - -"'Do not attempt to reason with me,' he replied, 'I am mad. Your -daughter, in whose love I, at least, had faith, is fanatic enough to -refuse to marry me, because we differ on some absurd points of -superstitious doctrine.' - -"'I cannot agree with you,' I said, trying to speak calmly, 'in calling -them absurd, and that is where we differ. What happiness can Mabel -expect with one who ridicules the motives which are, at once, the guide -and blessing of her existence?--or what reliance can she have on a man -who does not even recognise the principles on which she alone relies for -strength. I think Mabel is quite right to remain as she is, -sacrificing, as she does, every worldly interest to a noble principle.' - -"The poor girl started up, and walking to him, laid her pretty hand upon -his arm, and looking at him beseechingly, she said--'Do not let us part -in anger--I can bear anything but that--let me remain your friend for -ever, even as you are; but do not think me wrong for refusing to be your -wife.' - -"I never shall forget that moment; he shook her from him, as if -she had been a serpent. She reeled back for an instant, and then sank at -my feet. - -"He looked down upon her, as she lay upon the floor, hiding her -face in my gown, as if he would have withered her with his contempt. Oh, -how could he think I could have trusted her to one like him? - -"'Feeble as was my hold on religion before,' he burst out--"'It is -broken now, if this be the effects of it,' and he looked down upon my -poor stricken girl. - -"I was silent. - -"'What right,' thought I, 'have I to retaliate upon him reproach for -reproach?' but I thought my heart would break. - -"'Why did she not try to win me to her truth,' he exclaimed, 'if she -thinks it of so much consequence?' - -"'Has she not done so for the last four months?' I said. - -"'Yes; but as a wife,' he replied, 'she would have had treble power.' - -"'She is forbidden to be your wife,' I said, 'by the very religion she -professes--and would her acting in opposition to its laws have convinced -you of its truth?' - -"'There was no love in the case,' said he, not heeding me, 'and now she -wishes to be my friend,' he continued, with a sneer, 'as if there were -any medium with me between love and hate, except utter forgetfulness.' -"'Madam,' he exclaimed, as if suddenly remembering himself, 'forgive me -what I have been saying; had she let me, I would have been to you more -than a son--as it is--fare well.' - -"Without another word to Mabel, he left us, and I have never seen him -since. - -"I dare say a great deal passed more than I have told you; but I am very -forgetful now--though I well remember how miserable I was that day, and -for a very long time afterwards, for poor Mabel was very ill, and never -left her bed for weeks. I sent to our good Mr. Ware, and told him -everything, and asked him to come and comfort Mabel; and so he did, most -effectually. Night after night did I sit by her, terrified by her fits -of delirium and the dreadful exhaustion which followed them. I took cold -then, and my nurse wanted me to go to bed, and leave her to watch by -her; but what was life and rest to me, without my child? - -"Amy sat upon her pillow nearly all day, and would whisper, 'don't cry, -dear Mabel.' There was not much comfort in her baby words; but I think -Mabel liked to hear her. - -"Mr. Ware was unwearied in his attentions to her; and, at length, she -began to rally. Then I became ill, with anxiety, perhaps, or the cold I -took from the night-watching, and it was quite touching to see how hard -she tried to get well, that she might nurse me in turn. Oh, what a -comfort it was when she began to smile again. You see how well she is -now--she is never ill, and how cheerful and happy she seems. I try to -think it all for the best, though it is difficult sometimes." - -"Well, you have, indeed, had a great deal to vex you," said Mrs. -Villars, much touched. - -"I have, however, much happiness to look back upon," said Mrs. Lesly, -sighing gently, "in my William's kindness for so many years; but my -health is failing sadly--and I have one care certainly, when I think of -leaving my children without a friend in the world to take care of -them--particularly as with my life, my pension, which is the only source -of our income, will cease." - -"Yes," said Mrs. Villars, "it was almost a pity she did not marry the -young man--what a provision it would have been for both." - -"I think you would have acted as I did," said Mrs. Lesly, "would you -not?" - -"Why you know," she replied, "I never thought of those things as -seriously as you do, and my love for my orphan children would have been -a great temptation. Indeed, that love for my family guides me in almost -everything, and after all, why his staying away from church would not -have prevented her going." - -"No, no, Caroline," said Mrs. Lesly, too indolent to contest this narrow -view of the subject. "I have been foolish in many things, over and over -again, but in this I feel that I acted wisely." - -"Not with much worldly wisdom, dear Annie," said her sister, smiling. - -"Yes, indeed," said Mrs. Lesly, "those who believe in an overruling -Providence, act most wisely, even for this world, when they obey its -laws." - -Caroline sighed; her sister's single-minded language recalled days long -gone by; when their views had been more in accordance, and for the -moment, she would have given much to have retained the simple faith of -their childhood; for her life was made up of shallow, and quickly -forgotten repentances. - -After a pause, she said:-- - -"Annie, I hope you will live many years; but if it should be otherwise, -do not have one care for your children, for while I live they shall find -a home, wherever I may be." - -"My dear, dear sister," said Mrs. Lesly, while tears of gratitude and -affection dimmed her eyes; "that is so like your old kindhearted way of -speaking. Could I believe that you would, indeed, be a friend to my -children, I should be spared many a wakeful night, and this freedom -from anxiety might prolong my life. But, Caroline, you have a large -family, and can ill spare your means." - -"It may be so," replied the other; "but you set me an example of doing -right without regard to consequences; why should I not follow it? And -you recall the days of our happy childhood, when these feelings, and -such as these, were common to us both--let them be common again, dear -Annie." - -Mrs. Lesly, kissed her sister with grateful affection, and again, and -again, thanked her for her generous promises. Alas! judging of her by -herself, she little knew how evanescent were her resolutions, nor -guessed that the sentiments she sometimes professed, as little belonged -to her own heart, as the delusive images of the Fata Morgana to the -waters they enliven. They soon afterwards parted for the night, Mrs. -Lesly more cheerful, and her sister more serious than before their -evening conversation. - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - - He only can the cause reveal, - Why, at the same fond bosom fed; - Taught in the self-same lap to kneel, - Till the same prayer were duly said. - - Brothers in blood, and nurture too, - Aliens in heart so oft should prove, - One lose, the other keep, Heaven's clue; - One dwell in wrath, and one in love. - - CHRISTIAN YEAR. - - -Mrs. Lesly found Mabel waiting for her in her room. A book was lying -open by her side, but she appeared to have been rather thinking, than -reading. - -"Mabel, my love," she said, "it is past twelve o'clock. I am so sorry -you sat up for me." - -"I am only waiting to undress you, mamma," said Mabel, "you are so much -later to-night, that I thought you would be tired. I have been lying on -your sofa, half asleep, for more than an hour. Have you been talking of -me?" she added, lowering her voice. - -"Yes, a little," replied Mrs. Lesly; "but why do you ask, what can any -one say ill of you." - -Mabel sighed. - -"I talked of you, dear, not merely to satisfy my sister's curiosity; -but, because there is in the world a very strong prejudice against -single ladies, old maids, as they are termed, in contempt, when there is -no good reason given for their not marrying. It is a foolish prejudice, -but still a strong one; and, therefore, I would rather that people knew -why you are not married; at least, that all those who have any right to -criticise your conduct, should know that it has been by your own -choice." - -"Ah, mamma," said Mabel, "you are thinking of my feelings as they would -once have been." - -"And as they may be again," said the mother; "but not as they ought to -be, I allow. But you bear your trial so well, love, that I would not -have it increased by one unkind, or worldly remark. You have done right, -and can, therefore, afford to suffer; yet there is no harm in sparing -yourself any needless pain. Go to sleep, now, my child, I do not wish to -see you tired, to-morrow." - -Mabel retired to her own room, with feelings stirred up, she scarce knew -why, by the arrival of their new guests, and she would willingly have -thought awhile in silence, but Amy was awake, and restless. - -"What time is it, Mabel, dear," for by that affectionate title, she -usually addressed her. - -"Past one o'clock, dear," said Mabel; "are you awake, still." - -"I have been to sleep, once," said Amy; "but I was dreaming all the -time, first of Lucy, and then about Captain Clair, and the -blackberries. You said she would not like me quite at first, but she -seems to love you in one evening--how is that?" - -"I really do not know; Lucy puzzles me, rather, but she says she likes, -or dislikes, quickly." - -"But that is what you tell me not to do," said Amy, sitting up in her -bed, as if prepared for a regular discussion of the subject. - -"Yes," said Mabel, "because I am afraid you will not choose your friends -well, and may be mistaken if you judge too quickly." - -"Well," said Amy, gravely; "I suppose Lucy is clever to find you out so -soon, but it puzzles me to think how she could tell you were good, in -one evening." - -"I do not think she does know much about me, yet," said Mabel; "but do -not let us think of her just now, for if we never think of ourselves at -any other time, I think we should before we go to sleep. So, now you -must not talk any more." - -Mabel then turned her pillow, smoothed the hair back from her heated -cheeks, and made her comfortable, so that Amy, having no further excuse -for keeping awake, soon fell asleep. - -The next morning Mrs. Lesly was up earlier than usual, that she might -enjoy as much of her sister's society as her short visit permitted. - -After breakfast, Mrs. Villars said, that if they could have a chat by -themselves, she should be glad. - -To this Mrs. Lesly willingly agreed, and after some little conversation -on the arrangements of the day, led her to her sunny dressing-room, -where her own mornings were most frequently spent. - -"I hope," said Mrs. Lesly, taking up her work, "that nothing unpleasant -has occurred, to make you wish to speak to me; but, perhaps you have -been thinking over our last night's conversation." - -Mrs. Villars coloured slightly with the consciousness that the feelings -awakened by her sister's conversation, had been of very short duration. - -"No, dear," said she; "last night I listened to your trials and -troubles, this morning you must hear mine." - -"Oh," said Mrs. Lesly, "I would never have taken up your time last -night, had I known that you were thinking of any thing that pained you." - -"You are always too kind to me," said Mrs. Villars, "and I am sure I -would much rather hear you talk than talk myself, for it does me good to -be with you, but really, now we are sitting down, I have hardly the -courage to speak of what I wanted to say." - -"No one is ever afraid of me," said Mrs. Lesly, "and you know, if you -are in any trouble, I never can find fault." - -"Well then," said Mrs. Villars, "I will tell you exactly how I am -situated. You must know that Mr. Villars has had, or pretends to have, -had a great many losses this year, which have really quite soured his -temper. He does nothing now but grumble, saying, I am not half so -economical as I ought to be, and I do not know what peevish stuff. He -says I dress the children too expensively, and then he tells me they -would look better in white muslin than in all the laces I put on them." - -"Well, there I think he is right," interposed Mrs. Lesly, "nothing makes -a girl look so nice as a simple white dress." - -"I cannot agree with that," said Mrs. Villars. "Caroline has just the -figure--just the majestic style of beauty that does not do for white -muslin and simplicity, and in her black velvet and pearls, I do assure -you, she looks fit to be a duchess. Selina, too, has just that fairy -beauty which requires the lightest and most delicate of colors, and how -very soon they soil, particularly with polking--and, besides, they -cannot always be wearing the same dresses in a place like Bath. I cannot -help wishing to see them respectably dressed, when I hear every one -speak so highly of their beauty. You must forgive a mother's pride, but -I cannot help it." - -"But, my dear," said Mrs. Lesly, "if your object is to marry them well, -you ought not to dress them so expensively. Few men intending to marry, -like the prospect of furnishing an extravagant wardrobe. The idea of -having to pay for their dress should gently insinuate itself, not glare -upon their attention in velvet and satin." - -"Now, Annie," said Mrs. Villars, "how unkind it is of you to talk in -this way. You see, I had reason to be afraid of speaking to you." - -"I meant it most kindly, I do assure you," said Mrs. Lesly. - -"That may be," said Mrs. Villars, poutingly; "but that cutting way of -speaking hurts the feelings, and you are very fond of it, sometimes." - -"Well, dear," said Mrs. Lesly, "I only meant a little good advice, but -as you do not like it, I will say no more." - -"Besides," continued Mrs. Villars, "I expect girls with such pretensions -and advantages as mine have, to marry men of wealth and station, who -will only be too proud to see them dress well. You ought to see them -enter a ball-room, and how immediately they are surrounded." - -"Ah, yes, I dare say," said Mrs. Lesly, who was always too indolent for -any long argument, and generally gave up a point, even with Amy, when -persisted in beyond her patience. - -"But now then, to return to my little difficulty," said Mrs. Villars, -recovering her good-temper. "You know Mr. Villars is so horribly cross -now, I do not dare to bring anything before him." - -"I am sorry to hear that," said Mrs. Lesly; "my William never said a -cross word to me, that I remember." - -"Ah," sighed Mrs. Villars, "it is very different with me, I assure -you--Villars is always finding fault now, since the girls are come out." - -"Well," repeated Mrs. Lesly, "I certainly never remember being afraid of -my poor husband." - -"No; but then he was a soldier, that makes a man very different," said -Mrs. Villars, "so kind and open-hearted. Now Villars, though he has left -his business in the city, and is only a sleeping partner, yet he seems -to take as much interest in it as ever; and if anything goes wrong, then -he is off to London to give his advice, he says, and comes home so -cross, there is no speaking a word to him, and if he finds us going out, -as we do, of course, nearly every night, then he goes off sulky to his -study. Married life with such a man, is no joke, I can tell you. When we -first married, he had such an easy temper; he says I spoilt it, but the -fault lies at his own door, of that I am certain. But I would not say -this to every one." - -"I hope not, indeed," said Mrs. Lesly, much pained; "it is better to -keep these things from everybody; and you cannot blame him without -finding fault with yourself at the same time." - -"And that I am not disposed to do," interrupted Mrs. Villars; "no, I -assure you, before company, I make him appear the very pattern of -perfection. I would not lower myself by showing the world how very -little influence I have over him. But now to the point--I must tell you, -that last winter, I was foolish enough to run up some bills with my -jeweller, milliner, and others, a little higher than ordinary, and now -every day they become more importunate, and I have made excuses till -they will listen no longer. I do not know where to turn for money, till -this business pressure is over and Villars has recovered his temper. Now -could you, I know you could if you would, just lend me a hundred pounds -for a few months?" - -"Ah, Caroline, but ought I?" said Mrs. Lesly; "think of my poor -children, and my health such as it is." - -"But what possible harm could that do them?" said Mrs. Villars, as if -surprised; "do you think I could be so barbarous as to think of hurting -them. It is perfectly safe with me; and I will pay you in six months." - -"But, my dear Caroline," said Mrs. Lesly, "why not tell Mr. Villars? it -will be but the anger of an hour--contrast that with the pain of -deceiving him." - -"I do not mind telling him everything, when his present difficulties -are over--now it would be unkind to ask me." - -"But," answered her sister, timidly, "do you think I am right in -suffering more of my money to be in private hands, even in yours?" - -"Oh," said Mrs. Villars, coloring slightly, "you are speaking of the -five hundred I owe you already; but you know I promised to pay that back -with five per cent interest when my aunt Clara dies, and leaves me the -legacy she promised, and which Villars always said I should do just as I -liked with. I gave you a memorandum of the promise, in case of any -mistake." - -"Yes, I know," said Mrs. Lesly; "but I really do not know what I have -done with it--I am afraid it is mislaid." - -"I dare say," said Mrs. Villars, again coloring, and looking down upon -the spill she was twisting from the pieces of an old letter; "but -surely, if it be lost, you could not think your own sister would--" - -"Oh, no, no," said Mrs. Lesly; "I think nothing but that you are -imprudent; and oh, Caroline, however I may disguise the truth from -Mabel--I am not ignorant that a few weeks may, and a few years certainly -will, bring me to my grave. Now am I right to trust so much even to -you?" - -A mother's courage was strong, even in her timid and indolent mind, and -she spoke with tears in her eyes. - -"Now then," said Mrs. Villars, "I promise, if you will be generous this -once, that your children shall never want a home while I have one, and -every comfort which my own possess shall be theirs; only rescue me this -once from my husband's anger." - -"I have done it so often," said Mrs. Lesly, "I am afraid it is unkind to -both of you to do it again." - -"Oh, do not say so," cried Mrs. Villars, "oh, think again, do not say -that, and you so kind and good. You know I have given you a written -promise, to pay it out of the legacy aunt Clara is to leave me, and that -is as binding to my mind, beloved sister, as a legally executed deed; as -Villars promises positively, I shall do what I like with the money, when -I get it. Have I not promised to continue to pay five per cent interest -to your children as well as yourself, should you not live, as I hope -and trust you may, many, many years. I can do that easily, as I have -done before; at least I could have done so had we not agreed to let the -interest accumulate, that I might pay you in the lump. Where is my -promise? you have lost it you say, but I remember it all well enough. -Oh, good, kind Annie, think again." - -"But that paper is lost," said Mrs. Lesly, with a vacant look, and she -passed her hand over her forehead, as if trying to remember something of -it. - -"I would offer to write another promise," said Mrs. Villars, "only I do -not like to bind myself to two sums; for every one may not be so -honourable as yourself, and you must have it somewhere, but you need not -doubt me if it is lost, need you?" - -"I wish you would not talk of doubting," said Mrs. Lesly, "it makes me -feel so uncomfortable; but once again, my dear sister, let me entreat -you to have no concealments from your husband, they never lead to good. -If you will tell him everything, I promise to lend you the money." - -"That is as good as refusing altogether," replied Mrs. Villars, sulkily, -"why not say you will not at once, that would be plain and open, but as -it is," she added, bursting into tears, "I see you do not care for me." - -"Well, dear," said Mrs. Lesly, much pained, "you know I can never bear -to see you cry--dry your tears and listen to me. How are we to get the -money?" - -Mrs. Villars brightened up in an instant. - -"Why," said she, "you bank at Coutts's--write me a draft, and I will get -it changed in Bath, some how; I can manage it as I did before." - -"My money," said Mrs. Lesly, with unusual gravity, "has been reduced for -your sake, to a very few hundreds, a mere trifle, but my children!" -exclaimed she, suddenly dropping her pen, and clasping her hands -convulsively. - -"I have promised to be their mother," said Mrs. Villars, "but nonsense, -you will live many years yet." - -"Do not think of it, do not think of it, my doctor knows my constitution -too well to flatter me with such vain hopes. I have been better since -you have been here, but that is excitement, and now my head aches so." - -She placed her hand upon her forehead, and sank into deep thought. - -Mrs. Villars grew impatient; for there was a struggle going on within -her, in which her better self was busily engaged; and the worldly woman -almost feared the world would lose the victory, while she trembled at -the feelings she was exciting. - -The whole truth indeed being, that the money she so earnestly solicited, -was intended, not to discharge debts already incurred, but to furnish -additional display both in dress and housekeeping, during the -approaching visit of Colonel Hargrave to Bath, which the worldly mother -hoped, till she believed, would end in a marriage between him and her -eldest daughter, whose temper was becoming soured, by the failure of -repeated matrimonial speculations. - -Mr. Villars had found it necessary to lay down a plan of economy for the -following year; limiting its proposed expenditure in a manner which -little suited the taste or the tactics of his family, and it, therefore, -occurred to his imprudent wife, that there would be no harm in -forestalling the legacy of a thousand pounds, promised by an invalid -aunt, by adding another hundred to the five she had already borrowed -upon it, under the impression that any present expenditure would be -amply compensated if she succeeded in placing her daughter in possession -of Aston, with whose broad lands she was well acquainted, though of the -character, disposition, or principles of its owner, she was quite -ignorant. - -She well knew how to work upon her sister's feelings, already enervated -by grief and ill-health, and the narrow views of a selfish woman had -often led her to do so; but now, as she regarded the weakness that -seemed to implore protection, she felt her powers of dissimulation fast -failing before these new thoughts of compunction. After all, she thought -she might do without the money, the girls' old dresses were new to -Hargrave, and he might be a man of simple habits, and, perhaps, would -really be more attracted by white muslin, than crimson velvet--if so, -she was perhaps sinning for no purpose--might she not do without the -money--she might, but she had never learnt the principle of self-denial, -where right and wrong is concerned; and then come second thoughts--why -did she wait for them? When temptation is present, the first quick -generous impulse is the safest. There is a voice in our hearts which -never directs us wrong, let us listen to its least whisper. Why, like -the avaricious prophet of old, are we dissatisfied with its first -answer--why will we ask, and ask again, till the reply suits, not our -conscience, but our desires. - -In this case as in many others, Mrs. Villars's second thoughts -triumphed. Why should she submit to her husband's pitiful economy--was -it not his fault if she were forced to borrow; and she paid, or meant to -pay, her sister good interest, which would atone for every thing; and, -at the end of the season, no doubt the longed-for marriage would take -place; and, even supposing her grateful daughter forgot to share her pin -money with her, Mr. Villars could not but applaud her conduct and settle -her debt; and, even if not--but she was in no humour for ifs--and a -glance from the window at the rich woods which skirted the Aston estate, -and a glimpse through the trees at the mansion itself, quite settled the -question, and she continued twisting her spills with perfect -satisfaction. - -Not so Mrs. Lesly, she had seated herself at her desk, indeed, and taken -up her pen with a trembling hand; but her eyes were vacantly following -her sister's occupation. - -"This will never do," thought the worldly woman; yet she was afraid to -hurry her. - -"I was thinking," said Mrs. Lesly, at length, after continuing in the -same attitude of observation, "I was thinking how very strange it was -that I never remember our talking about money, but you were making -spills all the time." - -"Why, you see," said Mrs. Villars, carelessly, "I never thought it worth -while to bring my work for the short time I generally stay, and I never -like to sit quite idle." - -"Yes; but when you stayed with me for a month, it happened then as -well," said Mrs. Lesly, in a musing kind of tone. - -"It was rather strange, certainly--but more strange that you should -remember such trifles," said Mrs. Villars, her face turning rather -disagreeably pale. - -Poor Mrs. Lesly, fearing she had offended her, took up her pen, and -wrote like a frightened child, then quickly handed her the draft. - -Mrs. Villars hastily rose and kissed her, and then, taking her pen from -her hand, wrote a memorandum of the loan, which Mrs. Lesly placed in her -work-basket. - -At that moment, Amy ran into the room, crying out-- - -"Mamma, mamma, I have cut my finger--do please give me a piece of rag, -or I shall spoil my dress." - -Mrs. Lesly, easily frightened, hurried to her assistance, and, though -Amy kept exclaiming that she was only anxious about her dress, hurried -her off to a receptacle of old linen, which she kept in preparation for -every accident. - -Mrs. Villars glanced at the paper she had just written. - -"How careless Annie is," thought she. "Yet she seemed suspicious just -now about the spills--could she have guessed I tore up the other papers -I wrote? No--impossible! It is so awkward to be pressed for money, at -all sorts of times, and poor Annie is not long for this world, I see. -That Mabel has a sharp eye, and would not be easily deceived. Well, it -does not alter the obligation one bit, and what does it signify between -sisters. I only do not wish to be hurried." - -A clue to these thoughts might be given by her putting out her hand, and -drawing the paper to her, amongst the pieces she was tearing up. Where -was the voice of conscience then? Alas! for a time, it slept, for she -had slighted its first warning. - -She tore the paper in two, and then said to herself, "Well, it is done -now," rather as if somebody else had done it, and it was no act of her -own. Then she slowly twisted bit after bit into spills, laying each with -those she had already done, and the last piece had just assumed its -taper appearance, when Mrs. Lesly entered the room. - -"What did I do with that paper?" said she, after looking on all sides -for it, "how careless I am." - -"I think," said Mrs. Villars, "you put it in your secretary--you had it -open while you were writing." - -"Ah, so I must, I suppose," said Mrs. Lesly; but she looked -suspiciously at the secretary, she had no remembrance of going there; -yet, she had had it open that morning, she knew. Her sister must -remember better than she did. She would look presently, she had not -quite the resolution to look now; and suffering her characteristic -indolence to overcome her prudence, she sank into an arm-chair, and took -up her knitting. - -At this moment, the chaise, which had been ordered, slowly drove up to -the door, and Mabel entered to tell them that luncheon waited them in -the sitting-room. - -Mrs. Villars started up, full of business and bustle, which she felt to -be a welcome relief after the morning's _tête-à-tête_, and hurried down -stairs. Mabel regarded her mother's pale looks with affectionate -anxiety; but there was little time for thought, as Mrs. Villars and her -maid kept the house in a perfect ferment for the next five minutes. - -Amy stood looking aghast at a very bright carpet-bag, with a kind of -travelling scent about it, which she thought grander and newer than -anything of the kind she had before seen; and she quite shrank within -herself when her aunt kissed her, and blessed her in a tone which made -her feel cold; nor was she sorry when she saw her get into the carriage, -attended by the bright carpet-bag--and when box after box was moved to -the top of the creaking vehicle--and when the vehicle itself moved down -the walk, she drew a long breath, as if relieved from some heavy -pressure, feeling the place once more quite their own. - -Lucy ran to the gate, to open it to let her mamma pass, kissing her hand -to her, and stopping to watch till the carriage turned the corner, and -was only visible down Amy's point of observation on the wall. She then -came back with her cheeks crimson, and putting her arm round Mabel's -waist, she whispered-- - -"Who do you think passed while I was holding the gate?" - -"Who?" said Mabel, a little surprised at anything like an apparition in -their quiet village, and not yet quite aware of their Bath cousin's -usual train of thought. "I cannot guess." - -Lucy's cheeks were of a deeper tint, as she whispered-- - -"Captain Clair." - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - - But when the weight of sorrow found - My spirit prostrate and resigned, - The anguish of the bleeding wound - Taught me to feel for all mankind. - - ELIZA COOK. - - -Mrs. Lesly's ill health had made her rather retire from society, than -take any pains to seek it, during her widowhood, and she had gradually -drawn her circle of friends so closely round her, that it now scarcely -extended beyond her immediate neighbourhood. Mabel, whose affectionate -attendance was necessary to her mother's happiness, never thought of -leaving her, by accepting any invitation to stay from home; and years -had almost insensibly passed away in the cultivation of elegant tastes, -and in constant, but local benevolence, without their being tempted to -ask any distant relative or friend to visit them. - -Mabel was, therefore, at first, a little puzzled to think how she might -render their quiet home agreeable to the gay girl who had so -unexpectedly entered it. Lucy, however, seemed determined to be pleased, -if only allowed to be moving, and she ran away with great cheerfulness, -to prepare for the walk which Mabel proposed soon after the departure of -Mrs. Villars. - -"Do you often call at the rectory?" she asked, as they strolled up the -hill leading through the village. - -"We will call as we return from our walk," replied Mabel, "if you fancy -going there with me." - -"Oh, yes," said Lucy, "I should like it so much, for you said Mr. Ware -was such a nice man; his sister, I suppose, is quite an old maid." - -"She is such a pleasant old lady, that you cannot help liking her," -said Mabel; "but I ought not to say that, I suppose, as some people -always dislike those they are told they shall like, and I should be very -sorry if you were not pleased with them both." - -"Oh, I shall be sure to like them if they are favorites of yours. But do -look how lovely;" she exclaimed, as a sudden turn in the winding walk -they had chosen, gave them a fine view of the distant country, with -Aston manor in the fore-ground. "What a beautiful house. Is that the -house we saw from the garden? Is that Harry Hargrave's?" - -"Yes," was the laconic reply. - -"Why do you look so grave?" - -"I did not mean to look so," said Mabel; stopping by an old hawthorn -tree, which was lying upon the ground, though the branches were still -covered with foliage. "Let us sit down here, for the sun is quite -oppressive. This," continued she, "is a favorite seat of mine; the tree -fell a long time ago, and has been left as it is, ever since. You will -get a better view of the house here, than you will find any where -else." - -Lucy readily seated herself by Mabel's side, upon the old tree which had -fallen in a pleasant spot. A high hedge shaded it from the sun on one -side, and clusters of wild roses hung down it, and scented the air. A -gentle breeze stole up from the valley, and a small stream rippled by in -melodious monotony, falling in a tiny cascade over the bank into the -river below. The songs of many birds came from all sides of the well -wooded country--and here and there a gay butterfly crossed over the -fields. - -They continued for some little time in silence, which Lucy was the first -to break, by enquiring if Aston Manor were as pleasant inside as it -seemed to promise to be. - -"Yes, even more pleasant," replied Mabel; "it is a very compact house, -the rooms are of a very good size--and the whole place splendidly -furnished, and generally admired in our county; the hall is surrounded -by a gallery, hung with paintings of great value. The gardens are very -beautiful, and every thing else in keeping. Indeed, I think it is quite -a bijou of a place." - -"Is there any room that would do nicely for a dance?" enquired Lucy. - -"They used to have many pleasant dances there, in good Mrs. Hargrave's -lifetime, which mamma remembers well." - -"Oh, that will be so nice," said Lucy. - -"What will?" said Mabel, in surprise. - -"Why, when our castle in the air marriage takes place," said Lucy; -"because Caroline is so very fond of dancing, and could lead off a ball -with such spirit; and I shall contrive to be nearly always staying with -them." - -"Why do you suppose every thing so certain," said Mabel, startled, alike -at the indelicacy of the scheme, and Lucy's cool thoughtlessness in -speaking of it. - -"Do not say it will not be," said Lucy, "or I shall punish you some how -or other. Now, would you not be glad to have us down here, Colonel -Hargrave and all; think what nice parties there would be; and who knows -what nice beau might come down and take you away with him." - -Mabel's cheek blushed scarlet, and her lips curled in preparation for -some angry retort--suddenly she checked herself as she remembered the -conversation of the preceding night. Have I then failed so soon, thought -she to herself. - -"Ah, mamma, you know my vain wicked heart better than I do--for the -first observation that seems to point me out as single, and needing a -lover, makes me angry." - -"Ah, you blush, Mabel," pursued her heedless tormentor, too unaccustomed -to feel for others, to be able to read her countenance, or tell why her -words had given pain; "perhaps, you are engaged to some one, under the -rose, all the while." - -Mabel was silent for a moment; it required that moment to seize the -reins with which she usually held her temper in check, and then she -replied, gently, but gravely. - -"I am not engaged to any one; you mistake my face entirely, but I -colored because I was silly enough to feel angry at your thinking I was -wishing to be married--but it was wrong of me, because you could not -understand my feelings without being told. So I must tell you," she -continued smiling, "that I am a determined old maid; though, perhaps, -you may think such a resolution needless in a place where gentlemen -seldom come to disturb our equanimity." - -"What, wedded to your duties, are you? Or what other queer reason may -have led you to such a determination," enquired Lucy, who could not help -feeling that her new friend's speech meant more than it usually does in -the mouth of a beautiful girl; and she was surprised to think she should -wish to retire from the field of conquest, before actually driven from -it by dulness or age. Her own vanity could not conceal from her, a -certain indescribable something which rendered her cousin particularly -attractive, and, though she certainly ranked her second to herself, -that did not imply any very low degree of merit. - -Mabel's composure, which was seldom lost, was now entirely restored, and -she answered Lucy's wondering eyes with one of her peculiarly sweet and -gentle smiles. - -"You may well wonder," said she, "that I, who seem so little your -senior, should already have made such a resolution. I too, who am fond -of society, fond of companionship, and all that is domestic, and choose -solitude only as wholesome medicine; but some destinies are fixed early, -others late; and I, who once thought, and still think, marriage, with -its social harmony and sweet feelings of dependence, most fitted for a -woman's nature, have yet quite made up my mind to remain single." - -"I shall not believe you till you give me some good reason," said Lucy. - -"You are too kind," replied Mabel, as her voice slightly trembled, "to -seek to probe a wound only from the curiosity of seeing how deep it -is--when you have no power to heal. I speak of myself now," she added, -hastily; "lest in our future conversations, you may pain me without -knowing it, and perhaps I might think you unkind when you were only -seeking to amuse me. Oh, Lucy," said she, turning round with sudden -energy, "I have suffered terribly, and still suffer, when I lose my -self-command for a moment--do not then talk of my loving or needing -love--do not tease me with the intention of pleasing--do not talk--" -Mabel suddenly stopped and burst into tears--for a very long time, she -had never spoken intimately with a young girl in her own station of -life, and the novelty had surprised her. A few large drops rolled -quickly down her crimson cheeks, but were soon brushed away, and half -smiling, she begged her cousin's forgiveness for speaking so hastily--in -a few more seconds, she was again gentle and submissive as a child. - -"Then must I never speak of love at all?" said Lucy, fearing that all -the most interesting of her stories would find an unwilling listener. - -"Oh, you mistake me," said Mabel; "do not think me so selfish--talk as -much as you like of yourself, and forget me; and you will, perhaps, find -me a better listener, perhaps a better adviser, because I have -altogether retired from the lists of conquest; and, be assured, the -necessity of placing a guard over myself, and the difficulty of doing it -effectually, only tells me how much I ought to feel for others. If you -will always let me speak the truth, without being offended with me, I -will take interest in your feelings at any time, only remember that mine -are like 'The Arab's sealed fountain,' whose waters will never see the -light again." - -"You are a very strange girl, my sweet, new friend," said Lucy; "but I -love you better for having a history, although I see I must not read it -quite yet; at all events, not till I know you better, and you learn how -well I can keep a secret." - -"No, not even then," replied Mabel, "I cannot speak of myself without -speaking of more than myself; so content yourself with what I have told -you, and do not think of me again, or I shall repent having said -anything." - -"Well, it shall be quite as you like, I will do anything you wish, only -you must tell me, that you love me very, very much indeed." - -"I will tell you no such thing," said Mabel, laughing; "remember, I only -met you yesterday morning." - -"Well then, come and call at the rectory, and that will shew me you love -me." - -"But I could do such a little thing, whether I loved you or not," said -Mabel; "so I will take you for charity's sake, for I see, like the cat -who was turned into a lady, and yet ran after mice--you cannot go -without your accustomed food." - -"I thought you said you liked society," said Lucy. - -"And so I do--so let us walk on, for this green lane will lead us round -to the rectory." - -One of the rectory pets was an immense Newfoundland dog, who began to -bark loudly as they approached the house. - -"Oh!" said Lucy, with a half scream, "I cannot go on--I am sure he is -untied--nasty thing." - -"No, he never barks when he is loose--come on, dear, I am sure he will -not hurt you." - -Lucy clung to her arm in real or affected terror till they reached the -house door. - -Much to her disappointment, they found no one but Miss Ware at home, and -she sat up during the visit, as silent, and apparently as timid, as a -child, amusing herself by poking her parasol through the cage of the pet -parrot, who appeared highly offended at her familiarity. - -Mabel was a great favorite at the rectory, and Miss Ware, certain of -finding her interested in her news, had many little things to tell her; -she had had a letter from one old friend, and had worked a birth-day -present for another, with many other little incidents to notice, which -Lucy amused herself by silently turning into ridicule, though they were -so kindly told that few would have found it difficult to enter into the -little cares and joys which, after all, were never selfish. - -"My brother and nephew are gone to look over the church," said she, -"which I conclude Miss Villars has not yet seen. Edwin is always wishing -to improve the old tower, and to scrape away the mortar and white-wash -from the walls inside the church, for he says they are painted with -beautiful figures--but he will never have money enough for that I am -afraid--yet he puts by all he can spare--for he does not like running -into debt, and I agree with him, it is doing evil that good may come. So -he saves every year--but I fear he will not get enough in his lifetime, -to carry out this pet scheme." - -"I wish we were all rich enough to raise a subscription," said Mabel, "I -should so much like to see him fully employed in finding out all the -beauties of our dear old church." - -"Yes," said Miss Ware, "I like to hear him talk on the subject, because -he enters upon it in the true genuine spirit--he feels it to be almost -an insult to religion to allow its altars to be kept in the slovenly -state they too often are; grudged almost the necessary repairs by those -who are lavish where their own minutest comforts are concerned. The -Roman Catholics might cry shame at us." - -"Why do you not ask Colonel Hargrave, ma'am?" enquired Lucy, turning -round from the parrot. - -"My brother has mentioned the subject several times," said Miss Ware, -"without being able to interest him. Young men too seldom enter, with -warmth, on these subjects, and he has now left us so long." - -"Oh, I will tell him he must," said Lucy, "with his fortune it is -really quite shabby of him." - -"Do you know him then?" enquired Miss Ware. - -"Yes--no--not exactly--but he is a relation of ours. He is coming to -stay with us in Bath, and I will take an early opportunity of mentioning -the church to him." - -"Oh, I remember," said Miss Ware, "he is, I know, related to you through -Colonel Lesly, but I am afraid you will scarcely succeed, where my -brother has failed--if strength of argument be needed, few can put a -thing in a stronger light than Edwin can." - -"Oh," said Lucy, laughing, "I never condescend to argue with a man--I -will tell him he _must_--suggest that not to do so is shabby, mean--with -a few more epithets to match, and then leave his own good taste to draw -the conclusion." - -"Well," said Miss Ware, recovering from her slight pique, at thinking -any one could succeed where Edwin failed, "if you never use your -ridicule for a worse purpose, you will do well." - -The subject here took another turn, and Lucy again applied herself to -tease the parrot with the same listlessness as before--thinking the -conversation very dull, yet too idle to throw in her share. She was -aroused from her apathy, by hearing Miss Ware ask Mabel if she would -bring her young friend to tea on the morrow, if Mrs. Lesly could content -herself with Amy's company; for to ask her, she knew to be useless. Lucy -feared Mabel was going to decline, and she cast such an imploring look -at her as to decide the question, and make her promise that, if Mrs. -Lesly continued as well as she had been, and would consent to part with -them, they would come with pleasure. Lucy thought this, a very -satisfactory conclusion, to so dull a visit, and once again all smiles, -shook Miss Ware warmly by the hand, as Mabel rose to leave, and returned -home in high spirits. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - - A parent's heart may prove a snare; - The child she loves so well, - Her hand may lead, with gentlest care, - Down the smooth road to hell. - Nourish its flame, destroy its mind, - Thus do the blind mislead the blind, - Even with a mother's love. - - -Lucy Villars was a pretty girl, with fairy-like figure, small features, -laughing mouth, bright blue sparkling eyes, and a profusion of light -ringlets. Her step was buoyant, and her voice full of animation. It -might have been vanity that made the sparkle of those eyes so brilliant, -and her smiles so frequent, but as her merry laugh echoed back the -joyousness of her own heart, few were disposed to condemn the feeling, -whatever it might be, that rendered her so seemingly happy with herself, -and all around her. - -What mental abilities she might possess, however, were completely -overshadowed by the mistakes of early education; at times they would -peep forth when her feelings were really stirred by any strong impulse -of good or evil; but so uncommon were these indications of mind, that no -one could regard them as any true sign even of an originally strong -intellect; and her ordinary flippancy was, perhaps, more certainly -chosen as an index to the spirit within. - -She had been but an apt pupil in a bad school. When scarcely more than a -tottering child, she had taken her place at the dancing academy, -learning in her lisping language to compare waltzes and polkas, and -criticise dress, and to display her tiny figure for the admiration of -spectators; feeling her little heart bound when perhaps she attracted -notice from being the smallest and gayest of her companions. Then, in -the juvenile party, where the lesson of the morning could be so well -displayed, where she early learnt to hear her nonsense listened to with -pleasure, and, where, even the old and sensible regarded her little -affectations with a smile, she found another opportunity for display in -the world for which she was educated. - -These were too tempting after the dry formula of French verbs and -geography lessons, not to engross the greater part of her thoughts; and, -as she grew older, the evening ball, with its glare of light, its -flirtations and too visible admiration, and the morning promenade, -concert, or town gossip, served to keep up the excited, thoughtless -feeling to which she had been so early trained. Oh, England, do you -educate all your daughters in this manner! Your matrons, reverenced by -all nations, answer no! - -It could scarcely be wondered at, that Lucy Villars had thus learnt to -place too high a value on personal beauty. We would not for an instant -deny its merit. We reverence all that is beautiful in art or nature, we -glow with admiration of a fine picture, and the sight of a rich -landscape elevates the feelings of him who gazes upon it; we picture -angels beautiful, and we look forward to a heaven where all is perfect -beauty. It cannot then be valueless when exhibited in the human face or -figure. It has indeed been much over and underrated. May we not look -upon it as a talent bestowed for some high purpose, as a means of -influence which must be some day accounted for. - -No such thoughts ever occupied Lucy's mind for a moment; she had learnt -her own estimate of its value from the frivolous admiration of a gay -city; she had heard it praised in others as if of the greatest -importance; and she had chosen her acquaintance amongst those who -studied every means of enhancing its charms. - -She now entered on her country visit with the same feelings; and, bent -on displaying herself to the best advantage at the rectory, she spent -the greater part of the next morning, during the hours usually occupied -by Mabel in attending to Amy's lessons, in selecting from her wardrobe a -dress best suited for the occasion. Mabel was again and again consulted, -and Amy began to show great impatience at her sister's divided -attention, usually all her own, during her study hours. - -But Mabel, much to her disappointment, not unwilling to teach her -self-denial, persisted in attending to Lucy's questions, and in the -evening the latter found herself attired to her perfect satisfaction, -and looking remarkably well. - -"You seem to think dress of little importance," she said, lounging into -her cousin's room, and stopping to take another peep in the glass, -without seeing that Mabel had not finished dressing, and was a little -late. - -"No indeed," replied Mabel, fastening a bouquet of geraniums in her -simple white dress, without the aid of the usurped mirror, "I think it -of so much consequence, that no woman should be indifferent to it, when -at her toilet, or with her milliner. They say a lady's taste is to be -read in her dress, and I should not like to give soiled lace or badly -blended colors, as an index to mine." - -"Do you find any fault with my dress to-night?" enquired Lucy. - -Mabel only suggested that a simple brooch might be preferred to the -bright bow which ornamented her bosom, but she had ample time to repent -the observation, for Lucy insisted on going over her whole box of -jewelry to find a substitute, and was scarcely ready by the time when -Mabel, having provided books, work, tea, and every thing she could think -of for Mrs. Lesly and Amy, waited for her in the garden. - -They found Mr. Ware looking for them at his garden gate. Mabel hurried -forward to meet him, and then turned to introduce her cousin. - -"Most welcome, my dear young ladies," said he, extending a hand to each, -"my sister has no mean opinion of her own hospitality to venture on -inviting you to join our party." - -Lucy blushed with conscious beauty, while Mabel said, with a smile-- - -"You throw all the blame on Miss Ware. I fear then, you would not have -asked us to come yourself." - -"Nay, nay, I cannot exactly say what I would have done; but here is -Arthur, no doubt he can play at words better than I can." - -Captain Clair gracefully raised his hat as he came in sight, and then -shaking hands with Mabel, requested, in a low voice to be introduced to -her lovely cousin. The "lovely," was pronounced distinctly enough to -reach Lucy's ears, and the blush with which she received Mabel's -introduction shewed him that the compliment had been accepted. - -As the party lounged round the garden, Mabel reminded Mr. Ware of his -promise to show her some improvements he had been making amongst the -evergreens in the shrubbery; and Lucy Villars gladly seized the -opportunity of commencing a flirting conversation with Captain Clair, -who, being well drilled in the accomplishment of small talk, by long -practice, easily fell into a _tête-à-tête_. - -Mabel's hand was placed affectionately in the old man's arm, as they -walked on together, finding some kindred thought from every topic they -chose. He had been kind to her when a firm friend had been most needed, -and she now sought to shew, in every way, that he had not bestowed that -kindness on one incapable of appreciating it. - -The ready sympathy she felt in all in which he took any interest, was, -perhaps, the best return she could have thought of. We value most that -for which we pay the highest, and friendship is purchased by no common -coin. - -It was a great pleasure to Mr. Ware, to have her society and ready -sympathy. Few friends lay within reach of Aston, and her elegant mind -supplied what would otherwise have been wanting in his simple home, and -gave him an opportunity of conversing on his favorite topics. - -"We shall not be seeing so much of you I fear," he said, as they walked -back towards the house, "but I must not be selfish." - -"Indeed I hope that will not be the case," she replied, "do come and -walk with us whenever you have time. No one can shew the the beauties of -our county better than you can, and I never enjoy a party so much as -when you are with us." - -"If you are in earnest I feel inclined to gratify you, if not, to punish -you, by accepting your invitation." - -"Do not let us even pretend to be insincere," said Mabel, eagerly, -"hypocrisy is so hateful. Take me at my word, and trust me till I break -it." - -"Well, then, so I will; I scarcely know which I like most, to trust or -be trusted, both are so pleasant; so, if you are going to do any thing -delightful out of doors, like a walk or a nutting expedition, ask us to -join you, and we will do the same, so we shall the better be able to -amuse our guests. People often require too good a reason for meeting--we -will have none." - -"I will most willingly promise," returned Mabel, "only remember, that on -some days mamma feels so low that I never leave her--then you must -excuse me, for every thing at home depends on her." - -"You are quite right to let it be so," said Mr. Ware, "and I will never -say a word against such an arrangement. Only tell her we mean to take -her by storm some night and come to tea. You shall give it us on the -green, and then she can look on without minding our noise." - -"Mamma will be very glad to see you, I am sure," said Mabel, "if you -will only propose it. The effort would do her good." - -"Very well then, I will tell her when I see her next," said Mr. Ware, -with a smile. - -They had now reached the open window of the sitting-room, where Mabel -was welcomed by Miss Ware. - -"The evening is really quite sultry," said she, "yet the air at this -time of day so often gives me cold, that I had not courage to venture -out, though I so much wished to join you." - -"Had I known that, my dear Miss Ware, I should not have been tempted to -remain out so long." - -"No, no, dear child, I am not so selfish, for I know when once you begin -to talk to Edwin there is no leaving off; but I hope you have not -forgotten your pretty cousin to-night. You promised to bring her with -you." - -"Oh, yes, she is with us," said Mabel, turning round, but no Lucy was to -be seen. - -"Oh, Arthur is taking care of her, I believe," said Mr. Ware, "and they -will be here soon, I dare say." - -It was some little time, however, before they did appear, and then they -were seen advancing down the gravel walk, both laughing, and Lucy with -a very high colour. - -"Why," said Mr. Ware, "you stole a march upon us, Arthur, where have you -been keeping this young lady in the damp?" - -"Are we at the chair of confession?" asked the young officer, still -laughing. - -"Yes, yes, every one confesses everything here; but sit down to tea -first, and take off your bonnet, Miss Villars." - -"Well then," said Clair, when they were comfortably seated at the -tea-table, "I perceive I must apologise for a very grave offence in -keeping Miss Lucy Villars so long absent; the whole crime, I fear, lies -with me, I indeed, the scape-goat for every offender, must, I fear, take -the blame on myself." - -"Come, come, Arthur," said his uncle, "be laconic." - -"My dear uncle, you should allow a prisoner to state his own case -fairly--if he has not studied Burke on the 'Sublime and Beautiful,' the -'Patriot King,' and other models of pure English composition, you must -let a poor fellow express himself as he can, so that he speaks the -truth. So to proceed; we were talking of country pursuits, and Miss Lucy -could not understand how I could contrive to while away my time, after -being accustomed to town, Portsmouth, Southampton, Cheltenham, -Scarborough, Bombay, Calcutta and such places; how, in fact, I contrived -to vegetate here." - -Lucy laughed merrily, and displayed in doing so a very pretty set of -white teeth. But Mr. Ware saw with regret that a new spirit had entered -their small circle of society, whose influence might do much to -counteract his own on the versatile disposition of his nephew, even -without being conscious of it. - -"Well, aunt," Captain Clair continued gaily, "you look serious, as if I -meant any bad compliment to the sweetest village in England; though, my -dear aunt, vegetation is vegetation after all, whether displayed on the -Cotswold hills or in the back woods of America." - -Mabel looked at him for an instant, and her deep blue eyes seemed to -deprecate a remark which her ever kind heart told her was giving pain. -Clair bowed, and then said almost in a whisper: "Thank you, I was -wrong," and continued his narrative, after a moment's pause. - -"Well, as I before said, Miss Lucy wished to know how I amused myself in -the country, and, amongst other things, I mentioned my workshop, -situated, as you may remember, over the stable, and accessible only by a -ladder. However, this lady honored me by expressing a wish to see it, -and you know how difficult it is to refuse to gratify a lady's taste for -a hobby of our own, therefore, we proceeded to the stable, where, after -some time being spent in the ascent of the ladder, in looking at my -tools, and all my attempts at carpentering rickety garden chairs, and -tables that never will be persuaded to stand even, and after my giving -her a promise to turn her a jewel box, (which I hope she did not -believe) we experienced the same difficulty in coming down, that we did -in going up, but at length we are here, and at your service." - -"What a long story about nothing," said his aunt. - -"Then, if you think so, you do neither me nor my narrative justice; I -have given it for the amusement of the public, and feel myself ill-used -to find it not appreciated. Miss Lucy you play chess, you said. Honor me -by playing? We are ill-treated by the rest of the company, so may well -retire from notice." - -Mabel was surprised to see the sudden intimacy which had sprung up in -less than an hour, and expected that Lucy would evade the familiarity -with which she was so soon treated, by some evidence of woman's tact; -but she very soon saw her seated by the little chess-table, in the -corner, apart from the rest, and listening to the low conversation -addressed to her, as if her host, and hostess, and friend, had not been -in the room. - -She could not help feeling a little angry at her cousin's total neglect -of the friends whom she had ever been accustomed to treat with affection -and respect, but studiously endeavoured to engage their attention, and -to prevent their thinking of it. Still, it is never so difficult to talk -as when we most try to do so, and, almost for the first time, with them, -she felt it tedious to support the conversation. - -At length, after giving Lucy two or three games, which her inferior play -would never have won, Captain Clair shut up the board, and the two -turned round for amusement to the rest of the company. - -"Do you know, Mabel," said Lucy, "that Captain Clair came home from -Malta with Colonel Hargrave." - -"Yes, Mr. Ware told me so." - -"Do then join with me in begging a description of him." - -"Surely," she replied, "Captain Clair does not need two requests." - -"Do then," said Lucy, turning to him, "give us a nice long description -of him." - -"I really do not know where to begin," said he, "particularly as you say -you will see him so soon." - -"Oh, yes," said Lucy, with quiet pride, "he is coming to see us in Bath. -But now do describe him," she reiterated, with her prettiest look of -entreaty. - -"Well then, though it is hard to have to describe a character that -throws one's own into shade." - -"No, my dear boy," said Mr. Ware, his eyes glistening at this modest -avowal; "true praise of another's worth only enhances your own." - -"Not in every one's opinion, I fear, uncle; virtue seems to stand so -much by comparison, at least, I have often found it so; but that shall -not prevent my giving as faithful a picture as I can remember of -Hargrave. I am rather fond of studying character." - -"How you wander," said Lucy; "do begin--." - -"No, miss Lucy, I was not wandering so much as you think, my observation -on character might after a bit have led to Hargrave--but, like a true -knight, once more I obey. What shall I begin with? A man's agreeable -qualities are generally judged by his acres; allow me," said he, waving -his hand towards the window, and pointing to the landscape of hill and -vale, and rich woods, and winding river, over which the moon was -shining, to shew you his most agreeable phase in the eyes of fair -ladies. - -Lucy visibly colored, and Clair looked at her scrutinisingly, till she -laughingly told him to go on. - -"Well, if that description does not satisfy, I must be more minute, and -bring up qualities, which, in these refined days, are not so much -thought of, unfortunately. First, then, his personal appearance. He is -very tall, and broad shouldered, and athletic; yet, at the same time, -though he is as strong as a giant, you might almost call him graceful. -He seems to have acquired the difficult art of standing perfectly still; -no shifting from one foot to another, a habit, Miss Lucy, I am prone to -indulge in. Now then for his face, dark eyes, dark hair, dark -complexion, white teeth, and a good nose, and I suppose my description -is complete." - -"No, not yet, by any means," said Lucy, "tell us a little more." - -"Ah, I forgot his sneer, which is perfect, I never saw one so cutting -before; but then his smile atones for it, though as rare as the sunshine -in November. The sneer is that of a proud, contemptuous, arrogant -man--the smile, that of an infant. Then, his eye--there is no describing -his eye--you, may remember it, uncle; it seems as if continual fire were -sleeping in it, like the fire of uncurbed intellect; an eye capable of -reading the countenance of another, yet, almost slothful in the attempt -to do so." - -"What a horrid man!" exclaimed Lucy. - -"You will not think so when you see him, or if you do, you will be -singular," said Clair. "Then I was going to tell you, that he is -changeable as the moon. Perhaps, when you are alone with him, he will -startle and entrance you, by his eloquent observations on men, and -things; and you will invite your friends to meet him, expecting them to -be equally fascinated; but, perhaps, during the whole evening, he will -scarcely make even a common-place observation. He is, indeed, a curious, -fascinating, wilful being; clever, and accomplished, beyond a doubt, and -his character is unimpeachable; yet he always seems to want something to -make him entirely happy." - -"Poor fellow," sighed Mr. Ware. - -"Perhaps he is in love," suggested Lucy. - -"Hardly unsuccessfully, I should think; indeed, were I he, I should -never despair--but I own," said he, laughing; "I have sometimes caught -him looking at the moon." - -"Well," said Mabel, rising; "I am sure we have to thank you for your -description of our lord of the manor, though you have made him rather a -terrible personage. Come, Lucy, I fear we must go." - -"If you must, you will allow me to see you home," said Clair. - -"I always take Mabel home," said his uncle; "but, if you will come with -us, as there are two ladies to be taken care of, we shall walk home -together." - -Clair gladly assented to this arrangement; but, to Lucy's surprise, -offered Mabel his arm, leaving her to walk with his uncle; a plan she so -decidedly disliked, that she insisted on keeping her pocket-handkerchief -to her mouth the whole way home, though the night was remarkably clear, -and her stifled and negligent answers gave little encouragement to her -companion's attempts at conversation. - -When they reached home, they found only Betsy, waiting up for them, and -Mabel begged Lucy to go as quietly as possible to her room, for fear of -waking Amy--but she insisted on following her, without stopping to -remark the expression of unusual paleness and fatigue, which was visible -in her countenance, and compelled her to listen to the story of her -evening's adventures. - -"You know," said she, blushing, "when I was up in that high poky place, -at the top of the long ladder, Captain Clair said he would not let me go -down till I gave him some reward; of course I knew he wanted a kiss, but -I was not going to give it him, and so I stood still, till I was so -tired, that I compromised the matter by giving him my hand to kiss; so -then he let me go, saying, he supposed he must be contented." - -"Oh! Lucy," cried Mabel, "how could you be so imprudent as to go up -there alone--how impertinent of him--why did you let him take such a -liberty." - -"Come, nonsense, now sweetest, do not be a prude, it does not become you -to look like an old maid. What is the harm of having a kiss on one's -hand, one's cheek would be different, and, of course, I would not allow -him to do that." - -"But, Lucy, dear, is it not imprudent to place yourself in a position -which would allow him to ask such a thing--will it not make you appear a -flirt--does it not lower you to allow him to be so free, after seeing -him only for a few hours. Do consider." - -"Why, one would think I was a grandmother. I hate being cross at every -little thing. I am sure it is more wicked to quarrel, after all." - -"Yes, but if you would only understand me," said Mabel, "you would know, -I would not have you quarrel, either. But if you will let me, we will -talk of it again to-morrow, for now poor Amy is waking. You know," said -she, gently putting her arm round her pretty cousin, and kissing her -forehead softly; "you know you promised to let me talk to you in this -way, and you half promised to listen." - -"Well, sweet cousin, I think you may be speaking the truth, after all. -It was very naughty of me, perhaps," she added, with a smile, "to go up -in the loft, and so I will try and be better in future. Oh dear! dear! -Amy is awake; well, I am very sorry. Go to sleep, child, Mabel is -tired," and off she ran to her own room, leaving her cousin to soothe -the restless child as she could. - -Perhaps it was as well that Mabel was thus prevented from following the -train of depressing thought into which she seemed to have fallen on her -return from the rectory, for, as she sunk to rest, with Amy's head upon -her arm, she remembered, that if sorrow had ever laid its heavy hand -upon her life, the treasure of a sister's love had yet been given her--a -sister rendered more dear by sickness and weakness. And in these -thoughts the unselfish girl soon forgot all other feelings. - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - - But a trouble weigh'd upon her, - And perplex'd her night and morn. - - TENNYSON. - - -Mr. Ware and his nephew did not neglect to take advantage of Mabel's -proposal, that they would mutually help to pass the few weeks that -remained of the warm weather, more pleasantly than usual. Each bright -day of autumn we value the more highly, as we fear it may be the last; -and the little party of friends took every opportunity of visiting the -prettiest sights of the neighbourhood, either on foot, or in Mr. Ware's -carriage. Much as she enjoyed these excursions, Mabel, at length, found -that she was frequently obliged to excuse herself. The slightest -additional pallor on her mother's countenance, had always been -sufficient to make her give up the merriest party, or the most -engrossing study; and she now tried in vain to hide from herself the -growing weakness, and the fading and changing color she often -wore--though, with her accustomed buoyancy of disposition, she believed -that, the few autumn months once passed, her mother would again be -strong. - -Mrs Lesly, sometimes tried to bring the subject of her precarious state -of health before her, yet could scarcely find courage to damp her hopes. -Since her sister's visit, she had felt an uneasiness which she found it -difficult to suppress, and, instead of being relieved on her children's -account, by the promise that they should share the comforts of a home -with her sister's own family, she experienced a sensation of vague -terror, which she found it impossible to define. Even the loss of six -hundred pounds, supposing them lost, could not be equivalent to the -pain she suffered. - -The magnitude of our misfortunes depends, not so much on themselves, for -the pain they give us, as upon the state in which they find us. In good -spirits, and vigorous health, we may, perhaps, smile at trials which -would make another's cup of sorrows run over. - -Poor Mrs. Lesly, weakened in health, and with feeble nerves, began to -entertain suspicions that she had acted imprudently. A fear, of she knew -not what, entered her mind, and she began to feel a restless impatience -to find the written promise given by her sister, which remained as the -only security for the money with which she had so weakly parted. This -anxiety seemed, for a time, to conquer her constitutional indolence, and -much of her time was spent in looking over old drawers, desks, and -boxes, and the search always ended with the secretary, where she turned -over every paper in a vain investigation. Every excuse she could make -for being alone, she eagerly seized upon to renew it; for, while she -had, at first, felt it difficult to explain to Mabel, that she had -risked the greater part of her small fortune, not from any strong -motive, but, simply because her sister had been extravagant enough to -embarrass herself by the purchase of luxuries, and she had been too weak -to refuse the loan which the superior claim of her children had rendered -rather unjust than generous, she now found this difficulty increased by -a constant fear that she should guess the truth. It was, therefore, -necessary to carry on the search unobserved, and the wish to do so, -fixed upon her like a spell, and harassed her continually. She would, -then, on the morning of any proposed expedition, endeavour to appear as -gay and well as possible, that she might induce Mabel to join the party; -but, on their return, hours of harassing disappointment generally shewed -themselves in her sickly appearance at night; and Mabel was grieved to -find that, instead of welcoming her return as usual, after even the -shortest absence, she seemed rather surprised to find she had come back -so soon; regarding her presence almost with feverish impatience. In -vain, Mabel entreated to be allowed to know the cause of this change. -Mrs. Lesly only answered her questions by excuses; or, if much pressed, -by tears, causing poor Mabel the utmost uneasiness. The restless -agitation she continually felt, rapidly wore upon both health and -spirits, and their failure only increased the nervous desire to find -what now seemed of tenfold importance to her disordered fancy. - -It is melancholy to trace the effects of bodily illness, when it finds, -as it were, an echo in the mind of the sufferer. - -It was in vain that Mrs. Lesly reasoned with herself, trying to believe -that she could perfectly rely on her sister's promise. She could not but -remember her wanton extravagance, and the little guard she had ever -learned to place on herself, even in the indulgence of the slightest -whim; and her affection for her could not blind her to the fact that she -had chosen for her children a guardian too weak to protect herself from -the slightest temptation. Again and again, the same thoughts pressed -upon her, and the same course of reasoning occurred, giving her less -satisfaction on every recurrence to it. - -Then followed the burning desire to recover the lost papers; with -renewed impatience she would return to the secretary--till wearied and -worn out she would sink into her chair disappointed and spiritless. - -"Ah, dearest Mamma," said Mabel, when having determined to remain at -home, though the day was lovely, and favored a walk to the woods which -had been agreed on, she entered the room, and found her seated, -unoccupied, except by her own harassing thoughts. "You are unhappy, and -will not tell me why. Is not this unkind?" - -"Unkind," echoed Mrs. Lesly, vacantly, "yes, I have been very unkind to -you both." - -"No, no, dear Mamma, I do not mean that--not really unkind--only it -vexes me to see you so sad." - -"I am sad indeed, my dear," returned Mrs. Lesly, in the same absent -tone, "but I cannot find them, though they are all here." She stopped -and glanced at the secretary wistfully, as if its old-fashioned drawers -could speak if they liked. - -"What is lost?" said Mabel, "let me try and find it--I will look over -all the papers if you will let me." - -"No, no, what I have lost I ought to find, it is my own indolence which -has done it." - -"Yes, but do not think of that now, mamma, love, remember Doctor -Parkinson said you were to be kept quite quiet, and now you are -wandering about all day--only think how precious your health is to us, -and how happy we all are when you are well." - -"Mabel, you kill me by these words--I feel that I am dying, but do not -kill me before the time appointed." - -Mabel was silent, and stood looking at her mother with painful -earnestness. - -"Do not look at me so, sweet child. Well may you be surprised when I -have ruined you both." - -"Ruin! my own mother, what do you mean?" - -"Ah, you may well wonder at me," replied Mrs. Lesly, much excited, "how -could I be so silly as to injure my own children." - -"Ah, now you are unkind," said Mabel, "why not tell me--is there a -sorrow I have refused to bear--is it not my privilege to be sorrowful." - -Tears rolled down her heated cheeks, and Mrs. Lesly continued to regard -her in silence. - -"Is it not unjust to me, your own child," continued Mabel, (for she had -often before failed in obtaining her confidence,) "day after day you are -wearying yourself with something you will not let me know, and injuring -your health, which is more precious to us than any thing else--mamma--I -did not know you could be so unkind." - -"Dear child, do not talk in this way, my only thought is of my children, -and oh!" said she, turning her head towards the secretary, "if I could -but find them." - -"What?" - -"The papers." - -"What papers? Do tell me, can any thing be worse than this -concealment--you have always told me everything." - -"Ah, if I had," said Mrs. Lesly, with a sigh. - -"But do tell me now, I would rather hear any thing than see you suffer." - -"Can you really bear it?" enquired her mother, seeming to shake off the -oppressive calmness with which she had been speaking before, and looking -attentively at her daughter, whose warm feelings were almost ready to -burst control. - -"I will bear any thing," answered Mabel, walking to her, and kneeling -by her side, "any thing you can tell me." - -"Then you shall hear me now, lest you have cause to curse your mother's -memory, if you heard it when I was gone from you. Your poor father put -by a thousand pounds, which I never told you of before. It would have -been but a poor pittance--yet it would have saved you from want; but -this is nearly all gone now, for my sister has been borrowing of me from -time to time, promising to be a mother to my children--I have lent her -six hundred of the thousand, and I have lost her promises to repay them -back. Should any thing happen to either of us, what will you do?" - -"Trust to me, mother, dear. He who has supported me through far worse -trials will support me still." - -"Reproach me now, Mabel," said Mrs. Lesly, sorrowfully, "but do not live -to curse me in the bitterness of your heart." - -"No, my loved mother," said her daughter, looking up in her face with -unmistakeable cheerfulness, "think no more of this now. Amy shall not -suffer while health is left me, and power to use the education my dear -father gave me; and I am so happy to think nothing worse is to be -feared, even should any thing so strange occur as that aunt Villars -could not pay us. And do you think I could once forget that it was -because you were kind, unselfish and generous, that you lent the money." - -Mrs. Lesly lent down and folded her child in her arms, saying, in a low -repentant voice-- - -"Not generous but weak, we should but injure ourselves, not those -dependent on us in order to serve others." - -Yet she felt as if a weight had passed from her heart, and though she -was still apprehensive, she was no longer despairing. - - - - - CHAPTER X. - - How brief is the time since her voice was the clearest, - Her laughter the loudest, amid the gay throng. - - HEMANS. - - -Could the selfish but remember how much less they would feel their own -sorrows by sharing those of others, they would learn an easy way to -alleviate the unhappiness they are continually guarding against, by so -occupying themselves in thoughts of pity and kindness as to leave little -room in their own minds for fear or regret. - -The kindhearted very soon begin to feel an interest in those who are -thrown much with them, and, though Lucy presented many faults to her -notice, Mabel learnt to watch her with great interest. It soon became -evident to her that she was perfectly in earnest in her attempts to -engage the affections of Captain Clair, and, though at first she had -been disgusted and pained at the idea--more ready to pity than -condemn--she felt for Lucy when she perceived, by her variable spirits, -that her heart was engaged in the flirtation she had so thoughtlessly -commenced. The conduct of Clair puzzled her, she wished to believe that -his attentions were serious, and yet she could not help thinking they -meant nothing beyond the fashionable love he might often have professed -for the most pleasing young lady of any society in which he happened to -find himself. Still, she hoped she was mistaken; and thought, over again -and again the little anecdotes which Lucy daily brought to her -confidence, assuming them as unmistakeable signs of an affection which -would soon declare itself. - -Mabel knew that a look, a single word, even an emphasis on an ordinary -word are sometimes the evidences of affection. Yet, all that Lucy told -her, seemed to fall short, certainly of her ideas of love, formed, as -they had been, from her own unhappy history. Yet she hesitated to speak -her opinion freely; for, after all, it might be only a very unkind -suspicion of one who had not given any very good cause for believing him -to be a trifler. He had, besides, been so kind to herself, that she -could not help feeling prepossessed in his favor. - -Meanwhile, Clair appeared as attentive as ever, but his attentions were -never varied by ill humour or depression. Still Lucy rested confident in -the power of her own attractions--and, persisting in believing he was -only diffident--she became more and more lavish of encouragement, -without, however, finding her admirer become either warmer or bolder. - -What was to be done? Her letters to Bath had been full of the -admiration she had inspired in the young officer, and of expectations -that, in a few more posts, she would have to announce his decided -proposals. The letters she received in return were full of delighted -badinage from her sisters, and good advice from her mother. How then -could she bear to return home with the tacit confession that her vanity -had deceived her; and thus subject herself to her sisters' cutting -jests, and the bitterness of her often disappointed mother. The poor -girl had been spoilt by education and companionship, and she was, -according to her own idea, forced to play desperately in order to -justify what she had written home. She did not stop to consider that all -delicacy, modesty, and all that is precious in a woman, would be risked -in such a game, when she read such words as these in her mother's -letters, "you might well pride yourself," she wrote, "on being the first -of my daughters whom I shall have the pleasure of seeing married. -Indeed I have always flattered myself, that my Lucy would be the first -to secure herself an establishment." - -The seeds of vanity, thus sown by a mother's hand, grew quickly in the -daughter's heart. To be the first to be married was an idea that filled -her with pleasure; she did not stop to analyze, or she might have -discovered that the hope of mortifying her sisters by her marriage, was -inconsistent with the love she believed she felt for them. - -But now, what could she do! how could she bring her backward lover to a -proposal! She eagerly seized any opportunity of meeting him, and never -neglected pursuing any conversation which seemed likely to lead to love. -Still she was as far from her object as ever, and at length she felt the -feverish eagerness of a gambler to bring the game to a successful close. - -Mabel, who saw she suffered, sincerely, pitied her, though unable to -divine her thoughts. Disappointed affection the poor girl might have -successfully struggled against; but she could not banish the idea of -the sneers and jests, which, in contrast to her present popularity, -would meet her at home. Home, which in its sacred circle ought to have -afforded a refuge from every evil passion, as from every outward danger. -She knew it would not be so, and willingly would she almost have thrown -herself at the Captain's feet, and begged him to protect her from it, -rather than oblige her to return to such a sanctuary. - -Oh, fashionable and speculating mothers, why do you crush in your -children some of the sweetest and loveliest of their feelings. Why are -you so utterly foolish, as, first to make them unworthy of a husband's -trust and confidence, and then wonder that they do not obtain them. A -man seeks, in his wife, for a companion to his best feelings, fit your -daughters to fill such situations, and, should they then fail to obtain -them, they will still hold an honored place in society. - -Lucy felt that her success, in a matrimonial point of view, was all that -her mother regarded, that she seemed to view her daughters with the -eyes of the public, and valued them in proportion to the admiration they -excited, and she now strained every nerve to gratify both her and -herself. - -There was one little plan to which she looked with great interest. Mr. -Ware's proposal of their taking tea in Mrs. Lesly's garden, was to be -carried into effect. They were all to dine early, and drink tea soon -enough to prevent any danger of taking cold, and Mabel was to prepare -them tea and fruit in the garden, while Miss Ware would take hers -quietly in doors with Mrs. Lesly. Amy talked herself tired with planning -it, for a week before, asking Mabel for an exact list of all the fruit -she meant to get for their entertainment. Lucy looked forward to it more -seriously; she fancied Clair entered so eagerly into the plan that she -hoped he had some particular reason for wishing it, more than the mere -pleasure of taking tea in the open air. Was it not very likely, that -lounging down one of the shady walks which skirted the garden, he might -find courage to tell all she so much wished to hear. - -The expected evening at length arrived. - -Mrs. Lesly was unusually well, for the renewed confidence between -herself and her daughter had produced the most happy effects. Lucy was -all sparkling animation, and Clair forgot to be rational in the -effervescence of his good spirits. Lucy, whose fear of caterpillars was -quite touching, had persuaded Mabel to place the tea-table on the open -grass-plot--and there the sisters had delighted themselves in arranging -the simple repast. Amy was so accustomed to bustle along by Mabel's -side, that she had come to the belief that she could do nothing well -without her; and she now hurried about, laughing merrily, as she -conveyed to the table, plates of early fruit, which old John had always -carefully matted through the summer. Mr. Ware was particularly fond of -fruit, and it was a great pleasure to the sisters, to store up every -little luxury for him. - -The table looked very pretty with its fruit, and cream, and flowers, and -the little party was a merry one, ready to take pleasure and amusement -in anything. Mr. Ware told stories of other days, and Clair brought -anecdotes of the fashionable world of his day, while the girls were -well-pleased listeners. - -When tea had been fully discussed, they strolled round the garden, -watching for the sunset, which was to be the signal for taking shelter -in the house. Lucy, the captain, and Amy, went off laughing together, -while Mabel, choosing the driest path in the garden, paced up and down -by the side of Mr. Ware. - -"It is very kind of you," he said, "to prefer my company to those who -are gayer and younger; but I am sorry to perceive that you are not quite -in your usual spirits--I hope you have no reason to be depressed." - -"None at all," replied Mabel, "and yet I am foolish enough to feel -low-spirited. But have you never felt a vague apprehension that -something dreadful was going to happen--I cannot overcome it to-night." - -"I have often felt the same from no reason, as you say, and have as -often found my fears groundless. Do you not remember those beautiful -words--'_He feareth no evil tidings_?'" - -"Oh yes--I must not think of it again." - -Mr. Ware thought this might be no bad opportunity of speaking of Mrs. -Lesly's delicate health, and leading her to prepare herself for a trial -which he foresaw was not far distant; but at the very moment that he was -thinking how to introduce the subject, the sound of merry laughter came -from the other side of the garden, and Mabel exclaimed-- - -"Oh, I fear they are at the swing, and John says it's unsafe. I must go -and stop them." - -And so saying, she ran quickly across the garden, till she reached the -spot where the swing was suspended from the branch of two tall fir -trees. - -Amy was in the swing, which Captain Clair was pushing, while Lucy was -clapping her hands as each time the child rose higher in the air. - -"Oh, do stop," said Mabel, running up to them quite out of breath, and -scarcely able to say any more. - -"No, no," said Lucy, "we want to see if Amy can touch that bough. What a -beautiful swinger she is--she nearly did it then, I declare--try again, -Amy." - -"John says it is unsafe," cried Mabel, trying to be heard, "do, do -stop--for mercy's sake, Captain Clair, do stop her." - -Both were, however, deaf to her entreaty. Lucy rejoiced in what she -thought superior nerve, and called to her not to be an old maid, -frightened at everything; while Clair thought her very feminine and -pretty, but apprehended no real danger. - -Mabel continued to exclaim, till unable to get a hearing, she burst into -tears of vexation and alarm, fearing to touch the rope, lest she might -cause the accident she feared. - -At the same moment, while she watched Amy ascend quickly through the -air, till her feet scattered a few leaves from the bough she had been -trying to touch, there came a heaving sound, then a loud crash--the -swing gave way, and Amy fell violently to the ground. With a scream of -piercing anguish, she sprang to her side, where she lay close by a -knotted root of the tree, which she had struck in falling. - -Lucy stood blushing and terrified, uttering some confused excuses for -not listening to one who justice whispered was never fanciful. - -Captain Clair looked bewildered and thoroughly ashamed, for often the -only excuse for daring is its success. - -Mr. Ware fortunately soon reached the spot, and though extremely vexed -at such a termination to the day's enjoyment, merely roused his nephew, -by telling him to carry the poor child into the house, and then to fetch -a doctor, that they might be certain she had sustained no serious -injury. - -His nephew, too happy to have some duty assigned, raised Amy in his -arms, for she was perfectly insensible, and, as Mabel supported her -drooping head, carried her into the house. Mabel's conduct during that -short walk cut him to the heart; she seemed entirely to have forgotten -that his obstinacy had injured her sister; and in her anxiety for her -safety, she did not suffer a complaining word to escape her. Those who -possess little control over their own feelings, often reverence those -who have great self-command--and to Clair, who a few minutes before, had -been laughing with almost childish excitement, and was now utterly -depressed, Mabel seemed like a superior being in the calm dignity of her -silent distress. - -At length, Amy was safely placed upon her bed, and leaving Mabel and -their servant-maid to try every means to restore her to consciousness, -he hastened in search of a surgeon. He met Lucy in the lane, who told -him that she had anticipated his errand, but that the doctor had gone to -see a patient many miles away. - -"Then I shall go for a horse, and follow him," said he, "anything will -be better than this suspense." - -"And what shall I do?" cried Lucy, wringing her hands; but Clair had no -comfort to offer, and hurried on to the village to find a horse. - -Lucy returned to the house, frightened, and ashamed. She did not like to -remain alone, yet there was no one in the sitting-room; and not daring -to seek any one, she retired to her own chamber, which looked so still -and lonely, that she put the door half open, and seated herself in a -chair close by, to listen for any news from Amy's room. She could not -help recalling to herself the wild laugh of the poor child only half an -hour before, and she could not bear to think of how still she was lying -there. - -At length she heard Betsy, the privileged maid, say:-- - -"It is all Miss Lucy's fault, I know, for the house has not been the -same since she came into it." - -"Hush, Betsy," was the murmured reply, in her cousin's well known voice; -"those thoughts will only make it harder to bear." - -Betsy was not so easily stopped, but Mabel seemed to reply no more. - -Every word went to Lucy's heart. The frequent question of despairing -feeling. "What shall I do?" received no answer, and she sat on in her -desolate seat, or varied her watch by stealing on tiptoe to the end of -the passage. Thus the weary time slipt away, and she had listened to the -church clock, as it struck the hours till midnight--she then heard the -sound of horses' feet, and anxious for any change, she ran down -stairs--but she found that Clair and the surgeon had already been -admitted by Mr. Ware, who was watching for them, and, feeling herself of -no use, she again crept to her room to listen, trembling for the -doctor's opinion. The examination lasted a long time, and she became -nearly worn out with waiting, and trying every minute to divine -something from the hurried voices, or hurried steps of the attendants in -the sick room. But she could learn nothing, till she heard the doctor -leave the room, and lead Mabel to that next her own, and then she heard -her say in a tremulous voice. - -"What do you think of her, Mr. Williams?" - -"The accident has been a severe one," he returned. - -"Can she recover?" was asked, in a tone which Lucy trembled to hear, and -she leant forward to catch the answer. - -"A complete cure is beyond hope, my dear Miss Lesly; I entreat you to -bear up against this blow," were the words she caught; "my heart bleeds -for you, but I see the back is broken, and you know--" a groan of -anguish, which she would have fled miles to have escaped hearing, was -the only answer sentence thus given. - -Then followed confused words, as if he were trying to comfort, broken by -suppressed sobs. - -An agony of terror, alike for Amy and her sister, then seized her--she -trembled in every limb; and when she attempted to cry out, her tongue -seemed to refuse to utter a sound. She sank upon the floor, too -overpowered to move, and yet without the relief of fainting. Her -thoughts became more and more distinct--of Amy, growing, perhaps, in -beauty and womanhood, stretched on the bed of helpless sickness, unable -to find advantages in either. What a blight had she cast upon a home she -had found so happy. And Mabel, too, the beautiful unselfish Mabel, no -longer the playfellow of innocent childhood, but the hopeless nurse of -youthful decrepitude. - -Too carelessly instructed as she had been, in the forms, and almost -wholly deficient in the spirit, of the religion she professed, she knew -of no balm that could heal a wound of such bitterness--she saw no light -that could have guided her to comfort. Highly as she prized youth and -its enjoyments, its hopes, and its ties, much as she sparkled in -company, and revelled in the admiration she excited, so much did she -feel the reverse to be dark and hard to bear. She pictured Amy passing, -in one five minutes, from her joyous youthfulness, with its light laugh, -and bounding glee, to the trials of sickness which she might never more -escape; probably, too, the highly intellectual child becoming only the -feeble-minded woman, weakened by disease and suffering, and cut off from -all those endearing ties so prized by a woman's heart. As these thoughts -passed slowly, and impressively before her--she covered her face with -her hands, and wept long and bitterly. - - - - - CHAPTER XI. - - Oh, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem, - By that sweet ornament which truth doth give. - The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem, - For that sweet odour which doth in it live. - - SHAKSPEARE'S SONNET. - - -How awful is the feeling with which morning breaks in a house where -sudden grief and desolation has been wrought. Like Adam and Eve in the -garden, we shrink from each other, as if we feared to read our own -feelings in the faces of others, whose sufferings only embitter our own. - -The stillness of the past night broken by household sounds usually so -familiar as to attract no attention, recall the mind to the fact that -another day has opened on our life, showing more clearly the sorrow of -the night before. - -Poor Amy! Mabel's love had thrown a kind of halo round the orphan child, -and those who did not love her for her own, loved her for Mabel's sake. - -Old John went heavily to his work, to move the benches and other signs -of the last evening's simple pleasure. - -"Miss Mabel shall not see them again," he said to himself; "I cannot -give her much comfort--but I may spare her a little pain." - -Mr. Ware and his sister had gone home, after affording all the comfort -and assistance in their power. - -Mrs. Lesly had been persuaded to lie down, for, terrified and ill, she -needed repose, and Mabel, in grief, as in gladness, always took the -lead. - -Lucy, exhausted and spiritless, too weary to get up, and too irresolute -to undress, had thrown herself upon her bed, and fallen asleep. - -When she again opened her eyes, the noon-day light was streaming in upon -her bed, and, to her great surprise, Mabel was standing by her; she was -pale as the dead, and her countenance gave evidence of the agony of the -last few hours--but there was a pale light in her eyes, and a still -repose about her, that seemed to hallow the grief they concealed. - -"I am glad you are awake," she said, in a voice scarcely above a -whisper--"I feared you might be ill--you slept so long." - -Lucy's eyes were swollen with weeping and watching, and she looked at -her for a moment in despairing silence; at last she raised herself, and -seizing Mabel's hand, grasped it eagerly. - -"Oh, Mabel, Mabel," said she, "what have I done--where can I hide my -face?" - -And she sank again upon the bed, and buried her face in the pillow. - -"You meant me no harm," replied her cousin--"at least, not much--and I -forgive you from my heart. My grief is too heavy for resentment. But -get up, Lucy, and do not distress me still more by giving way in this -manner." - -"Oh, how I despise myself! to think that I am lying here while you are -waiting on me." - -"Well, dear Lucy, get up now, for you will be better doing something, -and I cannot help pitying you here alone." - -"Then tell me something I can do for you. Oh, I will do anything, but I -cannot get up to sit as I did last night." - -"This is Saturday," replied Mabel, "and there are many things you can do -for me, which will enable me to be entirely with my poor Amy. Shall I -leave them to you?" - -"Oh, yes," cried Lucy, jumping up, and throwing her arms round her; "you -are an angel--I cannot forgive myself--yet you forgive me before I ask -you." - -Mabel kissed her silently, and gliding from the room, was soon again by -her sister's bed. - -Amy was feverish, and perpetually wanted something to drink, but it was -touching to see how gently she asked for it, and how earnestly she -seemed to try to repress her own fretfulness, with her large blue eyes -fixed on her sister's face, as if trying to read her approval of every -checked complaint. - -"It was very naughty of me," she whispered, "to get into the swing, -Mabel dear, when you told me not in the morning. Will you forgive me?" - -"You are in pain, love," said Mabel, tremulously; "and I cannot call you -naughty now." - -"Then I am glad you have taught me not to want to be told--but I shall -not be happy till you just say you forgive me." - -"My own darling, I forgive you a thousand times--would that I could -suffer instead of you." - -"If I had not done wrong, I should not so much mind," said Amy, -thoughtfully; "but give me a little water, dear." - -Mabel held the water to her lips, and Amy looked at her earnestly as her -hand trembled. - -"Do not cry, Mabel dear," said she, in a feeble voice, "I shall very -soon be well again." - -And weary with the pain she was bearing, without a murmur, she closed -her eyes. - -Mabel's restrained tears fell fast, for well she knew that years to come -might find her the same helpless invalid as she now lay before her. - -The surgeon had given little hope, even in the first moment, when it is -seldom withheld; and she threw herself upon her knees, and covered her -face with her hands. Amy's fortitude and patience, while it deeply moved -her, made her thankful to find that her early lessons had not been -bestowed in vain. - -Meanwhile Lucy roused herself with a stronger desire to be really useful -than she had felt for years. Mrs. Lesly had gone to sit with her two -children, so that she required nothing from her. She felt Mabel could -not more effectually have forgiven her than by allowing her to assist -in her duties, for it prevented her feeling the remorse of the evening -before. She ran down stairs with cups and waiters from the sick room, -which, if allowed to accumulate, give such real discomfort to the -sufferer, and even busied herself in helping Betsy in the kitchen, spite -of the sulkiness with which her services were accepted. - -But idle habits are not easily thrown aside with the distaste for them; -and, as the day wore on, she began to feel so fatigued that she could -not think how Mabel managed to do everything she did on ordinary -days--when, spite of her desire to please her, she felt her strength -fail in a few hours. - -"But I have not been brought up like Mabel," she thought, too willing to -throw the blame on others, if by so doing she at all removed it from -herself. "How can she ever get through it," she said to herself, eying -disconsolately the large basket of clean linen, caps, and frills, which -Betsy had just laid down before her, saying that Miss Lesly had said -she would be kind enough to sort them. - -She forced herself, however, to attempt it with many a sigh over its -difficulties. She had scarcely finished her task, when she saw Clair -coming up to the house, and, feeling a better conscience from her -exertions, for her spirits were easily elated, she went down stairs to -meet him. - -When she entered the sitting-room, where, not venturing to knock or -ring, he had already seated himself, she found him with his head buried -in his hands, which rested on the table before him. He looked up as she -entered, and a momentary shudder passed over him, which she could not -help perceiving. His face was deadly pale, and his features drawn -together, and bearing the traces of deeper thought than that in which he -usually indulged. He had indeed done many things more careless, and ten -times as wrong, but the consequences had never followed so rapidly nor -been so heart-rending. - -"Oh, you have suffered," exclaimed Lucy, "and what a night I have -passed!" - -"If you can see Miss Lesly," returned Clair, scarcely heeding her -observation, "ask her, in mercy, to see me for a few minutes." - -His first thoughts are of Mabel, thought Lucy, with ready jealousy, not -one kind word for me. - -"Will you?" said he, seeing her hesitate, "will you ask her to see me? -What does she say? How does she bear it? Does she reproach me?" - -"What question shall I answer first?" said Lucy, with a little of her -returning levity. - -Clair bit his lip, and looked at her with surprise, but Lucy quickly -recovering herself, said quietly, - -"She bears it as we might have expected from her, she never spoke of -you--and forgave me before I dared ask for forgiveness, and she would -not suffer her servant to reproach me to her." - -"Then there is some hope for me," he exclaimed, "but oh! how ten times -more killing is it to have injured one who will not return an injury by -an unkind word. Last night she looked at me with such pity in her -beautiful eyes, that I could have worshipped her. But do go." - -Lucy burst into tears. - -"What!" thought she, "was I earning for Mabel, when I was trying to shew -how much more nerve and spirit I possessed?" - -Clair sat in silence, he did not spring to her side and take her hand, -soothing her, as only a lover knows how; and she left the room to seek -Mabel with feelings of indescribable remorse. Having delivered her -message to Betsy, she locked herself in her room, and once more gave way -to the most passionate grief. - -Clair was left only a short while alone, before Mabel entered the room. -One glance at her pale cheek and sorrowful countenance, was sufficient -to tell, at once, how great the suffering had been, and how it had been -borne. - -"Ah, Miss Lesly," he began, hurriedly, "can you ever look upon me again -without shuddering? I, who have been the cause of this dreadful, -desolating blow. Is it possible you can ever forgive me? but I know you -can; were I the vilest person on this earth you would forgive me, if I -asked it, but never will you look on me without lamenting the horrid -scene I shall always recall. Yet, I must hear your forgiveness, and oh! -if you could know what I have suffered, in these few last wretched -hours, you would pity me." - -"I should not do you justice, Captain Clair," replied Mabel, trying to -speak steadily, "if I did not pity the pain you must feel in having been -the most unwilling cause of such an accident; but you must not forget -that it was unintentional: and I forgive you, from my heart, for any -share you may have had in this unhappy accident." - -"They tell me," said he, shuddering, "that she never can be quite well -again. Oh!" cried he, throwing himself on his chair and groaning -heavily, "that I should have lived to be such a curse." - -"You are but the instrument in a Hand mightier than your own," replied -Mabel. - -"Few punishments can be so great," replied Clair, bitterly, "as to be -chosen for the instrument of justice. It is only the worst soldier in -the army that is forced to inflict death on his condemned brother. You -will hate the instrument that has been raised to afflict you?" - -"Should I not then be rebellious against the Hand that raised it?" -replied Mabel. "But, for my sake and your own, command your feelings. I -dare not think, yet, and you would force me to do so. Why this has been -suffered I must not ask now, for my faith may be too small for argument, -while grief has almost robbed me of my senses. But I can see that you -may have been made the unwilling cause, possibly that you may _think_. -Do not forget the merit of suffering, for, if it chastens, it often -purifies the heart; and do not let poor Amy's health and hopes in life -be offered up for nothing, for there is a nobler self within you, which -sorrow for our loss may call forth--shake off all that sullies your -character--all its littleness or frivolity--and be yourself. Devote your -life to some higher purpose, and to nobler aims--go forth to the world -again, a blessing to those around you--and then," said she, sinking her -voice as her eye lost its brilliant fire, "and then Amy, on her sick -bed, will feel that her loss has been your advantage." - -Clair almost held his breath while she spoke, and then exclaimed, with a -soldier's energy, as his eye seemed to have caught the fire which had -died in hers, - -"I will, I will! You have doubly forgiven, for you have bestowed -thoughts which inspire me with hope. You," said he, as he respectfully -raised her hand to his lips, "you have more than forgiven, and I bless -you from my very soul." - -Mabel gently withdrew her hand, and, excusing herself from staying -longer, left him to indulge the new reflections which her words had -awakened. - - - - - CHAPTER XII. - - In the service of mankind to be - A guardian god below; still to employ - The mind's brave ardour in heroic arms, - Such as may raise us o'er the grovelling herd - And make us shine for ever--that is life. - - THOMPSON. - - -It was with increasing uneasiness, that Mabel perceived the effects of -their common grief on the weakened constitution of her mother. Mrs. -Lesly, at first, insisted on being constantly with her sick child, but -day by day her cheek became more pale, and her low hollow cough more -frequent, until she could scarcely reach Amy's room without fatigue, -and, instead of being able to nurse her, required, herself, a further -exertion of Mabel's ever watchful care. Grateful indeed did the latter -feel for the strong health, and stronger nerves, which enabled her to -maintain the watching and waiting required of her--while the -consciousness of being loved taught her that each personal service rose -in value because she rendered it. Lucy still remained with them; she had -insisted on her services being received; and, though the idle girl was -rather giving trouble than making herself useful, Mabel did not refuse -her offer to continue with her, hoping that the wish to serve might be -the seed of better feelings and stronger self-denial. - -But Lucy had not perhaps fully understood her motives, when she ascribed -her wish to stay to the desire to be of service. - -Clair seemed entirely to have forgotten her, or only to make use of her -to deliver messages, or to convey grapes and other luxuries to the -little invalid; but it seemed entirely to have escaped his memory, that -any thing, even so interesting as a common flirtation, had ever taken -place between them; and indeed he seemed in every way altered, as if he -were trying to convince her that he was scarcely the same person. -However, she did not altogether give up the hope of regaining the -affections she had before so fully counted upon. Yet, having thrown -aside the light and fashionable gallantry which he had delighted to -display, he was now utterly impervious to all the common attacks of even -the most accomplished flirt; and, however clever she might be in -raillery, badinage, and spirited nonsense, Lucy had learned little of -that language which springs from heart to heart, in trouble and -suffering--or of those serious and elevating thoughts which alone bring -with them consolation to the deep thinking. - -She was, then, entirely at a loss when she found her former companion, -rather annoyed than otherwise, by conversation which would formerly -have amused him for half a-day; but this change only increased her -affection, while it effectually removed him from her power; she -listened, waited, and watched for him, but, though she tried every -capricious art to bring him again to her side, she found that nothing -prevailed, and, at the close of the day, she had not even the lightest -word to treasure up, as an evidence of the love she had already spoken -of as certain, to her friends in Bath. - -One evening, as events were progressing in a manner so unsatisfactory to -Lucy, Mr. Ware and his nephew might have been seen pacing up and down -the lane leading to Mrs. Lesly's house, which was rendered romantically -pretty, by the trees which overhung it, from the garden which was -considerably raised above it. - -Clair had been for some time engaged in silently beating down the leaves -and branches, which grew most prominently in the hedge above their walk, -with a light cane he carried in his hand, when Mr. Ware, turning -kindly, yet with a slight tone of embarrassment, said to him-- - -"My dear boy, I would not wish to presume a moment either upon my age or -my relationship to you, but would rather gain an interest by favor, and -as a friend; may I then ask a question, which my anxiety for you alone -dictates." - -His nephew looked slightly surprised at this address, but replied in a -depressed tone. - -"You may say any thing you like uncle, without fearing that I shall -mistake the kindness which leads you to speak at all. You have been too -kind to me, ever since I have been with you, not to make me feel that -affection must ever second the duty and respect you deserve from me." - -"Thank you," replied his uncle, "I feel that the late unhappy accident -has much changed you; and what you now say convinces me that the change -is one which, however it may sadden you, cannot be regretted." - -"I hope not," replied Clair, in the same tone of depression; "can you -understand what I mean, when I say that I feel, that, though I had no -intention the other evening beyond causing a momentary pain, which, in a -beautiful girl I thought charming, I yet feel that I have been so -thoughtless of the comfort of others, during my past life, that I have -deserved to be the agent of such a misfortune, in retribution, as it -were, for all that has before gone unpunished. Little Amy's sweet voice -rings in my ear wherever I go--such as it was when I first saw her, when -she looked up from the wild wreath she was twining, to give some kind -word to the laborers as they passed her, the morning after my coming -here. Her simple questions return to my memory, and her purity and -innocence have made a deeper impression on my mind, by the sad reverse -which has followed my acquaintance with her family--I cannot help -thinking what an interesting young woman she might have been, through -the careful training of such a sister, who has planted in her mind, -young as she is, her own childlike tenets of religion. When I reverse -the picture, I see her growing up a weak unhappy cripple, perhaps, -sinking under accumulated disease, the victim of an early grave. Can you -wonder that I am changed, uncle, and that I now find the follies and -amusements, in which I have too often sought forgetfulness of the -weakness of my own heart, now utterly repulsive to me? When I see Mabel -Lesly forgiving without reserve, and enduring without complaint, sorrow -which would have found me in a very different temper, can you doubt, -dear uncle, that, contemplating such rare and beautiful virtues, I have -been led to seek the cause, and to find out on what basis they are -founded; and, while raising my thoughts to the source and spring of -every true virtue, and pouring its healing waters on my soul, must I not -shudder to discover there, nothing but pollution, and feel depressed and -sad, with the sense of what I am, and what I have been. - -"Yet do not think this dejection is attended with anything like despair; -no one, who had conversed with your sweet friend, would long retain such -a feeling. A few words, indeed, from her, while they convinced me of the -aimless existence I have been rather enduring, than living, gave me an -inspiring principle which spoke of better things. You may think I am -suddenly turned into an imaginary, but you can scarcely tell how deep an -impression this late accident has left upon me." - -"Not so," replied Mr. Ware, "the heart that awoke to chivalry in other -days, is not dead because chivalry has assumed another form--and, -indeed, we too often try to be lukewarm in our feelings. But, to be -candid, my dear Arthur, I do think, as you say, that too much of your -time has been trifled away in the pursuits of garrison glory, and -watering-place amusements. I have been, for some weeks, patiently -waiting for some season or time, when I could enforce the necessity of -sowing a richer harvest for the decline of life, than you have hitherto -been doing. Could I have chosen some other less touching call to -wakefulness, I would have done so; but these things are not in our own -disposing--it only belongs to us, to use well the circumstances and -opportunities which are given us; and I was even now going to say what -you have anticipated. Grateful, indeed, am I to think, that, even so -trying a time, can yield its sweetness, for I hope you speak of your -feelings without any exaggeration." - -Mr. Ware paused, but, as Clair did not seem disposed to reply, he -continued-- - -"There is one subject in which I feel particularly concerned--may I--I -ask it as a favor--may I speak candidly upon it?" - -"You may speak with candour on any subject, sir, without fearing that I -shall be weak enough to take anything but in good part." - -"Thank you for this confidence. May I then ask if you are quite sincere -in your attentions to Miss Villars? and, if so, why your behaviour has -so decidedly changed with regard to her? Forgive me for asking so -delicate a question, which nothing but the interest I take in your -happiness could excuse." - -"Oh, do not be so alarmed on my account," said Clair, half smiling, "it -is only my tenth garrison flirtation, and you cannot think me seriously -entangled." - -"Then," said Mr. Ware, with a tone of severity, which he very seldom -used, "what do you mean by becoming her constant companion--paying her -every attention, short of actually making love. Shame on your new-found -repentance--if this be the fruit of it." - -"Do not be too hasty in forming your judgment," replied Clair. "I have -only done what most other young men would, under the same -circumstances--though, I own, my changed opinions have led me to -withdraw the attentions you condemn." - -"I own that I would much rather have had your thoughts fix upon a girl -more like her cousin; but, when I believed you sincerely -attached--since you persisted in your attentions spite of my hints--I -thought it could not be helped; and, perceiving she returned your -attachment, I ceased to object, feeling that love corrects many faults. -Little knowing that all this time, you were acting a part which should -have made me blush for shame." - -"Uncle, you are passing a stern judgment--sterner far than I deserve; -give me your patience for a few minutes, and I will convince you that I -am not so much to blame. Lucy Villars is one of that class of girls -called flirts, and, for a flirt, she possesses all the necessary -qualifications. She is chatty, thoughtless, and good-humoured--and, -better than all, has no heart. She is, however, something more than a -flirt--she is a husband hunter, and set her would-be affections on me, -before she knew a single feature of my face, much less a quality of my -mind--so that I do not flatter myself with possessing anything in her -eyes beyond an average fortune and family. Had I been a man of no -discrimination, I might have fallen a victim to a very bold game; but, -as I happen to have seen a little of the world, I have spent a few weeks -more pleasantly than ordinarily. And now may I ask you, uncle, would -you, even with your high sentiments of right, expect me to marry a girl -whom I could never trust--who would jilt me for a richer man to-morrow, -and if not so, granting even that she loved me, would form but an -insipid companion at the best." - -"You are wrong," said Mr. Ware, who had been listening with great -impatience, "and you know that you are wrong, or you would not use so -much sophistry to convince me you are right. Let me ask you, if she be -the girl you describe her to be, was she a fit companion even for your -idlest moments? If she be the designer you would prove her to be, was it -right to place yourself in daily temptation, by communion with one whose -sentiments must be corrupt, if they rise from such a polluted spring? -Were you right in choosing for the object of your admiration, one whom -you despised in your heart? Sorry am I that you had not courage to -withhold your countenance from one whom you did not approve, but could -rather act so deceitful, so mean a part. But, think again, your judgment -may have deceived you, and, if she be not what you say, may she not have -given you a heart, which (if it be so) you have obtained in so unworthy -a manner." - -"Could I think so," replied Clair, "I should be more vexed than you will -give me credit for; but I am too well acquainted with the world, to -believe anything like real affection can be hidden under such open and -daring encouragement as I have received from her; and, really, my dear -sir, you must not be grieved on her account, or my own. I feel too much -the frivolity of my past character, to try such amusements again; but, -at the same time, no chivalrous principle tells me that I should do -right to bring into my confidence, or to unite myself in, the holiest of -self-formed ties that can exist on earth, with a girl whose character -is so feathery. Far different would my choice be when thinking seriously -of marriage. The woman I should choose for a wife would be one who would -inspire me with higher thoughts and lead me to better things. One, who -pure as sensible, would make my home a paradise, and while, by her zeal, -she led me to heaven, would, by her womanly attentions to my wishes, -make a happy road to it. Such a woman would as much excel a flirt as a -small piece of gold would one double its size in tinsel." - -"Arthur, your eloquence and sophistry are carrying you away altogether. -Had you acted thoughtlessly only it would have been easier to excuse; -but, now, I see, that with proper ideas and the most worthy sentiments, -you have yet been capable of acting a part as unlike to them as your own -comparison of gold to tinsel. Your excuses are common ones, and I fear -will not privilege you to minister to the follies of others by indulging -your own. How much kinder would it be to withhold undeserved -admiration, and to shew that yours is only to be earned by what really -deserves it. Would you not in this way, perhaps, find an opportunity of -reading a lesson without words, to many, who are still young enough to -improve by it. By refraining altogether from such deceitful flirtations, -you might tend to discourage those mothers who educate their daughters -for display, and force them to try for an advantageous settlement." - -"And how many do you think would follow my example?" enquired the young -man with a smile. - -"It is a consideration of no weight when making up your mind to do -right--though it sweetens a good conscience and embitters an evil -one--to remember that no one is so mean as to give no impulse to virtue -or vice by his example. One great mistake is, that men unfortunately -forget that they are christians, when in the fashionable world, as if -our duties were altogether banished by an evening dress, or the light -of conscience entirely eclipsed by the brilliant and fantastic tapers of -a ball-room. It is for this reason that so many turn anchorites: -forgetful that the world may be enjoyed with a christian's dress, and a -christian's thoughts, they only remember, that when they visited the gay -scenes they have resigned, they did so with a conscience peculiar to the -occasion, and entirely different from the one they were familiar with in -retirement." - -"You speak severely," said Clair. - -"I speak with the courage which arises from my knowing, that, though you -are thoughtless enough to err, you possess sufficient candour to bear -reproof without reproach to him who offers it, and, however scrupulous I -may in general be about offering advice, or venturing to find fault, I -cannot allow such sentiments as you have just expressed to be uttered in -my presence without testifying my sense of that error, if heard in any -company and from any person, much less from one so dear to me as -yourself, and I have spoken boldly, hoping to lead you to refine your -sense of honor, till it reaches a standard which a christian soldier may -not justly be ashamed to acknowledge." - -A few weeks since Clair might have smiled at the simplicity and -unworldliness of his uncle's remarks, but there was something within him -then that told him they were stamped with the irresistible force of -truth. - -He walked on in silence, pushing aside with his feet, the few withered -leaves which were straggling in his path. It was one of those dark, -mysterious days, when the wind blows sullenly amongst the trees, -speaking strange words, in its own wild tones, of the year that is past; -and the withered leaves as they spin round in the eddying wind, seem to -call attention to themselves, and to ask what men have been doing since -they budded forth in the gay spring, full of hope and promise to the -sons of earth. They had played their part well and merrily, they had -gladdened the heart and delighted the eye, they had made fair and -beautiful the spots where their short day of life had been spent, and -now, as they fell with their fantastic motion to the ground, their -rustling music seemed to speak in forcible language to the heart of him, -who had idled away part of the glowing summer of his life with few -thoughts but of selfish amusement. - -With some such thoughts as these the two continued their short walk, -which had been confined to the dry bit of road under the trees, which in -damp or dirty weather was often chosen as a sort of promenade. - -Mr. Ware was not sorry to see his nephew's unusual silence, for he was -naturally too ready to act without thinking, and often, by the readiness -of his professions in favor of any new idea of improvement, cheated his -conscience of its performance, and he now watched him, with the grave -interest which a good man feels, when he looks on the struggles of -conscience, and does not know on which side the victory will lie. - -"Even you, sir," exclaimed Clair, rather suddenly, "would not wish me to -marry Lucy Villars! fool as I have been, you do not think I deserve so -great a punishment, as the possession of such a wife." - -"I wish you," replied Mr. Ware, "to do neither more nor less then your -own sense of honor and good feeling may dictate, under the difficult -circumstances in which you have placed yourself." - -"I cannot--I never can do that!" exclaimed Clair, vehemently. - -"Neither will I ever ask you to approach so sacred a rite with -lightness, much less with repugnance; but, at the same time, you ought -to understand, that your attentions have been sufficiently pointed, to -make people suppose that you only wanted a convenient opportunity of -declaring yourself." - -"Impossible! Who ever heard of a man's making serious love in such a -manner. You at least do not believe it." - -"Now, certainly I do not, for your words bear a different -interpretation, and, if I mistake not, the opinion you now entertain of -her, arises from comparison with another character of a higher -standard." - -Clair colored, but he answered quickly. - -"If you have so far read my thoughts, do you find it possible to blame -me. Could I be insensible to the attractions of a girl of such uncommon -excellence?" - -"Alas, I do blame you," replied Mr. Ware, sadly, "for you have been -acting a doubly deceitful part, but I cannot withhold my pity, for you -must meet the difficulties with which you have entangled yourself." - -"I must think uncle, I must think," said Clair, stopping, "you put my -mind into complete confusion--I believed I was going to act for the -best; now, I do not know what to be at, though my chief consolation is -that Lucy Villars never cared a straw for me. I know you lay bare the -wounds of conscience only to heal them, and though you have spoken -severely I know you feel for me. What am I to do under these -circumstances? I feel I have been wrong, and would willingly make any -atonement, but remember, how many struggles there are in the world to -make us wretched, without our adding a desolate hearth, and a miserable -home to make everything else doubly hard. I must go and think alone." - -"And remember," said Mr. Ware, "that Miss Lucy may deserve some -allowance for her feelings. I am not quite certain that she is so much a -trifler as you would make yourself believe." - -"Why you will drive me out of my senses, uncle, I cannot increase my -difficulties by thinking that to be possible. I know women too -well--but, for the present, good bye," he said, laying his hand on the -stile which divided the path to the Aston woods from the road, "but do -not, at least till we meet again, think even so hardly of me as I -deserve," he added, in a tone of gentle persuasion, which often screened -him from blame, or, if not altogether so, had obtained the love of -those with whose esteem he often trifled. - -Then, with a light bound, he cleared the stile, and, walking quickly -onwards, he was soon lost in the windings of the path he had chosen for -the scene of his meditations. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII. - - My friend, your house is made of glass, - As any one may see, - I pray you, therefore, have a care, - How you throw stones at me. - - CULVER ALLEN. - - -"If you please miss," said Betsy, entering Amy's room, where Mabel was -sitting, "will you go to Miss Lucy's room for she is crying and sobbing -like any thing, and she has got the door locked and will not open -it--something must be the matter." - -"I will go to her directly, and will soon be back, love," said Mabel, -kissing her sister, who never saw her leave without regret. - -She then went to Lucy's room, and tapping gently, demanded admittance. - -After a short pause the door was opened by Lucy, whose eyes were swollen -with weeping, and her cheeks wet with the tears which were flowing -quickly. She had been lying on the bed, and, content with letting Mabel -in, she threw herself again upon it hastily, rubbing her eyes with her -pocket-handkerchief, though the tears burst forth afresh on every -attempt to clear them away. - -Mabel's woman's heart quickly thought of Clair, and, seating herself by -her side, she waited patiently till she became a little composed, and -then begged her to say if she could do any thing for her. - -"Nobody can do anything for me," said Lucy, and the effort to speak -called forth a fresh burst of sobs and tears. - -"What has happened, do tell me?" said Mabel, "has any one been unkind -to you, dear Lucy." - -"The wretch," sobbed Lucy, "the mean-spirited wretch." - -"I hope you do not speak of Clair," said Mabel, "what can he have been -doing?" - -"Oh, go away," cried Lucy, "go away, I am so unhappy, so wretched, I -wish I had never seen him--never come here. Oh! leave me, go away, where -shall I hide my face." - -"I cannot leave you thus--do tell me what he has been doing?" - -"They will laugh at me at home. What will Miss Lovelace say--oh dear!" - -"Come, do tell me," said Mabel, anxiously, "I may be able to give you -comfort." - -"Oh, I cannot tell you." - -"Why not?" - -"Ah, Mabel, if I were as good as you I should not cry." - -A faint blush passed over her countenance, and she was silent, till, -presently, after many tears and sobs she told Mabel the cause of her -distress. - -She had been walking in the nut avenue by the side of the lane, and had -thus overheard the greater part of the conversation between Mr. Ware and -his nephew, narrated in the last chapter. The sound of her own name had -attracted her attention, and, having once yielded to the temptation of -listening, she found, as she imagined, sufficient excuse for wishing to -hear all--and enough had, in this manner, reached her ears to send her -home full of mortified feeling. - -Mabel listened, with unfeigned surprise, to the story of this -adventure--and to those sentences, which, applying directly to herself, -Lucy had most accurately remembered--but, when she heard from her of the -admiration which she had so unconsciously inspired, she looked entirely -amazed, and at a loss. This Lucy dwelt upon with a candour which -surprised her. - -"The wretch," said the latter, when she had concluded her story--"the -worst of it is, that I cannot hate him as he deserves." - -"Do not say so," replied Mabel, "if you are able to forgive him so -easily, you will have much less to suffer; there is nothing so painful -as the indulgence of sinful or angry passions." - -"Mabel," said Lucy, gravely, "you will marry him, of course, and I will -try to wish you both happy." - -"Dear Lucy," replied Mabel, taking her hand kindly, "I am very, very -sorry for you, but rely on my friendship if you can, and I, who have -suffered as much as you are suffering now, may be some support to you. -Do not, for one moment, imagine, that, should Captain Clair ever place -it in my power to marry him, I should for an instant think of it. I have -told you already, that unhappy circumstances have rendered all thoughts -of love repulsive to me, and, even if it were not so, I could not give -my affections to one whom I have so long regarded as your lover." - -"Do you really mean that?" cried Lucy, with the desperation of a -drowning man catching at a straw. - -"I do indeed. Do you think I would trifle with you, when you are in -distress. You must not let his unhappy preference prevent your trusting -me as much as before, and you must let me guide you till you are strong -enough to guide yourself." - -Lucy flung her arms round her neck, saying heartily-- - -"You shall do anything you like with me, my own sweet friend; but, oh, -there is something wanting in my heart which you have not the power to -heal; but let me talk to you for a few minutes--if you understand me, -you can better advise me." - -Mabel was silent, and Lucy, leaning back upon her pillow, and looking -fixedly at her, said, after a moment's pause-- - -"I have been brought up in a very different home from yours--and when -you think of me, you must give me all the excuses my circumstances -claim. I feel I might have been happier in a different life, yet, as it -is, I have been happy enough. When I first came here, I thought I never -could live in so dull a place, though I appeared delighted with it, -because I feared to offend you; but now I dread nothing so much as -leaving, and going back to Bath. Mamma talks a great deal of being very -fond of us--but she despairs of getting so many girls married, and would -give her right hand to get rid of us in a respectable manner. Very -little is talked of when we are alone, but the chances of this or that -young man's coming forward. I confess, with shame, that no one has -talked on this subject, with more zeal than I have done--and I boldly -determined to do my very best to get married. You will call this all -very unwomanly, and so I acknowledge now, but anything seemed preferable -to being an old maid. So far, you see, Arthur Clair was right; when I -first saw him--marriage being at all times uppermost in my thoughts--I -wished to make a conquest of him, if possible. You see how far I -succeeded--even you were deceived, and thought him sincere, while, it -appears, he was only trifling with me, as I deserved. I wrote home -glowing accounts to Bath--and by this time, it is whispered half over -the town, in all the coteries where mamma visits--and I shall now have -to go back to disappoint them, and be laughed at myself; but this would -be nothing, if I could go back, as light-hearted as I came here. Arthur -Clair is wrong in supposing I have no heart--but I do not love him less -for despising the character he supposes me to be. It was very cruel of -him to act as he did--but yet I must have appeared to him a sad trifler, -and worse than that, for, while I really loved you more than I do any -other girl I know, I was, when with him, perpetually turning you into -ridicule to prevent his admiring you. You, too, must hate and despise -me; but I am tired of deceit, and will have nothing more to do with it." - -Mabel's quick judgment foresaw that her cousin's repentance was -probably as light, as her confession of deceit was easy--but she knew, -at the same time, that she had no right to take this for granted, and -that her only duty was to catch at even the lightest spark of virtue, -and use her utmost power to kindle it into a bright and lasting flame. -Sorrow was around her in every shape, destitution and dependence were -before her, yet, no grief of her own, could prevent her turning a -willing ear to the complaints, which, her truly womanly nature told her, -arose from that suffering which is perhaps the hardest a woman can feel. - -With extreme gentleness she offered comfort, mingled with the censure, -she could not in sincerity withhold, and Lucy listened with surprise to -advice unmingled with any taunt or reproach. - -"Do you not think," she said, "that I had better tell him I heard what -he said, and that I know that I do not deserve that he should think well -of me." - -"By no means," replied Mabel; "I would strongly advise you to give up -all thoughts of him at once, for you are convinced that he does not care -for you, and you acknowledge that you have, in a great measure, brought -this unhappy affair upon yourself. You must forgive him fully, for, from -what you tell me, he certainly does not seem so much to blame as I -supposed; and, if you took any unworthy means to obtain his good -opinion, you certainly fully deserve to have lost it. I do not admire a -prude, but I do think that no woman has a right to make the first -advances, and, if she does so, she certainly must be prepared to take -the consequences. But let me earnestly beg you, to spend this season of -affliction in schooling your own heart against this and future -temptations, and hasten to vindicate your character to yourself, and to -him. Shew him, that if you have been wrong, you are changed. It will be -very difficult, I own, to teach him thoroughly to respect you; nay, do -not curl your lip at the mention of respect; there may be a time when -you will learn, how valuable, how necessary, respect is to a woman's -peace; and the calm dignity with which you can bear this disappointment -may purchase it, even from the doubting Clair. A calm and composed -behaviour you must aim at--do not assume total indifference, for that -will soon be perceived--but submit, if possible, without complaint, and -without resentment--you will find this the easiest way of bearing -trials." - -Mabel secretly hoped, that, by following her advice, Lucy might not only -reform her character, but also display it to advantage in the eyes of -the man she loved--nor did she think it improbable, that, disappointed -in his suit to herself, he might find in Lucy's altered behavior, a -charm sufficiently strong to lure him to a real, instead of a feigned -affection, and thus preserve her from the snares which surrounded her in -her own home. - -With these thoughts she returned to the sick chamber, leaving Lucy to -think over what she had said. - -During the last few weeks, she had allowed herself but little repose. -Her time was spent alternately with her sister and mother, who in their -separate rooms, each needed the refreshment of her presence. Her step -was quick--her ready hand untiring--and her watchful eye always -observant--yet, though no complaint had passed her lips since the sad -night of Amy's accident, few could fail to observe how heavily she felt -the sorrow by which she was subdued. - -The nights passed wearily, marked only by the hollow cough, which told -her of her mother's failing health, and the loud wintry wind which -whistled in the crevices of the house, or swept by it in loud blasts -from the hills. - -All who have felt sorrow, or who have been called to watch by the bed of -the sick, must remember how much more sad these times appear in winter, -than in any other time of the year. - -We need our best spirits to laugh away the frost, and snow, and foggy -days, and all the associations called up by the withering earth and -closing year. - -Yet all these, with present trouble, past regret, and future fears, -marked this sad time to Mabel. Her greatest satisfaction now, was the -paying the most lavish attention to the two invalids. - -Though their means were at all times limited, she spared no expense, -where it could be likely to be of any service to the sufferers; she -prevailed upon her mother to allow her to draw, as she pleased upon, the -few hundreds still remaining of her savings, and this enabled her to -procure, for both, the best medical advice which England afforded, -though at a cost which the warmest of her friends could scarcely -advocate. - -All her efforts, however, were unavailing, her mother's strength rapidly -failed, and the utmost care could scarcely keep her sister from sinking -under the pain she suffered. - -Day after day, the opinion of the medical man fluctuated, until he -scarcely gave any hope--for he well knew that Amy's constitution, from -infancy, little fitted her to struggle with disease of any kind. Still -Mabel clung fondly to the possibility of her recovery, with a -pertinacity which made her enter eagerly into any new course of -treatment, which she hoped might prove more successful. - -It was with difficulty that she found time to think of Lucy--yet a -willing heart can do much. She endeavoured to keep as much with her as -possible to support her, in her new formed resolutions--and she was -gratified to find, that Lucy had been able to meet Clair several times, -with the composure she had recommended. - -Poor Lucy's dignified calmness, however, very much resembled pouting, -and, instead of inspiring Clair with any great respect, a little amused -him; for he looked upon this change in her manner as a new mode of -attack, against which he resolved to be armour proof. Her stability of -character being not very great--she could scarcely preserve her manner, -when she saw it produced no immediate effect as she had anticipated. It -was vain to hope that he would notice her composed forgiveness; and her -well-meant resolution faded away before the disappointment of failure. - -She was one afternoon engaged busily in blaming him, and excusing -herself, when he entered the morning-room, where she was seated at work, -and, saying he had been to meet the postman, presented her with a letter -from Bath. It contained the news, that Mrs. Clifford, one of the richest -ladies in the town, intended giving a fancy ball at the Rooms which was -to eclipse everything that had been seen for many seasons, and Mrs. -Clifford was very anxious she should return for it. Besides, Colonel -Hargrave had accepted the invitation to visit them, and was expected in -Bath the following week. The letter was of great length, but contained -little more than those two pieces of news greatly enlarged upon. - -It seemed as if all Lucy's grief and gravity had disappeared, like the -mist before the sunshine; for, starting up, she gave three bounds -towards the ceiling, clapping her hands in utter thoughtlessness. - -"Miss Villars," cried Clair, indignantly, "can you forget where you are? -How can you give vent to such expressions of joy, in a house you have -helped me to make desolate?" - -"I wish," exclaimed Lucy, turning round pettishly, "that you would not -preach to me all day the same disagreeable truths, with a face as long -as that of a methodist parson--and such a face too, 'tis indeed a pity -it covers such a wicked dissembling heart; but there is no trusting -appearances in these days." - -"What do you mean, Miss Villars?" he enquired, coloring violently. - -"Ask your own conscience, and then, if it has not forgotten how to speak -the truth, you will find which is the greatest sinner, you or I," said -she, trying to speak playfully, to hide the real passion which burnt in -her eyes, and tingled in her cheeks. - -"Surely," said Clair, a little haughtily, "you do not allude to the -silly flirtation, which I have quite sufficiently repented, as my -manners may have already expressed." - -"You double dealing wretch," exclaimed Lucy, in a perfect rage at the -superiority he assumed, "you oily-tongued hypocrite, how dare you talk -to me in this way? Why, I heard you talking to Mr. Ware, when you little -thought I was walking in the nut-avenue. You despised me, did you, in -your vaunted goodness--and, because you are fickle enough to turn from -one girl to another, you try to justify your behaviour, by abusing me to -one too good to listen to such stuff about either of us. What do you say -to me now?" she said, her eyes dancing with delighted passion at seeing -him utterly confounded. "Now carry your sanctimonious looks elsewhere, -for they will not take with me, I can tell you. I could have forgiven -your flirting, because they say--'a fellow feeling makes us wondrous -kind;' but, bad as I am, I never abused a man that had been silly -enough to admire me--nor did I ever set myself up as anything better -than I am. I am glad you feel what I say, and now go to the -noble-hearted Mabel, and say, 'Here I am--I have been flirting, before -your very eyes, with a girl I despised; but she served to make a few -weeks pass more pleasantly than they might otherwise have done. I have -been sporting with her feelings instead of making honest court to you.' -And then, flushed with the success, purchased by such hypocrisy, tell -her, that you have come to lay your laurels and a deceitful heart at her -feet, and that you think them just offerings to her purity, and an ample -return for the cruelty you were led to commit, by my persuasion. It will -be safest to lay all the blame on me, to her, as well as to Mr. Ware. It -told with him, and it may with her--go and try." - -She here stopped for want of breath, but, as Clair made no reply, she -quickly resumed. - -"You have not a word to answer me, have you now? How very pretty you -look, standing abashed before the girl you despised. If I were a man -you might run your sword through me, for want of a better argument in -your favor, but, as it is, I am afraid there is nothing to be done," she -continued, (as her companion threw himself into an arm chair and seemed -determined to let her say her worst, without the slightest attempt at -interruption,) then walking to the window she began singing part of the -Spanish girl's song to her Irish lover. - - "'They say that the spirit most gallant in war - Is always the truest in love.'" - -"For Mrs. Lesly's sake do not make so much noise," said Clair. - -"Unfortunately," replied Lucy, "I am not so unfeeling, for Mrs. Lesly's -room is at the other end of the house. You said, if I remember rightly, -that my character was too feathery to suit you--nevertheless, I think -for a feather my strokes are rather hard. Have you nothing to say for -yourself?" - -"Yes, when you have blamed me as much as you may think I deserve, I -will venture to reply." - -"Oh, say on, I have done." - -"Then, if you have leisure to hear me, I will now say, that, before this -conversation, I thought I might have been wrong; but I am now fully -convinced by the indignation you so openly express, that I have been -mistaken in you. I confess that I have injured you in the most -ungenerous manner--for which I dare not offer any excuse, since every -one would be too light to have any weight. I will then only ask you to -be generous enough to forgive me?" - -Lucy, whose feelings were ever subject to the most sudden variations, -burst into tears and ran out of the room, but, as Clair continued -regarding the door through which she had made her sudden exit, it opened -as quickly as it had closed, and she again entered; holding out her -hand, as she walked up to him. - -"I am glad you are not gone," said she, panting for breath, "because I -can tell you I forgive you on condition that you forgive and forget all -I said in my passion just now." - -"It was richly deserved," said Clair, grasping her hand warmly. - -"But that does not make it the more easy to bear, you know. If it is -quite unjust we let it pass as 'the idle wind which we regard not,' but, -if it be just, we take it more to heart, and, seriously, I am very sorry -for what I said just now." - -"And I," said Clair, "am very sorry for a great many foolish things I -have said and done in the last few weeks." - -"Well then," cried Lucy, "we are both sorry, so let us be friends, and -talk no more about love and all that kind of nonsense. I shall go home -in a day or two, and then," said she, with a half sigh, "all I ask is, -that you will not think me quite so thoughtless and foolish as you did; -or, if you do," she added, smiling quickly, "remember you were as weak -and thoughtless as myself." - -"I will not fail to do so," he answered, returning her smile, "if the -remembrance of your present generosity, does not make me forget -everything which caused it to be called into exercise." - -"I have had quite enough of your flattery," said Lucy, holding up her -finger, "do not give me another dose, or I shall be obliged to repeat -the antidote, and give you another scolding. Come now, I am thinking of -the fancy ball, and, as I am determined to be in time for it--for I am -of no use to Mabel by staying here--I shall choose my character at once. -Here," handing him a book of Byron's beauties, "choose me the one you -think would suit me best." - -"Let me venture to suggest," replied Clair, as he took the book and -turned over the leaves thoughtfully, "that leaving such a house as this, -it would scarcely be right for you, to appear at a fancy ball at all." - -"Oh, you methodist! give me the book." - -"You will not then be persuaded," he said, laying his hand gently on the -sketches of the frail beauties she had asked him to choose among. -"Think, that for the sake of a few hours of doubtful enjoyment you lay -yourself open to severe self-reproach, and may wound the feelings of -your friends here. It may sound odd that I should venture to speak so -seriously, but--" - -"Yes, it does seem very odd, certainly, and I thought I had given you a -surfeit of preaching just now." - -"Yet before you decide, I would ask you to consider whether you are not -wronging yourself, by acting so thoughtlessly." - -"Now let me ask you in return," she replied, pettishly, "if I am at Bath -what harm my going would do or what good I could get by staying away?" - -"Very little, perhaps, actually, but no one could think any unkindness -intended by your remaining at home. I can hardly expect you, however, to -listen to me, but, should your own better judgment lead you to come to -the same determination I shall be rejoiced." - -Lucy sat down, half sullenly turning over the book of beauties, and -seeming to be examining their dresses with the greatest attention, as if -she were trying to discover how they might be imitated by tinsel and -gauze. - -The Captain stood looking at her earnestly. Mr. Ware's advice recurred -to his mind, and, though he had found it difficult to follow it, he had -tried his best. - -Lucy, with her face glowing with excitement, her eyes moist with recent -tears, looked exceedingly pretty, and he could not help longing for the -power to plant a different spirit within her, at length he exclaimed, -with sudden energy-- - -"Lucy Villars, will you not listen to me. Do not trifle, after the -fearful judgment that has fallen upon this house, through our means. Is -it possible you can forget what a withering blow it has been. Surely, -surely you will not go to a fancy ball, while Mabel is watching over her -suffering mother and sister. You do not mean it, you surely cannot; only -think for one moment," said he, laying his hand upon hers, and staying -the quick motion with which she turned over the leaves of the book. It -is doubtful how Clair might have felt (for he had certainly deceived -himself when he imagined she had never made any serious impression upon -him) had his advice, his first effort at serious advice, been well -received, for there was an earnestness in his manner, which he had never -before displayed. But Lucy rose hastily, and brushing his hand aside -with an indignant motion, prepared to leave the room; turning at the -door, she said coldly-- - -"There might have been a time when Captain Clair could have asked a -favor, without risk of being charged with interference or impertinence, -but I can now see no excuse which would lead me to make his wishes the -rule of my actions--I would advise you in future to obtain influence, -before you seek to use it." - -So saying, and bowing coldly, she left the room. - -Her return home, and her plan of travelling, were soon settled by her -hearing of a friend who was at this time returning to Bath from -Cheltenham, and whose escort was offered her. - -Perhaps the pleasure of piquing Clair, added a little zest to the -preparations which were carried on with a cheerfulness that surprised -him. Deeply touched himself by recent events, and quite unable to -recover his spirits, he regarded her with a wonder not a little mingled -with contempt. - -Mabel herself, as keenly susceptible to pain as she was open to -pleasure, could scarcely understand the variable nature of her cousin's -disposition, which, at times attracted her by its _naiveté_ and candour, -at others, alarmed her by its indifference and frivolity. Though really -a little hurt at the coolness with which she prepared to leave her, -directly it suited her own convenience, after her many professions, she -suffered her to take her course without remark; particularly when she -found, from the account she received of her conversation with Clair, -that she could not preserve towards him, the composure necessary to -ensure her own dignity. - -All was, therefore, soon arranged, and Lucy, as the parting drew near, -became so affectionately distressed, that Mabel quickly forgave her -previous indifference, and parted from her with a regret, she had -scarcely supposed she could have felt a few weeks before. - -As she stood for several moments in the garden, watching the vehicle -which bore her from the village, her thoughts naturally recurred to the -hour when, with far different feelings, she had stood in the same place -to wait her coming. The scene was the same, and yet how changed. There -was not a leaf upon the many bold trees which skirted the landscape. -Here and there round the garden a single monthly rose bloomed in place -of the many gay, autumnal flowers, which had then been so brilliant. -Heavy clouds hung overhead, and silently and gloomily feathery pieces -of snow fell through the cold air. - -"It is the sunshine of the heart that is gone," thought Mabel, -unconsciously clasping her hands, and glancing at the scene around her; -while she remembered how comparatively free from care she had been that -day, and how gladly had the little Amy waited to catch the first sight -of the expected carriage, how eagerly she had watched the first peep of -the high road. Where was she now, poor child? when would her light feet -carry her so merrily to that gate again. - -"I know it must be right," thought Mabel, as if unwilling to dwell -longer on feelings and afflictions which unnerved her; but sick at -heart, and with tears swimming in her eyes, she turned towards the -house. She stopped on hearing Clair's voice, who approached to meet her, -having waited till the parting was over, hoping to remove any feeling of -loneliness she might experience on Lucy's departure. His steps were -sedate, and his countenance serious and reflective, as it had of late -become. - -"Ah," said he, as he joined her. "Happy would it have been for you had -neither of us crossed your path, to throw the shadow upon it we have -done." - -"We will not blame poor Lucy now she is gone," said Mabel, "and do not -blame yourself again. I did not think I should miss her as much as I do; -but there is such a pleasure in meeting a friend of about my own age." - -"If there are three dark sides to a subject, and one bright one, you are -sure to turn to the bright," said Clair. - -"Should we not do so?" said Mabel, smiling faintly--"particularly when -we must feel that even the one bright side is undeserved." - -"I should very much have liked to have known your poor father," said -Clair, rather abruptly. - -"You would, indeed," said Mabel, "but what made you think of him?" - -"Because I have heard that the lessons he gave you were so admirable; -and practically illustrated--they are beautiful!" - -"Nay, if you wish to flatter me, speak of him--not myself; truly, he was -a gentleman, a scholar, and a soldier," said Mabel, as her eyes -brightened, "and I cannot tell how much I owe to him. Now, if I am -tempted to do anything wrong, his spirit seems to stand between me and -the temptation. See what an advantage it is to be good," said she -smiling, as if fearful of speaking too much of herself, "what an -influence you possess." - -"You do, indeed, possess an influence," said Clair, emphatically, as he -turned his eyes to hers, with an expression of mingled admiration and -respect. - -"I must go in," replied Mabel, hurriedly, "talking of my dear father has -cheated me into staying longer than I meant to have done. I must go to -my dear child--good bye," said she, extending her hand frankly. "Go, and -do anything but be sad about me." - -Without waiting for a reply, she ran into the house, and Clair leant -upon the gate and watched her departing figure, like one entranced, -till, fearful of attracting observation, he briskly roused himself, as -if from some pleasant dream, and pursued his walk through the village. - -Meanwhile, Lucy continued her journey. At first the natural pain of -parting from Aston led her to a train of sorrowful reflection. Perhaps -she too remembered how different the home she had left had been when she -entered it; but she had also to remember many mortifying things besides. -Her easy conquest, as she imagined, had ended in total failure. If she -had unintentionally brought evil on Mabel, she had also brought good, in -the admiration of the fascinating Clair. Her recollections soon became -too painful to be encouraged, and she took the ready source of comfort -open to those who do not care to probe the conscience, and tried not to -think at all. It was easiest and most agreeable, but she had to arm -herself for the reception she would probably meet at home. How could she -say she had entirely failed; and what reason could she give for -believing that Clair was in earnest; she had not the heart to blame him. -"If Mabel had not been there," she thought, "he never would have -changed, but I will not think any harm of her, I _suppose_ she could not -help it." - -"Once in Bath, this country dream will be over, and I shall have the -pleasure of preparing for the fancy ball--and then, the arrival of -Colonel Hargrave, and possibly--if he is not attracted by Caroline's -majestic style of beauty, who knows but he may find other objects of -admiration--" and she glanced down upon her pretty little foot, with an -air of condescending affection, as it rested on the shawl which lay -beneath it. Then came the remembrance that Mabel had lent her that -shawl, and had herself wrapped it round her with that attention to the -comfort of others, which was so peculiar to her, and she lent back and -wept bitterly for some miles. - -At Cheltenham, however, she was joined by her promised fellow traveller, -also returning to Bath for the season. Mrs. Richardson, for this was her -name, was a good-tempered, stout little lady, who possessed a great -fondness for young people, particularly for those who, either pretty, -witty, or engaging, were sure to be popular in society. She formed a -very useful chaperone, in case of necessity, never being unwilling to -join any party of pleasure, from the most crowded rout, to the dullest -and quietest card party. - -Lucy had not been slow in finding out this useful virtue, and, Mrs. -Richardson being a great admirer of hers, they usually got on very well -together. But now, the badinage she had to endure, on the many conquests -she must have made, during her country visit, amongst rich squires, -grated sadly on her ears; while her attempts to divert the -conversation, only renewed her companion's desire to obtain an account -of all she had been doing and seeing. - -The tedious journey, however, drew at length to a conclusion, and she -found herself once more in Bath. Again settled at home, she was not a -little surprised, and not quite pleased to find that her Aston adventure -had occupied far less of the family attention than she had imagined. -Indeed, so thoroughly were they occupied in preparing for Colonel -Hargrave's visit, that they scarcely listened to her accounts. The whole -house, and household furniture, seemed stirring up to look their best -welcome to the rich Indian wanderer. The best stair carpets were laid -down, and the best drawing-room was uncovered and made habitable, and a -thousand little expenses were excused, under the pretence of necessity, -on such an occasion. The name of Hargrave was passed perpetually from -one to another, and Caroline already fancied herself mistress of Aston -Manor. - -"Oh!" thought Lucy, "could I have thought they cared so little about me, -I would have been more independent of their opinion." - -She, however, soon endeavoured to dispel the listlessness which followed -her return to old pursuits, by entering into the subject of general -interest, with as much seeming zest as her sisters; but, sometimes, when -she seemed the merriest of them all, her thoughts would revert to Aston, -and her gay laugh would find a check. Gaiety may sear, but it never yet -has healed a wounded heart. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV. - - He shall again be seen when evening comes, - And social parties crowd their favorite rooms, - Where on the table pipes and papers lie, - The steaming bowl and foaming tankard by. - - CRABBE. - - -Almost every village possesses a house of public entertainment, however -humble in appearance. Unfortunately, this is generally the most -comfortable place accessible to the lower orders, who are often -unwittingly tempted to increase the one pint of beer, which secures a -seat by the large inn fire, drop by drop, till habits of drunkenness are -too readily acquired. Some have recommended the establishment of -something similar to a coffee-room in every village, where laboring men -might enjoy the pleasures of society and conversation, without the -temptations to a vice which adds many a tragedy to "the short and simple -annals of the poor." - -It could indeed scarcely be wondered at, that at Aston, many of the -laborers left their weather-beaten cottages, which, in some cases, -formed scarcely a shelter from the wind and rain--and, without stopping -to calculate the mischief which might ensue to their neglected families, -should frequently resort to the "Hargrave Arms," where a blazing fire -and a comfortable seat by a chatty neighbour were generally to be found. -Here, at least, poverty and discomfort might be forgotten for a while, -even by those who did not seek to drown remembrance in the fatal -draught. - -One Friday evening, many of the regular customers of the house assembled -themselves as usual, more, perhaps, to chat than to drink, for they -seldom carried their conviviality to any great height, except on the -Saturday, when the young men of the village brought, too often, the -first fruits of their week's earnings. On the occasion we now mention, a -more sober conclave was assembled. The white haired Giles, whom Clair -had visited with his uncle, on the first morning of his visit, was one -of the guests. Not, now, with his head bent, and his hands extended over -the dying embers of his wood fire, but with head erect in a comfortable -corner, with the air of a man whose opinions are respected, and whose -words claim immediate attention. Martin, the poacher, was also there, -smoking a pipe, whose dusty colour bespoke long service. Besides these, -were several of the most respectable labourers of the village, young and -old. - -The landlord, himself, was a middle aged, sleepy looking man, with eyes -that seemed to say that they had no particular time for taking rest, -but seized every opportunity that occurred for shutting up at a moment's -notice. - -The night was cold and gusty, and the large fire burnt with peculiar -brightness--conversation went on briskly; when a new object of attention -presented itself in the sound of horses' feet, which at this hour were -very unusual. - -This caused the landlord's eyes to open to the things about him, and he -walked to the door to offer whatever hospitality might be required by -the new comer. - -By the time he had reached the open air, which he did with some -reluctance, he found that the rider had dismounted. His horse appeared -to have been well ridden, for, though a fine strong built animal, fitted -for the hilly country he had been through, he seemed exhausted, and -covered with dust and foam. The gentleman, on the contrary, seemed -perfectly cool and free from fatigue, and equally indifferent to the -weather, though the wind was high, and easterly, and his short cloak was -whitened by the snow, which had been falling, at intervals, during the -afternoon, giving signs of an early coming winter. There was sufficient -of that nameless something in his appearance, even by the light of our -host's lantern, to speak him a gentleman, and to procure for him a -series of nods, intended for graceful acknowledgments of welcome. - -"My horse wants rest, and a good stable," said the new comer; "light me, -and I will see him housed, myself. I will follow you." - -This was spoken in a tone of accustomed and easy authority, and taking -the bridle over his arm, he followed his landlord to the stable; where, -with indifferent extravagance which baffled any interference, he seized -an immense armful of straw from a heap which lay in one corner, and -threw it on the bed, which already seemed tolerably supplied. So rapid -and easy were his movements, that, before his astonished landlord had -framed the remonstrance he meditated offering, he announced himself -ready to accompany him to the house. - -"Would you like dinner in the parlor, sir," enquired his sleepy host, -leading him back through the court-yard. - -"No, I will take a glass of grog, in the bar." - -"The bar is full, sir; and maybe you will not like--." - -"What," enquired the stranger, "to sit side by side, with a poor -man--you are mistaken, but heark-ye," said he, stopping, "the less -civility you show me the better, I will pay you." - -"I twig," he replied, shutting one sleepy eye with an attempt to look -cunning, while, at the same time, he was a little startled at the deep -and peculiar tone of the voice which addressed itself so particularly to -his ear, and he was not sorry to catch a full view of his own huge -blazing fire, and the familiar faces around it. - -"A stranger wants a seat by the fire," muttered he, as he entered the -bar. - -"A stranger should have the best seat," said old Giles, moving quietly -to offer him his arm-chair. - -"I have been accustomed, sir, to take place according to my years," said -the stranger, in a voice of peculiar melody, as he declined the offer, -and, at the same time, chose a seat further from the fire, where the -fitful light only sometimes partially illumed his countenance. - -"Landlord," said he, "your guests will, I dare say, join me in my grog; -bring enough, not forgetting yourself." - -A short silence followed this speech, partly caused by the landlord's -absence; during which all eyes were turned to observe the appearance of -the last arrival. His figure was considerably above the middle height, -but his limbs were in such exact proportion, that he preserved the -appearance of strength which tall men often lose. His shoulders were -broad, and his chest wide and expansive. The only sign of delicacy about -him appeared in his hand, which, for his height, was small, and very -white and smooth, ornamented by a plain signet ring. This, they had an -opportunity of observing, for his head was resting on his hand, though, -seemingly more in thought than fatigue. His eyes were large, dark, and -penetrating, made to flash with anger, to command, or reprove; yet, -bearing in general a cold still hue, as if more accustomed to command, -or to suffer, than to ask, or supplicate the world's favour. The mouth -was expressive of great sweetness, as long as his features continued, in -repose, though the lips seemed especially capable of curling into a -sneer. His nose was long and aquiline, and gave a character of boldness -to the countenance; and a finely sloped head, well set upon his -shoulders, added to his lofty bearing. - -All these features, fitted to form a face of striking manly beauty, were -quite spoilt by the fact that, while the whiskers, moustache, and finely -arched eye-brows, were black; his hair, of which he wore a great deal, -and that, too long for the English fashion, was of a bright red, and -gave a very peculiar shade to his countenance. - -His dress was half military, though remarkably simple, and on the -present occasion, much soiled with long riding, and even shabby; with -the exception of his boots, which appeared to have shared the care which -had secured to the hand the marks of gentle breeding. It would have been -very difficult to trace his age, in any part of his outward bearing, -beyond the certainty that he was neither twenty nor fifty--anything -between these two periods might have been attributed to him without much -difficulty. Since his entrance he had not changed the position into -which he had thrown himself; perfectly at ease in every limb, and still -as a statue, he seemed scarcely aware of the observation he excited from -his companions. - -Probably he was inured to the weather, and indifferent to its effects, -for he did not attempt to dry his clothes by drawing nearer the fire. -Perhaps, his studious silence was intended to set his companions at -ease, or, perhaps, occupied with other thoughts, he really forgot them -after the first order he had given for their entertainment. However it -might be, conversation gradually returned to its former channel, and he -remained almost unnoticed. - -The snowy afternoon led them to speak of the weather, when Martin -enquired, with an indifferent tone-- - -"Did it come in upon you last night, Giles?" - -"It did sadly," he replied; "I was obliged to get up, and move my bed." - -"Has the rain been so heavy here then?" enquired the stranger with some -interest. - -"Not in particular, sir," said Martin, "if our roofs were -waterproof--but they ain't; I don't care who knows it. Look at this old -man," he said, turning to Giles, "is he fit to live in a hole with the -roof half off, and the sun and rain coming in every where. It almost -drives me wild to think of it--and if it goes on much longer, there'll -be mischief come on it, that I know." - -"Do not talk in that way," said old Giles, gently, "if I am content with -my house, you should not make it a cause for dispute." - -"Yes; but if any one could claim a proper shelter for his head, it is -you, Giles. You served the family for fifty years, and after spending -the best part of your life working for them, the least they could do, -would be to keep the wind and rain off your old white head." - -"It is not right to talk like this, Martin," returned Giles, gravely, -"for you might make me discontented with my lot. You forget that by -allowing me to work for them, they gave me food for all those years--and -if I did my work honestly, only for the reward they had to give me, I -deserved to lose it." - -"Of what family are you speaking?" enquired the stranger, slightly -rousing himself, and drawing a little more into the circle. - -"Who is your landlord, and what prevents his seeing to your comforts?" - -Martin seemed anxious to reply; but he was prevented by Giles. - -"Our landlord is Colonel Hargrave, a very brave officer, I have heard; -but, in looking for glory abroad, he has, unfortunately for himself and -us, forgotten his dependents at home. He has scarcely seen anything of -us since he came into the property." - -"But surely," said the stranger, warmly, "if he did spend his time -beyond the seas--I dare say, for some private reason--he must have left -some trusty steward, who could take charge of his property during his -absence, and protect the labourers on his estate from the privations you -speak of?" - -"Trusty steward, indeed," Martin began, in a growling voice, but Giles -again interrupted him. - -"Sir, it is kind of you to take so much interest in our concerns. It may -be that you have estates somewhere yourself--it may be that you have -left them to the care of others, believing that you are trusting honest -servants; but, if you could see how much we have suffered, you would -never do so again. Our landlord has left with us an oppressive and cruel -man, who takes pleasure in shewing his power in the smallest thing. In -our good lady's time, we were allowed to pick up any wood that the wind -blew down, so that our firing cost us next to nothing; but now this is -entirely done away by the keepers. Many of our little rights too he has -taken away, according, as he says, to his master's orders, though 'tis -not very likely a gentleman abroad would think of such things so many -miles away. He receives our rents without spending any part of them in -repairing our cottages, and the consequence is, they are tumbling down -for want of repair, while the same rent is demanded for them. This -brings much illness and discomfort--but what I lament over most," said -the old man, with a sigh, "is that the feelings of every one are -aggravated against Colonel Hargrave, who, it may be, knows nothing -about it." - -"Then he ought to know," said Martin. - -"There is a sad spirit spreading, sir," said Giles, casting, as he -continued, a reproving look on Martin, "amongst our young men, and a -hatred of the gentry, which cannot be right, though it is hard to keep -them from it when we have so much privation." - -"Aye, that is true enough," said Martin, glancing at his younger -companions. - -"Why do you not write to Colonel Hargrave?" said the stranger, bending -forwards, and suffering his large full eye to fall on Martin for an -instant, "surely you should not judge him so hastily." - -"Parson Ware has written, and the only answer he gets is, that Mr. -Rogers is an old and tried servant, and he can depend on his doing for -the best." - -A bitter laugh went round the circle in echo to this unpopular opinion. - -The stranger lent back in his chair, and fixing his eyes on the fire, -seemed inclined to leave the conversation, which the wounded feelings of -those present appeared likely to render too heated. - -"Things never went right," said a little old man in the chimney-corner, -in a deep husky voice, for he prided himself on being a sort of prophet -in the village, "since he went to France, and I never had no very great -opinion of Frenchmen before--ha, ha, ha!" There did not seem much to -call for laughter; but he generally accompanied his speeches with that -peculiar chuckle, which sounded anything but pleasantly to those who -were not accustomed to him. "I saw him many times after that," continued -he, "and he warn't the same open-hearted gentleman he was afore. He -often looked as if he'd got some one looking over his shoulder as he -didn't over relish--ha, ha!" - -The sepulchral chuckle which followed this remark produced a short, -uneasy silence, which was broken by Martin, who enquired-- - -"Do you think his religion has anything to do with our houses and -wages?" - -"Yes," replied Giles, "can we expect that he who has proved disloyal to -his Maker, would be thoughtful for his fellow men." - -He spoke in a tone of such gentle authority, that even Martin was -silent, and, for a few seconds, the ticking of the old-fashioned clock, -and the crackling of the wood on the fire, were the only sounds. - -"I can call to mind," resumed the old man, interrupting the silence, -which had followed his last remark, "a time of much sorrow to me, and I -never think of it without trembling. It is some years since, now, when I -worked on the Manor, and I used to be something of a favorite of my -young master's; and I am sure, at that time, I would have given my life -to serve him; he had such a way with him; no one had anything to do with -him without loving him. Well I remember how glad I was when he ordered -me to go out with him to beat up the bushes for game. But the time I -said I was sorry to remember, was when, one Saturday night late, he came -down here in a great hurry, and he said he must go again on the Monday, -and so he would look about him. I can't tell how it was we took so to -each other; but I was strong and hearty then, though 'tis but a few -years ago. Martin speaks truth when he says I have served the family -fifty years, for I began by running errands for the servants, when I was -but a little boy, and I am now nearly seventy; but I was quite a strong -man at that time I have been talking about, and I used often to go out -shooting with Master Hargrave, to carry his game, and such like. Well, -on this Sunday morning, he told me to take his gun, and wait for him at -the entrance of the wood. Nobody ever said no to him then, and I had not -the courage, and, though I knew that I was doing wrong all the while, I -took the gun; and went as he bade me. We had a regular good day's -sport, and we went to the woods furthest from the village, for fear the -guns or dogs might be heard. 'Twas a beautiful autumn afternoon, I know, -as we came home, and, when we came to the wood overlooking the church, -the bells rang out such a merry peal. I had forgot 'twas Sunday, for my -blood was hot, and the sport was good; but now, as we stopped on the top -of the hills, like thieves, I could not help wishing we had never been -out, and I said so with a dogged, frightened air, for I was afraid of -him all the while. He laughed at my fright, and began talking as if -going to church were all mummery. Well, I could not help listening--what -he said seemed so clever and funny, I could not answer him. After that -day, I began to doubt and doubt, till I believed nothing the minister -said, and left off going to church." - -"And what turned ye?" enquired the little man in the chimney-corner. - -"I was wretched," replied Giles; "I felt that I had no comfort upon -earth, and no hope beyond it. Till, at last, I thought that this -unbelief was only a curse for having done wrong. So I took to prayer, -and never gave it up till better thoughts came." - -"But how," asked the stranger, bending forward, and regarding the old -man earnestly, till it made him almost shrink from that dark eye, which -looked almost piteous in its intensity, while the voice of the enquirer -was touching, deep, and melodious, "how could you pray when you had no -faith." - -"Sir," said Giles, "whatever creed or religion you may profess, you must -still feel, that to doubt as I did, is the greatest curse that can fall -upon the heart of man, and doubt as we may, we know it to be a curse. If -you ever feel as I did, do not ask questions, and put yourself wrong, -and then try and set yourself right by your own judgment, as I did; but -go down upon your bended knees, and pray for light as a child might -pray--I never found peace till then." - -The stranger folded his arms upon his breast, and, with his eyes fixed -on the fire, as before, gave no sign that he had even heard the reply to -his question. - -Giles, perhaps, thought he had said too much, and remained in confusion, -glancing uneasily at him. The wind, which had been rising more and more -during the evening, now howled aloud increasing the comfort of the inn -fire, and the dislike of the party to separate; yet no one seemed -inclined to speak, and the wind roared on, yelling as it swept in heavy -gusts through the building. - -Suddenly, a loud and tremulous knocking was heard at the door, together -with voices demanding admittance. After a little hesitation, the door -was opened by the landlord, and several women rushed in, crying -vehemently. - -"For, heaven's sake, come and help us, for the place is all on fire!" - - - - - CHAPTER XV. - - She came with smiles the hour of pain to cheer; - Apart she sighed; alone she shed the tear. - Then, as if breaking from a cloud, she gave - Fresh light, and gilt the prospect of the grave. - - CRABBE. - - -On the night which followed Lucy's departure the cottage seemed -singularly lonely. The wayward girl could not but be missed in so small -a household. Her very waywardness, indeed, had caused excitement, which -slightly roused Mabel's thoughts from present and coming evils. - -It was night--how strange is its power over us? Can it be more than -fancy that the spirits of darkness have freer power to wander unseen -upon our earth? Why else should we start with such vague terror, at the -slightest sound which breaks the stillness? Why should we often feel -almost a childish desire for companionship? - -Mabel had stolen to her mother's room to persuade herself that she -slept, and stood for a moment watching her. The feeble light of the -night lamp shone upon her features, and she trembled when she marked the -sunken cheeks, and the countenance deeply traced and drawn down by care -and pain. It seemed as if, in that moment, the conviction which she had -so long defied, forced itself upon her mind, and she felt that that -loved parent must die. Those only who have experienced that sudden -belief can tell of the bitterness with which it comes. And it is sudden, -for we may speak of death as possible, nay, even probable, with -calmness; but this is not belief, not the feeling which comes when the -varying color, the emaciated hand, or the hollow eye attracts our -attention, and we feel the truth striking coldly on our hearts. Then, -almost for the first time, the full power of fear and love is known. We -long to arrest the hand of death by the vehemence of our passion; and, -though we know such efforts are vain, yet how difficult is it to be -resigned. - -Mabel turned from her mother's room with the choking sensation, of -tears, that will not be suppressed. The cold, loud wind beat against the -cottage, tossing dry leaves and broken sticks against the casement, then -howling round, as if in derision of her grief. Amy was sleeping, the -sweet, gentle, exhausted sleep, that sometimes follows pain; but Mabel -knew that in a short while she would awake, and require refreshment, and -she did not care to lie down, till she had made her comfortable. - -There was a letter lying upon the dressing-table, placed so as to catch -her eye; the sight of it was a relief to her, and she took it and broke -the seal, then shading the light from her sister, she sat down and read -as follows:-- - - "DEAR MISS LESLY, - - "I will trust that you will forgive me the liberty I take in - addressing you by letter; for your unwearied attention to those - who now claim your care, gives me little hope of speaking to you - without interruption. I might not have time to tell you that the - remembrance of my share in the late unhappy accident renders me - miserable when I am compelled to watch your patient suffering, - without the power to afford you the least redress or comfort. It - is impossible to remember the last few happy weeks, without - contrasting them, but too painfully with the present. I cannot - forbear continually reproaching myself with the change, nor shall - I cease to be unhappy till I may, in some way alleviate your - sufferings. Let me entreat you, then, to forgive my presumption, - in seeking a remedy in the gratification of the fondest hopes of - my life. I needed some acquaintance with you, to remove the - prejudices which I have been led to form, through the too - thoughtless behaviour of some ladies, it needed, I may say, even - the last bitter trial, to shew me the nature of your character, - and the refinement to which sorrow could bring it. How else could - I have been aware of the existence of such uncommon resignation, - and such sweet forgiveness. They have inspired me with a feeling, - which, while hope remains, softens the pain I feel; they lead me - to aspire with boldness, which may surprise you, but I am a - soldier, and though too accustomed to feign sentiment which does - not exist, I am only capable of bluntness where my heart is really - touched; and, therefore, at once, most boldly, but most - respectfully do I ask you to be my wife. - - "The fortune with which I am blessed, renders my profession more - an amusement than a necessity, and it would be amply sufficient to - secure your sweet sister all the comforts which may alleviate - pain, and all the medical advice which may help to remove it. Only - give me the power to protect you from the cold blasts of the - world, and the right to aid you in taking charge of one, whose - helplessness has been caused by my fault, and I will shew you that - a husband's tenderest love and a brother's most watchful care will - ever be ready to protect you both. One word more. Though with the - most jealous hand I would guard you from all pain, I must, though - but for a moment, inflict it in alluding to past events. I am - aware of much, if not all, of your early history, and know that I - cannot be the first object of your affections; yet would I rather - have your second love, or even your friendship, than the warmest - attachment of any other woman living. - - "Do not then turn away from me without consideration, think of - your sister--of me--and of yourself, unprotected in a world of - strangers, and, if you can, accept the love of - - "Your most devoted and respectful - - "ARTHUR CLAIR." - - "The Rectory, - "Friday Evening." - -Mabel was troubled, not only by the generous tone of the letter, but -because it brought to view, subjects which she had not allowed herself -to think upon; for her real strength consisted in a knowledge of her -weakness, and she knew that she should be quite incapable of acting, if, -to present pain, she added the contemplation of future trials. But now, -Clair, in offering her a provision for the future had forced her to -think of it. Perhaps generously to save her from the imputation of -accepting him, only when pressed by circumstances, as she might be, in -but a few weeks. - -Now the letter as it lay before her would have her think. She had but a -few minutes before left her mother's room with the saddest conviction; -and now, crowding on her remembrance came a thousand little speeches, -that told her, how earnestly, that dear mother had tried to warn her of -her approaching death. Speeches which then appeared but the result of -nervous weakness, now occurred to her as truths, which no reasoning -could controvert. Some of their little property she knew rested in the -hands of an improvident and extravagant aunt, and the remainder of their -income would fail altogether when her mother's pension dropped. - -And Amy, whose precarious health rendered her now unable to be even -moved from room to room, she on whom she had lavished all the comforts -which affluence can invent, how could she bear the trials of poverty? -How could she suffer the privations to which they would inevitably be -reduced; she who could scarcely hear the sound of a heavy footfall -without pain, or be moved, without the greatest agony, from the couch on -which she constantly lay. Not that she wavered with regard to Clair, but -his letter made her uneasy. Poverty, death, and even that place where -"all that's wretched paves the way to death," she would have preferred -to marriage, if she could but have endured them alone. But who would be -her companion? She turned her eyes to the bed where, with cheeks flushed -and eyes that scarcely closed, lay the little sufferer, her small, -wasted hand tightly compressed as if with pain. At this moment she -slightly moved, and Mabel was instantly by her side. Her eyes glistening -bright with fever were now opened wide, and gazing anxiously on poor -Mabel's tell-tale face. - -"Mabel," said she in a low, sweet but peculiar voice, "sit down by me, -for I must talk to you to-night, as my pain is all gone." - -Mabel seated herself by her, and took the little hand in hers. - -"You will not be frightened, Mabel dear," said the child, "if I talk -about strange things, and about going away." - -"No, sweet one, no," replied her sister, "talk of anything you like; but -where are you going?" - -"Mabel, dear," she returned softly, "I suffer such pain that I do not -think it will be much longer--I must die soon, and then I hope I am -going to that beautiful country we have talked of so often in the -church-yard. I wish you could come with me, Mabel dear, for I dream so -often that papa is waiting for me, and it is all so beautiful." - -A quiet pressure of her hand was the only answer. - -"But I cannot help thinking of you, love," continued Amy, "and what you -will do without me when I am gone; but yet, Mabel dear, think how -strange it would be to me to lie here always; and, if I grew big like -this, you would only cry over me, as you do when you think I am asleep; -so, Mabel dear, let me go to heaven." - -The last words were spoken in the coaxing tone with which she used so -often to carry her point in some little argument, and, finding no -answer, she pat her hand under Mabel's head, which was bent down, and -raised it gently, her face was very pale, and tears were streaming from -her eyes. - -"Mabel, dear, dear Mabel," cried Amy, "I, who have been such a trouble -to you all my life, are you so sorry to part from me, your naughty -child. But now, I know it was very good in you to correct me sometimes, -or I never should have been as happy as I am, and now, I feel it to be -all right that I should be in such pain. Will you not rejoice too, -darling? Look at me, there are no tears in my eyes though I am talking -of leaving you." - -But the moment the sisters' eyes met, Amy's were filled with tears, and -her head sunk back exhausted. Mabel could not trust herself to say -anything; but, gently smoothing her pillow, she suffered her own head to -sink upon it, and, fatigued alike by grief and want of rest, she closed -her eyes, and fell asleep. - - "Tired nature's sweet restorer balmy sleep," - -Of what untold comfort are you to the mourner. Cares, that bow the head -to the earth at night, seem lighter to the waking thoughts, refreshed, -perhaps, by good angels while we sleep. Were there no such sweet -forgetfulness of sorrow, could we bear to look upon it long? - - - - - CHAPTER XVI. - - But oh! to him whose self-accusing thought - Whispers: ''twas _he_ that desolation wrought.' - - HEMANS. - - -"Fire! fire?" Who starts not at that terrible cry? - -The terrified women had scarcely told their tale, before all the men in -the "Hargrave Arms" were on their feet, starting into the open air. They -soon perceived cause for alarm. Proceeding from that quarter of the -village where the houses lay closest together, rose a column of smoke -and flame, blown hither and thither by the boisterous wind, which was -spreading the red sparks in every direction, tossing them high in the -air, and then suffering them to fall on some distant cottage, whose -thatched roof rendered it a ready prey. - -So rapidly had the fire spread, that several cottages were already -burning, and the men ran hither and thither from one to the other in -consternation, and uncertain what course to pursue to save their -property. All seemed at stake--wives, children, the sick, household -furniture, the cherished articles purchased, perhaps, by long and mutual -saving before marriage, and therefore doubly dear--and these thoughts -occurring to each, confused the movements of all. - -But, in the midst of these sudden difficulties, the coolness of the -stranger did not desert him. He had followed his companions from the -inn, to ascertain the cause of alarm, and he was almost immediately -after seen leading his horse. Arresting the attention of old Giles, he -enquired-- - -"Where shall we send for fire engines?" - -"There is not one to be had nearer than Cheltenham," was the reply. - -"Now then," cried he, seizing a young man, who was hurrying about, -scarcely knowing what he did, "do you know the road to Cheltenham?" - -Being answered in the affirmative, he bade him mount his horse, and ride -as fast as possible in search of engines. Well he knew his own good -steed would die rather than give up the journey, and, though he sighed -as he thought how long the way would be, he dared not reckon his horse's -life against those of his fellow creatures. - -His next effort was to bring the scattered crowd a little into order, -for the purpose of checking the rapid spread of the fire. Nothing -secures obedience to a command so much as the decision and coolness with -which it is given; and all were soon engaged in pulling down, at his -suggestion, the cottage which lay nearest to those already burning. - -But the futility of the attempt was soon perceived by the sparks leaping -over and catching the roof of a more distant tenement. As soon as the -fire touched it, an up-stair lattice-window was thrown open, and a woman -leaning out, and raising her hands wildly in the air, cried aloud for -help. - -"Come down," said the stranger, in a voice distinctly heard above the -tempest, and the confused noises around him, "come down, and you are -safe--nothing hinders you." - -"My father!" screamed the woman, "I cannot move him--come up, in mercy, -come to me. Help! help!--we are all on fire!" - -The stranger, followed closely by Clair, who, on hearing the tumult had -hurried to the scene, accompanied by his uncle, hastened into the house, -and soon reached the upper room, from which the woman had called for -assistance. The strong fire-light gleaming on all around, disclosed to -their view a room, which made the stranger shudder. A low bedstead, -scarcely raised from the ground, with a box in one corner, on which an -old coat was lying, formed the only furniture of the room; while thin -holes in the lath and plaister wall, let in the cruel blast. On the -floor was lying an old man, with some bed-clothes huddled round him. It -seemed that his daughter had dragged him from the bed; but had been -unable to get him farther than the door. - -"Father's been bed-ridden these two years," said the woman, hastily, "he -cannot crawl down stairs, and I cannot carry him." - -"You are safe now," said the stranger, in a re-assuring voice. "Follow -us;" and he took the old man up in his powerful arms. "Why do you stay?" -he said, turning at the door. "Could there be anything worth saving," -thought he, "in this wretched hovel--anything but life?" - -The woman soon joined them, bearing in her arms, a small geranium-pot, -and an old Bible. - -The stranger turned aside his head, and the old man wondered to see a -tear in his fearless eye. - -Gently placing his burden on the ground, he returned to the house, and, -leaning his shoulder against the door, forced its rusty hinges to give -way, then, throwing the scanty mattress upon it, he lifted up the old -man, and placed him securely on this hastily formed litter, which had -been constructed before the woman had time to think of her deliverance. -He then called to two or three able-bodied men, - -"For the love of mercy," cried he, "carry this poor man to Aston Manor, -and tell the house-keeper to see to his comfort." - -"She'll never open the doors," growled the men in surprise. - -"I tell you she will," cried he, as quickly roused by opposition as a -spoilt child, "take him along with you." - -Thus urged, the men took up the rude litter, and, attended by the woman -bearing her cherished treasures in her arms, they made as much haste as -could be, to the Manor House, leaving the burning village behind them. -They needed neither moon nor stars to help them on their way, for the -sky was red with light, and the hills around reflected back the -fire--many times had they to rest, and often, as they did so, they -turned their eyes back--where sometimes the attempts of the villagers -would give a temporary check, or, the falling in of some roof, would -damp the flame, and give a moment's hope, till, presently, it would -again burst forth with wilder fury than before. - -Then, urged with the desire to get back, or the curiosity to know -whether they would really be admitted beyond the closely shut door of -the Manor House, they moved on more quickly up the narrow pathway which -lay most directly in a line with it. Presently, they perceived a man -hurrying towards them, with a frightened and bewildered air. On coming -closer, they recognised the hated bailiff Rogers--he was one whose -manners, though smooth and oily to his superiors, were, to his -inferiors, blustering and loud; not indeed the off-hand manner which -often accompanies and conceals a good and kindly heart, but rather a -studied recklessness of wounding the feelings of others, a total -forgetfulness of the circumstances and tempers of those dependent on -him, to whom a kind word would have cost him nothing. Alas, since our -feelings are so finely tuned, why are we not more careful how we play on -those of others. But Rogers found that this deliberate carelessness of -offence, was, with the timid, a skilful weapon, for it made them fear -him, and he rejoiced in the influence this fear gave to him. He forgot -in the day of power, how little substance it possesses, or that the sway -of tyranny bears in itself the elements of decay, and must crumble away -before the force of circumstances. - -He was evidently at that moment feeling at a disadvantage. His thin, -lanky figure hastily attired, looked not half so important as usual, -and he was trembling within with agitation or cold. - -The whole party stopped; and the eldest of the young men, whose -countenance was very far from prepossessing, drawing the bailiff aside, -said, with a low, chuckling kind of laugh-- - -"Are you going down to the village, sir?" - -"Yes," replied Rogers, "I have not come from it very long, and only just -stepped back to the Manor. But why do you ask?" - -"Because, if you take my advice, you'll keep as clear of it as you can, -for the men are hot, and you know, sir," he added, with a low laugh, -"they aint all on em very particlar friends o'yourn. I heard words spoke -to-night, as may be you would not like." - -"I must go, however," replied Rogers, with a shaky attempt to look -swaggering, "and I should like to see what the cowards dare do." - -"I tell you ye'd better not," said the young man, decisively, "but I've -given my warning, I heard some one say, it was very hard if one life -was not lost in the bustle to-night--though I do not like peaching, but -I owe you a good turn for sending Sally Lyn and her old sick father out -of their cottage, that cold Christmas night, at my asking," he added, -with a bitter laugh. - -Rogers did not look particularly obliged by this grateful reminder, that -he had once lent himself to his revenge at an easy bribe. As the mingled -smoke and flame rose in columns of awful majesty, like the workings of a -supernatural power, till he felt sickened at the sight, he would have -given a great deal could the young man have recalled one single act of -disinterested mercy. - -"Yet I must go," he said, at length, "I cannot help it." - -"Well, then, be careful, that is all," replied his companion. - -Rogers smiled nervously, and passed slowly on towards the village, -leaving him to join the others, who, anxious to complete their task, -were waiting impatiently for him. - -They had not much further to go, and soon entered a side gate from which -a narrow pathway led through a shrubbery of evergreens, round to the -back entrance. Here two or three dogs began to greet them with a loud -bark, giving no very pleasing indications of welcome; and, as they -carried their living burden up the court-yard, they felt half inclined -to turn back or to leave the sick man at the door to speak for himself; -but the woman hastily prevented them by ringing loudly at the bell, -which sounded through the building, making her heart sink. There was -rather a lengthened pause, and, tired with waiting for the unexpected -welcome, and anxious to shift the responsibility from themselves, the -men laid down their burden, and, spite of the woman's entreaties, left -them to their fate. They had scarcely passed the court-yard before they -heard the sound of doors unbolting, but they did not stop to enquire -further, and hurried back to the village, glad to escape from an office -of which they were heartily tired. - -On their return, they found the place full of confusion; women and -children, endangered by the falling sparks, were running in all -directions; Mr. Ware, with a bottle of brandy and a glass, was moving -about, giving enough to the fainting men to keep up their strength, and -to encourage them to continue the labour of carrying water to throw upon -the flames. - -"We must save the Manor House and the rectory, at least," said the -stranger, to a group of men who thronged around him in despair at the -failure of every effort; "but I see no hope for the thatched cottages." - -"And the church," said Mr. Ware; "but that stands alone, and, I hope, is -safe." - -"I would not raise my hand," said a sullen voice, which all recognized -as that of Martin the poacher--"I would not raise a hand to save the -Manor House, if I were to die for it." - -"Shame on you," said the stranger; "if it be necessary, I will make -you." - -"I should like to see how," said Martin, scowling on him; "there is not -many as can make me do as I don't like. And I say, if the master leaves -us to starve, he may take care of his house himself. Share and share -alike. We owe him little enough." - -And he turned his eyes towards the fire, and pointed to his own cottage -which was smouldering in ruins. - -The stranger fixed his quick eye upon him for a moment, and then turned -to Rogers, who, making his way through the crowd, came up, and whispered -for a few moments in his ear. He bent his head to listen, and then -looking at those around him, he said, as he fixed his keen eye on -Martin. - -"I have received a message, which tells me, friends, that Aston Manor is -now open, for the women and children who may like to take refuge in it; -and you may put any of your furniture, which you can save, in the -stables; there it will be in safety. I understand that there are many -fine pictures, statues, and ornaments of every kind there, and I need -not ask you to take care of them." - -Every one listened with surprise to this unusual news; but he bade them -hasten to send their wives and children away. "We shall be able to act -better when they are gone, sir," he said, bowing, for the first time, to -Mr. Ware, who failed not to applaud a measure, at once humane and -judicious, since it gave an object, to the discontented, to protect the -mansion should it be necessary. - -In a short time, all the children had left the scene; but most of the -women remained, employed in dragging the furniture from the fire, either -laying it in heaps, or carrying it towards the stables. - -Suddenly a frightful yell burst upon every ear. - -"Some poor creature is in danger," said the stranger, who was the first -to speak--"I thought you had searched the burning houses. Come all of -you." - -So saying, he sprang to the nearest cottage, whose blazing roof -threatened every moment to fall in. - -Clair followed him closely, crying aloud-- - -"Do not venture, the roof is coming down--I have searched that place -myself." - -But, as he said so, another yell sounded upon their ears. - -"The door is tied here," said the stranger, tearing at a well-knotted -cord with impatient violence--but it would not give way. "Help me then," -he said to Clair; and, leaning his shoulder against the door, the hinge -snapped, though the cord remained firm. - -The apartment, on which they thus entered, was bare of anything, save -one living object. Both started, as they beheld the wretched Rogers, -tied round the waist, by a thick cord, to a strong piece of wood which -ran up the side to the ceiling. His eyes were glaring and distended--his -face filled with death-like anguish. Blood was gushing from his mouth -and nostrils, for he had ruptured a blood vessel in his attempts to -free his hands and mouth from the bandages, which appeared to have been -tied over them. - -"Wretched man, repent before it is too late," said the stranger, as he -hastened to undo the cords which bound him. - -It was not an easy matter, and every moment seemed an age of peril to -the three. - -Rogers opened his eyes, wide with horror, upon the stranger, for a -moment, and then turned aside his head and fainted. The room was heated -to suffocation, and fast filling with smoke. Clair felt sick with -horror; but the stranger, whose thought seemed action, raised Rogers in -his arms. With his head laid carefully on his shoulder, and his own -hands and garments dripping in his blood, he bore him out, assisted by -Clair. Scarcely had they cleared the threshold, when the roof fell in, -and the cottage was in ruins. - -A shout, from those who had feared to follow, welcomed them as they -appeared; and the stranger staggered through the ruins spread around -him, to the group who anxiously waited them. He singled out Mr. Ware, -and laid his fainting burden at his feet, then, bending his knee in -Eastern fashion before him, he said-- - -"Father, judge who hath done this, for he is a brother, though a sinful -one." - -A murmur of horror passed through the crowd; and Mr. Ware, kneeling by -the side of the hated Rogers, tried to reanimate him. - -"He is not dead, sir," said he, in a low voice; "he will live, I trust, -if we can once revive him." - -"He will have time to repent, I hope," said old Giles; "bring some water -to moisten his lips, and let us clear the blood from his mouth." - -"Will you watch by him, sir?" said the stranger, again addressing Mr. -Ware, "he is too sinful to die; and if he wakes, you can give him -comfort." - -"I will," said he, "I will take care of him." - -The stranger covered his face with his hands, as if anxious either to -shut out the scenes which had terrified him, or to collect his thoughts. - -Then rose a hasty cry, "Widow Dacre's--the fire has taken it--there are -sparks on the roof." - -He started, as if with sudden pain, and then ran wildly towards the -hill, at the bottom of which lay the widow's cottage. On its height the -church looked down in its holy stillness, and between both lay the -picturesque thatched cottage belonging to Mrs. Lesly. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII. - - But when I see the fair wide brow - Half shaded by the silken hair, - That never looked so fair as now - When life and health were laughing there, - I wonder not that grief should swell - So wildly upward in the breast, - And that strong passion once rebel - That need not, cannot be suppressed. - - -All hands were now directed to save the small cottage belonging to the -Widow Dacre, but with very little effect, for the wind which came down -from the hills with furious blasts seemed to mock at every effort to -extinguish the fire, while it fanned the faintest spark into a flame, -and then spread it with wonderful rapidity. But it was not for the sake -of the tiny cottage, which its owner had long since vacated, they all -labored so zealously, but because it now seemed a link between the -ruined village and the dwelling which all looked upon with interest. -Romance seemed to have cast a kind of charm round the little family, to -which Mabel belonged. - -Upon whose threshold had Mabel's light step been unwelcome? And who was -not ready to protect the roof that sheltered her from danger? - -Now, as all eyes watched the building, it was, for the first time, -perceived, that no one stirred within; the shutters were fast closed, -and there was not the slightest sign that the general alarm had reached -it. - -"Is it possible," said the stranger, turning to Clair, "that amidst all -this din and confusion they should sleep on and hear nothing?" - -"I will go and try to get in," said Clair. - -"And I," said the stranger, as they walked both together to the door and -rung the bell, at first gently, but more loudly as they heard no one -moving. - -Presently a shuffling step was heard, and a somewhat sulky "Who's -there?" from within. - -"It is I," said Clair, "open the door, for the village is on fire." - -The door was immediately thrown open and old John the gardener staggered -back as he perceived the red sky, which glared above him on all sides. - -"The ladies!--" he exclaimed. - -"We will take care of them, only go and dress, and then come and help -us," said Clair. - -John speedily availed himself of this permission, and then, with -considerable coolness, he hurried to the stable after his mistress's -Bath chair, which had not seen the light for many a month. - -Meanwhile, the two gentleman hurried up stairs; they had, however, -scarcely reached the landing-place, when they heard a shout from the -outside, which made the stranger spring back down the stairs to -ascertain the cause, begging Clair to remain. The latter, accordingly, -began to search for the bed-rooms inhabited by Mrs. Lesly and her -daughter. Having hastily tapped at one, and receiving no answer, he did -not hesitate to open it. Here a night lamp was dimly burning, and, when -he looked at the heavy oak shutters, and the closely drawn curtains, and -perceived the stillness within, he no longer wondered that they slept. -This was Mrs. Lesly's room, and, on a bed at her feet, reposed the -faithful servant Betsy, and so soundly that Clair had to shake her with -some little violence before he could awaken her. Her expressions of -terror soon roused Mrs. Lesly, to whom Clair explained as much as he -thought proper, begging her to get up and allow him to take her from the -house, should it be necessary, saying he would wait for her on the -outside. - -She needed no second bidding, but suffered the affrighted Betsy to -assist her to rise. Clair left the room with the intention of conveying -the same warning to Mabel, but, before he could do so, the stranger -hurried to him, and, seizing him by the hand, he wrung it wildly, -saying, - -"That shout told that the back part of the house is already burning. -Will you take care of Mrs. Lesly and her maid? promise me not to leave -them till they are safe, and I hope I can manage the rest." - -There was one other duty which Clair would willingly have chosen, but -there was now no time for parley, and the eager pressure of the hand, -which the stranger returned for his promise, made him no longer regret -it. But, as he leant against the wall of the passage, waiting for Mrs. -Lesly, his countenance became more and more haggard in appearance, and -his bloodless lips and heavy eyes rather spoke of mental pain than the -fatigue of bodily exertion. - -But, there was not much time to think, the passage in which he waited -began to feel intolerably warm, and the air gradually thickened with -smoke. - -He then called eagerly to Mrs. Lesly, and once again entering the room -where poor Betsy was sobbing with alarm, he hastily finished her -preparations, by taking up an immense cloak which lay on the floor, and -wrapping it round the poor invalid, who was coughing violently from the -exertion of dressing, he hurried her from the room, and down stairs to -the open air. - -Here he was rejoiced to see the faithful gardener. - -"Put missis in here," he said, dragging the chair forward, which he had -provided for her--"for I don't know which'll do her most harm, the fire -or the air." - -"That's right," said Clair, placing her in it, and as he did so, -stooping down kindly, to sooth her anxiety for her children, and -covering her up from the night air, which blew chilly upon her, for she -had not left her bed for several weeks. - -Hiding her eyes with her pocket-handkerchief, she turned away at once -from the terrific scene before her, and the many cherished objects of -her home, soon, perhaps, to be the spoil of the raging fire. A thousand -recollections crowded upon her mind, which was too sensitive, and too -delicately framed for the struggles of common life. The acuteness of her -feelings, added bitterness to every trial, by representing them to her -in the most touching, and even poetical light, till her heart was -entirely overcome by the sufferings she was too skilled in describing to -herself. In vain Clair endeavoured to comfort her, as he accompanied her -a little way on the road to the Manor House, when, finding his presence -of little service, he left her in the hands of her careful servant, and -hastened back to afford any assistance he could offer to the sisters. - -During his absence, the stranger had not been idle; assured of Mrs. -Lesly's safety by the promise which Clair had given him; he turned to -another door, and, too impatient to summon its owner, he opened it -gently. Here, too, a lamp was burning, and the light that it spread -around, was quite sufficient for his rapid gaze. He turned to the bed -where lay the beautiful, delicately shaped child; her countenance still -wet with tears, yet serene and happy as if her dreams were not of earth. -Mabel's head lay upon the same pillow; the little hand in hers, and the -rich curls of her chestnut hair, half concealing her face; she seemed, -in her motionless slumber, like some trusting child, who knows that -watchful eyes guard her from danger--yet sorrow in many shapes, had -been, and was still around her. - -He paused--the hasty call which would have wakened both, died upon his -lips; and he stood, as if entranced, and forgetful of the danger which -every moment's delay increased. He bent forward, and earnestly -contemplated the sleepers, and, as he did so, a smile passed over -Mabel's face, and she murmured something which made him listen still -more earnestly. - -But, now she starts, her bosom heaves as if something troubled her. -Again, she sleeps--but only to start again--her hand unclasps, she turns -as if in pain--then, leaping to her feet--she suddenly stands before -him--yet scarcely roused from the dream which had awakened her. - -Light, brighter than the moon, and more glowing than the sunshine, -streamed in upon the room, and rendered the stranger's face clearly -visible; Mabel's eyes fixed upon him with something between terror and -surprise; she tried to speak, but her lips trembled so convulsively, -that she could not utter a sound--she tried to advance, but she felt -that his eye quelled every movement; and what did that dark look mean, -with which he regarded her; and why, as it grew more dark, did Mabel's -form become more erect, while her lips curled, her cheeks flushed -crimson, and her eye also fixed on his, flashed with a fiery pride, -which but seldom showed itself upon her face. Yet, this was but for a -moment, for the stranger taking the cloak which he had brought for the -purpose, he threw it round her, and raising her almost from the ground -with the rapidity of his movements, he hurried her from the room, and -down the stairs. When they reached the garden, he loosened his hold, and -suffered the cloak, which had entirely covered her face and head, to -fall back. Mabel looked wildly round; a busy crowd was about the house; -the sickly smell of fire was in the air, and, as she gazed back, she saw -flames bursting from the lower windows of their cottage. In an instant -she had freed herself, and springing past him with a wild cry of terror -and agony, she entered the house, and through the smoke and sparks -scattered about her, she was once again by Amy's side, who was awake, -and greatly terrified; and, as Mabel threw herself upon her knees -beside her, she cried:-- - -"Do not leave me, Mabel dear--I shall die if you do." - -"Leave you, my darling," cried Mabel, "nothing but death shall part us." - -"If you had waited but a moment, I would have brought her to you," said -the stranger. - -"Oh, why did you think of me first," cried Mabel. - -"'Twas wrong, perhaps," said the stranger; "but it made only the -difference of a few moments. Come, my child," said he, stooping to lift -her from her couch. - -"No, no," said Mabel, "you must take couch and all. Oh!" said she, -wringing her hands, "will no one come and help you?" - -"I am not afraid of fire," said a gruff voice, and Martin entered; "I'll -help, but you must make haste." - -"But my Mamma, where is she?" exclaimed Mabel. - -"She is safe, and the two servants are with her." - -"Oh then, dear Amy, let us go to them," she said; and, in a quick but -concise manner, she explained how the springs of the couch might be -altered, so as to render the carriage of it more easy. - -The counterpane was then laid closely over, and a shawl placed over -Amy's face, and the stranger and Martin, carrying the couch, proceeded -carefully to leave the house--Mabel, bending over her sister, and -soothing her at every step, while she placed herself in the way of -anything which was blowing towards them, seemingly forgetful of her own -safety; but, though nothing shielded her, she passed through the fire -entirely uninjured. - -Occupied as all were, each with his separate interests, few could resist -a feeling of admiration for the beautiful girl, who, in her own simple -neighbourhood, had won so much of the love of those around her. - -Bending over the couch, which the stranger and Martin bore between them, -her hair blown in wild disorder about her face, which shewed a thousand -mingled feelings, as she sometimes turned, shrinking, from the terrible -scene around her, to which she had so suddenly awakened--sometimes, -looking up in strange bewilderment, but always, with out-stretched -hands, placing her unprotected figure between the loved child, and the -sparks and timbers, which were repeatedly blown across the road; she -looked like some wild and beautiful spirit of the storm, which it had no -power to harm. The uneasy motion gave the greatest anguish to poor Amy, -who, though usually so patient, uttered shriek after shriek of agony, -which pierced the hearts of those who hurried round in the vain hope of -affording assistance. At every turn they took, fresh torturing cries -broke from the little sufferer, who, agonised with pain, and terrified -at the scene around her, lost every power of self-control. - -Entirely overcome by the cries, of the poor little sufferer, Mabel -entreated them to stop, and rather to lay her on the road side, than -take her further; Martin, who, though a bold, and not an over humane -man, looked pale and sick with the duty he had undertaken, readily -suggested that they might place her in the lodge, which had long been -deserted by its owner--an old woman--who had taken refuge with the -children at the Manor House. - -To this the stranger consented; and, after some little difficulty, they -contrived to lay her in the old woman's room. - -"It is the hardest night's work I've ever had," said Martin, as he -turned away. "I'll go and send some one to her, sir, as will do more -good than I can." - -Poor Amy's shrieks had been heart-rending when they laid her down; but -shortly afterwards, they subsided into a low moaning sound. - -"Though there's plenty of fire," said Martin, "I don't think there's a -candle left in all the place; but I'll find one if I can." - -He then went away, and the stranger alone remained, for no one else had -followed so far but Clair, who had now gone to call his aunt. - -"Can I do anything more for you?" said the stranger, in a voice -trembling with emotion. - -Mabel raised her eyes, and as they met his for an instant, a warm blush -overspread her pale countenance. - -"Bless you for what you have done," she murmured, despairingly. - -"Water?" said Amy, opening her eyes. - -Mabel turned entreatingly to the stranger, who, without another word, -left the room. - -Martin soon afterwards returned with a light, and placed it on the -floor, and Mabel again entreated for water to moisten Amy's parched -lips; but it was more difficult to obtain than she imagined, for the -whole furniture of the house had been long since removed, and the empty -cupboard looked comfortless indeed. - -But, in a short while, the stranger returned, and presented her with a -cup of pure water, which she eagerly gave to Amy. - -"Thank you, sir," said Amy, gently, "and thank you for carrying me. Did -you mind my crying? I felt very ill, and could not help it," she looked -at him timidly. "Sir," she continued, rousing herself with an energy -which surprised him, "Mabel will soon be alone. Do you think any one -will comfort her, and take care of her?" - -"May I," said he, to Mabel, suddenly moving towards them, "may I speak -to her alone?" - -"Yes, yes," said Amy, eagerly, "let him speak to me." - -"Her time is precious;" said Mabel, rising reluctantly, "do not keep me -from her long." - -"No, I will not, but a few minutes," said the stranger, hurriedly, and -Mabel leaving the room went into the open air, and, leaning against the -door way, she tried to tranquillize her thoughts. The village was shut -out by the tall trees which surrounded the entrances to the Manor House, -and the low sighing of the wind, which was now beginning to sink, was -the only sound which met her ear, while the busy clouds, dimly lighted -by the occasional appearance of the moon, traced their way across the -heavens. There were wild thoughts in her own mind, which made her heart -beat tumultuously. With a sudden burst of anguish, she threw herself -upon her knees, and laid her forehead upon the cold earth in the -bitterness of her soul. - -She only rose when she heard the stranger's step, and then, passing him -quickly, for she dared not trust herself to speak, she re-entered the -room. - -Amy's cheeks were flushed, and the look of pain seemed entirely to have -passed away. Her eyes were bright, "as if gazing on visions of -ecstasy," while over her white countenance was spread a halo, at once so -childlike and so serene that Mabel stepped more softly and knelt in -silence by her side. - -Amy put out her hand, and fondly stroked her cheeks and smoothed her -hair. - -"You are very beautiful, Mabel dear," she said, with gentle pride, as if -she spoke to her own thoughts, "and you look more and more beautiful -because you are so good, and what pretty hair," she said, still speaking -to herself, while her sister blushed unconsciously at her praises. - -"Oh, it is a dear, good Mabel," said Amy, fondly; then changing her -tone, and dropping her hands upon her bosom with simple devotion, she -said, softly-- - -"Sing me to sleep." - -Mabel made a strong effort to overcome her emotion. - -"I hear old John outside," said Amy, suddenly, though her sister could -hear nothing, "but I cannot see him," and her eyes filled with tears, -"but will you tell him to let no one else come, for I want to be alone a -little while, I feel better with you. Ah, poor mamma," she added, -thoughtfully, "but I cannot see her either, to-night." - -Old John was at the door as Amy had said, and Mabel telling him to keep -any one from coming in, as Amy was going to sleep, returned to her and -then began the evening hymn. Sweetly did those beautiful lines sound, -breathed in low and trembling melody, but she had scarcely finished the -third verse when sobs stopped her utterance, she was, however, trying to -go on, but Amy laid her hand upon her lips. - -"Don't go on, Mabel, dear, I shall soon hear angels' music. They are -waiting for me now, but I must go alone," she said, "and your dear voice -is the last sound I wished to hear on earth. Do not leave me," she -added, seeing her attempt to rise, "you have done all that can be done -for me, and you must not go away now." - -Mabel saw indeed that it was too late to call for assistance, and she -scarcely breathed, lest a word might escape her ear. - -"You have been very kind to me," murmured Amy, in faint accents, "and it -is very hard to part, but listen, listen," said she, holding up her tiny -hand; then, as if the sound were dying away, her hand fell softly down, -and all was over. A holy stillness stole over the chamber of death, -unbroken by a sound, for Mabel's anguish was too great for tears. - -The old gardener had seated himself on the door step, and tears chased -each other down his weather beaten cheeks, as he listened to Mabel's low -singing, and remembered how often the voices of both had mingled in gay -and thrilling merriment, which had made his old heart dance, when he had -pretended not even to hear them. - -"Ah," thought he, "let the old house burn since they that made it glad -are going or gone." But then came thoughts of the sunny garden, made -more pleasant by the cheerful faces and glad voices now hushed by death -or sorrow, his grief burst out afresh, and, burying his head in, his -knees, he gave himself up to old recollections, heedless of every thing -about him. - - END OF VOL. I. - - - T. C. Newby, Printer, 30, Welbeck Street, Cavendish Square. - - - - -Transcriber's Note - - -"_" surrounding a word or phrase represents the use of italics in the -original text. - -Obvious typographical errors were corrected, as listed below. Other -apparent inconsistencies and errors have been retained, including a -mixture of British and American word usages. Perceptible missing or -incorrect punctuation or capitalization has been silently restored and -hyphenation has been made consistent. Period spellings, punctuation and -grammatical uses have been kept. - -Page 5 and 332, "chesnut" changed to "chestnut". (Wide spreading oaks -and tall beeches, with the graceful birch and chestnut trees bending -their lower branches nearly to the green turf beneath,...) - -Page 8, "of" changed to "or". (Though a little under the middle height, -there was a gentle dignity in his manner that could scarcely fail to be -noticed, or if not noticed, it was sure to be felt.) - -Page 10 and 206, "recal" changed to "recall". (... we sigh to think that -childhood is gone--but no sigh will recall it.) - -Page 22, "comtemplating" changed to "contemplating". (By the fire was -seated a strong hale young man, with his hands upon his knees, -contemplating it with gloomy fixedness.) - -Page 23, "morniny" changed to "morning". ('_cursed is he that keepeth a -man's wages all night by him until the morning_,') - -Page 23, "no" changed to "not". ("It is very hard, I allow, Martin," -said Mr. Ware, "but the wrong done you does not excuse your sitting here -idle; have you been trying for work?") - -Page 28, "therfore" changed to "therefore". (Besides, I do not much -approve of giving where it can be avoided; and, therefore, husband my -means for the scarcity of the coming winter.) - -Page 50, "eommon" changed to "common". (I would not have any one -indifferent on common subjects, but too great attention to things of -this kind must be wrong.) - -Page 61, "thonght" changed to "thought". (... so I thought it best to -avoid Mary Watson, as I could scarcely hope you would do her very much -good, and she might do you harm.) - -The third paragraph on page 62 appears to contain speech from both Amy -and Mabel, and inconsistent use of double quotation marks. This has been -left as it appears in the original. - -Page 72, "stffliy" changed to "stiffly". (Mrs. Villars was of imposing -appearance, though too bustling in her manners to be altogether -dignified, with colour a little too brilliant, and hair a little too -stiffly curled, to be quite natural.) - -Page 85, "subjecttion" changed to "subjection". (I should think he was -too easily won to be kept long in subjection.) - -Page 98, "seeemed" changed to "seemed". (It seemed that he had been in -the constant habit, of confiding every thing to her, and had always -found an admiring listener to his thoughts on most subjects.) - -Page 99, "opprtunity" changed to "opportunity". (... he courted every -opportunity of disputing with them on the nature of their opinions.) - -Page 104, "let" changed to "left". (Without another word to Mabel, he -left us, and I have never seen him since.) - -Page 104, "wisper" changed to "whisper". (Amy sat upon her pillow nearly -all day, and would whisper, 'don't cry, dear Mabel.') - -Page 116, extra "you," deleted. ("I meant it most kindly, I do assure -you," you," said Mrs. Lesly.) - -Page 124, "Leslie" changed to "Lesly" for consistency. ("Well, dear," -said Mrs. Lesly,...) - -Page 124, "droppiing" changed to "dropping". ("My money," said Mrs. -Lesly, with unusual gravity, "has been reduced for your sake, to a very -few hundreds, a mere trifle, but my children!" exclaimed she, suddenly -dropping her pen, and clasping her hands convulsively.) - -Page 127, "than" changed to "then". (... where right and wrong is -concerned; and then come second thoughts--why did she wait for them?) - -Page 139, "und" changed to "and". (The gardens are very beautiful, and -every thing else in keeping.) - -Page 150, "any ony one" changed to "any one". ("Well," said Miss Ware, -recovering from her slight pique, at thinking any one could succeed -where Edwin failed, "if you never use your ridicule for a worse purpose, -you will do well.") - -Page 158, "siezed" changed to "seized". (Lucy Villars gladly seized the -opportunity of commencing a flirting conversation with Captain Clair, -who, being well drilled in the accomplishment of small talk, by long -practice, easily fell into a _tête-à-tête_.) - -Page 163, "compostion" changed to "composition". (My dear uncle, you -should allow a prisoner to state his own case fairly--if he has not -studied Burke on the 'Sublime and Beautiful,' the 'Patriot King,' and -other models of pure English composition, you must let a poor fellow -express himself as he can, so that he speaks the truth.) - -Page 164, 201 and 213, "Clare" changed to "Clair" for consistency. -(Clair bowed, and then said almost in a whisper: "Thank you, I was -wrong," and continued his narrative, after a moment's pause.) - -Page 169, "n" changed to "in". (... yet, almost slothful in the attempt -to do so.) - -Page 173, "hm" changed to "him". ("Oh! Lucy," cried Mabel, "how could -you be so imprudent as to go up there alone--how impertinent of him--why -did you let him take such a liberty.") - -Page 187, "fee" changed to "feel". (The kindhearted very soon begin to -feel an interest in those who are thrown much with them, and, though -Lucy presented many faults to her notice, Mabel learnt to watch her with -great interest.) - -Page 188, "Clari" changed to "Clair". (It soon became evident to her -that she was perfectly in earnest in her attempts to engage the -affections of Captain Clair ...) - -Page 202, "answe" changed to "answer". (... which she would have fled -miles to have escaped hearing, was the only answer sentence thus given.) - -Page 224, "past" changed to "passed". (Little Amy's sweet voice rings in -my ear wherever I go--such as it was when I first saw her, when she -looked up from the wild wreath she was twining, to give some kind word -to the laborers as they passed her, the morning after my coming here.) - -Page 228, "forning" changed to "forming". ("Be not be too hasty in -forming your judgment," replied Clair.) - -Page 235, "edying" changed to "eddying". (... and the withered leaves as -they spin round in the eddying wind, seem to call attention to -themselves, and to ask what men have been doing since they budded forth -in the gay spring, full of hope and promise to the sons of earth.) - -Page 238, "highter" changed to "higher". (... if I mistake not, the -opinion you now entertain of her, arises from comparison with another -character of a higher standard.) - -Page 274, "attemps" changed to "attempts". (... while her attempts to -divert the conversation, only renewed her companion's desire to obtain -an account of all she had been doing and seeing.) - -Page 278, "errect" changed to "erect". (Not, now, with his head bent, -and his hands extended over the dying embers of his wood fire, but with -head erect in a comfortable corner, with the air of a man whose opinions -are respected, and whose words claim immediate attention.) - -Page 286, extra "you" deleted. ("Do not talk in that way," said old -Giles, gently, "if I am content with my house, you should not make it a -cause for dispute.") - -Page 290, "did'nt" changed to "didn't". (He often looked as if he'd got -some one looking over his shoulder as he didn't over relish--ha, ha!) - -Page 294, "yonr" changed to "your". (If you ever feel as I did, do not -ask questions, and put yourself wrong, and then try and set yourself -right by your own judgment, as I did;) - -Page 301, "repectful" changed to "respectful". (Your most devoted and -respectful ARTHUR CLAIR.) - -Page 302, "altogther" changed to "altogether". (Some of their little -property she knew rested in the hands of an improvident and extravagant -aunt, and the remainder of their income would fail altogether when her -mother's pension dropped.) - -Page 303, "footfal" changed to "footfall". (... she who could scarcely -hear the sound of a heavy footfall without pain, or be moved, without -the greatest agony, from the couch on which she constantly lay.) - -Page 326, "wonnderful" changed to "wonderful". (... for the wind which -came down from the hills with furious blasts seemed to mock at every -effort to extinguish the fire, while it fanned the faintest spark into a -flame, and then spread it with wonderful rapidity.) - -Page 331, "touehing" changed to "touching". (The acuteness of her -feelings, added bitterness to every trial, by representing them to her -in the most touching, and even poetical light,...) - -Page 332, "haud" changed to "hand". (Mabel's head lay upon the same -pillow; the little hand in hers, and the rich curls of her chestnut -hair, half concealing her face;) - -Page 344, "murmered" changed to "murmured". ("You have been very kind to -me," murmured Amy ...) - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mabel, Vol. I (of 3), by Emma Warburton - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MABEL, VOL. 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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 - - -Title: Mabel, Vol. I (of 3) - A Novel - -Author: Emma Warburton - -Release Date: December 5, 2012 [EBook #41564] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MABEL, VOL. I (OF 3) *** - - - - -Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Veronika Redfern 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 41564 ***</div> <div class="hide-link"> <div class="bbox"> @@ -2491,7 +2452,7 @@ he must be nearly seventy."</p> <p>"Then who was that fine young man that was walking down the road just now, with light whiskers, and a military air. I did not -expect to see such a handsome, <i>distingué</i> looking +expect to see such a handsome, <i>distingué</i> looking young man down in the country here."</p> <p>"That is Mr. Ware's nephew," said Mabel.</p> @@ -2598,7 +2559,7 @@ of their coming to nothing after all."</p> <p>"But that is why I think match-making anything but amusing," said Mabel.</p> -<p>"But then all the <i>éclat</i> of a conquest would +<p>"But then all the <i>éclat</i> of a conquest would be gone," suggested Lucy, "if there were no talking beforehand. I assure you, last year, there were I do not know how many half @@ -3797,7 +3758,7 @@ in the sitting-room.</p> <p>Mrs. Villars started up, full of business and bustle, which she felt to be a welcome relief after -the morning's <i>tête-à-tête</i>, and hurried down +the morning's <i>tête-à -tête</i>, and hurried down stairs. Mabel regarded her mother's pale looks with affectionate anxiety; but there was little time for thought, as Mrs. Villars and her maid @@ -4465,7 +4426,7 @@ and Lucy Villars gladly seized the opportunity of commencing a flirting conversation with Captain Clair, who, being well drilled in the accomplishment of small talk, by long -practice, easily fell into a <i>tête-à-tête</i>.</p> +practice, easily fell into a <i>tête-à -tête</i>.</p> <p>Mabel's hand was placed affectionately in the old man's arm, as they walked on together, @@ -7272,7 +7233,7 @@ with contempt.</p> as she was open to pleasure, could scarcely understand the variable nature of her cousin's disposition, which, at times attracted her by its -<i>naiveté</i> and candour, at others, alarmed her by +<i>naiveté</i> and candour, at others, alarmed her by its indifference and frivolity. Though really a little hurt at the coolness with which she prepared to leave her, directly it suited her own @@ -9445,7 +9406,7 @@ you will do well.")</p> <p>Page <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, "siezed" changed to "seized". (Lucy Villars gladly seized the opportunity of commencing a flirting conversation with Captain Clair, who, being well drilled in the accomplishment of small talk, by long -practice, easily fell into a <i>tête-à-tête</i>.)</p> +practice, easily fell into a <i>tête-à -tête</i>.)</p> <p>Page <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, "compostion" changed to "composition". (My dear uncle, you should allow a prisoner to state his own case fairly—if he has not @@ -9542,383 +9503,6 @@ hair, half concealing her face;)</p> me," murmured Amy ...)</p> </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mabel, Vol. I (of 3), by Emma Warburton - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MABEL, VOL. 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