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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fcd06e8 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #60486 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60486) diff --git a/old/60486-0.txt b/old/60486-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1e69f9f..0000000 --- a/old/60486-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6548 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Idols in the Heart, by A. L. O. E. - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: Idols in the Heart - A Tale - - -Author: A. L. O. E. - - - -Release Date: October 13, 2019 [eBook #60486] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IDOLS IN THE HEART*** - - -E-text prepared by Richard Hulse, Barry Abrahamsen, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images -generously made available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations. - See 60486-h.htm or 60486-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/60486/60486-h/60486-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/60486/60486-h.zip) - - - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/idolsinhearttale00aloeiala - - -Transcriber’s note: - - Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). - - - - - -[Illustration: - - THE SICK-CHAMBER. - Page 131.] - - -IDOLS IN THE HEART. - -A Tale. - -by - -A. L. O. E., - -Author of “The Giant-Killer,” “Pride and His Prisoners,” -etc. etc. - - - - - -------------- - - “Keep yourselves from idols.” —1 John v. 21. - “Covetousness, which is idolatry.” —Col. iii. 5. - “Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth.” —Col. - iii. 2. - - -------------- - - - - - - -London: -T. Nelson and Sons, Paternoster Row. -Edinburgh; and New York. - -1883. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - Contents. - - --------------------- - - - I. THE ARRIVAL, 5 - - II. THE YOUNG BRIDE, 16 - - III. FIRST STEPS, 24 - - IV. CONSULTATION, 34 - - V. THE FIRST SKIRMISH, 43 - - VI. A DECIDED MOVE, 55 - - VII. THE DINNER PARTY, 67 - - VIII. A STORMY MORNING, 82 - - IX. OPPOSITION SIDE, 97 - - X. SOCIAL CONVERSE, 104 - - XI. POLICY AND POLITENESS, 113 - - XII. A PLUNGE, 120 - - XIII. THE CHAMBER OF SICKNESS, 130 - - XIV. THE EFFECT OF A WORD, 139 - - XV. A RAY OF LIGHT, 147 - - XVI. QUIET CONVERSE, 155 - - XVII. GATHERING CLOUDS, 162 - - XVIII. CALCULATIONS, 172 - - XIX. SACRIFICE, 182 - - XX. DECISION, 191 - - XXI. JEWELS AND THEIR WORTH, 200 - - XXII. COMING DOWN, 213 - - XXIII. COTTAGE LIFE, 224 - - XXIV. DARKNESS AND DANGER, 230 - - XXV. THE SEARCH, 240 - - XXVI. A CONTRAST, 251 - - XXVII. PASSING AWAY, 262 - - XXVIII. CONCLUSION 267 - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - IDOLS IN THE HEART. - - --------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER I - - THE ARRIVAL. - - -“My dear girls, I can indeed enter into your feelings,” said Lady Selina -Mountjoy in a tone of sympathy; “it is trying to have to welcome a -stranger to your home, to see her take the place once occupied by your -dear departed mother.” - -“It is not so much that,” interrupted Arabella with some abruptness, -“but—” - -“I understand—I understand perfectly,” said Lady Selina, with an -expressive movement of the head; “if your dear papa had chosen -differently—some one whom you knew, valued, could confide in—some one, -in short, of your mother’s position in life, to whom you could look up -as to a second parent, it would have been very different; but the orphan -of a country doctor—so young, so inexperienced—to have her placed at the -head of an establishment like this, is—But I ought not to speak thus; of -course your dear papa has chosen very well, very wisely; no doubt Mrs. -Effingham is a very charming creature;” and the lady leaned back on her -cushioned chair, folded her hands, and looked into the fire with an air -of melancholy meditation. - -Vincent, the youngest of the party, a boy about eleven years of age, had -been sitting at the table with a book before him, but had never turned -over a leaf, drinking in eagerly every word uttered by his aunt on the -subject of the step-mother whose arrival with her husband was now hourly -expected in Belgrave Square. He was a bright, intelligent boy, in whose -blue eyes every passing emotion was mirrored as in a glass, whether the -feeling were good or evil. The expression of those eyes was neither kind -nor gentle as he said abruptly, “Didn’t you tell us that her grandmother -was a Frenchwoman? I do hate and detest everything French!” - -“Her own name—Clemence—is French,” observed Louisa, the younger of the -two girls who sat, with embroidery in their hands, before the fire, with -their feet resting on the bright fender for the sake of warmth, as the -month was November, and the weather cold. - -“Yes,” sighed Lady Selina, “it is true. Her grandmother was a French -refugee,—of course a Papist; and, no doubt, her descendant is tinctured -with Romish errors. No fault of hers, poor thing!” - -“She’s not a Roman Catholic,” said Vincent quickly. “Don’t you remember -that papa said that she was a great friend of the clergyman at Stoneby, -and helped him in the schools and with the poor? He would not have let a -Papist do that.” - -“My dear child,” replied Lady Selina, languidly stirring the fire, “I -never for a moment imagined that your papa would marry one who was -avowedly a Papist; but, depend upon it, there will be a leaning, a -dangerous leaning. We shall require to be on our guard, there is such a -natural tendency in the human heart towards idolatry. As to her having -helped Mr. Gray, that was very natural—very natural indeed. She was glad -to make friends, and the clergyman and his wife were probably her only -neighbours. Besides, in a dull country place there is such a lack of -occupation, that young ladies take to district visiting to save -themselves from dying of ennui.” - -“Oh!” exclaimed Louisa, “after such a dismal life, what a change it will -be to her to come to London! How she will delight in all its amusements! -I hope that she’ll be as mad after the opera as I am; and that from -week’s end to week’s end we may never have the penance of an evening at -home, except when we entertain company ourselves! I can forgive anything -in her but being dull, sober, and solemn.” - -“Giddy child!” lisped Lady Selina, with uplifted finger and affected -smile, “you sadly need some one to keep you in order—some one to hold -the rein with a firmer hand than your poor indulgent aunt ever has -done.” - -“Hold the rein!” repeated Arabella with indignant pride, the blood -mounting to her forehead as she spoke. “I hope that Mrs. Effingham will -make no attempt of that kind with us. There’s but five years’ difference -between her age and mine; and as regards knowledge of the world, I -suppose that the difference lies all the other way. I have no idea of -being governed by an apothecary’s daughter!” - -“Nor I!” exclaimed Louisa, shaking her pretty ringlets with a -contemptuous toss of the head. - -“Nor I!” echoed Vincent, shutting his book, and joining his sisters by -the fire. - -“Little rebels!—fy! fy!” said their aunt, with a smile on her lips that -contradicted her words. Lady Selina saw that she had succeeded in her -aim. She had prejudiced the minds of her sister’s children against the -young bride of their father; she had created a party against Clemence in -the home which she was about to enter as its mistress. Arabella, Louisa, -and their brother, would be on the watch to find out defects in the -character, manners, and education of their step-mother; they would -regard her rather in the light of a usurper, from whom any assertion of -power would be an encroachment on their rights, than as a friend united -to them by a close and tender tie. - -It was not, perhaps, surprising that Lady Selina should contemplate with -little satisfaction a marriage which dethroned her from the position in -Mr. Effingham’s house which she had held for seven years. Lady Selina -had enjoyed more of the luxuries of life and the pleasures of society in -the dwelling of her brother-in-law, than her small capital of ten -thousand pounds could have secured for her anywhere else. To Vincent -Effingham it had been a satisfaction to have at the head of his -household a lady of position and intelligence, who would take a general -super-intendence of the education of his three motherless children. How -far Lady Selina was fitted to do justice to the charge, is a different -question. She was one who passed well in the world when viewed only in -its candle-light glare—one to whom had been applied the various epithets -of “a sensible woman,” “an amiable creature,” and “a very desirable -acquaintance.” - -Lady Selina had acquired the reputation for _sense_, from those whose -opinions resembled her own, for her tact in steering clear of every -theological difficulty. Her religion, if religion it could be called, -was of the simplest and most easy description. To her the path to heaven -was so wide that its boundaries were scarcely visible. There was, of -course, a decent attendance to forms, for that the laws of society -demanded; nay more, Lady Selina had about half-a-dozen cut and dried -religious phrases, to be brought forward before clergymen and serious -visitors, and put back again immediately upon their departure: these -were, perhaps, satisfactory evidence to herself that her condition, as -regards spiritual things, was one of the most perfect security. -Enthusiasm on any subject regarding a future state appeared to the -“woman of sense” a weak and childish folly. She could understand a -politician’s strong interest in his party, a landlord’s in his estate, a -lady’s in raising her position by a single step in the social circle; -but the longing of an immortal soul for peace, pardon, and purity, was a -matter completely foreign to her experience, and beyond her -comprehension. Lady Selina wore her religion as she did her mantle; it -was becoming, fashionable, and commodious, and it could be laid aside at -a moment’s notice if it occasioned the slightest inconvenience. - -And Lady Selina was called “an amiable creature” by such as are easily -won by a polished manner and courteous address. She possessed the art of -being censorious without appearing so. She seldom openly expressed an -unfavourable opinion of any one; but conveyed more sarcastic meaning in -a word of faint praise or disparaging pity, a shake of the head, a -hesitating tone, or a soft, compassionating sigh, than might have been -expressed by severe vituperation. None of her strokes were direct -strokes—she never appeared to take aim; but her balls ever glanced off -at some delicate angle, and effected her object without visible effort -of her own. She had a secret pride in her power of influencing others, -never considering that her ingenuity simply consisted in the art of -gratifying malice at the expense of generosity and candour. - -Lady Selina was “a very desirable acquaintance” to those who only knew -her as an acquaintance. Her kindliness was as the blue tint on the -distant mountain, which vanishes as we approach nearer towards the -barren height. Whoever might rest upon her friendship, would lean, -indeed, upon a broken reed. But, in the exchange of ordinary courtesies, -in the art of simulating cordiality and sympathy, Lady Selina was a -perfect adept. Few left her presence without a feeling of -self-satisfaction and gratified vanity, which caused both the visit and -her to whom it had been made to be remembered with pleasure. - -The woman of the world’s ideas of education were the reflection and -counterpart of her views on religion. To her, the first object in life -was to shine in the world; and, accordingly, so far as young people were -trained to accomplish this object, so far she deemed their education -complete. Arabella and Louisa were provided with a French governess, and -the first masters in music and drawing; and their aunt, with the air of -one who feels that she has conscientiously performed an arduous duty, -spoke to her acquaintance of her anxious and indefatigable efforts to do -full justice to her motherless charge. It is true, that occasionally a -moral maxim or religious precept dropped from the lips of Lady Selina -for the benefit of her sister’s children; such was the caution against -the heart’s tendency to idolatry uttered in the preceding conversation. -The words had been lightly spoken, and their meaning weighed neither by -speaker nor listeners; but whether they might not with advantage have -been applied to the consciences of all, will be seen in the following -narrative. - -The marriage of Mr. Effingham with Clemence Fairburne, a young lady whom -he had met in Cornwall while on a visit to a clerical friend, was to -Lady Selina an unwelcome event. Notwithstanding, however, the complaint -that she rather insinuated than expressed to her numerous acquaintance, -that her wealthy brother-in-law had united himself to one possessing -neither fortune nor high position, it is probable that Lady Selina would -have been far more annoyed had his second wife been equal in rank to his -first. Clemence was young and unacquainted with the world. She would -probably enter into society with the diffidence of one to whom its -usages were not familiar. Lady Selina, like some astute politician of -old, foresaw an extension of her own regency under the minority of the -rightful sovereign. She determined that Clemence should be a mere cipher -in her own house, and follow instead of leading; she should occupy as -low a position as possible in the eyes of those over whom circumstances -had placed her. Artfully and successfully Lady Selina impressed the -family, and even the household, with the idea that Clemence was some -low-born, half-educated girl, whom Mr. Effingham had had the weakness to -marry, because she possessed a few personal attractions! On the few -hints thrown out by Lady Selina others enlarged—they filled up her -lightly sketched outlines. The French governess, Mademoiselle Lafleur, -shrugged her shoulders in the school-room, ventured to breathe the word -_mésalliance_ even in the presence of her pupils, and directed the flow -of her conversation perpetually on the theme of the miseries inflicted -by tyrannical step-mothers. Arabella and Louisa began almost to look -upon themselves in the light of injured parties, because their father, -still in the vigour of life, had sought to add to his domestic -happiness! Their prejudices would have been still more strong and bitter -but for the young wife’s letters, which reached them from time to time, -and which breathed such a kindly spirit, such a desire to know and to -love the children of her dear husband, that even Lady Selina’s -insinuations could scarcely destroy their effect. - -And now the day appointed for the first meeting of Clemence with her new -family had arrived; everything in the house was made ready for the -reception of the master and the lady of his choice. There was the bustle -of preparation in the lower regions of the dwelling; the harsh voice of -Mrs. Ventner, the housekeeper, was pitched to a sharper key than usual; -while in the drawing-room a restless sensation of expectation prevailed, -which prevented Lady Selina and her nieces from settling to any of their -usual occupations. The piano had been opened, but its keys were -untouched; the needle pressed the embroidery, but not a single -additional leaf gave sign of progress in the work. - -The short November day was darkening into twilight; the yellow lights -round the Square started one by one into view, faintly gleaming through -the cold white haze. A few snow-flakes fell noiselessly upon the -pavement, along which, at long intervals, a foot-passenger hurried, -wrapping his cloak tightly around him to fence out the piercing north -wind. Vincent took his station at the window to give earliest notice of -the arrival, while Lady Selina and his sisters chatted around the -blazing fire. - -“Here they are at last!” exclaimed Vincent, as a chariot dashed up to -the door, with dusty imperial and travel-soiled wheels, and horses from -whose heated sides the steam rose into the chill evening air. “Here they -are!” he repeated, and swinging himself down the stairs, he was at the -hall door almost before the powdered footmen who were there in waiting -had had time to open it. The ladies more slowly followed; but curiosity -with Louisa getting the better of dignity, she ran lightly down the long -broad flight of steps, and found Vincent returning the affectionate -embrace of her who longed to find in him indeed a son. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER II - - THE YOUNG BRIDE. - - -What were the sensations of the fair young bride when she crossed the -threshold of that lordly dwelling, when she entered the spacious and -luxurious apartments which she was thenceforth to call her own? Clemence -looked round her with admiration on the many beautiful things which -adorned her husband’s home. She who from childhood had known little of -luxury, saw, with the fresh pleasure of girlhood, inlaid tables spread -with elegant specimens of the arts of many lands—mosaics from Italy, -porcelain from Sevres, the delicate ivory carving of China. The -exquisite paintings on the panelled wall, the grand piano with the -graceful harp beside it, even the luxurious furniture, the crimson -drapery of the satin curtains, and the rich softness of the velvet -carpet, impressed Clemence’s mind with an idea of beauty and grandeur to -which a girl not quite one and twenty years of age could scarcely be -insensible. Frankly and artlessly the bride expressed her admiration, -knowing that to do so would gratify her husband, who listened with a -pleased smile; and yet her warm young heart was conscious of some -feeling of oppression, some sensation almost resembling that of fear! -The coldness with which her two step-daughters had received, not -returned her kindly kiss,—the frigid courtesy of Lady Selina,—had had -much the same effect upon Mrs. Effingham’s spirit as the cold November -mist upon nature. Clemence could not feel at her ease, though the -natural grace of her manner prevented her shyness from betraying her -into awkwardness. She could not but deem it a relief when at length she -could retire to her own apartment; and dismissing the maid, who pressed -forward with officious offers of assistance, Clemence seated herself -upon a sofa, and endeavoured to collect her scattered thoughts. - -“I wish that they had been younger!” was almost the first idea which -took definite shape in her mind; “little ones who would have nestled -into my heart, and who would have won and returned all my love! I am -afraid—but how foolish, how wrong it is to let a shadow of anxiety or -fear dim the brightness of a day which should be one of the happiest of -my life! We shall love one another; yes, we must—we shall! _His_ -children cannot but be dear to me, and I will earnestly try to gain -their affections; and if I am weak and inexperienced, and utterly -unequal to perform rightly the duties of this new, strange state of -life, is not my heavenly Father as near me here as when I was in the -dear old cottage?” Then, sinking on her knees, with clasped hands -Clemence returned fervent thanks for the boundless blessings which -Providence had lavished upon her, and implored for wisdom and aid, and -for favour in the sight of those with whom she was now so nearly -connected. - -Clemence rose from her devotions joyous and hopeful, and proceeded at -once to do that which she regarded rather as a pleasure than as a duty. -Unlocking her little travelling-case, she took out writing materials, -and hastily penned a note to her uncle, Captain Thistlewood, the -guardian of her orphaned youth, announcing her arrival at her home. -Clemence knew how impatiently the letter would be watched for, and how -eagerly welcomed by the old sailor; and as she placed within the -envelope an enclosure, addressed to the care of her former pastor, she -smiled to think how many hearths she would warm, how many boards she -would spread in Stoneby, and how many a family would bless her in the -village where she counted as many friends as there were poor. “Oh! this -is the luxury of being rich!” thought Clemence; and carrying the letter -in her hand, with a light step and light heart she descended the -staircase. The joy which she felt in sending her remittance was purer -and brighter than any which merely personal gratification could have -bestowed. - -“She’s no more French than I am!” muttered Vincent to himself, as he -gazed on her fair brow and clear blue eyes. His prejudices were fast -melting away beneath the spell of that sunny smile. - -The sound of the gong now summoned the family to a sumptuous repast. -Notwithstanding her disposition to be pleased with everything, Clemence, -at the head of the table loaded with plate and glittering with crystal, -felt her timid misgiving return. It was not so much that the young wife -found the unaccustomed presence of powdered servants oppressive, that -her new state was irksome to her, and that it seemed as if freedom were -exchanged for grandeur; but that, with intuitive perception, she had -become aware that her every word and movement were watched and -criticized, and that by no friendly eyes. Mr. Effingham was a silent -man—that evening he was more silent than usual; Arabella and Louisa sat -as if unable to open their lips; the chief burden of the conversation -fell upon the young timid woman, whose heart fluttered with the -excitement of her new position, and her anxiety to say nothing and do -nothing that could possibly shock or offend. Lady Selina, indeed, -repeatedly broke the silence which, notwithstanding the efforts of -Clemence, frequently fell on the circle; but, whether by design or not, -she so directed the conversation as to puzzle and embarrass the bride. - -“I think that the estates of the Marquis of Bardston lie near Stoneby.” - -“Very near to the village,” replied Clemence. - -“Does the picture of the old marchioness by Sir Joshua Reynolds deserve -its fame?” inquired Lady Selina. “I have often wished to see it; of -course, you have very frequently done so!” - -“I was never in the Castle,” answered Clemence; “it is not opened to the -public.” - -There was something disagreeable to the bride, though she scarcely knew -why, in the slight bend of the head and pursing of the lip with which -Lady Selina received her straightforward reply. The lady of fashion -seemed determined to discourse that evening upon no subject but that of -the various connections of persons of rank. Her memory appeared -unusually at fault. She could not remember whom Lord Greenallen’s sister -had married, or what had been the family name of the Duchess of -Dinorben, and was ever referring for information to poor Clemence, who -had never looked into a peerage in her life. Mrs. Effingham felt herself -painfully ignorant of everything that Lady Selina seemed to think it -quite necessary to know, and was heartily glad when, the tedious -ceremony of dinner being ended, the party adjourned to the drawing-room. - -Vincent was the only one of her new acquaintance with whom Clemence was -quite at ease, and she was heartily sorry to find that he was to return -to his school early on the morrow, having only come home in order to be -introduced to his step-mother. She could rest her hand on his shoulder, -and her kind and playful words would call up an answering smile on the -face of the boy; but his sisters’ monosyllabic replies to her questions, -the marked manner in which they always addressed her as “Mrs. -Effingham,” chilled and discouraged the young wife, while she felt an -increasing mistrust and almost dread of their polite and dignified aunt. -There was, likewise, something repellent to the frank and open nature of -Clemence in the flowery compliments, the exaggerated politeness, with -which Mademoiselle Lafleur, who joined the circle at tea, received her -courteous greeting. Clemence secretly reproached herself for foolish -prejudice, but could not shake off a sensation of repulsion. Weary with -her journey and the excitement of the meeting, Clemence rejoiced when -the long evening closed. She was startled at the sound of her own sigh, -as she sat listlessly before her toilet-table; and unconsciously raising -her eyes to her mirror, saw reflected there her own pale face, marked -with a thoughtful and anxious expression. - -“What a child I must be!” exclaimed Clemence half aloud, “to let such -trifles weigh upon me—I who have everything to enjoy, everything to be -thankful for!” and she struggled, and not unsuccessfully, to throw from -her spirit its burden, and to look upon the untried future before her -with cheerful confidence and hope. Had Clemence fully on that evening -realized the difficulties of her position, her heart would indeed have -sunk within her. A youthful servant of the Lord, she stood alone in a -house where faith in Him had hitherto been nothing but a name; she had -entered a family where every heart had a secret idol set up in its -inmost shrine. Clemence looked up to her husband as to one all wisdom -and goodness. Mr. Effingham bore in the world a spotless name; he was -liberal in his charities, and appeared earnest in his profession of -religion. His young wife, with loving, trusting confidence, had twined -her heart’s affections around him, as some fair creeper clasps with its -tendrils a stately forest tree. No suspicion crossed her mind that any -unworthy passion could have place in a heart that she deemed the abode -of every virtue—that the tree so goodly to the eye could nourish a -destroyer within. With different eyes would Clemence have surveyed all -the expensive luxuries of the banker’s mansion had she known—. But we -must not anticipate. Clemence was not the first woman, nor will be the -last, whose affections have blinded her judgment, whose fond credulity -has invested the object of her choice with the noblest and highest -qualities of man. Alas! when the cold touch of experience awakens the -loving spirit from such a blissful delusion! - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER III - - FIRST STEPS. - - -“Oh, Arabella!—mademoiselle!” exclaimed Louisa on the following day, as -she entered the school-room at a later hour than usual, “I have been so -much diverted—I have been enjoying such a rare treat!” and she threw -herself into an arm-chair, and gave way to a burst of merriment. - -“Qu’est-ce que c’est?” inquired the governess. - -“I have seen Mrs. Effingham’s trousseau!” cried Louisa. Arabella looked -up from her drawing, and the exclamation of mademoiselle expressed her -curiosity on a subject which is supposed to be one of some interest to -the fair sex. - -“I was passing the door of her dressing-room,” continued Louisa, “and as -it happened to be ajar she saw me, and called to me to come in.” - -“As one school-girl might another,” said Arabella contemptuously. - -“And there was the bride on her knees, herself unpacking her boxes!” - -“She has not been accustomed to many servants,” observed Arabella, “and -finds it most convenient to wait upon herself.” - -“And the trousseau de madame was magnifique, no doubt?” said -mademoiselle, with a little irony in her tone. - -“Beautiful simplicity!” laughed Louisa; “I suppose that Mrs. Effingham -has met somewhere with the line, ‘Beauty when unadorned adorned the -most,’ and has adopted it for her motto!” - -“Perhaps,” suggested mademoiselle, “the _marchande de modes_ at -Stoneby—” - -“Lived in the time of King Pharamond,” interrupted Louisa; “or the bride -played _marchande de modes_ herself; or, what is more probable still, -employed her school-girls to run up her dresses, and make them true -charity pattern! There’s not a flounce or a fringe in the whole set, -from the white silk wedding-dress to the neat cotton-print.” - -“Cotton-print! est-il possible!” exclaimed mademoiselle, lifting up her -hands. - -“And the dressing-case—oh!” cried Louisa, bursting into fresh laughter -at the recollection. - -“Quelque chose très-bizarre—very extraordinary!” - -“Ordinary, certainly, without the extra! Brushes, combs, all enclosed in -a simple _bag_, ingeniously made, with many pockets big and little, -quite a curiosity of art;—I believe it was one of her wedding presents!” - -Arabella and mademoiselle joined in the mirth which this idea inspired. - -“I should like to have seen _les cadeaux_,” observed the latter. - -“I saw everything—all her treasures,” cried Louisa; “I have a correct -inventory of them in my head. The diamond ring which Mrs. Effingham -wears is papa’s gift; so is the bracelet, and his miniature surrounded -with brilliants.” - -“Oh! but her own family—her own friends, what did they give?” asked -mademoiselle. - -“Her own family seems to consist of her old uncle, Captain Thistlewood, -who presented her with—let me see! an old-fashioned locket containing -her parents’ hair. It does not look like gold; I think that he must have -picked it up at a pawnbroker’s. Oh! and she has some distant lady -relations, who seem to enjoy a monopoly of making markers—red, pink, and -blue; and that she may have no lack of books to put them into, the -clergyman, Mr. Gray, has given her a Church-Service; and his wife—such a -present for a bridal! it would have been much more appropriate for a -funeral—Baxter’s ‘Saint’s Everlasting Rest’!” - -“Anything else?” inquired Arabella with a sneer. - -“The gem of the collection is to come. You should have seen Mrs. -Effingham unfolding it, and the look with which she surveyed it! A huge -patchwork table-cover all the colours of the rainbow. ‘My dear -school-girls’ present,’ said she, as tenderly as if each ugly patch had -been a love-token set in jewels!” - -“I hope that she’s not going to display it in our drawing-room,” -exclaimed Arabella. - -“I think that madame should wear it as a shawl—bring in a new _mode_,” -said Lafleur. - -“I wish that I’d thought of recommending that!” exclaimed Louisa, -clapping her hands; “she looks so unsophisticated and ready to believe. -I’d lay anything that were we to tell her that the hoods of opera-cloaks -are worn expressly as pockets to hold bits of bread for distribution to -beggars, that such is the approved method of being charitable in London, -she would say, with one of her gentle smiles, ‘What an admirable plan!’ -and adopt the fashion directly. I thought of passing something of the -kind upon her, but somehow I could not command my countenance when she -looked at me with her inquiring blue eyes!” - -“I suspect she’s sharper than you think,” said Arabella shortly. - -“Well, she is going to the milliner and dressmaker to-day—she saw the -necessity for that; and I’m going in the carriage with her, and Aunt -Selina also, I fancy.” - -“I wonder what pleasure you can find!” - -“Oh! it will be the rarest fun in the world! She is such a shy, timid -creature, I can see at a glance that she has an awe for my aunt, and is -afraid of the sound of her own voice when the earl’s daughter is -present; so what between Lady Selina, and chattering little Madame La -Voye, we’ll get Mrs. Effingham into such a whirlpool of fashion, we’ll -bewilder her so with our _nouveautes_, that she will order anything and -everything that we please, and come out into the world so gay that she -will not know herself when she looks in her glass!” - -The visits to the fashionable dressmaker and milliner were accomplished -that afternoon under the auspices of Lady Selina, who, in according her -undesired presence, contrived to make Clemence very sensibly feel that -she was performing an act of condescension. If Clemence was ignorant of -the intricacies of the peerage, she was also entirely at fault in the -mysteries of _la mode_; she scarcely knew _moire antique_ and _point -d’Alençon_ even by name, and the jargon of French terms which flowed so -glibly from the tongue of Madame La Voye, would have been scarcely more -unintelligible to Mrs. Effingham if uttered in the Japanese language. -This and that rich article of attire, to be adorned in some -incomprehensible style, was recommended as absolutely indispensable, and -in a manner which left the shy young wife scarcely the option of -refusal. If knowledge be power, ignorance is weakness; and Clemence, -dazzled, confused, painfully anxious to please, and shrinking from -exposing herself to ridicule, suffered her own taste and inclination to -be overborne by those of her fashionable companions. - -Clemence returned home with the disagreeable conviction that she had -been led into extravagance to an extent which she was unable to -calculate; for in the presence of Lady Selina she had not ventured to -ask the cost of anything. She felt that she had yielded with the -helplessness of a child to an influence which her judgment told her was -not an influence for good. - -“How exceedingly weakly I have acted to-day!” such was the mortifying -reflection of Clemence as soon as she had leisure for thought. “I fear -that I have abused the generosity and confidence of my dear husband, and -spent more in selfish indulgence in one hour than should have sufficed -me for a year. True, my situation in life has been changed, and some -things were really necessary; but I was carried away like a feather on -the breeze, afraid to say what I liked or disliked, afraid to show that -I thought money of any value except as a means of gratifying caprice. -What a strange, new existence this is! I seem to be breathing quite a -different atmosphere—to have entered a world where ideas of right and -wrong, important and trivial, are utterly unlike those to which I have -been accustomed from my childhood. Except my beloved husband, there is -no one here to whom I could speak the feelings of my heart, believing -that they would be even understood. I wonder if, as I become experienced -in the ways of the world, I shall gradually become like those around -me—if I shall ever resemble Lady Selina!” A smile passed across -Clemence’s face as the idea first suggested itself to her mind; but it -almost instantly faded away, and was succeeded by an expression of -serious thought. “I fear that I am very unfit to meet the temptations of -this new scene. The world appears to me like a petrifying stream. Some -spirits, like my noble Vincent’s, can drink of it uninjured, and then -rise above it on the strong wings of reason and faith; but I fear that I -shall be like some weak spray, gradually losing all inward life, and -growing harder and colder as the waters flow by it! These two days have -shown me more of weakness and folly, yes, and vanity too, in my own -heart, than I was ever sensible of before. I have felt as much ashamed -of my ignorance of that which I have never had an opportunity of -knowing, as if I had been charged with a serious fault. I have been -tempted to equivocation, and have more than once assented with my lips, -or by my silence, to that which in my heart I denied. I have felt my -vanity gratified even by the silly flattery of one who probably -considers flattery as a part of her trade. If I am thus on first -entering these scenes, fresh from the instructions of my pious friends, -full of the earnest resolutions made before God in my home, what shall I -be when time may have weakened the remembrance of those instructions, -the strength of those resolutions? If I stumble at the very first step, -how shall I walk steadily and faithfully along a path which I foresee -will for me be full of snares? O my God, help me, for I am a weak, -infirm child! Let me not forget Thy warning, _Love not the world, -neither the things that are in the world_. The difficulties which beset -me must make me more earnest in prayer, more diligent in -self-examination, more watchful over my deceitful heart!” - -[Illustration: - - MRS. EFFINGHAM.] - -Clemence slowly paced her apartment, and wingèd thought earned her back -to her childhood’s home. “How true are the words which I once -heard,—Every new change in the course of our lives, like a bend in a -river, brings before us new difficulties, new duties, and new dangers, -and shows us our own characters in a new light! I have hitherto been -gently gliding with the tide; and if the banks sometimes appeared a -little flat and dull, there was nothing in outward circumstances to shut -out from me the light of Heaven. In seeking to please God, I best -pleased the dear ones who regarded me with such partial affection. My -duties accorded with my inclinations. But now,—my duties, what are -they?” Clemence paused for some minutes and reflected. “I must learn to -be able to say ‘No’—a painful task, from which my cowardice shrinks; I -must be content sometimes _not_ to please, and yet in indifferent -matters be as careful—even more careful than ever—not to give offence or -cause displeasure. I must exercise the grave duties of a housewife, nor -from indolence or timidity shift upon others the responsibilities which -God made mine when I became a wife. Mine own Vincent!”—her eye rested on -the miniature of her husband—“would that I were more qualified to make -his home what that home ought to be! But he will cheer and encourage me -in the attempt to do so; he will have indulgence on my ignorance; he -will be my support, my guide, my example; and he will teach me to become -more worthy to be his wife!” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - CONSULTATION. - - - See how the orient dew, - Shed from the bosom of the morn - Into the blowing roses, - Yet careless of its mansion new, - For the clear region where ’twas born, - Round in itself encloses; - And in its little globe’s extent - Frames as it can its native element. - How it the purple flower does slight, - Scarce touching where it lies, - But gazing back upon the skies, - Shines with a mournful light. - Like its own tear; - Because so long divided from the sphere! - Restless it rolls, and insecure, - Trembling lest it grow impure! - - So the soul—that drop, that ray - Of the clear fountain of eternal day— - Could it within the _human flower_ be seen, - Remembering still its former height, - Shuns the sweet leaves and blossoms green, - And recollecting its own light, - Does in its pure and circling thoughts express - The greater heaven in a heaven less. - In how coy a figure wound, - Every way it turns away; - So the world excluding round, - Yet receiving in the day,— - Dark beneath, but bright above,— - Here disdaining, there in love: - How loose and easy hence to go! - How girt and ready to ascend!— - Moving but on a point below, - In all about does upward bend. - -How quaintly, yet how exquisitely, in these lines has the old poet -Marvell portrayed those who, _in the world_, are yet _not of the world_! -How few, alas! can read their own description in that of the pure bright -dew-drop! How many, instead of resting even on the flower, “loose and -easy hence to go,” waiting till the warm sun “exhales it back again,” -have dropped from leaf to leaf, lower and lower, till, sinking at length -to earth, and mingling with its dust, they are lost for evermore! - -About a week after her arrival in Belgrave Square we will glance again -at Clemence Effingham. She is in her husband’s quiet study—her favourite -retreat. The ruddy fire-light falls cheerfully on the shelves of the -well-filled book-case, which occupies almost an entire side of the small -but comfortable apartment. Cheerfully glances that light on the -expansive brow and handsome features of Mr. Effingham, cheerfully on the -locks of shaded gold of her who sits at his feet. Clemence, still -girlish in manner, and glad to throw off for a brief space the wearisome -formality of etiquette, has seated herself on a low footstool, and, -resting her clasped hands on her husband’s knee, is looking up into his -face with a look of earnest inquiry. - -“You see, my Vincent, that all is so new to me,—I am so fearful of -making mistakes, so conscious of my own inexperience. You must guide and -assist me, dearest. Ever since you told me what large sums—to me they -seem startling sums—are constantly passing through Mrs. Ventner’s hands, -I cannot help imagining that there must be strange waste in some -quarter.” - -“There always is waste in a large establishment; there is no necessity -that we should mark the expenditure of every shilling, or enter into the -details of every domestic arrangement.” - -“But supposing that there should be something even worse than waste,” -asked Clemence in a tone of hesitation, “ought we to place temptations -in the way of those who serve us, by exercising no watchfulness over -them, by placing such unbounded confidence in them as may be, as is -sometimes, abused?” - -“Well, my love,” replied Mr. Effingham, “exercise as vigorous a -superintendence as you will; keep the machinery in as perfect order as -you like.” - -“It is no question of liking with me,” cried Clemence, laughing a -little, but not merrily; “for bills and books—tradesmen’s books, I -mean—I have a horror; and, like Macbeth, I have to screw up my courage -to the sticking-point before I venture on a colloquy with Mrs. Ventner. -I never had a taste for governing, and the power intrusted to me is -almost too heavy a weight for these poor little hands to grasp. I really -need the support of my liege lord’s stronger arm! I am like a minister -of state who has to manage a troublesome House of Commons, and,” she -added, with a little hesitation, “rather a refractory House of Lords, -and who cannot command a majority in either!” Clemence spoke gaily and -lightly, but painful truth lay beneath the jest. - -“Refractory House of Lords! I see—I see!” said Mr. Effingham, with a -smile; “Louisa is a giddy child, and Arabella has a temper of her own. -But all will come right—all will come right, with a little patience and -firmness. I have the utmost confidence in your sense and judgment, my -love.” - -“I wish that others had,” replied Clemence, speaking at first playfully, -but her voice becoming earnest and almost agitated as she proceeded. “It -is doubtless my own fault, Vincent, or perhaps the fault of my youth, -but it seems to me that my wishes and opinions are of very little weight -in this house. I want to consult you on so many points, that I may know -whether I am right or wrong. Do you think it well that Louisa should be -so constantly out, especially in the society of those from whom it seems -to me, as far as I can judge, that she can only learn worldliness and -levity? Her studies are perpetually interrupted at an age when steady -application is most valuable; and exposure to the night air really -injures her health,—she could hardly sleep last night on account of her -cough.” - -“Forbid her, then, to go out again till she has lost it.” - -“O Vincent, I shall be a dreadfully unpopular premier!” exclaimed -Clemence. Then she added, drawing her husband’s hand within her own, “If -you, dearest—you, whose will should be law, to whose judgment all must -defer—would only say a few words yourself, both on this subject and—” - -“No, no!” interrupted Mr. Effingham quickly; “these trifles do not lie -within my province. I make it a rule never to interfere with these petty -domestic concerns. You will consult with Lady Selina, and then decide as -seems best to yourself.” - -“Lady Selina!” murmured Clemence, in a tone of disappointment; “oh, she -never assists me at all I should be rather inclined”—the young wife -looked up playfully but timidly as she spoke—“to call her the leader of -the Opposition!” - -A slight frown passed across the brow of Mr. Effingham. He was by no -means disposed to weaken, in any way, the connection of his family with -a lady of rank and fashion, whose title gave a certain _éclat_ to the -establishment over which she so long had presided. The first time that -the watchful eye of Clemence had ever perceived the slightest shade of -displeasure towards her on the face of her husband was as he replied to -her last observation,— - -“I think, Clemence, that you do her injustice. Lady Selina is a woman of -sense, and a great deal of experience in the world—one not in the least -likely to be influenced by petty jealousies. I consider myself to be -greatly indebted to her; and it is my wish that every member of my -family should regard her in the same light that I do myself. As for -little differences,” he continued, rising from his seat and standing -with his back to the fire, “the thousand trifles which make up the sum -of domestic life, I desire to hear nothing, know nothing, of them. My -mind is occupied with affairs more important, and in my own home, at -least, I look for peace and repose.” - -It is possible that Mr. Effingham observed by the fire-light something -like glistening moisture on the downcast lashes of his wife; for, laying -his hand kindly on her shoulder, he added in a gayer tone, “As long as -my watch goes well, Clemence, I do not care to examine the works. I give -you unlimited authority. Dissolve your whole House of Commons, if you -please it; visit your peers with fine or imprisonment; but don’t bring -up appeals to me. A little time—a little judgment—they are all that is -wanted; just act for the best, and take things easily.” - -_Act for the best, and take things easily!_ How many times Clemence -Effingham repeated to herself these oracular words! How long she -pondered over the possibility of reconciling with each other the two -clauses of the sentence! She had become the mistress of a mansion where -everything, beyond mere externals, was in a state of woeful neglect. -Petty dishonesty was but one of the many evils which prevailed amongst -the numerous members of the household; while, in the family, -selfishness, worldliness, and vanity reigned uncontrolled and scarcely -disguised. It was a Gordian knot, indeed, that the young wife was given -to untie, and she lacked strength to wield the conqueror’s sword! Into -the ear of her husband Clemence would have loved to have poured all her -difficulties and trials; his sympathy and counsel might have removed -many of the former, and cheered and encouraged her under the latter; -but, occupied by other cares, Mr. Effingham left his young partner to -bear her burden alone. Clemence made more than one attempt to avail -herself of the experience of Lady Selina; but the woman of the world was -cautious not to compromise herself, or in the slightest degree to share -the unpopularity which is the almost inevitable fate of reformers. Nor -was she inclined to own the existence of evils that had chiefly arisen -from her own neglect. Lady Selina, when consulted by Clemence, listened -to her with the cold, impassive smile which seemed the stereotyped -expression of her unuttered opinion, “You are such a poor, inexperienced -child!” Clemence was left to fight her battles quite alone. - -But was it not possible to “take things easily”—to close her eyes to -everything that it might be disagreeable to see; to follow the example -of Lady Selina, and let affairs take their own course; to enjoy the -luxury, and brightness, and gaiety of her life, without examining too -closely behind the scenes? Clemence was strongly tempted to do -so—strongly tempted to swim with the tide; to fling from herself the -burden of responsibility, and forget care in the pleasures of the hour. - -It was well for her that she had not received a kinder welcome into the -family. Had the path of Clemence been strewn with nothing but flowers, -it would have been a path much more fraught with peril. The unkindness -and coldness which daily wounded her affectionate and sensitive spirit, -were like thorny hedges which fenced her in from wandering from the -narrow way. Had the cup of life been all sweetness, it is too probable -that it might have intoxicated; Lady Selina and her nieces were -unconsciously mixing with it a bitter but salutary medicine. Safer, far -safer is it to have the worldly as enemies than as friends. Nothing, -perhaps, is more calculated to make a Christian walk carefully than the -_unavoidable_ companionship of those who dislike both himself and his -religion. He feels that he must not disgrace his profession—that he must -give no handle to the sharp blade of detraction, no occasion for the -enemy to blaspheme. His trials drive him to the footstool of grace; and -while his patience and spirit of forgiveness find constant exercise, the -evil from which he suffers makes him more keenly appreciate, more -earnestly desire, the harmony, holiness, and happiness of heaven! - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER V - - THE FIRST SKIRMISH. - - -The circle of Mr. Effingham’s acquaintance was large, and even in the -dull wintry season Clemence found that the claims of society took up -much of her time and attention. Knocks were frequent at her door; -numerous visitors came to introduce themselves to the young wife of the -wealthy banker. Clemence felt at first embarrassed, then amused, then -wearied by that which lost its charm with its novelty. She became tired -of ringing changes on the weather, the last new book, political -prospects, and the movements of the court, with a succession of wearers -of velvet bonnets and furred mantillas, whom she scarcely knew even by -name. Clemence had not as yet much of the small change of conversation, -and she had not the courage to produce her gold. Mrs. Effingham seldom -entered her carriage, which was usually at the disposal of Lady Selina; -Clemence being well pleased to purchase, by relinquishing the luxury of -a drive, a little respite from the oppressive companionship of the -earl’s daughter. - -At Mr. Effingham’s desire, Clemence, early in December, issued cards of -invitation for that most formal, and, to a young housewife, most -formidable of entertainments—a grand dinner party. She was almost -ashamed to find how much her thoughts were occupied by earthly cares, -how large a share of her anxious attention was given to preparations for -an event of such comparatively trivial importance. Lady Selina, indeed, -regarded such arrangements as part of the chief business of life, and -did her best to wind up to nervous anxiety Clemence’s desire to order -all things so as to do credit to her husband’s establishment. The -favourite topic of Lady Selina now appeared to be the strange mistakes, -the unpardonable blunders which had occurred within, and far beyond, the -limits of her experience, at parties given by the uninitiated. She also -delighted to expatiate on such qualities in the expected guests as might -render them formidable to their young hostess. Lord Vaughan was a -connoisseur in the culinary art, and paid an unheard-of salary to his -French cook; Lady Praed always detected at a glance the smallest error -in matters of form; Colonel Parsons and Sir William Page were keen -opponents in politics, and it would require much tact and management on -the part of Mrs. Effingham to ward off any unpleasant discussion. -Clemence listened, sighed, and heartily wished that the dreaded evening -were over. - -Then serious cares disturbed her. The more the young wife entered into -the details of her establishment, the more she became aware of the -difficulties which surrounded her at every step. Her servants appeared -in a combination to overreach and deceive her. Every effort to introduce -greater order and economy into her household was met with dogged -opposition, and Mrs. Ventner resented all interference on the part of -her mistress as a personal injury. The annoyance which Clemence had to -endure from the members of her family was of a more painful nature. -Arabella and Louisa never forgot—their aunt would never have suffered -them to forget—that if Mrs. Effingham was placed above them by marriage, -by birth she was not their equal. Clemence, inexperienced as she was, -had sufficient natural powers of observation to detect the radical -errors in the education of the daughters of her husband. But while she -perceived the evil, she sought in vain for its cure; and the joyous -hopes with which she had commenced her married life, like the fabled -wings of Icarus melting in the sultry beams of the sun, no longer bore -her buoyantly aloft! - -It is, perhaps, only those who have known little of common cares who can -smile on them as a trifling burden. To the young and the sensitive, who -have hitherto trodden earth almost as free from petty anxieties as the -bird on the wing, or the blossom on the tree, the sudden pressure of new -responsibilities is sometimes almost overwhelming. They could better -endure hardship and pain; human compassion might then bring them relief, -and they would more fully realize the blessed consolations of religion. -And yet, is the command which embodies a precious privilege—the command -to cast all our cares upon One who careth for us—limited only to that -class of trials which man recognizes as afflictions? All earthly events -in the sight of our Great Master must appear in themselves to be but -trifles; but when connected with their effects upon immortal beings, -when made a means to train and discipline souls, the merest trifles -assume weight and importance. A teacher’s anxieties, a housewife’s -cares, the responsibilities of the mistress of an establishment, seem of -too trivial and uninteresting a nature even for the light pages of a -fiction; but yet they, in the history of thousands and tens of -thousands, form “the sum of human things.” A decisive battle may be -fought even in the narrow limits of a home. Solomon prayed for wisdom -from above to direct aright the affairs of a kingdom; the same wisdom in -kind, though not in degree, is required by the humblest matron who would -rule her household in the fear of God; and where Solomon sought, she -must seek it. - -“I could wish that I were ten years older!” said Clemence to herself, -as, seated in a large arm-chair, she nervously awaited the appearance of -a servant whose conduct had given just subject for displeasure, and to -whom she felt it necessary to administer rebuke. “I almost think that -Vincent and I would enjoy life more in some country cottage, with just -one maid to attend on us, away from all this grandeur and state, -contented and happy in each other. Money does not seem worth all the -care and trouble that it brings. I was much merrier last Christmas time, -when, with my well-filled basket on my arm, I trod over the crisp snow -on my way from cottage to cottage, sure of a welcome everywhere from -lips that would not flatter and hearts that would not deceive! I have, -perhaps, larger means of usefulness here, but not of that kind of work -which would most warm and gladden my own spirit! It is pleasanter to -build up than to pull down—to do good than to oppose evil—to serve God -by winning blessings from man, than to serve Him by drawing on one’s -self the anger and dislike of others. But what is clear duty must be -done, whether it be painful or pleasant. We are not left to choose our -own work, but we must trust to be given strength to perform it bravely.” - -A few days before the one fixed upon for the party, Mr. Effingham left -Belgrave Square for a short period upon business. It was Clemence’s -first separation from her husband since their marriage, and she felt -that during his absence all the sunshine of her life would be gone. To -have been left quite alone would have been less painful; it was far -worse than solitude to be left with her step-daughters and Lady Selina. - -The haughty shyness which Arabella and Louisa had at first displayed -before Mrs. Effingham had entirely worn away. They rather now, at least -while their father was absent, made a parade of their perfect ease, and -on the evening preceding his return chatted together with Mademoiselle -Lafleur, as if scarcely aware of their step-mother’s presence. Clemence -sat quietly at her work, a pained listener to a flow of folly and -gossip. Lady Selina appeared to be dozing in her arm-chair before the -fire. - -At length the conversation turned upon the clergyman whose ministry the -family regularly attended—an earnest, good, but eccentric man. Arabella -began turning him into ridicule, to the great amusement of her sister -and governess, but the indignation of Mrs. Effingham. - -“He ought to be elected preacher to the blind,” laughed Louisa; “it -would be so much better not to be able to see him!” - -“They would make him over to the deaf and dumb,” rejoined her sister; -“for it would be better still not to be able to hear him!” - -Clemence felt that she should no longer keep silence—she felt that she -was bound to bear her witness to what was right in the presence of the -children of her husband; and yet, reluctant as she was to give pain or -offence, her reproof was couched in the mildest language, and uttered in -the most gentle tone. - -“Do you not think, dear Arabella,” said the step-mother, “that when we -listen to the preaching of the Word, it is rather upon the message than -the messenger that we should fix our earnest attention?” - -It was the first time that Clemence Effingham had ventured on anything -approaching to a rebuke to her step-daughters. Her words, so strongly -contrasting with the tone of the preceding conversation, had the effect -of instantaneously silencing it; and such an uncomfortable stillness -succeeded that Clemence at last felt herself forced to break it. - -“I think that I must propose a little sociable reading,” she said, “to -make the evenings pass pleasantly while my husband is away. It will give -us subjects to think of and talk over. I remember that my dear father -used often to say that it is far safer and better, as a general rule, to -converse about _things_ than about _persons_.” - -“Had his unfortunate patients to take his precepts as well as his -physic?” cried Arabella, with a pert insolence which was intended to -“put down” the first attempt of her step-mother to interfere with her -perfect freedom. - -If Lady Selina was asleep, her dreams must have been of a pleasing -nature, for they called up a smile on her face. Louisa and mademoiselle -glanced at each other, and then at Mrs. Effingham, to see how the insult -would be taken. - -A burning flush rose to the cheek of Clemence,—she had been touched in a -most tender part; not that she was so keenly sensible to the allusion to -her own humble parentage intended to be conveyed in the flippant remark, -but anything like disrespect to the memory of her venerated father stung -her to the quick. Her heart glowed with angry resentment; it was with a -painful effort that she repressed the expression of it. Clemence paused -for a few seconds till she could speak calmly, then, with a quiet -dignity, said, “Arabella Effingham, you appear scarcely to recollect -that you address yourself to the wife of your father.” - -Arabella started from her seat, and hastily left the room, shutting the -door violently behind her. Not another word was spoken for some time in -the drawing-room, and Louisa and her governess took the first -opportunity of quietly following Arabella, and leaving Mrs. Effingham to -that which was ever to her most depressing—a _tête-à-tête_ with Lady -Selina. - -“She has thrown down the gauntlet! she has chosen to commence the war!” -exclaimed Arabella, as, pacing up and down her room, with all her proud -spirit flashing from her eyes, she poured out her indignation to her -sister and mademoiselle. “If she expects that she’s to rule and dictate -here, she’ll find herself very much mistaken; the daughters of Lady -Arabella Effingham never will bow to the control of the orphan of an -apothecary!” - -“We must take care, though, that we do not bring ourselves to grief,” -said Louisa, who was, if not more cautious, yet less irritable by -nature; “she has papa’s ear, and may set him against us. I dare say -she’s as spiteful as a toad—those meek, sanctified creatures always -are!” - -Clemence went early to her own room, but it was very long before she -retired to rest. Her spirits were fluttered and agitated. In vain had -been all her efforts to conciliate, all her attempts to win for herself -the affections of her husband’s daughters. She saw stretching before -her, in endless perspective, a prospect of disunion and dissension, -proud insolence and malicious enmity. Clemence leaned her brow on her -clasped hands, and the hot tears trickled slowly down her cheeks, as she -repeated to herself the words of the wise king: _Better is a dinner of -herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith_. - -“And how will it all end?” she murmured. “Is it not hard that I, who -never willingly offended a human being, should be the object of such -determined dislike, should find hatred where I proffer love, and be -regarded as an enemy by those whom I would sacrifice much to serve? Is -it not hard?”—the words died upon her lips, a feeling of self-reproach -arose in the young wife’s breast. What was she, that she should look for -exemption from the common lot of her Master’s followers? Had she any -right to murmur under the pressure of a daily cross? _Hard!_—and had it -ever been promised that life should be all softness and enjoyment? Would -it not be folly to expect it? would it not be cowardice to desire it? If -the Christian, overlooking second causes, fix his thoughts on an -all-directing Providence, he will see how that Providence, working by -earthly means, makes even the unkindness that wounds, and the malice -that injures, important aids in forming the characters of the heirs of -glory. It was from the elements of chaos that God drew forth a world of -beauty; and some of His children’s fairest virtues spring, as it were, -from the evil around them. Patience could not have birth in heaven, nor -forgiveness in the society of angels; without opposition Christian -firmness could not appear, nor without trials be shown resignation. - -Clemence pondered over the words, _If ye love them which love you, what -reward have you? do not even the publicans the same?_ and a clearer -light than had ever been granted to her before fell on the command, -_Love your enemies_—that divine command, enforced by a divine Example, -and requiring divine aid to fulfil. Her hopes of overcoming the -prejudices of her husband’s family were now becoming faint; but a nobler -hope had succeeded—the hope of overcoming her own feelings of resentment -towards them, and of pleasing her heavenly Master by a meek endeavour to -fulfil His will. Were not the hearts of all in His hands? - -While Arabella and Louisa were revolving schemes of opposition, and -their aunt was secretly rejoicing in the disunion, which had chiefly -resulted from her own malicious efforts, Clemence knelt down and -earnestly, fervently prayed in the silence of her chamber. Nor prayed -she alone for herself, or the husband dearer than self, but separately -and by name for each of the members of her family. If the prayer was not -answered for all, was it not returned in blessings into her own -bosom—the blessing of that peace in the heart which is even more -priceless than peace in the home? - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - A DECIDED MOVE. - - -Arabella marked with secret satisfaction on the following morning the -weary looks of her youthful step-mother; she regarded them as a -favourable token of her own success in what she called “the war of -independence.” Following up what she considered to be her advantage, -Arabella treated Mrs. Effingham at breakfast with marked discourtesy and -neglect; would not even reply to her morning salutation, but preserved a -proud silence throughout the whole of the meal. Clemence was pained by -her manner, but outwardly took no notice of it. - -In the afternoon, to the joy of his wife, Mr. Effingham returned to his -home. The quick eye of affection soon detected that he looked graver, -more thoughtful and careworn, than before he had quitted London. -Doubtless he was wearied by his journey, and with tender consideration -Clemence attended to everything that might promote his comfort. “I will -vex him with none of my own little troubles,” was her inward resolution; -“if clouds will gather without, all must be sunshine for him at least -within his own little home-circle.” - -So, when they were alone together, Clemence again assumed the gaiety of -a child, and, shunning painful themes, amused her husband by a -description of the little housewifely devices and arrangements which she -had formed during his absence, especially in reference to her first -dinner party. She told him how she had planned this, and discovered -that, during long and serious colloquies with Mrs. Ventner; she made him -laugh at her own blunders and mistakes, but assured him of her resolve -that, in the face of all difficulties, her first entertainment should -prove “_un grand succès_!” - -“And yet, after all, Vincent,” she exclaimed, taking his hand within -both her own, “I do not think that I was ever intended to play a -distinguished part in the great world! All these elaborate preparations -for a few hours’ amusement seem, to my unsophisticated mind, like making -an iron strong-box to enclose a bubble. We take every precaution to -prevent accident—rack invention to make our pleasure secure—fasten it in -with golden padlock and key;—in a short space we look in to see what has -become of it, and lo! the bubble has vanished into thin air, or,” she -added, laughing, “been metamorphosed into a heap of ugly bills! If what -we seek in entertaining be simply to give enjoyment, a party of children -in a strawberry-bed will succeed much better, I suspect, in finding it, -than all our grandee guests to-morrow over their turtle, venison, and -champagne. I know that I, for one, would much rather lead the party -amongst the strawberries. I should hardly find courage to sit at the -head of that formidable table, between an erudite lord and a satirical -baronet, but for remembering who presides at the other end. O Vincent! -how little have outward circumstances to do with real, solid enjoyment! -Your presence gives an interest and zest to the pleasures which wealth -may procure; but that presence would suffice to make me happy even in -the midst of poverty.” - -The thoughts of Mr. Effingham had wandered while Clemence was speaking; -his eyes were fixed, not upon her, but upon the fire, as if watching the -little gas-jets which caught fire for a moment, burned vividly, and then -were suddenly extinguished in smoke. But the last word which his wife -had uttered struck his ear, and jarred like a discord upon it. - -“Poverty!” he repeated quickly, “you never will, never can know it. I -have just settled sixty thousand pounds on you, Clemence, in case—in -case of anything happening to me.” - -Clemence raised her head, and silently thanked him by a look of grateful -love, then pressed his hand to her lips. Could Mr. Effingham have read -the thought which passed through his young wife’s mind, he would have -seen it instinctively form itself into a prayer that she never might -survive her beloved husband to benefit by this new proof of his -affection. - -The long _tête-à-tête_ held in the study filled Arabella’s mind with -considerable alarm. Louisa’s warning recurred to her with unpleasant -vividness, and she dwelt on the idea until she became certain that her -step-mother would try to influence her father against her, and perhaps -act the part of the cuckoo nestling towards the unfortunate little -hedge-sparrows. - -Notwithstanding the pride which made her “defy the malice of any -low-born intruder,” Arabella’s relief was considerable when, on Mr. and -Mrs. Effingham rejoining the family, not even her jealous suspicion -could detect the slightest alteration in her father’s manner towards -her. “She has not complained of me, after all,” thought Arabella. “Well, -that is more than I expected.” She might have added, “More than I -deserved.” - -It was, perhaps, some slight feeling of obligation to Clemence for her -forbearance, or, more probably, a little natural prudence, that now -occasioned an improvement in the demeanour of the two girls towards Mrs. -Effingham, though Arabella never dreamed of stooping to offer an apology -for her former impertinence. Clemence rejoiced at the change, though she -doubted its motive, and, by cordial kindness and winning attention, -sought to follow up her advantage. After breakfast the next morning, -Clemence, laying her hand affectionately on the shoulder of Louisa, -proposed that she should accompany her to her Parnassus, as she -playfully called the school-room. Mademoiselle Lafleur had gone for a -few weeks to spend her Christmas holidays with some friends, and Mrs. -Effingham looked upon the time of her absence as a favourable -opportunity to draw her husband’s daughters more closely to her by -mingling more in their occupations and amusements. Clemence was also -anxious to be better acquainted with their usual routine of life; for -the more she had seen and known of their governess, the more she -distrusted her as a guide of youth. - -“I think that this room would be more comfortable with curtains,” -observed Clemence; “and you really require a nice little book-case on -this table. What a delightful piano!” and she ran her fingers lightly -over the keys. “Louisa, you and I must have many a duet together; I do -so delight in music.” - -Then the drawings of Arabella were examined; and if the praise of -Clemence was less profusely garnished with superlatives than that of -mademoiselle had been, it carried on it more of the stamp of sincerity. -Mrs. Effingham had a correct eye, and a taste for art, though she had -had little opportunity of cultivating it; and the pleasure and interest -with which she looked over the portfolio were gratifying to the haughty -Arabella. - -“And what may this beautiful book be?” inquired Clemence, laying her -hand upon a volume bound in pink and gold. - -“That is my album,” replied Louisa; “it is to be filled with original -poetry. I hope that you will write in it some day, Mrs. Effingham;” and -as Clemence smiled and shook her head, Louisa added, “You will at least -answer the three questions at the end of the book;” and she turned over -rapidly to the place where, at the head of three separate columns, were -written three sentences: WHAT IS HAPPINESS? WHAT IS MISERY? WHAT DO YOU -MUCH WISH FOR? - -Clemence glanced down the page with an amused eye, reading a most -heterogeneous collection of descriptions of the various pleasures and -pains of mankind. She needed not the initials at the end of each written -opinion to guess who had penned to the three questions the following -replies:— - - DISTINCTION; OBSCURITY; A NAME.—A. E. - A FANCY-BALL; SMALL-POX; AN OPERA-BOX.—L. E. - -“I must have you write, I am so curious to know what you think!” -exclaimed Louisa, dipping a pen in the bronze ink-stand which stood on -the table. - -Clemence had neither the affectation which requires urgent entreaties, -nor the vanity which refuses to do anything which it is not certain to -do well. She reflected for a few seconds, then under the questions—WHAT -IS HAPPINESS? WHAT IS MISERY? WHAT DO YOU MUCH WISH FOR? wrote,— - - UNISON; DISCORD; HARMONY. - -“I see little variety in unison and harmony,” said Arabella coldly; “it -is what papa would call a distinction without a difference.” - -“Does it seem so to you?” replied Mrs. Effingham. “I tried to condense -into three words the sentiment contained in the verse,— - - ‘Judge not thy differing brother, nor in aught - Condemn; his prayer and thine may rise above, - Though mingling not in _unison of thought_, - Yet blending in the harmony of love.’ - -We cannot have here below that perfect _unison_ in all things which will -form part of the happiness of heaven; but _harmony_, peace, concord may -exist even between those whose opinions and tastes are dissimilar; and -that,” she added, with a cordial smile, “is what I most ardently ‘wish -for.’” - -“Fire and water can never agree together,” muttered Arabella to herself, -in a tone too low to reach the ear of her step-mother, though Clemence -saw the expression on the proud girl’s face, which needed no words to -convey its meaning. Not choosing to take open notice of the look, Mrs. -Effingham turned to another part of the book, in which selections of -poetry were written in various hands. One brief piece arrested her eye -(it was written in the French language), and an unwonted shade of -displeasure passed over her countenance as she read it. - -“This is worse than levity,” observed Clemence very gravely; “how could -such lines have found entrance into your book?” And turning the leaf, -she marked the name “Antoinette Lafleur” at the end of the piece. - -“Oh! mademoiselle calls that a _jeu d’esprit!_ She thinks it remarkably -clever; but she did not compose it herself,” added Louisa quickly, for -she met Clemence’s glance of indignant surprise; “she copied it out of -this book; it is a book that she raves about.” - -“Have you ever read it?” inquired Mrs. Effingham. - -“Just parts of it. Mademoiselle only lent it to us last week; but she -says that it is the first book in the language.” - -“I have heard of it, though I have never perused it, never seen it -before,” said Clemence, retaining the volume in her grasp. She knew it -to be the work of a famous infidel writer, who so mingled wit with -blasphemy, that the brilliancy of his style, like the phosphorescent -light which sometimes gleams from corruption, gave strange attraction to -opinions repugnant alike to morality and religion. - -Clemence made no further observation to her step-daughters on the -subject while she remained in the school-room; but on quitting it she -descended at once, with the book in her hand, to Mr. Effingham’s study. -“This is no trifling matter,” she thought, “to be lightly passed over -and forgotten; this is no little personal concern which I should forbear -intruding on the attention of my husband. This unhappy woman may for -years have been undermining the principles of his daughters, and I -should wrong him were I to withhold from him the knowledge which I have -providentially obtained.” - -Mr. Effingham had not that morning gone, as was his wont, to his -banking-house in the city. Clemence found him in his study, and with a -few words to explain where and how she had discovered it, she placed the -poisonous work of the infidel author before him. - -Mr. Effingham had been a careless, although an affectionate father. With -his family, as with his household, he had been content to believe that -all was right, if he saw nothing very glaringly wrong. He had been -imbued deeply with the idea that making money was the main business of -man’s life; and the regulation of his establishment, the education of -his children, the training of immortal souls, he had quietly left to -others. He was, however, full of reverence for religion; he wished his -children to be brought up in the same, though his efforts to secure that -end had not gone far beyond the mere wish. He was as much startled at -the idea of infidel doctrines being instilled into the unsuspicious -minds of his young daughters, as if he had seen a serpent coiling beside -the pillow on which they were sleeping. He was more aware of the -perilous nature of the book than his wife could be, who had known it -only by report. Mr. Effingham’s usually placid nature was roused into -stern indignation. - -[Illustration: - - THE FRENCH BOOK.] - -“Never shall that woman set her foot across my threshold again!” he -exclaimed, striking his hand upon the volume. “I have never liked -her—never felt confidence in her; with her soft, cat-like manner, she -always gave me the impression of claws being concealed beneath the -velvet! Write to her at once, Clemence, and dismiss her; I will give you -a cheque to enclose. And send away that detestable book; the only fit -place for it is the back of the fire!” - -Clemence obeyed, and with a thankful heart. It seemed to her that by the -dismissal of Mademoiselle Lafleur, one of the heaviest obstructions in -her own path had been suddenly and unexpectedly removed. She had felt it -almost a hopeless endeavour to influence her step-daughters for good, -while her efforts were secretly, insidiously counteracted by one with -whom they were in daily familiar intercourse; yet without some definite -cause, some obvious reason, Clemence would have shrunk from dismissing -the governess chosen by Lady Selina, and favoured by her nieces. So bold -a step would be certain to raise such a storm! The imagination of the -youthful step-mother now rapidly built up for itself a bright castle in -the air, founded on the hope that mademoiselle’s place might be supplied -by some woman of high principles and sterling worth, who would go hand -in hand with herself in every plan for improvement. Clemence did not -blind her eyes to the fact that her own unpopularity would almost -assuredly be shared by any governess whom she might select; that Lady -Selina’s penetration would be certain to discover faults in an angel; -and that Arabella, if not Louisa also, would meet the stranger at first -with determined dislike. But at Clemence’s age hope is strong; and one -difficulty overcome seems an earnest that all others will be removed. -Young Vincent, too, was expected home the next day, and Clemence looked -forward with pleasure to a meeting with one in whom she saw the image of -his father. Her spirit felt lighter and more joyous than it had done -ever since her first cold reception in Belgrave Square. - -Mrs. Effingham despatched her letter to Mademoiselle Lafleur, after -showing it to her husband for his approval; but it was resolved, by his -advice, to say nothing on the subject to the family till the ordeal of -her grand entertainment should be over. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - THE DINNER PARTY. - - -It still wanted twenty minutes to the hour appointed in the cards of -invitation, but the toilet of Mrs. Effingham was already concluded, and -after a somewhat anxious examination into what her husband would have -termed “the machinery” of her establishment, now to be brought to its -first formidable test, she entered her superb drawing-room, there to -await her guests. The apartment was dimly lighted by a single pair of -candles at the further end; the crystal chandelier suspended from the -ceiling, the ormolu candelabra on the mantel-piece, had not yet been -kindled into sparkling constellations; but the arrangement of every -article of furniture was faultless, and the young mistress glanced -around her with a feeling of pleasure, not, perhaps, unmingled with a -little pride. - -“O Mrs. Effingham, I am so glad that you have come!” exclaimed Louisa, -advancing towards her with almost a dancing step, in a flutter of muslin -and lace. “Here is a little note which came for you about five minutes -ago; I dare say that it is an excuse from one of the guests.” - -Clemence broke the seal, and glanced over the contents. “You are right; -Dr. Howard has been suddenly summoned to see a patient in the country.” - -“Oh! then, dear Mrs. Effingham,” cried Louisa eagerly, laying her -white-gloved hand on the arm of her step-mother, “you know that some one -must fill his place; do—do let me go down to dinner!” - -“Arabella is the elder,” replied Clemence. - -“Arabella!” repeated Louisa, pettishly; “there is very little difference -between our ages, and I am the taller of the two; besides,” she added -more slowly, as if measuring her words as she spoke—“besides, after what -passed the day before yesterday, I should hardly have expected you to -favour Arabella.” - -“I should think it very wrong to favour either,” said Clemence gravely, -“and still more wrong to neglect either; for—” here she was suddenly -interrupted and startled by the sound of a loud knock at the door. - -“A guest already!” exclaimed Louisa, hurriedly attempting to pull on her -left-hand glove. - -“A guest already!” echoed Clemence, glancing uneasily at the unlighted -chandelier, and laying her hand on the bell-rope. - -In two minutes a loud voice was heard below in the hall. “Not see -me!—going to have company! Trash and nonsense, man! she’ll see me at any -hour, and in any company!” and a heavy, tramping step immediately -sounded on the stair, while Clemence exclaimed, with mingled pleasure, -surprise, and vexation, “Oh! can it be my dear Uncle Thistlewood?” and -hastening down the long room, she met him just as he flung the door wide -open. - -In a moment she was in his arms! The old sea-captain kissed his niece -heartily, again and again, each time making the room resound. Louisa, -extremely diverted, perhaps a little maliciously so, at what she -considered the inopportune appearance of one of Mrs. Effingham’s vulgar -relations, advanced towards the door to have a nearer view of the -meeting, and so came in for her share of it. - -“Ah! one of your daughters, Clemence?” cried her old uncle, and he -immediately bestowed on the astonished Louisa a fatherly salute. “Fine, -well-grown girl,” he continued in his loud, cheerful voice; “must make -you feel quite old, my darling, to have children as tall as yourself! -But let us have a little of the fire, for it’s blowing great guns -to-night, and I’ve had my feet half frozen off on the top of the -omnibus!” And marching up to the grate at the end of the room, the -captain spread out his coarse red hands to the warmth, after having -stirred the fire to a roaring blaze, and stamped on the rug to warm his -feet, leaving the impression of his boots on the velvet. “And now, let -me have a better look of your sweet face, blessings on it!” cried the -sea-man, turning towards Clemence, and taking hold of both her hands, -while he fixed on her a gaze of fond admiration. Very lovely, indeed, -looked Mrs. Effingham, with the flush of excitement on her cheek, and -the sparkle of affection in her eye. Captain Thistlewood was evidently -pleased with his survey, though he said,— - -“You seem to me a little older and thinner than when we parted, -May-blossom, and you looked just as well in your good russet gown as in -that dainty blue velvet with the sparklers; but you’ll do very well—do -very well! And now I dare say that you want to know what brought the old -man gadding here.” He threw himself into an arm-chair to converse more -at ease, perfectly regardless of the presence of the servants, now -engaged in illuminating the room. - -“You see, ever since you left us, Stoneby’s grown as dull as -ditch-water—all the life seems gone out of it. Parson’s always busy as -usual—too busy to have much time to give to a little social gossip; and -his wife’s sick, and keeps her room in the cold weather. There’s nothing -stirring in the village, or for ten miles round—the very windmill seems -to have gone to sleep; and the robins, to my mind, don’t chirp and sing -as they used to do. Susan has taken it into her silly head to marry, -like her mistress, and the new girl don’t suit me—breaks my crockery, -and over-roasts my mutton. The long and short of it is, that home is not -home without my May-blossom. I bore it as long as I could—lonely -evenings and all. At last says I to myself, ‘I’ll put up my bundle and -be off to London. I know there’s some one there will be glad to see the -old man; let him arrive when he may, he won’t be unwelcome!’” - -Clemence felt indignant with herself for not being able more fully and -cordially to respond to her uncle’s assurance. “The world must indeed -have already exercised its corrupting influence over me,” was her silent -reflection, “when I can experience anything but joy at the sound of that -dear familiar voice! But what will my husband say?” As the thought -crossed her mind, the door opened, and Mr. Effingham entered the room. - -A greater contrast could scarcely be imagined than that between the -tall, dignified, handsome gentleman, with his polished manner and -graceful address, and the short, square-built, jovial old captain, with -a face much of the shape and colouring, without the smoothness, of a -rosy-cheeked apple. Mr. Effingham was aware of the arrival of -Thistlewood—indeed, no one in the house, not afflicted with deafness, -was likely to be altogether ignorant of it; he was therefore quite -prepared for the meeting. To the unspeakable relief of Clemence, Mr. -Effingham cordially held out his hand to the sailor, who shook it as he -might have worked a pump handle, and then said in a kindly voice, “I am -glad to see you, captain; you must take up your quarters with us.” - -Thistlewood nodded in acquiescence, as one who felt an invitation to be -quite an unnecessary form; but Clemence’s expressive eyes were turned on -her husband with a look of gratitude, which told how much it was -appreciated by her. - -“We expect company this evening,” continued Mr. Effingham. - -“Ay, so the white-headed chap with the gold cable told me.” - -“It does not want a quarter of an hour to dinner-time,” said the -gentleman, taking out his watch. - -“Dinner-time! I should rather call it supper-time. Ha! ha! ha! I dined -before one, but my long journey has made me rather peckish. A beefsteak -wouldn’t come anyways amiss.” - -“You may like to make some little alteration in your dress,” observed -Mr. Effingham, glancing at the pea-jacket and muddy boots of his guest; -“my servant will show you your apartment.” - -The question of toilet was evidently one of supreme indifference to the -honest captain; a dress good enough to walk in seemed to him to be good -enough to eat in; but he made no difficulty about compliance. He was -just about to quit the room, when it was entered by Arabella. - -The young lady stared at the rough-looking stranger with an air of -haughty inquiry which would have abashed a sensitive man; but Captain -Thistlewood was as little troubled with shyness as with hypochondria—his -nerves were weather-proof, as well as his constitution—his perceptions -were blunt to ridicule or insult, if only directed against himself. - -“Ha! another fine daughter!” he exclaimed; “we must not meet as -strangers, my dear;” and he would have greeted Arabella in the same -paternal style as her sister, but for the backward step and the -indignant look, which might have beseemed an empress. - -“Who is this man?” she exclaimed. - -“Mrs. Effingham’s uncle and my friend,” was her father’s reply, uttered -in a tone which effectually repressed for the time any further -expression of Arabella’s scorn. - -The two girls retired to the back drawing-room to converse together, -Louisa full of mirth, Arabella of indignation; while Clemence, glad to -be a few minutes alone with her husband, laid her hand fondly on his -arm, and murmured, “How good you have been to me, Vincent!” - -“I could wish that your uncle had not arrived till to-morrow,” said Mr. -Effingham; “but I could not but treat with courtesy and kindness him -from whose hand I received my wife. Will there be room at the table?” - -“Yes; Dr. Howard has declined.” - -“To which lady would you introduce Captain Thistlewood?” - -“Let me consider,” said Clemence, thoughtfully; “who is most -good-natured and quiet? Uncle sometimes says such strange things.” - -“What say you to Miss Mildmay?” - -“She would show no rudeness at least, but—” here the conversation was -interrupted by the entrance of servants. - -When the little captain re-appeared in the drawing-room, radiant in blue -coat, buff waistcoat and brass buttons, most of the guests had arrived. -That semicircle of ladies had been formed which presents to the eye of a -hostess as formidable a front as the unbroken square of infantry, -bristling with steel, does to an opposing general. Mrs. Effingham was, -as yet, entirely unskilled in the art of mixing together the various -materials of society. With a shy, anxious air, she glided from one guest -to another to accomplish the necessary form of introduction,—to her a -serious undertaking, especially as some of her visitors were strangers -to her. Clemence tried to forget that the cold, criticizing eye of Lady -Selina was watching her every movement, and sought to remember only, -that even in the arrangement of a party she might please her husband, -and do credit to him. The entrance of Captain Thistlewood had -considerable effect in breaking the ice of formality which lies like a -crust upon London society, though in a manner that astonished the -guests, and embarrassed the master and mistress of the house. The jovial -sailor was as much at his ease in the polished circle as amidst -shipmates round a cuddy table; and his loud voice and merry laugh, as he -stood with his thumbs in his pockets, chatting with Louisa, created an -unusual sensation. - -“Who may that lively old gentleman be?” inquired Lord Vaughan of Lady -Selina. - -“One of Mrs. Effingham’s near relations,” was her distinctly audible -reply. - -Clemence hastened to introduce the captain to Miss Mildmay, in hopes -that that lady’s opposite qualities might serve as a kind of -compensation balance, to moderate her uncle’s boisterous mirth. Miss -Mildmay was a sallow lady on the shady side of forty, attired in a pale -sea-green silk, with long, lank sprays of artificial leaves drooping low -on each side of her head. She was a mild, inanimate sample of gentility, -whose very eyes seemed to have had the colour washed out of them, and -whose prim, pursed-up lips rarely unclosed to speak, and still more -rarely to smile. Miss Mildmay was one of the dead-weights of society, -and was, therefore, judiciously coupled with the little, noisy, bustling -captain, who, like some steam locomotive, would sturdily puff straight -on his way, regardless of obstacles, unconscious of observation, ready -to go over or through an obstruction, but never to turn aside for it, -let it be what it might. - -As Captain Thistlewood wanted nothing but a listener, he dashed bravely -along the railway of conversation, choosing, of course, his own -lines—now on country subjects, now on sea—turnips and tornadoes, calves -and Cape wines,—till, on dinner being announced, he gallantly handed -down his partner, and in his simplicity took his seat near the top of -the table, in order to be, as he said, “within hail of my niece.” - -Miss Mildmay languidly drew off her gloves; there was a pause of a few -minutes in the conversation, for Captain Thistlewood, bending forward, -was looking with curious eyes down the length of the table, decked out -in the magnificence of modern taste. He had never seen anything like it -before. - -“I say!” he burst out at length, “do you call this a dinner? Nothing on -the table but fruit, and flowers, and sweat-meats, that wouldn’t furnish -a meal for a sparrow!” - -The sailor’s exclamation overcame the gravity of several of those who -sat near him; even Miss Mildmay put up her feather-tipped fan to her -lips,—it is possible that it might be to conceal a smile. - -“But what’s that on the dish before us?” continued the captain, -surveying it with curious surprise. “Peaches in December! I never heard -of such a thing!” And determined to investigate the phenomenon more -closely, he suddenly plunged his fork into the nearest peach, and -carried it off to his plate. In a moment his knife had divided the -sugared cake into halves. “It’s all a sham!” he cried, pushing it from -him; “no more a peach than I am!”—and then, for the first time in the -experience of man, a little laugh was actually heard from Miss Mildmay, -in which Clemence herself, who had seen the proceeding, could not -refrain from joining. The captain laughed loudest of all, quite -unconscious that anything excited mirth except the “sham” of the -peaches. - -“I did not know, Clemence,” he cried, “that you would have been up to -such dodges!” and the exclamation set his end of the table in a roar. -Such a merry party had perhaps never before assembled round the mahogany -in Belgrave Square. - -Notwithstanding the prognostications of Lady Selina, nothing glaringly -wrong appeared in the arrangements of the banquet. Perhaps the sharp eye -of malice detected here and there some token of inexperience in the -mistress of the feast, but few were disposed to criticize harshly. Lord -Vaughan did not regret the absence of his French cook; and Colonel -Parsons and Sir William Page sat as contentedly on the same side of the -table, as if they had never occupied opposite benches in “The House.” -All would have proceeded in the most approved routine of formality and -regularity, but for the presence of the merry old captain, who cut his -jokes, and told his stories, and pledged his niece in a loud, jovial -tone, to the great amusement of the guests, but the embarrassment of -Mrs. Effingham. - -Arabella and Louisa awaited the ladies in the drawing-room, where they -were joined by Thistlewood and the other gentlemen. The stiff semicircle -was again dashingly broken by the brave old captain, who chatted merrily -with the laughing Louisa, proposed a country dance or a reel, and -engaged her as his partner. But nothing so informally lively as an -impromptu dance after dinner was to be thought of in Belgrave Square. -The grand piano, indeed, was opened; but it was that a succession of -ladies, after a due amount of declining and pressing, might give the -company the benefit of their music. - -Captain Thistlewood was extremely fond of music, and therefore at once -planted himself by the piano, beating time like a conductor. The concert -opened with a bravura song from Miss Praed, to which he listened with -much of the feeling which Johnson expressed when asked if a lady’s -performance were not wonderful: “Wonderful!—would it were _impossible_!” -Then followed a languid “_morceau_” from Miss Mildmay, which the -composer must have designed for a soporific; and then Arabella seated -herself before the instrument. Her forte was rapid execution; hers was a -hurry-skurry style of playing, hand over hand, the right suddenly -plunging into the bass, then the left unexpectedly flourishing away in -the treble—each seeming bent on invading the province of the other, and -causing as much noise there as possible. As the performer finished with -a crashing chord, the captain, who had been watching her fingers with -great diversion, clapped Arabella on the shoulder. “Well done, my lass!” -he exclaimed; “that’s what I should call a thunder-and-lightning piece, -stunning in both senses of the word! But still, for my part, I like a -little quiet tune;—did you ever hear your mother sing ‘Nelly Bly’?” - -Arabella looked daggers as she withdrew from the piano. To be so -treated, as if she were a child—she, an earl’s grand-daughter—before so -many guests, and by _him_, the vulgar little brother-in-law of an -apothecary; it was more than her proud spirit could endure! Mrs. -Effingham should pay dearly for the insult! - -Nothing further occurred to vary the monotony of the fashionable London -entertainment. The evening wore on, much after the usual style of such -evenings, till, one after another, the guests took leave of their young -bright hostess; and there was cloaking in the ante-room, and bustle in -the hall, and rolling of carriages from the door—till at length the -lights in the drawing-room were darkened, silence settled down even on -the servants’ hall, the grand entertainment was concluded, the laborious -trifle ended, and that which had cost so much thought and anxious care, -to say nothing of trouble and expense, passed quietly into the mass of -nothings, once important, which Memory, when she takes inventory of her -possessions, throws aside for ever as mere tarnished tinsel not worth -the preserving. - -“I am so glad that it is over!” thought Clemence. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - A STORMY MORNING. - - -Mr. Effingham was always an early riser. The next morning he was earlier -than usual, and had not only commenced his breakfast, but concluded it, -and gone off to his business eastward, before any of the ladies, except -his wife, had made their appearance in the breakfast-room. Want of -punctuality in her step-daughters was one of the evils which Clemence -longed, though in vain, to reform. Lady Selina’s example not only -excused it, but rendered it in a certain degree fashionable in the -family. “It is for slaves to be tied down to hours!” exclaimed Arabella, -on a gentle hint being once ventured by Clemence; “only dull mechanics, -whose time is their bread, count their minutes as they would count their -coppers!” - -Clemence was not, however, Mr. Effingham’s only companion at his early -meal. The jovial captain, full of merriment and good-humour, and -disposed to do full justice to the ham and an unlimited number of eggs, -performed his part at the table. His niece would have been extremely -diverted by his _naïve_ observations on the events of the previous -evening—observations which showed at once natural shrewdness and the -most absolute ignorance of fashionable life—had she not feared that his -boisterous heartiness of manner might be disagreeable to her husband. -Mr. Effingham was perfectly polite, but did not look disposed to be -amused. He appeared hardly to hear the jokes of the captain, and hurried -over his breakfast with a thoughtful, pre-occupied air. - -Clemence’s own mind was often wandering to the subject of Mademoiselle -Lafleur, and she contemplated with some uneasiness and fear the effect -which would be produced on her circle by the announcement of that lady’s -dismissal. She also felt anxious as to the footing on which her dear old -relative would stand in the proud family to which she had been united by -marriage. In him a new and very vulnerable point seemed presented to the -shafts of malice which were constantly levelled at herself. His very -simplicity and unconsciousness of insult made her doubly sensitive on -his account, and many a plan Clemence turned over in her mind for -guarding him from the well-bred rudeness which none knew better than -Lady Selina how to show to one whom she despised. Mrs. Effingham’s -reflections made her more silent and grave than had been her wont. “She -is not such a good talker as she used to be,” thought the old uncle; -“nor such a good listener neither, for the matter of that!” - -Captain Thistlewood found, however, both a ready talker and listener -when Louisa entered the room. The young lady, if the truth must be -confessed, regarded the merry old sailor as rather an acquisition to the -circle. He noticed her much, and Louisa would rather have been censured -than unnoticed; he amused her, and love of amusement was one of her -ruling passions. She could laugh _with_ him when he was present, and -_at_ him when he was absent. Louisa imagined herself a wit; and what so -needful to a wit as a butt! Her morning greeting to him was given with -an air of coquettish levity, which contrasted with Arabella’s sullen -silence, and Lady Selina’s frigid politeness. - -“And what did you think of our party, Captain Thistlewood?” inquired -Louisa, as the old sailor gallantly handed to her the cup of chocolate -which Clemence had prepared. - -“Well, it was good enough in its way, only too many kickshaws handed -about, and too many lackeys behind the table to whip off the plate from -before you, if you chanced to look round at a neighbour. I must say that -your London society is a stiff, formal sort of thing. It reminds one of -those swindling pieces of goods which tradesmen pass off on the -unwary—all _dress_, you see, just stiffened and smoothed to sell, and -not to wear. Only give the gentility a good hearty pull, and the powder -flies up in your face!” - -“I suppose that yesterday was the first time that he ever sat at a -gentleman’s table!” muttered Arabella inaudibly to herself; but the -thought expressed itself in her face. - -“If there’s any powder about that young lass it’s _gunpowder_!” thought -the captain; “we may look out for an explosion by-and-by—I see she’s -primed for a volley. But I’ll try a little conciliation for -May-blossom’s sake—hang out a flag of truce. No wonder that my poor -child looks grave and pale;—a pretty life she must have of it here, with -an iceberg on the one side and a volcano on the other!” All the more -determined to draw Arabella into conversation, from marking her haughty -reserve, Captain Thistlewood rested his knife and fork perpendicularly -on either side of his plate, and addressed her across the table. - -“We’re coming near to Christmas now. I like the merry old season, and I -shall be glad to see for once how Christmas is kept in London. I noticed -many a jolly dinner hanging up in the butchers’ and poulterers’ shops as -I passed along in the ’bus; quite a sight they are, those shops—turkeys -strung on long lines, as though they were so many larks; and huge joints -of beef, that, for their size, might have been cut from elephants! -Glorious they look in the flaring gas-light, decked out with whole -shrubberies of holly! Then the pretty little Christmas-trees, hung with -tapers and gim-cracks—they pleased me mightily too; for, thinks I, -there’ll be plenty of harmless fun, plenty of laughing young faces round -those trees, when the tapers are lighted! I love to see children happy, -and ’specially the children of the poor. Shall I tell you my notion of a -good Christmas-tree?” Arabella looked as though she did not care to hear -it, but the captain took it for granted that she did. “I’d have a tree -as big as the biggest of those yonder in the Square, and invite all the -ragged little urchins far and near to the lighting of the same. I’d have -it hung, not with sparkling thing-a-bobs, or sugar trash in funny -shapes, not even with sham peaches,” he added, laughing, “but with good -solid joints of meat for blossoms, and warm winter jackets for leaves; -and I’ll be bound that every child would think my tree the very finest -that he ever had seen in his life. Don’t you call that uniting the -ornamental with the useful?” - -“The idea shows so much elegance, so much refinement of taste,” replied -Arabella, with satirical emphasis, “that it will doubtless be instantly -carried out by Mrs. Effingham.” - -There was something in the tone in which the name was pronounced which -stung the old sailor as no personal rudeness to himself could have done. -As a single word will sometimes suffice to rouse a whole train of -associations, startle a host of ideas into life, the name “Mrs. -Effingham,” so pronounced by her step-daughter, conjured up before the -warm-hearted old man a picture coloured indeed, by fancy, but not -without an outline of truth. His sweet Clemence was not loved and valued -in her home; she, his darling, his heart’s delight, was looked down upon -by those who should have deemed it an honour to sun themselves in her -smile! Such was the suspicion which flashed out into words of sudden -indignation. - -“Mrs. Effingham! and pray who may she be? I see here my niece, your -father’s wife, your mother by marriage; but no one whom you or I can -either speak or think of as ‘Mrs. Effingham!’” - -The most insolent in temper are usually those who have least courage to -back their insolence. Those who delight in wounding the sensitive and -brow-beating the timid, when they find their weapon crossed by another, -when they become aware that their shafts may be returned on themselves, -often are the first to draw back from the contest so wantonly provoked. -Arabella was startled into a momentary confusion; and her opponent, who -carried “anger as the flint bears fire,” at once recovered his usual -temper. The captain was aware that he had given way to a burst that had -been scarcely called for by anything actually uttered; he had, perhaps, -been too ready to imagine an affront where no such thing was intended. - -“Forgive an old man’s vehemence,” he said frankly; “I got my ideas in -the last century, and they may by this time be quite old-fashioned. -There are many, I take it, who scarcely know what to call a step-mother -at first, especially one so young. For once I think that the French have -hit on a better title than our own. It must sound odd enough applied to -many; but here is a case where _belle-mère_ is quite appropriate,”—he -glanced fondly at his niece; then added, bowing gallantly to Louisa, -“and also the title of _belle-fille_.” - -The thunder-cloud only gathered blacker on the brow of Arabella, but -Louisa tittered and gaily replied, “I have often wondered why our French -neighbours should make such a spell of marriage—to turn connections on -both sides into beauties, brothers, old fathers, and all! I’ll ask -mademoiselle for the derivation of the term. By-the-by,” added Louisa, -addressing Clemence, “on what day does mademoiselle come back?” - -It was an unfortunate question at that moment. The flush which rose to -the cheek of Clemence, her little pause before she replied, fixed every -eye upon her. The young wife felt like one about to fire a train, when -she answered, “Mademoiselle is not coming back at all.” - -“Not coming back!” exclaimed both girls at once. “Not coming back!” -echoed Lady Selina, in accents of unfeigned surprise. Clemence knew that -some explanation was required, and she gave it, in a tone as firm as she -could command. “Mr. Effingham and I have, after due reflection, decided -on making a change. We have very sufficient reasons, and I trust—” - -But the train had been fired indeed, and before Clemence could finish -her sentence there was an unmistakable explosion! Not that the -governess had in reality attached to herself any one present, or that -her pupils actually looked upon her dismissal as a personal -misfortune; but a good handle was suddenly offered to the hand of -malice,—“the war of independence” had required its watchword and its -martyr, and the maligned, persecuted mademoiselle served at once for -both. Arabella’s smothered indignation could now creditably boil over -in wrath, and a torrent of invective burst forth, swelled by Louisa’s -passionate exclamations. But most formidable was the awful dignity -with which Lady Selina rose from her seat, adding her broken sentences -of calm indignation: “Strange, mysterious, incomprehensible -proceeding!”—“Personal insult to myself!”—“One who had selected that -lady on the highest recommendations, who for years had reposed the -utmost confidence in that lady, and who had ever found her more than -justify that trust, not to be consulted on a step so important!” The -very dress of Lady Selina seemed to rustle and tremble with offended -pride. How could the timid, sensitive Clemence stand her ground -against such an overwhelming avalanche of opposition? - -She had but one ally present, and her dread was lest he should come to -her aid. The veins on the captain’s forehead were growing very large and -his cheek very red; he glanced hurriedly, and almost fiercely, from one -assailant to the other, as a lion might when encompassed by the hounds, -only doubting in which quarter to make his spring. But none of the enemy -awaited the attack; Lady Selina and her nieces all quitted the -apartment, to excite each other to fiercer wrath against the household -tyrant, who had dared, by such an unwarrantable act of independence, to -bid defiance to the clique! - -“If ever I heard anything like this!” exclaimed Captain Thistlewood, -striking the table with vehemence; “the insolence, the audacity of these -young shrews!—the malice of that cantankerous old dame! You must be -protected from them, Clemence. I’ll after and tell them—” - -“O uncle, dear uncle, let them go!” exclaimed Clemence, holding the -captain’s arm to prevent his sudden exit from the room; “you cannot help -me, indeed you cannot; it will blow over, it will—” - -“Blow over!” thundered the veteran, trying to extricate himself from her -hold; “such a tornado may blow over indeed, but it will first blow you -out of your senses! I’m glad I came here—I’m heartily glad. I’ll not -have you exposed to this; I’ll—” - -“Uncle!” cried Clemence nervously, “any movement on your part would only -make matters a thousand times worse. For my sake be calm—be composed. -There is nothing from which I so shrink as quarrels and dissensions in -the house. Let us have peace—” - -“Peace!” exclaimed the indignant captain; “lay down our arms—strike our -flag to such viragoes as these! No; if your husband has not the spirit -to keep these termagants in order—” - -“If you would not make me miserable,” cried Clemence, “leave me and Mr. -Effingham to smooth and settle things by ourselves. You cannot imagine -the evil that might arise from the interference even of one so kind, and -good, and loving as yourself! Be persuaded, dear uncle, be persuaded; -take no notice of what has occurred.” - -It was with considerable difficulty that Clemence succeeded to a certain -degree in quieting the old man’s excitement. She persuaded him at length -to leave the house for a few hours, in order to visit some London -sights, knowing well that the sailor’s anger, though it might be warm, -was never enduring. It was with a sense of real relief that she heard -the hall door close behind him; and she earnestly hoped that he might -find so much amusement that he would not return until Mr. Effingham had -come back from his business in the city. - -[Illustration: - - CAPTAIN THISTLEWOOD. - Page 91.] - -Before Clemence had had breathing time in which to recover from the -excitement of the last painful scene, one of her footmen entered the -room, with two envelopes on a silver salver. As Mrs. Effingham -mechanically took them up, he informed her that Mrs. Ventner wished to -speak to her for a few minutes. - -The interview it is unnecessary to describe. From the first hour that -the housekeeper had discovered that she had not a mere puppet to deal -with, that her mistress could overlook accounts and detect inaccuracies, -from that hour she had made up her mind that the same house could not -hold them both. Mrs. Ventner had plundered enough from her master, -during Lady Selina’s careless reign, to make her, as she believed, -independent; and, knowing that her books would not bear the close -scrutiny which had probably been only postponed till the party should be -over, and perhaps alarmed by the tidings which had now spread through -the house that mademoiselle had been dismissed at a moment’s notice, she -resolved to avoid sharing the same fate by anticipating it, and gave her -young mistress warning. - -Clemence received the communication, to outward appearance, with great -composure, but her spirits were fluttered and her mind oppressed; and -when she had sought the quiet of her own room, she sat for some time in -an attitude of listless thought, before remembering to examine the -contents of the envelopes which she had carried unopened in her hand. - -Only bills—uninteresting bills; and yet not so uninteresting neither, or -there would not be that slight tremble in the fingers that grasp them, -or that faint line on the fair brow so smooth but a minute before. These -are the milliner’s and dressmaker’s bills; and the courage of Clemence -is failing her, as she glances down the long line, and sums up the -amount again and again, with ever-lessening hope that there may be some -error in the calculation. Clemence had no fixed allowance assigned her; -but her husband, soon after their marriage, had replenished her slender -purse with a sum so large, that it had appeared to her almost -inexhaustible. Clemence had a generous heart, and loved to give with a -liberal hand. She had expended money very freely upon others, before -becoming aware how much her personal expenses were now likely to exceed -the narrow limits within which they had hitherto been restrained. She -had, however, reserved what she had hoped would be sufficient to defray -the two bills now before her, the only ones yet unpaid. But the young -girl, brought up in rural seclusion and ignorance of the fashionable -world, had formed a most incorrect estimate of rich velvet dresses, and -mantillas trimmed with costly fur, handkerchiefs edged with the delicate -productions of Mechlin or Brussels—beautiful trifles, upon which luxury -lavishes her gold so freely, and which yet contribute so little to -actual enjoyment. Clemence had little more than sufficient money left to -clear her debt to the milliner; Madame La Voye’s heavy bill lay before -her, a weight upon her conscience as well as her spirits. - -“What will Vincent think—my noble, generous-hearted husband—when he -knows of my folly and selfish extravagance? Not three months married, -and already in debt, deeply in debt—in debt for the mere vanities of -dress! Oh! he never would have deemed his wife capable of acting so -unworthy a part. How shall I confess to him that his liberality has led -me into such extravagance—that his trusting love has met with such a -return! And he has been looking anxious and careworn of late; the -thought has even crossed my mind that business concerns may not be -prospering—that he may be uneasy as regards his affairs. Oh! if it -should be so, and if I—vain, weak, thoughtless—should have added, to his -cares instead of lightening them!” The idea was to Clemence almost -unbearable; bitter self-reproach added its keen pang to those of anxious -care and wounded feeling; and it was some time before she could calm her -agitated spirits, or look her difficulties fairly in the face. - -When Clemence quitted her apartment, she was suddenly met on the -staircase by young Vincent, who had reached home about an hour -previously, though, absorbed in her own painful reflections, she had not -noticed the sound of an arrival. A joyful exclamation of welcome was on -her lips, but her first glance at the face of the boy was sufficient to -check its utterance. Giving her a look, in which dislike, scorn, and -defiance were mingled, Vincent brushed past his step-mother without -saying a word. And this was the son whom her heart had learned already -to love—the son on whom she had built such hopes—in whose countenance -she had traced such a resemblance to his father—who bore his name, and, -as she trusted, would bear his character—the only member of her -husband’s family who had given her anything approaching to a welcome. -The disappointment came at a moment when the spirit of Clemence was -wounded by unkindness and depressed by self-reproach. This last drop of -bitterness made her cup overflow. She returned to her own room with a -hurried step, and throwing herself on her sofa, buried her face in her -hands, and gave way to a burst of tears. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - OPPOSITION SIDE. - - -“Well, Vincent, you have returned to a strange house; strange doings -have there been during your absence.” Such were the words with which -Arabella had greeted her young brother, when, on his first arrival, he -had burst into the drawing-room, with all the impatient joy of a boy -just emancipated from school. - -“You’ll hardly believe what has happened,” said Louisa. - -“Why, what’s the matter?” exclaimed Vincent, looking in surprise from -the one to the other. - -“We none of us can tell where we may find ourselves in another month,” -continued Louisa. “I foretell that I shall be finishing my education in -Jersey, and Arabella in the Isle of Man.” - -“What has happened?” cried Vincent impatiently; “anything in which our -pretty step-mother is concerned?” - -“_Pretty_ step-mother, indeed!” exclaimed Arabella. “She has begun to -change and overturn everything in the house. Nothing is free from her -meddling. She has turned off Mademoiselle Lafleur without so much as the -shadow of a reason.” - -“Turned off mademoiselle!” cried Vincent. “Well, I don’t break my heart -about that; but it was a bold stroke for a beginning.” - -“Then Mrs. Ventner.” - -“Mrs. Ventner!” echoed Vincent in amazement. “I should have as soon -expected to hear of her moving the Monument of London!” - -“It won’t end here,” said Lady Selina oracularly, pursing in her thin -lips, as if to restrain them from uttering some dread prognostication. - -“Is it really Mrs. Effingham who is turning everything topsy-turvy?” -cried the schoolboy; “why, she looked as gentle as a dove!” - -“A dove!—she’s a vulture,” said Louisa. - -“A vampire!” muttered her sister. - -“What I cannot bear,” observed Lady Selina, “is the art with which she -conceals her designs. Smooth above, false beneath—wearing a mask of such -perfect innocence, that she would take in any one who was unaccustomed -to the ways of the world. I confess,” she added, in a tone of -self-depreciation, “that I was deceived myself by her manner.” - -“Oh! if she’s artful, I shall hate her,” exclaimed Vincent; “I can’t -endure anything sly.” - -“And so hypocritical,” chimed in Louisa; “she would pass herself off for -such a saint. I believe that poor dear mademoiselle’s grand offence was -liking a French book that was a little witty—a book which Mrs. Effingham -unluckily hit upon when she came spying into our school-room in her -fawning, hypocritical manner.” - -“And to bring in such an ally to support her, before she dared let us -know what she had done.” - -“Yes,” said Lady Selina, “I am perfectly convinced—and I am one not -often mistaken—that the arrival of Captain Thistlewood was a -preconcerted arrangement.” - -“Captain Thistlewood—who may he be?” inquired Vincent. - -“Mrs. Effingham’s uncle,” replied Louisa. “The funniest old quiz—” - -“The most blustering savage—” - -“A low, vulgar fellow,” joined in Lady Selina; “one who thinks that he -may swagger in a gentleman’s house as if he were on the deck of a -whaler.” - -“And does papa suffer it?” exclaimed Vincent. - -“Mr. Effingham is infatuated, quite infatuated,” said the lady, -apparently addressing the fire and not any one present, and speaking so -low, that Vincent had to lean forward in order to catch her accents. “I -do not know why it should be—I do not pretend to guess, but he certainly -has not been like the same man ever since his second marriage.” - -“Papa has grown much graver,” observed Louisa. - -“And sadder,” joined in Arabella. - -Lady Selina only uttered an “Ah!” with a slight jerk of the head; but -what a world of meaning was condensed into the brief exclamation! -Compassion for the infatuated husband, contempt for the manœuvring wife, -sympathy with the persecuted children. It was the sigh of wisdom and -experience over what was wrong in the world in general, and in the -Effingham family in particular. - -It is no wonder that Vincent was not proof against the contagion of -prejudice, hatred, and malice, when entering the scene where they all -were rife. He threw himself, heart and soul, into the cause of the -insurgents, in the war of independence; and determined, with all the -vehemence of boyhood, to oppose his step-mother in everything, and not -to be daunted by the “swaggering bully,” whom she had so cunningly -brought to London to aid her in tyrannizing over his sisters, and -altering all the good old customs of the house. - -Clemence sat lonely and heavy-hearted in her own room, her eyelids -swollen with weeping. She felt so unwilling to face the family at the -approaching meal, that twice her hand was on the bell-rope, to summon a -servant to convey the message that, having a severe headache, she would -not come down to luncheon. The excuse would have been a true one, for -her temples throbbed painfully, and a weight seemed to press on her -brain; but a little reflection induced Clemence to change her intention. -When a trial is to be faced, the sooner and the more boldly that it is -faced the better; the nettle-leaves grasped by a firm hand are less -likely to sting than when touched by a timid and shrinking finger. There -would be moral cowardice in secluding herself from envious eyes and -bitter tongues, which would only serve to encourage malice. But -Clemence’s strongest incentive was consideration for her uncle, who -might return early, and who must not be left to face the enemy alone; so -she washed all trace of tears from her eyes, and descended at the -summons of the gong. Clemence was glad to find that Captain Thistlewood -was yet out on his exploring expedition. - -Lady Selina did not please to appear at table. Mrs. Effingham breathed -more freely in her absence. But the meal was a very uncomfortable one, -as must ever be the case where hatred and strife are guests at the -board. Hardly a word was spoken _to_ Clemence, but many were spoken _at_ -her; every effort which she made to commence conversation ended in -making her more painfully aware of her position in regard to her -husband’s children. Even her meek and quiet spirit might have been -roused to anger, had not the recollection of her debt, of the confession -of extravagance to be made to Mr. Effingham, rendered her too much -dissatisfied with herself to be easily stirred up to indignation against -others. - -Clemence would willingly have taken an airing in her carriage during the -brief hours of the winter’s afternoon—the rapid motion, the freedom from -vexatious interruptions, would have been welcome to her harassed mind; -but Lady Selina was certain to require a drive, and, as usual, it was -yielded up to her by Mrs. Effingham, rather as a matter of right than of -courtesy. Clemence contented herself with a rapid, solitary walk in the -square. - -The air was intensely cold, but its freshness braced and invigorated her -spirits, and helped to restore them to their wonted healthy tone. The -dark clouds which flitted across the sky, the leafless trees whose dark -branches waved in the gale, in their very wintry dreariness spoke to the -young heart of hope. Those clouds would soon be succeeded by sunshine. -Spring would clothe those bare boughs with beauty, the piercing blast -would change to the soft zephyr beneath the genial influence of a milder -season! And were not bright days in store for herself! Clemence -struggled to throw off her depression, made earnest resolutions, -breathed silent prayers, and determined not yet to despair even of -conquering hatred by the power of gentleness, and prejudice by the -strength of patience. - -“There goes one of Fortune’s favourites!” remarked Lady Praed to her -daughter, as, driving through Belgrave Square, she recognized Mrs. -Effingham; “young, lovely, rich, with good health, good establishment, -good position—she has everything that the world can give. I should think -that Mrs. Effingham must be one of the happiest beings to be found on -the face of the earth!” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER X - - SOCIAL CONVERSE. - - -“You cannot, dearest, blame my folly, or wonder at my extravagance, more -than I do myself,” were the concluding words of Clemence, as, with the -timidity of a child acknowledging a fault, she laid on the desk before -her husband the heavy bill of Madame La Voye. - -Mr. Effingham opened it in silence. If his young wife had ventured to -raise her downcast eyes to his face, she would have viewed there, not -anger, not sorrow, but a peculiar and unpleasing expression which -flitted across it for a moment, as a bat wheels suddenly between us and -the twilight sky, visible for a space so brief that we can hardly say -that we have seen it. As it was, Clemence only heard the words of her -husband, as he folded the paper, and placed it in his desk, “Fifty -pounds more or less—what matters it! you may leave this for me to -settle.” - -Not one syllable of reproach, not even a hint of displeasure! What -intense gratitude glowed in the heart of Clemence, deepening, if -possible, the fervour of her love for the most noble, the most generous -of men! But when she attempted to express something of what she felt, -Mr. Effingham suddenly changed the subject; it appeared to be irksome, -almost irritating to him to receive the grateful thanks of his wife. - -The evening closed far more joyously to Clemence than the morning had -begun. Her husband’s presence, as usual, sufficiently protected her from -insolence on the part of his family. A pert reply from Vincent to a -question asked by his step-mother, drew upon him such a stern reproof -from Mr. Effingham, that the boy was for the time effectually silenced. -Captain Thistlewood had walked off all his fierce indignation, and -finding that the domestic tempest had subsided into an apparent calm, he -made no attempt to stir up the sleeping elements of discord, but, on the -contrary, exerted himself to spread around him the atmosphere of -good-humour in which he himself habitually lived. His flow of -conversation was almost incessant. Having on that day ascended to the -ball of St. Paul’s, and explored the depths of the Thames Tunnel, he was -equally primed, as he termed it, for the highest or the deepest -subjects. He had been wandering over a great part of London, from the -stately squares of the West End to the crowded thoroughfares of the -East; he had seen skating on the Serpentine, horses sliding and -struggling up Holborn Hill, and described all with the same minuteness -and zest with which he might have portrayed peculiarities in the manners -and customs of some island of our antipodes. - -“This merry old sailor must be as deceitful as Mrs. Effingham herself,” -thought Vincent. “If I had not heard that he was a bully and a savage, I -should have thought him an uncommonly jolly old chap!” - -“I took an omnibus back,” said Captain Thistlewood; “for what with the -‘getting up stairs’ at St. Paul’s, and the walking about for hours in -the streets, I found myself tolerably well tired. That reminds me,” he -turned towards Vincent,—“that reminds me of the riddle, ‘What is always -tired, yet always goes on?’ Will you guess it? Bad hand at riddles—eh? -It is a _wheel_, to be sure; so that brings me back to my omnibus. - -“We were a pretty full party in it, now one dropping in, then another -out,—men of business from the city, clerks from the bank; one I noticed -with a broad-brimmed hat, another with a smart new tile, cocked -roguishly on the side of the head. They talk” (here he addressed himself -to Louisa) “of telling the character of a man by the bumps on his head: -I think that one might tell something by the style of his hat; he has a -choice in one thing, and not in the other. Well, presently the man who -stands on the door-step puts his head into the conveyance. ‘Gentlemen -and ladies,’ says he, ‘have a care of your purses; there’s two of the -swell-mob in the ’bus.’ So, as you may imagine, we gen’lmen and ladies -(the ladies consisting of one good fat old dame opposite me, with a -well-stuffed bag on her arm, or rather on her knee) looked awkwardly -round on our companions, half smiling, as if to say, ‘Which of us are -the thieves?’ I thought that the fat dame opposite kept rather a -suspicious eye upon me, and held her hand tight over the opening of her -big bag, afraid that some one should feloniously make off with her -sandwiches or sausages. Presently the man with the new hat, dashing -neck-tie, sparkling pin, and diamond studs to match, puts his hand into -his pocket: ‘I’ve a large sum about me,’ he mutters half to himself, -half as if apologizing to us for depriving us of the pleasure of his -society, and out he pops with all convenient speed. Then he in the -broad-brim gives signs of following; he was at the very inner end of the -omnibus, and had to push past us all to get out. ‘I’ve a thousand pounds -on my person,’ says he, and so gets down, off, and away! I could not -help saying to my old lady, ‘There are more purses than two the safer -for the discretion of these good gentleman: depend on’t, we’ve now -nothing more to fear from the two dangerous members of the swell -society!’” - -“’Tis conscience that makes cowards of us all,” observed Mr. Effingham -with a smile. - -“It reminds me,” said Clemence, “of an Eastern tale of a merchant, who, -having been robbed of a large quantity of cotton, and entertaining -suspicions of the honesty of several of his acquaintance, invited all -whom he doubted to a social meal. In the midst of his entertainment he -suddenly exclaimed, with affected indignation, ‘Why, what audacious -rogues are these, to steal my cotton, and then every one come to my -house with a bit of it sticking to his beard!’ In a moment several hands -were raised, each thief laid hold of his own beard, and the merchant, by -this involuntary confession, was enabled to single out those who had -robbed him.” - -“We leave all that sort of work to the detective police,” observed Lady -Selina. - -“Yes, in old England,” replied Captain Thistlewood; “it is a different -matter in some other countries that I have heard of, where the -constables and the highwaymen form a kind of joint-stock company,—the -robbers the active managers, the police the _sleeping partners_—ha! ha! -ha! What was the book, Clemence, in which we read that good story of the -Englishman in Rome?” The eyes of Vincent brightened at the idea of a -story; he unconsciously edged his chair nearer to that of the captain. - -“I do not recollect the story,” replied Clemence; “let us by all means -have it.” - -“An Englishman was on a visit to the city of Rome, and he had been told -that bandits were plentiful there as blackberries, and that a man there -thought as little of cutting a throat as he would in France of cutting a -caper, or a joke in the Emerald Isle. John Bull had, therefore, been -advised by no means to take his constitutionals after the sun had set. - -“Our friend, however, once received an invitation to an evening party, -which he had a mind to accept; and, thinks he, ‘A stout heart and a good -crab-tree cudgel will make me a match for any brigand that breathes!’ So -he went to his party, took a cheerful glass (maybe did not confine -himself to one), and then set out in the darkness to return to his -lodging in Rome. Now, our Englishman was a bold fellow, but that night -he could not help thinking a little of what he had heard of stilettoes, -and stabbing, and all that sort of thing. Suddenly a man coming in an -opposite direction knocked right up against him, and then hurried on -with rapid step. Our friend clapped his hand on his watch-pocket—never a -watch was there!” - -“The man must have robbed him!” exclaimed Vincent. - -“So thought our Englishman, and he was not one to part with his property -lightly. Turning round sharp, he rushed after the fellow, overtook him, -seized him by the throat, shouted, ‘Oriuolo!—watch!’ in the best Italian -that he could muster, and was well rewarded when a watch was thrust into -his hand by the half-throttled, gasping Roman!” - -“The robber had caught a Tartar!” exclaimed Vincent. - -“The Englishman went home in triumph. He could not help boasting a -little of his exploit when he and his family met round the -breakfast-table. ‘Well, it is odd enough,’ said his sister, ‘but I could -have been sure that I saw your watch hanging up in your room last -evening after you had gone to your party.’ The Englishman stared for a -moment, clapped his hand to his forehead to catch the thought which -suddenly darted across it, pulled out from his pocket the watch which he -had taken from the Italian—and lo! it was no more his than the clock at -the Horse-Guards! He recollected that he had left his own watch at home, -as a measure of precaution. So, instead of having been attacked, as he -had imagined, by a brigand, he had played the brigand himself, and had -actually robbed a poor fellow of his property, under the idea of -recovering his own!” - -Vincent could not help laughing. “It is the first time,” he exclaimed, -“that an English gentleman ever acted as a thief!” - -“I wish that I could say as much, my boy,” observed Captain Thistlewood, -slowly sipping his glass of port. “I’m sorry to say that I’ve met with -pickpockets, even in the higher ranks of life, quite as dangerous as the -gentlemen of the swell-mob in my omnibus. I’ve known a man, and one who -drove his cabriolet too, go to a shop and order goods to the amount of -hundreds of pounds, aware all the time that he had as little chance of -paying for them as of discharging the national debt. I’ve met with -another, looked upon as a man of honour, who built up a grand -establishment upon the fortunes and credulity of others, who ate his -turtle, and drank his claret,—ay, and asked his friends to share in the -feast,—knowing all the time that he was spending the money of those who -had confided their all to his care. Such men are, in my eyes, -pickpockets—heartless pickpockets—for they not only violate honesty, but -abuse a trust, and add hypocrisy to theft!” - -“Let us adjourn to the drawing-room,” said Mr. Effingham abruptly, -pushing back his chair from the table. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - POLICY AND POLITENESS. - - -“I heard there was glorious skating on the Serpentine yesterday!” cried -Vincent. “I’ll be off there this fine morning, and see the fun!” - -“I’ll go with you,” said Louisa; “I’m sick to death of both books and -work. Belgrave Square is as dull as a city of the dead; I want to go -where a little life is stirring!” - -“Pray, on no account venture on the ice,” cried Clemence; “the weather -is so much milder to-day, that I feel sure that there must be a thaw.” - -“I suppose,” said Louisa very pertly, “that I may use my own judgment in -the matter. I happen to possess a little common sense, and have not the -slightest wish to be drowned.” - -“I am sure that you are greatly indebted to Mrs. Effingham for her -tender anxiety on your account,” said Lady Selina very ironically, -glancing up from the last number of _Punch_. - -“That old mischief-maker!” thought Captain Thistlewood; “we should all -get on well enough but for her! What a blessing it would be to Clemence -if the proud dame could once be got out of the house.—Well, young folk!” -he said aloud, “if you want some one to see that you don’t make ducks -and drakes of yourselves, I’m your man; I’ll go to the park with you -myself!” - -“We don’t want your company,” said the schoolboy rudely; “I can take -care of my sister.” - -“A footman will follow us,” added Louisa superciliously; “I may meet -friends in the park, and it would cause too great a sensation amongst -them if I were to be seen escorted by Captain Thistlewood!” and so -saying, with a mock reverence she quitted the room, and was followed by -Vincent whistling. - -The old sailor did not appear to understand the implied satire, or to be -aware that an earl’s granddaughter could possibly be ashamed to be seen -with an unfashionable companion. But if his simplicity warded the insult -from himself, it glanced off from him to wound the more sensitive spirit -of his niece. - -“You will escort me, dear uncle,” said Clemence; “it will be such a -pleasure to walk with you again!” - -“Presently, my dear,” replied the captain, seating himself on the sofa, -of which the greater part was occupied by the stiff silk flounces of -Lady Selina. - -“I will put on my bonnet—” - -“Do not hurry yourself,” was the sailor’s quiet reply. The truth is, -that he had resolved upon having a _tête-à-tête_ with Clemence’s arch -tormentor, and was revolving in his honest mind how best to make it -clear to her apprehension, without showing discourtesy to a lady, that -as two suns cannot shine in one sphere, no more can two mistresses bear -rule in one dwelling. Captain Thistlewood had sufficient observation to -perceive that Lady Selina’s influence lay at the root of all the -bitterness and unkindness which Clemence was called on to endure, and he -considered that it would be a master-stroke of diplomacy, could he -induce the grand lady voluntarily to resign a position which he could -not think that she had any right to hold in the house of his niece. - -Lady Selina was also meditating, though her eyes appeared to be riveted -upon _Punch_. She was pondering how Mrs. Effingham’s new and strange -ally, formidable from the straightforward vehemence of his manner, and -his invulnerability to personal insult, could best be coaxed, since he -could not be chased from the field. These were strange opponents left to -face each other alone,—Simplicity _versus_ Art—the warm-hearted, honest -old sailor, _versus_ the cold, calculating woman of the world! - -Lady Selina was the first to commence the conversation. She laid her -paper down upon the cushion beside her, and turning towards her auditor, -observed with an air of affected indifference, as if merely fulfilling -an office of common courtesy to a guest, “You must greatly miss, Captain -Thistlewood, the delightful serenity of the country. I dare say that, -after a life spent in charming seclusion, you find London a sad, noisy, -bustling place.” - -“I like it—I like it,” replied the old sailor good-humouredly; “there -was never anything of the hermit about me. I was knocked about the world -for many a long year, and rather like to live in a bustle, and see -plenty of my fellow-creatures about me. No babbling stream pleases my -old eyes so much as the stream of people down Oxford Street.” - -Lady Selina was instantly upon another tack. “I perfectly agree with -you,” she said; “and I must own” (here she lowered her voice -confidentially) “that Belgrave Square is a great deal too dull and out -of the way for my taste.” - -“Is it?” cried the captain eagerly. - -“So far from the best shops, all the exhibitions—from everything, in -short, that gives its charm to the great metropolis.” - -“So it is—the dullest spot in all London,” was the hearty rejoinder. -“She’s really preparing for a removal,” thought the exulting captain. - -“Now, there are a great many excellent lodgings a great deal nearer to -the centre of the city—reasonable, too,” pursued Lady Selina, imagining -that her fish was approaching the bait, and that, by a little delicate -management, she could land him in some convenient spot well removed from -the Effingham mansion. “I should say, now, that Bloomsbury Square is a -very centrical situation.” - -“I’ve no doubt of it—no doubt of it at all!” cried the captain, who had -not the faintest idea of the locality, but caught something rural in the -sound of the name. - -“And you see, Captain Thistlewood,” continued Lady Selina, feeling her -line with dexterity and caution,—“you see that there is a freedom to be -enjoyed in a life of independence, which must necessarily be resigned by -any one forming a member of a large establishment. One is not tied down -to hours—one can indulge little fancies and tastes without encroaching -upon the comfort of others.” She paused and glanced at her auditor, to -see whether she might venture on a little stronger pull. - -The face of the captain was becoming quite radiant. “You feel and think -exactly as I do, ma’am,” he exclaimed. - -“It must be so painful to a refined mind,” pursued the lady, “to -contemplate the possibility of being a little in the way of causing any -inconvenience,—any disturbance of arrangements,—any—” - -“Any bickerings in the family, you would say,” eagerly joined in the -captain; “yes, yes, you express my very thoughts. It does not do to have -many wills in one house,—one pulling this way, another that. It is far -better to meet now and then as good friends, than to live under one roof -with perpetual jarring.” - -“Then, perhaps, you perceive the advisability of soon looking out—” - -“Looking out for lodgings?” interrupted the old gentleman. “I’ll do so -with the greatest pleasure in life! I’m quite at your ladyship’s -service. I’ll hunt half London over, but I will get a place to suit -you!” - -“To suit _me_!” exclaimed the astonished lady. As the words were upon -her lips Clemence re-entered the room, and her uncle, too full of his -success to keep it to himself, cried out as he got up to meet her, “Had -we not better put off our walk, Clemence? I’m going off at once to look -for lodgings for Lady Selina in Bloomsbury Square.” - -Clemence’s blue eyes opened wide in astonishment; she turned them -inquiringly towards Lady Selina, who rose from her seat with the dignity -of which even surprise and anger could not deprive her. “There are some -people,” she said bitterly, “who mistake impertinence for wit, and pride -themselves on their talent for raising a laugh, even if it be at their -own expense. Captain Thistlewood is an adept in the art; but he may -learn that under my brother-in-law’s roof such jesting may be carried -too far;” and she swept out of the room without vouchsafing a single -word of explanation to the wondering Clemence. - -The captain remained perfectly silent until the rustle of the lady’s -silk was heard no more on the staircase, and then burst into a loud fit -of uncontrollable mirth. “A regular Irish blunder!” he exclaimed, as -soon as he could command his voice; “Politeness and Policy bowing each -other so ceremoniously out of the house, that they knocked their heads -together at the door!” and he laughed and chuckled over his own mistake, -and that of the astute Lady Selina, long after he and Clemence had -quitted Belgrave Square on their way to the scene of the skating. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XII - - A PLUNGE. - - -The park presented a gay and animated appearance. Crowds of pedestrians -were sauntering to and fro on the shores of the Serpentine to watch the -rapid and graceful evolutions of the skaters. Rings of spectators were -formed on the ice itself around the most practised proficients; while -without these exclusive circles little ragged urchins, some without -jackets, some minus hats or caps, amused themselves by gliding along -extensive slides—their cheeks glowing with the exercise, their faces -looking as full of enjoyment as that of the most aristocratic skater who -cut the figure S on the ice. - -Clemence and her companion were much amused by the scene, though the -lady did not fail to remark in how many spots the warning post, marked -“Dangerous,” had been inserted, and to notice that the circles of -spectators on the Serpentine were beginning to be rapidly thinned, while -a very large majority of persons preferred _terra firma_ to the ice. The -wind had shifted to the west, the air had become sensibly milder, the -icicles which had hung from the trees were dripping to the earth like -tears, and the round, red sun, glowing like a fiery ball in the sky, was -making his influence to be felt. - -It was some time before Clemence discovered those for whom her eye was -seeking amongst the crowds. She saw them at last on the frozen -Serpentine, walking together, their young countenances rosy with the -cold. Vincent was laughing and talking to his sister, imitating the -awkward movements of some skater whom he had seen making his _debût_ on -the ice, when he caught the eye of his step-mother, towards whom he -happened at the time to be approaching. - -“I say, Loo, there’s that woman and her tame bear come to hunt after us, -as if we could not be safe unless tied to her apron-strings! I vote we -turn round sharp and cut them!” - -“I think that I see some of my friends at the other side of the -Serpentine,” said Louisa; “I wish that we could get across to them,—but -only—did you not fancy that the ice just now gave a crack!” and she -grasped the boy’s arm in a little alarm. - -“Oh, nonsense!” exclaimed Vincent; “the ice is as hard as a rock!” - -A loud, clear halloo came ringing to them across the ice. - -“I say, I won’t stand that; I am not accustomed to be hallooed to, as if -I were a cab-driver on a stand—” - -“Or a dog,” suggested Louisa: “just look how the vulgar old man is -making signs to us to come off the ice.” - -“He may shout himself hoarse, and flourish away till his arms ache,” -said Vincent, “we’ll stop here as long as we choose. Just come along -this way, Louisa.” - -Again, as the young Effinghams turned their steps towards the further -shore of the Serpentine, again came that loud, warning halloo. It was -not unheard, but it was unheeded. Then Louisa stopped short, trembling -violently—there was a sudden crash—shriek—splash—and on the spot where -Clemence had a moment before beheld the two well-known forms on the -surface, with horror she could distinguish nothing but a black pool of -water, with an ill-defined margin of broken, jagged ice around it! - -Her cry of anguish mingled with the short, stifled scream of the -miserable Louisa. Captain Thistlewood uttered no exclamation; before his -niece could realize what was passing beside her, he had flung his -great-coat at her feet, and, with the instinct of generous humanity, was -darting across the ice to the place where the Effinghams had -disappeared! He reached it while the air-bubbles were yet floating on -the surface of the fatal pool, and plunged in without an instant’s -hesitation. Clemence’s cries for help were bringing speedy assistance, -but they seemed to be unconsciously uttered. Almost petrified with -terror, she stood on the shore, watching with straining eyes and -blanched cheek that dark spot fraught with such fearful interest. - -There is a hand grasping the ice!—yes!—no! the brittle substance has -broken under the drowning grasp—yet there it is again! and now—oh, thank -Heaven! a dripping head emerges!—then another!—a boy, supported by a -strong arm, his hair hanging in wet strands over his face, is clinging, -scrambling, on to the surface of the ice! Clemence stretches out her -arms, and, impelled by an irresistible impulse, springs forward several -paces on the frozen Serpentine, but is stayed by the firm grasp of one -of the spectators. - -“He has dived again!—fine fellow! he is saving the lady!” cried many -voices. “Where are the officers of the Humane Society? Ah, here they -come! here they come! God speed them!” and, with a rumbling, rushing -sound, the machine on skates, invented by ingenious humanity to rescue -the drowning from death, is pushed rapidly on to the spot, and plunged -into the dark hole on whose brink, in an agony of apprehension, now -stands the shivering, gasping, dripping Vincent. - -Moments appear hours to Clemence—all power of uttering a sound is -gone—the voices around her seem rather as if heard in the confusion of a -horrible dream, than as if actually striking upon her waking sense. Oh, -that it were but a dream! - -“They can’t find ’em!—they must have floated under the ice,—got -entangled in the weeds!—’twill be too late—too late to save them!” Then -suddenly a loud, glad cheer burst from the excited spectators, as a -senseless form, with its wet garments clinging closely around it, and -long, clotted tresses streaming unconfined by the crushed and dripping -bonnet, was lifted triumphantly out of the water. - -“She’s saved! she’s saved!” shouted a hundred voices; “but the brave -fellow!—the gallant old man!—they’ll never recover him alive!” - -Clemence remained as if rooted to the spot, her lips parted, her hands -clasped, her soul gushing forth in one inarticulate prayer. Louisa was -carried to the society’s receiving-house, a large crowd accompanying her -to the door; but Clemence was not in the crowd. Vincent, likewise, would -not stir from the spot while the officers were redoubling their efforts -to find the body of the captain. Wringing his hands, the boy, with -passionate entreaties, promises, even tears, sought to stimulate the -exertions of any one and every one who could lend a hand to rescue his -brave preserver! After a space—a space, alas! how fearfully long—the ice -having been broken in various directions, and the drag let down again -and again, a heavy body was raised to the surface. There was not the -faintest sign of life in it, though the cold hand yet firmly grasped a -fragment of a black lace veil, such as Louisa had worn on that fatal -morning! Clemence read no hope on the faces of the experienced men who -lifted the body on the ice; but in that terrible moment she neither -trembled nor wept. Grasping eagerly at the last chance of restoring life -to the inanimate frame, struggling to keep down the feeling of despair -which was wrestling in her heart, she hastened with the bearers of the -body to the receiving-house, which was not far distant. Clemence was met -on the way by her own servant, the one who had followed Vincent and his -sister to the park. - -“Miss Louisa has been brought back to life, ma’am,” said the man -eagerly; but even such good tidings fell dulled on the ear of Clemence -Effingham,—it seemed as if at that moment she could think of no one but -her uncle. - -“Take her and your young master home at once,” was all that she could -say, as she hurried on, absorbed in anxiety so agonizing that the peril -of Louisa was half forgotten. - -The servant touched his hat, and proceeded to obey; but nothing would -induce Vincent to return to his home while the fate of his preserver -hung in the balance. Louisa was conveyed to Belgrave Square in a cab; -but wet and half frozen as he was, the boy clung to the side of his -step-mother. - -“They will restore him!—the warmth will restore him!—he will—oh! he -must!—he shall recover!” cried Vincent in an agony of grief. - -“Every means will be tried,” said Clemence faintly; “we, Vincent,—we can -do nothing now but pray!” - -Every means was indeed tried, every resource of science was exhausted, -but the vital spark had fled, and all was in vain! The pulse had -entirely ceased to beat,—not the faintest breath stirred the lungs—the -brave heart was stilled for ever! The death of the gallant old sailor -had been a fitting close for a life of active benevolence. Death had -come to him suddenly, but it had found him not unprepared; it had found -him in the path of duty; it had found him pressing onward toward heaven, -with his pilgrim staff in his hand—faith, hope, and charity in his -heart. He was taken away before the infirmities of age had dulled his -senses, bowed his frame, or chilled the warm affections of his heart; -and he was taken away in the very act of risking his life to save that -of a fellow-creature! Is there nothing enviable in such a departure? - -Dark, heavy clouds had blotted out the sun from the sky, when Clemence -returned with Vincent to her home, a lifeless corpse in the vehicle -beside her. Her own calmness appeared strange to herself, but it was the -stunning effect of a terrible shock, which for a while had almost -paralyzed feeling. She was met in the hall by Arabella, who looked pale, -and whose manner betrayed considerable excitement. - -“Louisa is very ill,—goes from one faint into another,—Aunt Selina has -sent for Dr. Howard!” - -But not one word of sympathy to the bereaved Clemence—not one word of -regret for the brave old man! Arabella averted her eyes almost with a -shudder as the body was borne into the house. Clemence and Vincent saw -it reverently placed on the bed in the room which the captain had -occupied on the preceding night, and then, when the servants had quitted -the apartment, both sank on their knees beside it and wept. - -Clemence’s burst of sorrow was violent, but brief; she folded her -step-son in her arms, drew him close and closer to her heart, and it was -like balm to her bleeding spirit to feel the boy’s tears on her neck. - -“Oh!” cried Vincent passionately, “if I had not treated him so ill!—if I -had not laughed at him, mocked him, insulted him! And he will never know -how sorry I am! But he did not die saving me! no, no,—his life was not -lost for me!” the boy’s voice was choked in his sobs. - -“My Vincent—it was God’s will—we must not murmur! We must think on the -happiness which we trust one day to share with him who has gone before -us. My care must now be for you—_he_ is beyond our aid! You must have -rest, and warmth, and dry clothes instantly, my Vincent; your hands are -cold as ice, your very lips colourless and white,—come with me at once -to your own room—your comfort must be my first thought now.” - -And then, with the tenderness of a mother, Clemence tended her boy. She -insisted on Vincent’s at once retiring to rest, prepared a warm beverage -to restore circulation to his chilled and shivering frame, chafed his -numbed hands within her own, and spoke to him soothing words of -tenderness and love. Clemence left him at last dropping into slumber, -and then bent her rapid steps towards the apartment of Louisa, about -whom she had felt less anxiety, as knowing her to be under the care of -her sister and aunt. - -Mrs. Effingham met Dr. Howard quitting the room, accompanied by Lady -Selina. The countenance of the physician was grave. - -“The shock to so delicate a constitution has been very severe,” he said -in reply to a question from Clemence; “an increase of fever is to be -apprehended. I should certainly recommend that some one should sit up -with Miss Effingham during the night.” - -“I will watch beside her,” said Clemence. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - - THE CHAMBER OF SICKNESS. - - -Fiercely raged the wind through that night; angrily it shook the -casements, howled in the chimneys, dashed the winter-shower against the -panes! One pale watcher sat listening to the storm beside the couch on -which lay stretched a restless, fevered form: Clemence held her vigils -in the chamber of sickness. Weary and exhausted though she was, sleep -would have fled her eyelids on that night, even had she had no reason -for watching. The events of the preceding day had been to Clemence as a -terrible vision, and she was thankful for some hours of solitude and -comparative stillness in which to collect her thoughts, calm her -agitated mind, and cast the burden of her grief at the feet of her -Master. The faintest sound from the restless invalid brought Clemence to -her side, moving with noiseless step, like a ministering spirit, to -bathe the fevered brow, administer the cooling draught, smooth the -pillow of the suffering Louisa. During the intervals between such gentle -services the step-mother sat quietly at a little table, where the -dim-burning taper threw its faint light on the leaves of her Bible. -Clemence read little—her mind during that night had scarcely power to -follow any consecutive train of thought; but every now and then her eye -rested on the page, and her soul drew richer comfort from a single -verse, pondered over, dwelt upon, turned into prayer, than to a careless -reader the whole of the sacred volume might have afforded. Clemence -thought much upon her uncle; and even in these first hours of -bereavement her meditation on him was sweet. For him she could no longer -pray, but she could praise! She thought on Vincent also—of the warm gush -of generous emotion which had broken through the ice of reserve. Fondly -Clemence thought on the boy, and every thought linked itself with a -fervent petition for him to the throne of mercy. Nor was the sufferer -beside her forgotten. As Clemence gazed on the poor girl’s pallid face, -and heard her restless moans, no feeling towards her step-daughter -remained but that of tender, sympathizing compassion. The heart of -Clemence was softened by sorrow—quiet, submissive, holy sorrow; and -there seemed to be no room left in it now for any bitter, resentful -emotion. - -These were solemn, peaceful hours to Clemence, though a tempest raged -without the dwelling, and sickness was within, and in one of the lower -apartments lay the lifeless remains of one who had been very dear. The -Almighty can give His children “songs in the night;” His presence can -brighten even the chamber of sickness, even the couch of death. - -The winter’s sun was just rising when Arabella softly entered the room; -and as Louisa had at length sunk into a quiet slumber, Clemence resigned -for a while her watch over the invalid to her sister. Mrs. Effingham -then hastened to her husband to relieve his mind regarding his daughter. -She had hardly seen him since the accident, and gladly now sought the -comfort of his sympathy and affection. Her next thought was for Vincent. -She went to his room—it was empty; to the public apartments—he was not -there. She found the boy in the darkened chamber in which lay the -captain’s remains, gazing earnestly on the features of the dead, as -though a lingering hope had yet remained that life might return to them -once more. Clemence pressed a fervent kiss upon her step-son’s brow, and -left her tear upon his cheek. - -Clemence felt herself too much exhausted both in body and mind to appear -in the breakfast-room that morning; she feared that she could not -restrain before her husband emotion that might distress him, and she -shrank from meeting the cold, unsympathizing gaze of Lady Selina. Her -eyelids were heavy with watching and weeping, and, retiring to her own -apartment, Clemence threw herself on her sofa; and her head had scarcely -rested on the cushion before she fell into a deep, untroubled slumber, -which lasted for several hours. - -Vincent hurried over his breakfast, feeling as if every morsel would -choke him, and soon left his father and aunt to conclude their cheerless -meal together. Arabella was still keeping watch beside her sister. - -“Clemence appears much relieved on Louisa’s account,” remarked Mr. -Effingham, after rather a long pause in conversation. - -Something approaching towards a smile slightly curled the lip of the -lady—slightly, indeed, but sufficiently to fix upon her the attention of -her companion. - -“Dear Mrs. Effingham is at that happy age when anxieties do not press -very heavily upon the mind,” said Lady Selina; “at least, it is evident -that she apprehended no serious consequences from the accident to -Louisa, or she would never have sent her home in a public conveyance, -almost sinking from exhaustion and terror, just rescued from a terrible -death, with no attendant but a hired menial.” - -The brow of Mr. Effingham darkened, but he made no reply, and Lady -Selina continued in an apologetic manner: “But dear Mrs. Effingham was -not aware how much Louisa was suffering from the effects of long -immersion in the icy water; she did not see her before sending her home, -so was, of course, less able to judge of her condition. Mrs. Effingham -was so entirely engrossed with regret for her good old uncle that -everything else was entirely forgotten!” - -The irritable cough of Mr. Effingham encouraged the lady to proceed, -which she did, after sipping a little of her chocolate, with a -meditative, melancholy air. - -“It is perfectly natural, perfectly right, that a warmer degree of -interest should be inspired by an aged relative, no doubt a very -estimable, valuable creature, with whom your dear lady had associated -for years, than for a connection, however near, known for a time -comparatively so brief. I must not judge of Mrs. Effingham’s feelings by -my own—I who have watched my dear sister’s orphans from their birth, and -bear towards them the affection of a mother! I own that _I_ could not -have been an hour in the house before visiting the sick-bed of the -precious sufferer; but then, I know the extreme delicacy of Louisa’s -constitution. I have long regarded her as a fragile flower, one to be -reared like a tender exotic, almost too fair for this world!” Lady -Selina softly sighed; Mr. Effingham rose from the table. - -_Blessed are the peacemakers._ Have we ever realized how fearful must be -the reverse of that benediction? Of whom can they _be called the -children_ whose delight is in sowing suspicion, awakening mistrust—they -who would rob the innocent of a treasure dearer than life, the -confidence and affection of those whom they love? Lady Selina rejoiced -in the secret hope that she had done something that morning to loosen -Clemence’s strong hold on the affections of her husband; that she had -with some skill employed paternal love as a lever to shake that perfect -confidence in which lay the young wife’s power. Lady Selina saw Mr. -Effingham depart for the city, his brow clouded, and his manner -abstracted, with feelings, perhaps, in some degree resembling those of -the Tempter when he had succeeded in bringing misery into the abode of -peace. She little considered _whose_ work she was doing, whose example -following; not the slightest shadow of self-reproach lay on the -conscience of the woman of the world. - -In the meantime the weary Clemence slept sweetly, and at length awoke -refreshed. Sorrow, however, returned with consciousness; and, springing -up like one who fears that some duty may have been neglected, Clemence -hastened towards the room of Louisa, which was upon the same floor as -her own. She was met in the corridor by her maid. - -“Oh, ma’am! Miss Louisa is so dreadfully ill! Lady Selina has sent for -another doctor besides Dr. Howard.” - -“Why was I not awakened?” exclaimed Clemence; and as she spoke, a knock -at the outer door announced the arrival of one of the medical men. - -Louisa was, indeed, alarmingly ill. Lady Selina had had cause for her -fear. With a throbbing heart Clemence awaited the decision of the -doctors, who, after seeing their patient, remained together in -consultation. It was a time when she would naturally have felt her soul -drawn towards Lady Selina by a common dread. But an icy barrier appeared -to be between the ladies; and the aunt tacitly treated the young -step-mother as one who affected an anxiety which she did not feel,—one -who was only adding hypocrisy to heartless indifference. Never are we -more acutely sensitive to unkindness than when the heart is lacerated by -sorrow; and never had Lady Selina inflicted a keener pang than she did -in that interval of anxious suspense. - -“Miss Effingham is in a very precarious state,” was the opinion at -length given by one of the medical men, addressing himself to Clemence. - -“We must be prepared, I fear, for the worst,” rejoined Dr. Howard, -“though the patient’s youth is greatly in her favour.” - -“Prepared for the worst,” faintly repeated Clemence, as the doctors -quitted the house. The words brought with painful force before her mind -the thought how totally _unprepared_ the unhappy girl was for the awful -change which might be so near. She who had lived only for pleasure,—she -who had put religion aside as a tedious, gloomy thing, profitable only -for the sick and the aged,—charity itself, which _thinketh no evil_, -could not have regarded her as prepared; and now but a few days or hours -might remain of a life hitherto wasted and thrown away,—precious days or -hours, if given to God. “Louisa ought to know her danger,” said Clemence -gravely and thoughtfully to Lady Selina. - -“Goodness me!” exclaimed the aunt in indignant surprise, “you would not -kill the poor child outright by talking to her about dying! I know well -your sentiments towards her, Mrs. Effingham; but this would be carrying -them a little too far.” - -“God guide me!” murmured Clemence, as, turning sadly away, she glided -noiselessly into the sick-room. - -“She’s a heartless hypocrite—a canting bigot,” said Lady Selina, when -she joined Arabella in the boudoir. “She’s going to frighten the little -remaining life out of our suffering darling by her terrible warnings and -denunciations!” - -“I would not let her enter the room,” exclaimed Arabella, almost -fiercely. - -“My love, she’s the mistress here—the absolute mistress. Mrs. -Effingham takes particular care that we should all be made fully aware -of that fact. We have no power to protect your poor sister against her -fanatical cruelty, for so I must call it; and the end is to crown the -beginning. Little has our Louisa had for which to thank her -step-mother—hypocritical smiles, plenty of soft words, but not a -single act of real kindness.” - -“Mrs. Effingham sat up with her all last night,” observed Arabella, with -perhaps a latent sense of justice. - -“A sop to her conscience!” exclaimed Lady Selina indignantly; “a -heathen, a savage could have done no less after yesterday’s horrible -neglect. To send her home dripping and dying—it makes me shudder to -think of it. After such treatment of the dear girl, no one on earth -would ever persuade me that Mrs. Effingham possesses a heart.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - - THE EFFECT OF A WORD. - - -“Why were two doctors sent for? Did they say I am ill, _very_ ill?” -exclaimed Louisa with feverish excitement, fixing her hollow eyes -anxiously upon the face of her step-mother. - -“Lady Selina wished to try every means to make you quite well, dear -one,” replied Clemence quietly, “and thought it best, therefore, to ask -the advice of an additional physician.” - -“And they think that I’ll be quite well soon?” The nervous quiver in the -poor girl’s voice betrayed her own doubt on the subject. - -“You must keep very quiet, and not excite yourself, if you wish to be -quite well,” said Clemence evasively. - -“But what did they say? I wish to know.” Louisa made a vain effort to -raise herself in the bed. - -“They said,—Dr. Howard said, that your youth was greatly in your -favour.” - -“But he did not, he did not think me very ill?” - -“He thought you ill, dear Louisa”—as Clemence spoke, she gently laid her -hand on that of the sufferer; “but—” - -“But not dying—not dying!” The agitated tongue could scarcely articulate -the words, while the gaze of the glassy eye became yet more -distressingly intense. - -Clemence felt the moment exceedingly painful. She dared not deceive a -soul which was now, perhaps, on the point of being launched into the -unfathomable sea; and yet, her dread lest she should by one word hasten -the event which she dreaded, almost overcame her courage. “We will pray -that your life may be long spared, dear Louisa,” was her reply; “all is -in the hands of our merciful Lord; He can restore you to health, and -make even this trial a blessing.” - -“I can’t pray,” said Louisa, gloomily. “I never thought much upon God in -my health—I cannot, dare not think of Him now. It is so terrible, so -terrible to die!” She grasped Clemence’s hand convulsively. - -“And yet some have found it sweet to die.” - -“Ah! yes,—some; the religious—the good.” - -“_There is none good save one, that is God_,” whispered Clemence, gently -bending over the sufferer. “If only the righteous had hope in their -death, there would be no human being who could meet it, as many can and -have done, not only with submission, but joy.” - -“What do you mean?” said Louisa faintly. - -Then Clemence, in few, brief words, spoke of the sinner’s only stay, of -pardon offered to penitence, forgiveness unlimited and free. She -scarcely knew whether Louisa understood her, though her language was -simple as that in which a little child might have been addressed. It was -a comfort, however, to feel the nervous grasp of the fevered hand relax, -to see the eye lose its excited glare, and, when she paused, to hear the -voice feebly murmur, “Pray for me; I can’t pray for myself.” - -Clemence sank on her knees, and prayed aloud—prayed from the very -depths of her soul. She addressed the Almighty as the Father of mercies, -the God of all comfort; she recommended a feeble lamb to the care of the -heavenly Shepherd. Not by the terrors of the law, but the strong cords -of love, she sought to draw a wandering soul to her God. Louisa turned -her face to the wall, a few quiet tears dropped on her pillow; as she -listened, her spirit was calmed, her excitement subsided,—it was -soothing to hear one of the servants of God pleading for her before the -throne. - -When Clemence arose from her knees, Louisa was perfectly still, thanked -her by a gentle pressure of the hand, and, closing her eyes, looked -disposed to sleep. Clemence was thankful that the first step was -over—that the sick, perhaps dying girl knew her peril, and might, -through that knowledge, be led to seek better joys than those which she -might now be quitting for ever. Her fever had not increased; it had -appeared to be a solace to have one to whom she could lay open her -doubts and fears—one who would intercede for her with her offended -Maker. And how immeasurably precious might be the time still left to her -who had been brought up in total ignorance, not of the forms, but of the -vital power of religion! Louisa had never thought of herself as a -creature responsible to God, as a sinner condemned in his sight, till -the veil between her and the invisible world seemed about to be -withdrawn by death, and her soul trembled at the prospect of the unknown -terrors that might lie beyond that veil. - -Clemence was silently revolving in her mind how words of peace and -consolation could be spoken without sacrificing truth or lulling -conscience to sleep—how this, her first opportunity of speaking to the -heart of her step-daughter, might be most wisely and most gently -improved, when Vincent, with the thoughtlessness of a child, suddenly -opened the door. - -“Oh, come, if you wish to see him again!” said the boy in a loud -agitated whisper to Clemence; “the men have brought the coffin already!” - -There was enough in the intimation itself to touch a painful chord in -the bosom of Clemence, regarding her uncle, as she had done, with -mingled gratitude and affection; but her thoughts were instantly turned -from her own regrets, by alarm at the effect on Louisa of the -inconsiderate words which had reached her in her dreamy, half conscious -state. Clemence had endeavoured, and not without success, to lead the -mind of the poor girl beyond death itself, to the great and merciful -Being who has rendered it to His faithful servants only the passage to -life eternal. But the sentence, so thoughtlessly uttered by Vincent, and -not half understood by the fevered patient, from whom Clemence had kept -the captain’s death carefully concealed, brought fearfully before her at -once all the array of the king of terrors. The hearse, with its nodding -plumes, the black pall, the coffin, the shroud—these were the least -frightful of the images which flashed through Louisa’s burning brain. -With a shriek she sprang up in her bed, rolling her eyes in frantic -terror, and clinging to Clemence, as if for life, implored her wildly to -save her! Vincent, alarmed at the condition in which he beheld his -sister, and unconscious that he himself had been the cause of it, -hurried to call in the assistance of Lady Selina and Arabella. A -messenger was despatched to Dr. Howard, another to the city to summon -Mr. Effingham—all was excitement and alarm. - -Lady Selina went to the room of her unhappy niece, who was now raving in -fearful delirium, but did not remain in it long. Her nerves, she said, -could not stand such a scene; and she found her only solace in repeating -again and again, “I knew that it would be so—I warned Mrs. Effingham of -what would ensue; her cruel, fanatical folly has driven the poor child -mad!” - -Before Mr. Effingham’s arrival, Louisa, exhausted with her own frantic -terrors, had fallen into a state of insensibility. Her parched hand yet -clasped that of Clemence in a grasp so firm, that the young step-mother -stood by the bed-side for hours, afraid to stir or change her position, -lest by doing so she should arouse the miserable sufferer to another -paroxysm of delirium. - -While Clemence remained in her standing posture, till she almost fainted -with fatigue and the reaction of her overwrought nerves, Lady Selina, -with characteristic tact, availed herself of the vantage-ground left to -her by a rival’s absence, to place every occurrence before Mr. Effingham -in her own peculiar light. As the anxious father restlessly paced the -drawing-room, listening for any sound from the apartment above, Lady -Selina described to him his child’s most distressing symptoms, and gave -her own version of their cause. She rather pitied than blamed Mrs. -Effingham, gave her conduct no harsher name than that of indiscretion, -yet contrived to make it appear such as might have beseemed some -familiar of the Inquisition, whose ears were deafened by ruthless -bigotry to the cries of his tortured victim. - -Mr. Effingham was at length, and for the first time in his life, much -irritated against his wife; and when, late in the evening, Clemence, -with tears of thankfulness glistening in her eyes, came to tell him that -the sufferer breathed more calmly, and that the fever seemed to have -abated, he received her with a cold sternness which struck like a dagger -into her heart. - -“I shall watch by Louisa again to-night,” said Clemence, struggling to -keep down the emotion which almost choked her utterance. - -“You had better leave such watching to the nurse whom Lady Selina has -considerately procured,” replied her husband with some asperity; “she -has experience and judgment, and the arrangement will be better upon -every account.” - -Not one word of tenderness after all that she had suffered,—not one look -of kindness to repay her for her devoted nursing of his child during -that sleepless night, that miserable day! A sensation of dizziness came -over Clemence,—a sinking at the heart,—a sense of overpowering weariness -both of body and mind. She doubted not that she owed her husband’s -displeasure to the offices of Lady Selina, but had neither spirit nor -strength to defend herself from charges which she rather guessed at than -understood. With a slow, languid step, Clemence returned to the chamber -of sickness, to arrange for the night in compliance with the will of her -husband; but she found such compliance impracticable. Louisa, whose -state varied from fits of wild excitement to nervous depression, could -not endure the sight of a stranger, and with such agonized earnestness -implored her step-mother not to leave her, that Clemence again spent the -night alone with the suffering girl. The sound of her voice, the touch -of her hand, the soft notes of a low warbled hymn, seemed to have more -power to soothe the invalid than all the medical art. Louisa, who, in -the time of health, had despised and disliked her step-mother, appeared -now to look upon her as a protecting angel, whose presence could guard -her pillow from the frightful phantoms conjured up by imagination. She -could scarcely bear that Clemence should quit her side for an instant. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XV - - A RAY OF LIGHT. - - -It was a bright Christmas morn. The sound of the sweet church bells -ringing for service reached the dull, darkened chamber in which -Clemence sat beside her slumbering charge. She had seen Mr. Effingham -and Lady Selina, accompanied by Vincent and his sister, set out in the -joyous sunlight on their way to the nearest church. It was sadly that -Clemence had watched their departure; she had once looked forward to -so happy a Christmas, and now trials seemed to shut her out from -enjoyment, even as the half-closed shutter and heavy curtain excluded -from the room in which she sat the sparkling rays which shone so -brightly on all beside! The tongue that had been wont to give cordial -greeting on a day like this lay cold and silent in the coffin below—no -other season could remind Clemence so forcibly of her blyth, kindly, -warm-hearted guardian, as the joyous season of Christmas. The lively -Louisa, once gay as the butterfly sporting its silken wings in the -sunshine, was stretched beside her on a bed of sickness; and though -the apprehensions entertained on the sufferer’s account were now of a -less alarming nature, her recovery was still precarious. Beneath these -sources of sorrow lay one deeper—so deep that even to herself Clemence -would not acknowledge its existence. Not for a moment would she -entertain the thought that it was possible to find disappointment -where hope had been sweetest; any doubt of her husband being indeed -the noblest, best of men, she would have repudiated as treason. But it -_was_ possible that he might be disappointed in her; her weakness, her -extravagance, her inferiority in everything to himself—thus pensively -mused the young wife—might by this time have become apparent to one -whose judgment was quick and discerning. He was amongst those who -would cast no veil over her failings—those who would make no allowance -for her inexperience—those who might even misrepresent her motives, -and place her actions before him in a light not only unfavourable but -false. Was not his manner changing towards her—had he not become -silent, reserved, even stern? - -Such reflections were exquisitely painful to Clemence, whose mind was -perhaps rendered morbid by fatigue and want of natural rest. It is when -the frame is weary, and the nervous system unhinged, that fancy conjures -up phantoms of dangers perhaps altogether unreal, and seems bent on -accumulating causes of pain and regret to brood over in silent gloom. It -is an unhealthy state of mind—one of the many forms of sickness to which -that most delicate and mysterious part of our constitution is subject. -Religion alone can offer for such mental malady a cure—religion, which -whispers to the burdened spirit, that though _heaviness may endure for a -night_, yet _joy cometh in the morning_. - -Clemence was trying to raise her thoughts from earthly fears to -contemplation of that great event which was upon that day celebrated—to -open her soul to the sunshine from heaven, and in its genial warmth -forget the shadows that lay on her path, when a gentle sigh breathed -beside her told that Louisa had awakened from her sleep, and turning, -Clemence saw the invalid, pale indeed, and with traces of suffering on -her features, but with a calm expression of countenance, which showed -that the fever had departed. - -“You are better, my love?” said the step-mother tenderly. - -“Much better, only—so weak!” was the feeble reply. “Why are the church -bells ringing?” - -“It is Christmas-day; and such a bright clear morning! Your father and -the rest of our party have gone to church.” - -“And you—you have stayed to take care of me here! How good you are! I -have not deserved it!” - -Few words, and faintly uttered; but how sweetly they fell on the heart -of Clemence! They resembled one sunny ray which, straight and bright, -had forced its way through the opening of the shutters, and striking on -a crystal drop which hung from a mantel-piece ornament, not only gave to -the opposing glass the brilliancy of the diamond, but itself breaking in -the encounter, painted the wall beyond with all the tints of the -rainbow. - -“Is Captain Thistlewood in church too?” inquired Louisa. - -It was well for Clemence that the darkness of the room enabled her to -conceal the unbidden tears which rose to her eyes at the question, but -to reply to it was at that moment impossible. Louisa, however, scarcely -waited for an answer, following the current of her own wandering -thoughts. - -“I have behaved very ill to him,” she murmured; “do you think that he -too will forgive me?” - -“He never harboured a resentful feeling against you or any one,” replied -Clemence with an effort. - -“I shall see him again?” inquired Louisa. - -“I hope—trust—one day,” faltered Clemence, her tears fast overflowing, -while her lips formed the unuttered words—“one day—in a better world.” - -“When I am well I will lead a very different life from what I have -hitherto done. I will think much more of religion and duty. I would not -for worlds go again through all the misery of a time like this! O Mrs. -Effingham, if you only knew the horror of that plunge, the icy cold -water gurgling over my head, and the thoughts rushing into my mind; and -then I fancied that some one caught hold of me to save me, and there was -a moment’s hope, and then—” - -“You must not dwell on these things—indeed you must not!” cried -Clemence, who dreaded a return of the fever; but Louisa was not to be -silenced. - -“I have had such horrible, horrible dreams,” she said, passing her thin -hand across her eyes. “I was drowning, but it was in a fiery sea, all -burning and glowing around me; and I fancied that you laid hold of -me—and that my dress gave way in your hand—and I plunged down—down—” - -“Hush, dear one, hush!” said the young step-mother anxiously; “you must -not let your mind recall these terrors. There are such sweet, peaceful, -holy subjects to rest upon—an immovable Rock to cling to, one over which -the waters never can break. I was going to open the Bible; have you -strength to hear a few verses read aloud?” - -“I should like it—and then—you will pray,” murmured Louisa faintly. - -There was joy in that gloomy chamber—joy in the soul of the pale -watcher, the joy of hope, and gratitude, and love! If there be pure -happiness on earth, it is when a mortal is permitted to share the -rejoicings of angels over a wandering sheep found, an erring soul -brought to its God. Clemence had never thought the words of Holy Writ so -beautiful as she did now, where every verse, as it flowed from her lips, -was turned almost unconsciously into a supplication for the poor young -listener at her side. She could not have experienced deeper peace even -kneeling in the house of prayer with her husband, or joining with the -congregation in the hymn of joyful adoration. - -On the following morning the remains of Captain Thistlewood were -consigned to the grave, Mr. Effingham and Vincent, at his own request, -following the hearse as mourners. The day had not concluded ere the -sound of the harp, touched by the hand of Arabella, and accompanied by -her powerful voice, jarred painfully on the ear of the sorrowing -Clemence. Disrespect to the memory of the dead, disregard to the -feelings of the living, breathed in the lively Italian air sung in a -house from whose door the dark funeral had so lately departed. - -It was not till now that to Louisa—the doctors having pronounced her -entirely out of danger—the fact of the death of Captain Thistlewood was -gently broken by Clemence, who then assumed her own mourning garb. -Louisa was startled and shocked; the reflection, “If I had been the one -summoned instead of him, where, oh, where would my soul have been now?” -impressed more forcibly on her mind the solemn lesson taught to her by -her own illness. - -But would the impression last? Would that light and volatile mind retain -the form into which circumstances had moulded it, when these -circumstances themselves should be altered? Would the holy resolutions -made on a sick-bed stand when brought to the trial by worldly society, -vain pleasures, and evil influence? A clergyman, who had laboured for a -great number of years, once recorded his melancholy experience, that, -out of _two thousand_ whom he had known to give signs of repentance when -prostrated by sickness, only _two_ individuals evidenced by their -conduct after recovery that their repentance had been sincere. Let all -who would postpone the solemn work till they are stretched upon a -death-bed, ponder well this alarming testimony. Friends may eagerly mark -the cry for mercy, wrung by fear of approaching judgment, as evidence -that a broken and contrite heart has been touched by the Spirit of -grace; but the Omniscient alone can know whether repentance is indeed -unto salvation, or only as the dew that vanisheth, as the morning cloud -that passeth away. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - - QUIET CONVERSE. - - -“I think that Sunday is the dullest day in the week,” exclaimed Vincent, -stretching himself with a weary yawn; “and a wet Sunday is the worst of -all.” - -Clemence put down the book which she had been reading, and joined -Vincent at the window, where he was drearily watching the raindrops -plashing on the brown pavement, making circles in the muddy pools, and -coursing each other slowly down the panes. She seated herself beside -him, resting her arm on the back of his chair. - -“Some people speak of enjoying Sunday,” pursued Vincent. “I’m certain it -is nothing but talk. I know Aunt Selina said that she did so one day -when our clergyman was making a call. I know that what she does on -Sunday is to notice the dress of everybody at church, and find fault -with the sermon, and talk over all the plans for the week. I don’t see -much enjoyment in that.” Nor did Clemence; but she thought it better not -to express her opinion. - -“Do you enjoy Sunday?” asked Vincent, turning round, so that he could -look his step-mother in the face. - -“Yes; especially Sundays in the country.” - -“Where’s the difference between Sundays in London and Sundays in the -country?” asked Vincent. - -Here was an opening for pleasant, familiar converse, and Clemence was -not slow in availing herself of it. She talked of her school at Stoneby; -gave interesting anecdotes of her girls; told of an aged, bed-ridden -woman, who loved to receive a call every Sunday afternoon, always -expecting that her visitor would repeat to her the leading points in the -morning’s sermon. Greatly had Clemence missed her accustomed Sabbath -labours of love, her husband having decidedly objected to her -undertaking any such in the great metropolis. It was sweet to her now to -recall them; and in Vincent, who was thoroughly weary of his own -society, she found a willing listener. - -“I can fancy that it must be pleasant going to the cottages, where every -one is glad to see you,” said the boy; “but then there are the long, -tiresome evenings, especially during the winter; how did you manage to -get over them?” - -“I sang hymns, and read a good deal.” - -“Oh, but Sunday books are so dull.” - -“Do you think so? I find some so interesting.” - -“I never saw one yet which did not set me yawning before I had got -through half a page.” - -Clemence went to the book-case without replying, and returning with a -volume of the “History of the Reformation,” resumed her seat by Vincent. -“Would you like to hear a story?” she said, after turning to an -interesting passage in the life of Luther. - -“A story, yes; but I don’t want a sermon.” - -Clemence read with animation and expression, and Vincent speedily became -interested. The history naturally led to questions from the intelligent -boy, which his step-mother readily answered. He was unconsciously -drinking in information upon one of the most important of subjects. - -“How odd it is,” exclaimed Vincent suddenly, “that I should ever have -taken you for a Papist!” - -“A Papist!” repeated Clemence in a little surprise. - -“Why, Aunt Selina told us that your grandmother was a Frenchwoman.” - -“And so she was, but not a Romanist.” - -Vincent’s countenance fell. “So you’re partly French, after all,” cried -he; “I’m sorry for that, for I hate the French.” - -“Should we hate anything but sin?” said Clemence softly. - -“I’m a regular John Bull!” cried Vincent, “and I don’t care if all the -world knew it! Britannia for ever, say I!” - -“You cannot love old England better than I do,” said Clemence; “but -patriotism is one thing, and prejudice another.” - -“What do you call prejudice?” asked Vincent. - -“The determination to dislike some one or something before judgment has -had time to decide whether it merit your dislike or not. Surely this is -neither reasonable nor right!” - -“I think that we were prejudiced against you,” said Vincent -thoughtfully—“that is, before we knew you, and perhaps some of us after -we had known you. We did not wish to like you; only, you see, we really -could not help ourselves,” and the boy looked up archly into the blue -eyes that met his gaze so kindly. - -“Prejudice,” observed Clemence, “prevents our seeing objects as they -actually are.” - -“I see, I see,” said Vincent quickly; “prejudices are like the knots in -the glass of one of our windows at school. They alter the shape of -everything that we choose to look at through them; they make straight -things crooked, and nothing distinct—even your face would look quite -ugly only seen through that glass.” - -“One would not wish to have one’s mind full of such knots,” said -Clemence, smiling at the schoolboy’s smile. - -“I think that _your_ glass is all rosy-coloured!” cried Vincent, “and -that makes you look at every one kindly. But Aunt Selina don’t deserve -it of you. Do you know what she said of you once?” - -“I have no wish to hear it, dear Vincent.” - -“Something about idolatry, which was not at all true; and she said—I did -not believe a word of it!—that there is a natural leaning in our hearts -toward idolatry. That was downright nonsense, I know. Nobody has idols -in England.” - -“I wish that I could think so,” replied Clemence. - -“What! do you believe that there are any in this country?” - -“I fear that there is scarcely a house in it that is really without one. -Idols, dear Vincent, are not merely lifeless figures of silver or gold, -such as the poor heathen worship; anything, everything that takes the -place of God in the heart,—anything, everything that is loved more than -Him is an idol, and brings on us the sin of idolatry.” - -Vincent sat for a space very silent, revolving his step-mother’s words -in his mind, then said, “If that be the case, I think that there are -idols in this very house. Bella’s idol is Pride, Louisa’s is Pleasure, -Aunt Selina’s—” - -“Hush!” said Clemence gravely, laying her hand on the arm of Vincent; -“it is worse than useless to find out the idols of our neighbours; our -duty is to search for our own. The same volume in which we read, _Judge -yourselves, brethren_, also bids us, in respect to others, _Judge not, -that ye be not judged_.” - -“I don’t think that I have any idol,” said Vincent, after another pause -for reflection. Clemence Effingham remained silent. - -“Do you think that I have?” said the boy. - -“Are you willing to know, dear Vincent, or will you be vexed if I tell -you the truth?” - -“I wish to know it,” replied Vincent. - -“Then it appears to me, dear boy, as though you had hitherto made an -idol of Self-will. It appears to me that when any duty presents itself, -‘What do I like to do?’ not ‘What ought I to do?’ is usually your first -consideration. You are ready for any kind, generous, noble act, if it -accord with your own inclination; but if it run counter to that, duty is -sacrificed at once. Is not this putting Self-will in the place of the -law of God? is not this bowing to an idol that usurps the authority of -God?” - -“I never had it put to me in that way before,” replied Vincent. “I -suppose that it was thinking of what _I liked_, instead of _what I ought -to do_, that made me disobey you by going on the ice, and cost that -noble old captain——but I do not like to speak of that,” said Vincent, -interrupting himself, “and it makes you look so sad. I wonder,” he cried -in an altered tone, “if you have an idol too, and if you try hard to put -it away?” - -Before Clemence had time to reply to the bright-eyed boy, the door -opened, and Mr. Effingham entered. If the heart of Clemence enshrined an -idol—if there were one being whose love was almost more precious to her -than celestial hopes, whose approbation was almost more fondly sought -for than that of her Lord, that idol was before her now! - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - - GATHERING CLOUDS. - - -Day by day Louisa regained her strength, and day by day old tastes and -impressions revived, and she more eagerly anticipated the time when she -should be able to plunge again into a vortex of light amusements. She -was still, indeed, courteous, almost affectionate to Clemence, retaining -a grateful sense of the kindness which had so tenderly nursed her -through a distressing illness. A pretty token of remembrance was -received by her step-mother on the anniversary of Clemence’s birth-day, -accompanied by a few lines expressive of grateful regard. But Lady -Selina was gradually resuming her influence over the convalescent; and -Arabella was her constant companion. The secession of Louisa to “the -enemy’s side” was an event not to be suffered by either. Arabella spoke -bitterly against Clemence in the presence of her sister, not altogether -sparing even the memory of Captain Thistlewood; but this had no effect -beyond that of annoying Louisa. Lady Selina worked more cautiously and -surely. Gradually she commenced raising anew the wall of prejudice, -which had been swept away as by a flood from the mind of her niece. She -did not deny Clemence’s merit, but she depreciated it—praised her -kindness, but cast suspicion on its motives; and by many a covert -allusion to “Mrs. Effingham’s extraordinary conduct on the day of the -accident,” tried to convert the gratitude of Louisa into a totally -opposite feeling. - -The world, from which the young girl had for a time been separated by -her illness, like a magnet possessed more and more attraction the nearer -she approached to it again. The Bible, though not entirely neglected, -was often laid aside for the novel; and gossip about the fashions, a new -dress, or a new acquaintance, was readily welcomed by Louisa as a -substitute for serious thought. Her conscience was no longer dead, but -its voice was drowned in other sounds; the terrors which had oppressed -her were melting away like a dark, dissolving view, into new bright -tints; and when the sick-room was exchanged for the drawing-room, Louisa -seemed to have left behind her most of the serious resolves and solemn -impressions which had owed their birth only to fear. - -Not contented with her insidious endeavours to alienate from Clemence -the affection which she had won, Lady Selina employed all her art in -throwing difficulties in the way of replacing Mademoiselle Lafleur. Her -own education, though not more solid, had been conducted on more -fashionable principles than that of Mrs. Effingham; and Lady Selina had -little difficulty in making it appear even to her brother-in-law that -she was far better qualified than the youthful step-mother to choose an -instructress for his children. If Clemence deemed that she had met with -a lady whose high character, experience, and knowledge were likely to -render her services valuable, Lady Selina at once detected some defect -of manner, education, or age, which would render it perfectly out of the -question to receive her as governess in Belgrave Square. The earl’s -daughter appeared, by Mr. Effingham’s tacit consent, to reserve to -herself a power of negativing every proposition which did not please -her; and it was evident to Clemence that this power would never lie -dormant in her hands. The young wife, too timid to court opposition, too -diffident to maintain her own opinion boldly, except in cases where -conscience was concerned, gave great advantage to an adversary well -versed in the tactics of the world, and by no means scrupulous in making -use of its weapons. - -The small property of Captain Thistlewood, amounting, clear of needful -expenses, to less than a hundred pounds per annum, had by his death -reverted to his niece; but the money would not for some months be -available, and in the meantime Clemence, the wife of the opulent banker, -was annoyed by petty pecuniary embarrassments. Her expenses had been -regulated with the strictest economy since her first and only visit to -Madame La Voye; but necessary expenditure on mourning, however simple, -had involved her again in difficulties, which harassed without seriously -distressing. Clemence shrank with invincible reluctance from applying -for money to her husband, who had so recently generously taken upon -himself the debt which she had so thoughtlessly incurred. Nor could -Clemence conscientiously apply to her own private use even a fraction of -the large sums appropriated to household expenses; she looked upon -herself as her husband’s steward, and scrupulously acted as such. It -thus happened that, in the midst of luxury and plenty, the young -mistress of that superb mansion found her purse drained of its last -shilling. The consequences of her excessive liberality and thoughtless -expenditure on first coming to London clung to her still; and it did not -lessen her chagrin to suspect that Lady Selina was aware of her little -difficulties, and secretly rejoiced in the embarrassments into which she -herself had helped to lead an inexperienced girl. - -One afternoon towards the end of January, Mr. Marsden, the clergyman of -the parish, paid a visit in Belgrave Square. He was a man who laboured -faithfully in his vocation; and though his manner might be ridiculed, -and his sermons criticised, his character always commanded respect. Lady -Selina usually brought out for his benefit her most choice religious -phrases. When he feelingly congratulated the pale Louisa on her -deliverance from danger and her recovery from illness, her aunt chimed -in with such admirable observations on the uncertainty of life and the -necessity for constant readiness for death, as raised the lady in the -eyes of the clergyman. He was proportionately disappointed to mark -Clemence’s apparent coldness on the subject; for her truthful nature -could not show approval of sentiments, however true, which she knew to -be uttered by the lip of hypocrisy. - -The object of Mr. Marsden’s visit was to lay before his rich -parishioners the pressing necessities of his poor. The winter was a very -severe one. Behind the magnificent mansions of the aristocracy, want -pined and sickness languished. He had come from the garret of the widow, -the loathsome crowded dwellings of the indigent; he pleaded the cause of -the orphan, and of those who had no certain shelter from the piercing -cold, even in a season so inclement. - -Lady Selina shook her head mournfully at the clergyman’s description of -prevailing poverty, sighed, drew forth her purse, and taking from it the -smallest gold coin of the realm, gave it with some excellent comments on -the privilege of assisting the poor, and the necessity of supporting all -the numerous valuable institutions springing up on all sides for their -relief! - -Mr. Marsden bowed, and turned towards Mrs. Effingham. Clemence’s -sympathy for her suffering brethren had been strongly called forth by -his appeal; but what could she do to prove it? The mistress of that -stately mansion, in her own luxurious apartment, could plead no -disability to give. Young Vincent’s eyes were fastened upon her; -Clemence knew that he expected that the liberality of one who had often -spoken to him of the poor, and of the duties of the rich in regard to -them, should be in accordance with her principles. There was a short, -awkward pause, and Clemence was about to promise to lay the appeal -before Mr. Effingham, when Lady Selina drew forth a bank-note from the -porte-monnaie which she still held in her hand. - -“If your purse is not here, Mrs. Effingham, I shall be most happy to -accommodate you,” she said with a smile; and there being no time for -reflection, the note was hesitatingly received by Clemence, and -transferred to the clergyman, who shortly afterwards quitted the house, -leaving the young wife the consciousness of having performed not a -liberal, but a foolish act—of being, not the benefactress of the poor, -but a plaything in the hands of Lady Selina. - -“Shall I never acquire the power of saying ‘No,’ and lose my childish -fear of offending or disappointing?” thought Clemence, greatly -discontented with herself. “I am actually in debt to Lady Selina; but I -will not be so beyond this evening. I will speak to my husband frankly, -and ask him to advance me some of the interest that will be due to me in -June. I will try to be much more prudent and watchful over my -expenditure in future, divide my several items of expense, and -appropriate a fixed sum to each, so that vanity may never encroach on -benevolence, or thoughtless folly leave me again without the means of -assisting the poor. I see that economy is not required alone by those -whose means are narrow; true is the saying, that every man, whatever be -his wealth, is poor, if he spend a shilling more than he possesses!” - -[Illustration: - - ILL NEWS.] - -More impatiently than usual Clemence on this evening awaited her -husband’s return from the city. That return was delayed far beyond the -usual hour. Clemence felt, however, at first no uneasiness at his -absence. He had had some unusual press of business, or had been delayed -by seeing some friend. Twilight deepened into night, the shutters were -closed, the lamp was lighted on the table, and many observations were -exchanged as to the cause of Mr. Effingham’s lateness. - -“Papa’s watch must have gone backwards,” observed Louisa, who, wrapped -up in shawl and fur cloak, occupied an invalid’s place on the sofa. - -“If he were as hungry as I am,” cried Vincent, “he’d have no need of a -watch! Well, there’s no use in watching and waiting; who’ll have a game -of draughts with me to while away the time?” - -“Not I,” said Louisa wearily; “there is no use in commencing anything -which we may have to leave off in a minute.” - -“Draughts is the most tiresome game in the world, and only fit for -children,” added Arabella. - -“Set the pieces, Vincent, and I’ll try if I cannot beat you,” said -Clemence, putting aside her work. Vincent readily obeyed, and a game was -commenced. Lady Selina took out her watch. - -“Really I am becoming uneasy,” she said, resolved that Clemence at least -should be so. “Mr. Effingham is always so punctual; I trust that nothing -serious is the matter!” - -“How ill papa has been looking lately,” observed Arabella. - -Vincent found that his partner was paying very little attention to her -game. - -“This is the third time that you have been huffed!” he exclaimed; “if -you do not take care I shall carry off every one of your men!” - -“Mr. Effingham is very much changed; I am distressed to perceive it,” -pursued Lady Selina. “Six months ago he was the youngest man of his age -that ever I saw,—you might have really taken him for thirty,—and now!” - -“I was noticing yesterday a streak of grey in his hair,” observed -Arabella, glancing maliciously towards Mrs. Effingham. - -“Won’t you move?” cried Vincent rather impatiently to his abstracted -partner. Clemence mechanically placed her piece. - -“I dare say that papa is worried by business,” said Lousia, resuming the -thread of the conversation. - -“There’s a carriage at last!” exclaimed Vincent; but the quick, -listening ear of Clemence had caught the sound before he could hear it, -and hastily rising, she quitted the room. - -“The game’s up!” cried Vincent, making a clean sweep of the board, and -tossing black and white promiscuously into the box; “it’s a shame, for I -had much the best of it.” - -“Papa must have been taking a long drive,” observed Louisa. - -“One can judge of that in a minute by the horses,” cried Vincent, -sauntering up to a window, and opening a leaf of the shutters that he -might look out into the night. “Why, that’s not our carriage at all, it -has only one horse; I know whose it is, it’s Mr. Mark’s,—papa’s man of -business; what on earth brings him here at this hour?” - -“That’s not papa’s voice in the hall,” said Arabella. - -“I fear that something is indeed the matter!” exclaimed Louisa, starting -from her seat. - -Her suspicion was soon confirmed by the sound of the study-bell -violently rung; then they heard the door open, and Mr. Mark’s voice -below, calling for water for Mrs. Effingham. - -“Something terrible has happened,” cried Lady Selina, and the next -moment the drawing-room was vacated by all. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - - CALCULATIONS. - - -“Bankrupt! stopped payment!” exclaimed Lady Selina, as Mr. Mark repeated -to her the substance of the tidings, which, like a sudden blow, had -prostrated the spirit of Clemence. The lady and the man of business were -conversing alone, Clemence having been removed to her room in a fainting -state, attended by Louisa and Vincent. - -“Is there no hope—no means of rallying—of struggling through the -difficulty?” continued Lady Selina. - -Mr. Mark looked very grave, and shook his head. - -“I fear that this has been no thing of yesterday. The firm must have -been for some time in a tottering state, though appearances were so -carefully kept up that the crash took every one by surprise.” - -“The strangest thing of all,” said Lady Selina, “is, that Mr. Effingham -himself should, as you tell me, have disappeared—not have ventured to -face his creditors!” - -“It is strange,” observed the lawyer almost sternly; for he was an -honest, straightforward man, who had not learned to regard all things as -fair in the way of business. “It is strange!” he repeated more slowly: -“when the affairs of the firm are wound up, we shall be better able to -account for such a step on his part. It was this disappearance which -touched Mrs. Effingham so nearly; she bore the news of the failure with -a degree of firmness which, I own, surprised me; but when I informed her -that her husband had fled, she was struck down at once; I was seriously -alarmed for the consequences.” - -“Oh! she is subject to hysterical fits; they do not alarm those who know -her,” said the lady, whose malice would glance forth even at a time like -this. “Of course Mrs. Effingham must feel the change in her fortunes; -none shrink from poverty more than those who have once experienced its -trials.” - -“Mrs. Effingham is secured from anything approaching to poverty,” said -the lawyer; “ample provision has been made for her comfort. Sixty -thousand pounds were settled upon her not long after her marriage.” - -“Sixty thousand pounds! and settled upon Mrs. Effingham!” exclaimed Lady -Selina; “and what becomes of the rest of the family?” - -“As you are aware, madam, the dowry of the late Lady Arabella Effingham, -amounting to ten thousand pounds, was, by her will, divided share and -share alike between her two surviving daughters. That is safe—invested -in Government securities; for the rest, everything—house, furniture, -estate—will, doubtless, be seized and disposed of for the benefit of the -creditors.” - -“But the sixty thousand pounds that you mentioned?” - -“That sum is settled on Mrs. Effingham; no one will be able to deprive -her of that.” Mr. Mark’s manner was cold and dry, and he soon afterwards -closed the interview, leaving Lady Selina in a state of no small -excitement and perplexity. - -“Clever man of the world, Mr. Effingham,” she said to herself, as soon -as she found herself alone; “I should hardly have given him credit for -the tact to save such a sum out of the wreck. And all settled upon Mrs. -Effingham!”—she bit her lip with vexation. “I wish that it had been -disposed of in any other manner. Sixty thousand pounds! The interest of -that will be—let me see—enough to keep a good house, a carriage. It is -much more than she had ever a right to expect. We must not part company, -after all. The weak little creature will never be able to manage by -herself; and it will suit my convenience better for the family to keep -together. Yes,” soliloquized the earl’s daughter, resting her chin on -her hand in an attitude of thought, “it would be folly under these -circumstances to part. I must change my tactics a little. I must make -her feel me necessary; there must be no division. If I had ever had a -suspicion of the turn which affairs would take, I would have played my -cards very differently with Clemence Effingham.” - -Regard for self-interest was striving against prejudice and pride, and, -as often happens in hostilities of a more extended nature, the war was -ended by a compromise, or rather a treaty of alliance. In a few minutes -Lady Selina was gently tapping at Mrs. Effingham’s door. - -Clemence appeared seated at her little writing-table, pale but tearless. -Louisa was weeping beside her. Vincent, standing a little apart, was -repeating to himself half aloud, “Poverty is no disgrace,” as one who is -determined to face the enemy with resolution. It is possible, however, -that poverty presented itself to the mind of the boy as little beyond -exemption from going to school, and was, therefore, no great trial of -his youthful philosophy. Lady Selina motioned to Louisa and her brother -to quit the room, and then seating herself on the sofa close to -Clemence, with strange, unwonted show of tenderness, laid her hand on -that of the young wife, which lay cold and impassive on the cushion -beside her. - -“Dear Mrs. Effingham, we are truly partners in sorrow; for, believe me, -my share in this trial is no light one,” and the lady heaved a deep -sigh. - -Clemence remained silent. That Lady Selina grieved for her she could not -for a moment believe; but it was possible that even that cold, worldly -heart might cherish a regard for her husband. How could it indeed be -otherwise, after such long, intimate acquaintance with one who possessed -such power to attract to himself the affections of all who knew him? -Such a thought was quite sufficient to prevent the gentle wife from -repelling the sympathy, such as it might be, even of her who had -hitherto acted the part of an enemy. It would, however, have been -hypocrisy to have accepted it with any warmth of gratitude. The pressure -of Lady Selina’s thin fingers was not returned, and the eyes of Clemence -remained bent upon the floor. - -“But, dear Mrs. Effingham,” resumed Lady Selina, “this trial has -alleviations—great alleviations.” - -In an instant the blue eyes were riveted on the countenance of the -speaker with an expression of hope. “Alleviations! Then you know where -he is,—you have tidings—” - -“None, none,” replied the lady sadly; “but is it not a comfort to think -that your beloved husband, even under the heavy pressure of adversity, -thought and cared for his family with a foresight which does him such -honour? Mr. Mark, of course, informed you that the sixty thousand pounds -settled upon you by Mr. Effingham are safe; the creditors cannot lay a -finger upon them.” - -Lady Selina watched the effect of her words. A bright flush suffused the -countenance of Clemence, rising even to her temples, and then suddenly -retreating, left it even more pallid than before. - -“I did not hear about money—could not think about money,” she replied -hoarsely, withdrawing her hand from Lady Selina’s. - -“Your delicacy of feeling, your disregard of worldly considerations is -noble—is quite in character,” said that lady, with a little touch of -sarcasm in her tone; “nevertheless, it must be a great relief to your -mind to find that everything is not lost—that, though on a smaller -scale, you can still maintain a suitable establishment, still offer a -home to those who have dwelt together under this roof.” - -Clemence pressed her aching brow with both her hands. “Lady Selina, I -cannot think, I cannot realize what has happened, far less form plans -for an uncertain future. I must hear from my husband, I must learn our -actual position, know the full extent of the ruin which has come upon -our house. Of one thing I am certain—_certain_,” she repeated more -earnestly, rising from the sofa as she spoke, “my husband would be the -last man to claim or to desire an exemption from the sufferings which -may, I fear, fall upon some of his creditors. I feel assured that, when -he settled a fortune upon his wife, it was in perfect ignorance of the -crash which was so near. Unforeseen events have brought on a crisis, and -he will meet it, like himself, with firm courage, unblemished honour, -and a conscience free from reproach.” - -“She is a greater fool than I thought her,” was Lady Selina’s mental -reflection, as she relieved Clemence from her unwelcome presence. - -Clemence, notwithstanding her fearless declaration, felt strangely -uneasy and anxious. Vincent’s childish words recurred again and again to -her mind, “Poverty is no disgrace.” Why should such words give her pain? -She feared to question her own heart as to the reason. Clemence wrote a -long letter to her friend Mr. Gray, the faithful counsellor of her -youth, detailing to him what had occurred, as far as her own knowledge -extended, mentioning to him the words of Lady Selina, and asking him, in -the absence of her best and dearest guide, to say whether he thought -that she could conscientiously avail herself of resources so -considerately provided for her before the day of adversity had arrived. -Clemence touched tenderly on the subject. Doing so, even in the gentlest -manner, pained her like pressure upon a wound. She shrank from writing a -word which, even in the most remote way, could convey the slightest -imputation upon the conduct of her husband. - -The wings of Time sometimes appear to be clogged with lead. How wearily -move the hours when anxious sorrow watches the shadow on the dial! -Clemence’s prevailing feeling was an intense desire for tidings from her -absent lord. If uneasy doubts would arise in her mind, a letter, she -felt assured, would remove them. Her husband would make all clear. -Whatever had occurred, no fault could rest with him; her loving faith in -him was unshaken. Clemence started at every post-knock, and trembled -when her room was hastily entered, so nervously was her mind on the -watch for tidings. - -Louisa was in a state of great depression. The first breath of -misfortune was sufficient to lay low the fragile reed, which had no firm -support to counterbalance its own weakness. Perhaps there was a secret -painful impression on the young girl’s mind that, since God’s first -visitation had failed to produce lasting effects, one yet more terrible -might be coming upon her. Louisa refused to listen to words of comfort -or hope, persisted in viewing everything in the darkest light, and by -her tears, complaints, and forebodings, irritated the prouder and firmer -spirit of her sister, which was struggling to tread misfortunes under -foot, and rise triumphant above them. - -On the following day, which was Sunday, neither Lady Selina nor her -nieces quitted their dwelling. Those who had attended divine service -only _to be seen of men_, naturally absented themselves from the house -of prayer when observation would be painful. But to Clemence, weary and -heavy-laden, social worship was a privilege not to be lightly foregone. -In the solemn exercises of prayer and praise, she trusted to be raised -for a while above the cares and the grief that oppressed her; the jarred -and strained chords of her heart could yet be tuned to swell the -church’s hymn of thanksgiving. Avoiding mixing with the stream of the -congregation of which she had been lately a member, Clemence, -accompanied only by Vincent, attended a more distant church. - -The preacher’s sermon appeared as if addressed expressly to herself, so -closely did Clemence apply it. He spoke of the blessedness of that home -which sin and sorrow never can enter, and of the boundless riches of -God’s grace, so unlike to the treasures of earth which take to -themselves wings and flee away. He dwelt on the glories of the heavenly -city, till clouds of present affliction seemed to reflect its distant -brightness. He then described the heaven in the heart, which may be -experienced by the believer while yet a sojourner in a world of trial, -yea, even when plunged into the seven-fold heated furnace of _great -tribulation_,—the consciousness of the presence of an Almighty Friend, -of the support of the everlasting arm, of the possession of that -unspeakable love which passeth knowledge, and _is stronger than death_! -Tears, but not tears of grief, flowed from the eyes of Clemence as she -listened, and her heart seemed able to echo the words of the poet, with -which the preacher concluded his address— - - “Give what Thou canst, without Thee we are poor— - And with Thee rich, take what Thou wilt away.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - - SACRIFICE. - - -Monday came, and with it a letter from Mr. Effingham, bearing the Dover -postmark. How eagerly was it received and torn open! The note was a very -brief one, and communicated but a vague idea of the position or feelings -of its writer. He was on the point of crossing over to France,—hoped -that his stay there might be a brief one,—that necessary forms having -been complied with, he might soon be able to return to her who was ever -in his thoughts. He trusted that her health had not suffered from the -shock of receiving tidings which he had not had the courage to -communicate to her himself; and he desired his wife, in the conduct of -her affairs, to place implicit confidence in Mr. Mark, and to be guided -by the judgment of a man of such experience and worth. This was all,—not -even an address given; but such as it was, the letter was a great relief -to Clemence. Her mind had formed dark forebodings; she had dreaded that -sudden illness might have been the result of Mr. Effingham’s distress of -mind, and the cause of his not coming forward personally to meet those -whose interests had been confided to his care. She now felt able to -enter his study again, that little room consecrated by so many dear -recollections, to gather up and arrange any stray papers that might have -been left there, that her husband, on his return to England, might find -that nothing was missing. - -How little that room was altered! The fire blazing brightly as ever, the -familiar tomes ranged in their accustomed places, the morning’s _Times_ -laid on the table, the book beside the desk with half its leaves yet -uncut, and the paper-knife marking the place where Mr. Effingham had -lately been reading! Clemence tried by an effort of imagination to blot -out all remembrance of the last few days, to look upon what had passed -as a dream, and to listen for that well-known step which would never be -heard on that threshold again! She would not occupy the arm-chair which -she had seen so often filled by her husband. One thing was changed—but -one; the clock on the mantel-piece, which Mr. Effingham had suffered no -one to touch but himself, which had belonged to his father before him, -that clock which he had regularly wound on each Saturday night, stood -silent, with motionless pendulum,—an emblem of the fortunes of the -house. - -Vincent followed his step-mother to the study. The boy was restless and -sought companionship, but Louisa was too melancholy, and Arabella too -irritable to make their society congenial to their brother. Clemence -would at that time have greatly preferred being left alone with her own -sad musings, but she would not, even by a hint to that effect, drive -from her side the only being who clung to her in her sorrow. Vincent was -therefore allowed to sit beside her, endeavouring to glean amusement -from the _Times_, while she slowly and sadly pursued her occupation of -collecting scattered papers. One struck her eye—its appearance seemed -familiar to her; upon examination it proved to be the bill of Madame La -Voye—that bill which had cost her such painful self-reproach. It had -surely been paid long ago;—no! unreceipted, it lay amongst others! -Clemence bit her lip, but at the moment was startled by a vehement -exclamation from Vincent. - -“What a shame! how dare they write so of papa!” - -Clemence caught the paper from his hand. Vincent pointed to one of the -leading paragraphs; it commenced thus:— - - “We have again to record a great crash in the commercial world, - attended with circumstances which force upon our attention the - fact that the laws of bankruptcy, as at present constituted, are - inadequate to protect the property of the subject.” - -Clemence read on, every sentence falling like a drop of glowing metal on -her heart; she saw the name most dear to her coupled with duplicity, -craft, dishonour! - - “We hear on undoubted authority,” said the _Times_, “that Mr. - Effingham has settled a large fortune upon his wife, with whom - the _bankrupt_ doubtless looks forward to enjoying in luxurious - retirement the spoils of the widow and the orphan. These - evasions of law and equity have been of late of such frequent - occurrence, that we have learned complacently to behold the - giant offender rolling in his carriage, while the meaner felon - is consigned to a jail.” - -The paper dropped from the hand of the miserable wife. Vincent sprang to -her side. “It is not true!” he exclaimed passionately; “it is all -nonsense and lies!—it is!—oh, say that it is!” - -“Leave me, Vincent! leave me!” gasped Clemence; with an imploring -gesture she motioned to the door, and, as soon as her command had been -obeyed, threw herself down upon the floor and writhed, as if in -convulsions of bodily pain! What physical torture could have equalled -the agony of that hour! The anguish caused to a loving and conscientious -spirit by the errors of the being most beloved, resembles in nature, and -is scarcely exceeded in intensity by that of remorse! To Clemence, her -husband’s disgrace was her disgrace; his transgressions seemed even as -her own. So closely was she joined to him in heart, that the -consciousness of personal blamelessness brought her no comfort—the -shadow which had fallen on him enveloped her also in its blackness! - -“What am I called upon to endure!” was a thought ere long superseded by -another: “What am I called upon to do?” A gulf of misery was yawning -before the bankrupt’s wife—could no personal sacrifice close it? -Clemence started to her feet, took the writing materials which lay on -the table, and hastily penned to Mr. Mark a scarcely legible note, -praying him to come to her as soon as was possible, as she needed his -assistance and advice. This done, and the letter despatched, Clemence -could breathe a little more freely. She declined seeing any one until -after his arrival, and as that was delayed for several hours, the -unhappy wife had time to become more calm, and to revolve in her mind -what course of duty lay before her. Yet the sound of the long waited-for -knock at the door which announced the man of business, was to her much -as that of the hammer-stroke on a scaffold might be to one doomed to -suffer thereon. - -Mr. Mark entered with apologies for delay, of which Clemence understood -not one word. With tremulous hand she pointed to the _Times_, and could -scarcely articulate, “You have seen it?” - -Mr. Mark gravely inclined his head. - -“And is there any—” Clemence stopped short—she could not endure to put -the question in such a form. “Is it not all cruel calumny?” she -faltered. - -Mr. Mark hesitated. “The language is harsh and strong,” was his guarded -reply: it was too well comprehended by the miserable Clemence. - -“When that—that money was settled,” she stammered forth, without daring -to look at her listener, “the house was safe, secure—there was no -prospect of the ruin that followed?” - -“I believed so when I followed Mr. Effingham’s directions. I, for one, -had not the slightest doubt at that time of the solvency of the firm.” - -“And he—” - -There was a long, painful silence; Clemence heard nothing but the -throbbing of her own heart. When the lady spoke again her tone was -strangely altered; there was in it no more of tremulous earnestness, but -the calm resolution of despair. - -“Mr. Mark, let me ask one more question. Is that money entirely at my -own disposal?” - -“It is so by the terms of the settlement.” - -“Then I request you, acting in my name, to place the whole of it in the -hands of the creditors.” - -“My dear madam—” - -“My resolution is quite fixed,” said Clemence, compressing her bloodless -lips. - -“But consider your position, that of the family—” - -“I have resources of my own,” replied Clemence firmly; “and my -step-daughters are already provided for.” - -“You have resources?” repeated the lawyer doubtfully; “and the boy?” - -“Shares whatever I have,” answered Clemence. - -“Perhaps a partial sacrifice,” began Mr. Mark, but the lady interrupted -him. - -“All—all—I will give up all!” - -“Not without reflection, dear madam, not on the impulse of the moment, -not without consulting your friends.” - -“I consult you, the friend and adviser of my husband. Would not the act -be a just one?” - -“Just, perhaps, but—” and he paused. - -“I have also consulted another friend, one who has been to me as a -father—the Reverend Mr. Gray of Stoneby.” - -“And he advises this step?” - -“I have not yet had time to receive his reply.” - -“Wait for it then,” said the lawyer; “do nothing without beforehand -weighing the consequences, or it is possible that you may regret even -the noble and generous act, the thought of which does you honour.” - -After some further conversation, it was settled that Clemence should -delay her decision until Mr. Gray’s letter should be received, and then -convey her final decision in writing to the man of business. Mr. Mark -left her with a mingled sentiment of compassion and respect, which -softened his usually abrupt manner to that of almost paternal -tenderness. - -“She has much to suffer, but she will suffer bravely,” thought he, as he -stepped into his brougham. - -Clemence heaved a deep sigh when she found herself left alone. The -spirit which had supported her through that painful interview now seemed -to fail her. Very repugnant was it to her feelings to consult any one -before her husband, on a point which concerned his honour so nearly. -Could she not learn his will ere making so momentous a decision? To do -so was the instinct of her heart, but not the judgment of her reason. -No; even had she the means of communicating with Mr. Effingham, how -could she seek guidance from him on the very path from which he had -wandered? how ask him if it were her duty to counteract his own schemes, -and clear, as far as possible, his character from a stain which he had -deliberately contracted? It was, perhaps, better that a cloud of doubt -should rest on what Mr. Effingham’s ultimate wishes might be, and that -Clemence should not behold in actual opposition her obedience to her -husband and her duty to her God. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XX - - DECISION. - - -Mr. Gray, as Clemence expected, viewed the subject of retaining or -relinquishing the fortune in the same light that she did herself. He -had, before answering her letter, seen the article in the _Times_ which -had so deeply wounded the young wife, and he had anticipated the -resolution that she would form. The ideas of the simple-minded pastor -were drawn, not from the maxims or example of the world, of which he -indeed knew little, but from the pure, written Word of God. He read and -believed that _the love of money_ is _the root of all evil_; he read and -believed that it is impossible _to serve God and Mammon_; and he had -imbibed the spirit of that most solemn question, _What shall it profit a -man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul; or what shall a -man give in exchange for his soul?_ - -The clergyman’s letter was a very tender one, full of pious consolation, -and concluded by offering to the bankrupt’s wife a home in the vicarage, -where his dear partner, as well as himself, would ever regard her as a -cherished daughter. - -The good man’s words were as balm to Clemence’s wounded spirit, though -she felt that her duty to her husband’s family might render it -impossible to accept an invitation which would otherwise have opened a -harbour of refuge to her weary, storm-tossed soul. Clemence, without -further delay, wrote her final decision to Mr. Mark. Never had she more -impatiently despatched a letter than that which stripped her at once of -the wealth which lay like a mountain’s weight upon her conscience. Then, -ringing the bell of the study—the room which she now almost exclusively -occupied—Mrs. Effingham summoned, one after another, every member of her -numerous household, and gave warning to all, without exception. It was a -painful duty to the young mistress, but Clemence had nerved herself to -its performance, and uttered a sigh of relief as the last of the -servants quitted her presence. After all, it was easier to act than to -think; the necessity for exertion was perhaps in itself a blessing. - -Clemence, since reading the article in the _Times_, had secluded herself -much from the family; she could not, in the first hours of her anguish, -have endured the sight of familiar faces—the torture of being harassed -with questions; she shrank even from the idea of sympathy, and could -scarcely bear to look upon Vincent, the breathing image of one whom she -thought of with grief, only exceeded by her love. Clemence felt it now, -however, necessary to communicate with those whose interests were -closely linked with her own, and to ascertain the views and feelings of -her step-children before replying to the letter of Mr. Gray. With this -view, mastering a strong sensation of repugnance, she ascended to the -drawing-room, and found herself, on opening the door, in the presence of -the assembled family. - -Lady Selina was standing near the fire-place in earnest conference with -Arabella; Vincent had stretched himself on the velvet rug, leaning upon -his crossed arms in an attitude of thought, but he started up on his -step-mother’s entrance; Louisa lay on the sofa, her hand pressed over -her eyes. There was a sudden break in the conversation when Clemence’s -form appeared, and Lady Selina, with a slow and stately air, advanced -forward a few steps to meet her. - -“Mrs. Effingham,” she commenced, in tones even more cold and formal than -usual, “I have been much surprised, greatly astonished to find that you -have at once, without consulting any one, dismissed the whole of your -husband’s establishment! May I presume to ask your reason for so -extraordinary a step?” - -“I cannot now afford to keep any such servants,” replied Clemence, -gently but firmly. - -“Not afford!—really, Mrs. Effingham, your language is incomprehensible! -Not afford, with sixty thousand pounds of your own in the funds!” - -Clemence leaned on the table for support as she answered, “I will never -touch a farthing of that money. I have given up all to the creditors, -without reserve.” - -“That’s right!” was the hearty exclamation of Vincent. Lady Selina stood -for a moment actually speechless! Had she seen Clemence deliberately put -an end to her own existence, the lady’s amazement and horror could not -have been greater. - -“You have done such an insane thing!” she exclaimed at length. - -“I have done it!” was the reply of Clemence. - -“Then, madam, you have qualified yourself for Bedlam!” cried Lady -Selina, condensed fury flashing from her eyes, all sense of what is due -from one lady to another lost in the torrent of furious passion. “You -have reduced your family to beggary; you have subscribed to the -condemnation of your own husband; you have confirmed the opinion which I -formed of you from the day when Mr. Effingham had the infatuation to -throw himself away on a child—an idiot such as you!” - -“Aunt, you must not, you shall not—” cried Vincent; but there was no -staying the rushing flow of bitter words. Clemence endured them as the -tree, whose leafy honours have been struck down by the woodman’s axe, -endures the pelting rain upon its prostrate form. It has felt the cold -steel dividing its very core; the sharp blow, the heavy fall, have been -its fate; the furious shower may now do its worst, it cannot lay it -lower, any more than it has power to restore life to the withered -foliage! But when Lady Selina paused at length, mortified, perhaps, to -find that her fiercest invectives could awake no answering flash of -angry retort, Clemence quietly expressed her hope that she might be -enabled so to economize as to live upon her limited resources without -incurring debt. - -“Resources!” exclaimed Lady Selina with ineffable contempt; “the paltry -interest of two or three thousand pounds, of which an hospital has the -reversion! If you can reduce yourself, madam, to such pauper allowance -for the future, how extricate yourself from the meshes of present -difficulties? You speak of avoiding debt—you are in debt at the present -moment to myself!” - -Clemence unclasped the massive bracelet on her arm, and silently laid it -on the table. It was her only reply. She then turned and quitted the -apartment. - -“I wish that she had flung it at aunt’s head!” was Vincent’s muttered -comment on the scene. - -A servant met Clemence as she was about to ascend the staircase. -“Please, ma’am, Madame La Voye is at the door, and says that she must -see you directly.” - -“Send her away,” began Clemence, who felt as though her patience had -already been tried to its utmost power of endurance; but as the man -hesitated before again attempting a task in which he had already failed, -she altered her resolution. “No; let her be shown into my room. Better -meet this difficulty at once, and end it,” murmured Clemence to herself, -as the footman turned to obey. - -Madame La Voye had, like all the rest of the world, heard of the -bankruptcy of Mr. Effingham, and trembled for her unpaid bill. Her -indignation had been inflamed to a high pitch by the article in the -_Times_. Mr. Effingham she had denounced, and loudly, as a swindler, a -cheat, and a felon; and she resolved, come what might, to have justice -done to herself. She called at his house on Monday, and heard that Mrs. -Effingham refused to see any one. Driven with difficulty from the door, -the dressmaker repeated her call on the next day, with yet more fixed -resolution to assert her claim. She would not be one of the miserable -creditors who suffered themselves to be quietly robbed; she would not -leave the house till she had received her money! Madame La Voye had -worked herself up to an effervescence of indignation very unlike, -indeed, to the smooth-tongued politeness with which she had received -Mrs. Effingham into her show-apartments. - -The Frenchwoman entered the house prepared to do battle for her rights, -and the first words which she addressed to Clemence were abrupt almost -to rudeness; but even she was in some degree awed by that pale, meek -face, stamped with such deep impression of sorrow, and the first gentle -tones of the silvery voice stilled her anger as if by a charm. - -Clemence owned her debt and her inability to pay it (“Was all false, -then, about the fortune?” thought La Voye); “But”—the lady hesitated and -glanced at her wardrobe—“perhaps;” the Frenchwoman was not slow in -comprehension—she spared the lady the humiliation of an explanation. - -Pride was not Mrs. Effingham’s besetting sin; but, in one form or other, -perhaps no human heart is entirely free from it. It was painful to the -lady to hear the value of her wardrobe estimated in her -presence—repugnant to her feelings to hear this mantle depreciated as no -longer _à la mode_—that dress, because the folds of the velvet had been -slightly ruffled in wearing. Madame La Voye was not without a heart, and -her anger had subsided into pity; but the coarseness of her nature -appeared even in what she intended for kindness, and in her compassion -for the reduced lady she never for an instant forgot self-interest. -Balancing, doubting, chaffering, making a parade of “a wish to oblige,” -forming a shrewd calculation that a beautiful Indian shawl, “thrown into -the lot, would make all even between them,” for almost an hour Madame La -Voye made her victim do bitter penance for a day’s extravagance. The -mortifying interview, however, ended at last; the Frenchwoman, well -satisfied with her bargain, quitted the house, and Clemence held in her -hand, receipted, that bill which had been the cause of so much -annoyance. - -A sleepless night was passed in forming plans for the future. There had -been only too much truth in Lady Selina’s words—how could the bankrupt’s -wife find means to extricate herself from present difficulties? -Clemence’s purse was empty. The first instalment of her income, -miserable pittance as it appeared, was not due to her for months; she -had none to whom to apply for assistance—none from whom she could hope -for relief. Again and again Clemence thought of her jewels, but they -were all, with the exception of her watch, and a few trifles of little -or no intrinsic worth, the gifts of her husband, and she regarded them -almost as one in the Dark Ages might have regarded precious -relics,—things far too valuable to be parted with, except with life. Yet -there seemed to be no other resource, and Clemence now felt that in -resigning all her fortune she had made a sacrifice indeed. - -She rose sad and unrefreshed from her sleepless pillow, and yet a spirit -of submission was shed into her heart. The iron had entered into her -soul, but the wound was not poisoned by rebellious unbelief. Clemence -was able to pray hopefully for her husband, and to trust that even the -trials of his condition might be a means of drawing him nearer to his -God. Surely the Almighty had judged his errors less severely than the -harsh, unfeeling world? Had not those errors arisen from the very -tenderness of his affection towards his wife? The temptations of -prosperity had raised a mist around him; the blast of misfortune had -dispersed that mist, and the blue heaven would again smile above him! -Thus mused the young wife, her mind ever recurring to her absent lord as -the centre of all its earthly thoughts. She could not see him, write to -him, cheer him; but she could still pour out her soul for him in prayer, -and was there not sweet comfort in that? - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXI - - JEWELS AND THEIR WORTH. - - -“I think it right to lay before the children of my dear husband the -course which I intend to pursue; their welfare is very near to my heart, -and I cannot separate their interests from my own.” Such were the words -addressed by Clemence to Vincent and his sisters, while Lady Selina sat -listening near, her face wearing a smile of cold scorn. - -“I propose,” continued Clemence, “to rent a cottage, a very small -cottage in Cornwall, my native county, where necessary expenses can be -reduced to a very narrow scale, unless I should receive directions from -my husband which would induce me to alter my arrangements. If any of his -family will share that humble abode, it will be my heart’s desire to -make them as—;” the word “happy” would not come, it died on the -trembling lip, and a sigh concluded the broken sentence. - -Arabella slightly elevated her brow and her shoulders; Louisa looked -uneasily at her aunt. - -“Such is your offer, madam; now listen to mine,” said Lady Selina, -folding her hands with the air of one about to give a proof of -magnanimous self-denial. “I need not speak of the fervent affection -which I have ever borne to my sister’s children. My dear nieces have -always looked to me as to the representative of a cherished mother, and -in the hour of adversity I shall be the last to desert them. To my home, -wherever that may be, most freely do I bid them welcome. With Vincent -the case is different; though my love for him is the same, I cannot, as -doubtless Mrs. Effingham will do, undertake the expenses of his -education, or give to my dear nephew the advantages which are -indispensable to a boy of his age.” - -Doubtless the affectionate aunt had not forgotten that whereas Vincent -was absolutely penniless, the united incomes of her nieces, moderate as -they were, would exactly double her own. Few of those who knew the lady -intimately would have given her credit for disinterested kindness; but -whatever might be her motive for the offer, Arabella was not slow to -accept it. - -“As, after what has occurred,” said the proud girl, drawing herself up -to her full height, “I should have declined sharing a palace with Mrs. -Effingham, her society would scarcely allure me to the hovel which she -chooses as her place of abode. I shall certainly remain with my aunt.” - -But the choice of Louisa was not so readily made. Her heart was drawn -towards her step-mother, so gentle and patient in her sorrow; she felt -for Clemence’s loneliness and desolation. Louisa could not quite forget -the tenderness with which she had been tended through her illness; she -could not quite forget how, in the long dreary nights, a gentle watcher -had bathed her fevered brow, offered the cooling draught, and spoken -words of holy comfort and hope. Her step-mother was connected in her -mind with all that her conscience approved as right, her regret for past -errors, her resolutions of amendment, her thoughts on religion and -heaven. Louisa had sufficient intelligence to see the difference of -character between Clemence and her aunt. She could neither love nor -trust Lady Selina, as she could the pure-minded and unselfish woman whom -her father had chosen as his wife. But if Mrs. Effingham stood in the -mind of Louisa as the emblem and the representative of quiet piety, her -aunt, on the other hand, seemed that of the world and all its tempting -delights. Lady Selina would doubtless remain in London; to stay with her -was to partake of its pleasures, to enjoy its dazzling scenes,—to dance, -to shine, to see and to be seen. Oh! what magic images of glittering -splendour were conjured up before the mind’s eye of Louisa, by the name -of a “London season!” And could she give up all this? could she endure -to bury herself in dreary Cornwall, with no gaiety, no amusement, no -admirers, like some flower doomed to— - - “Blush unseen, - And waste its sweetness on the desert air?” - -The idea was intolerable! Not gratitude, esteem, pity, conscience, were -sufficient to fortify the poor girl against its terrors. She loved the -world—she was of the world. Her idol had been shaken—but destroyed, -never! It was resuming its old supremacy in a heart which, though -apparently cleansed for a while, had been found empty of that divine -faith which _overcometh the world_! Louisa hesitated, indeed, but not -for long. Avoiding looking at her step-mother as she spoke, in a low, -faltering voice, she said, “I think—I would rather—remain in London—like -my sister.” - -Lady Selina cast a triumphant glance at Clemence, and going up to her -nieces, embraced them both with many tender expressions, of which they, -perhaps, guessed the real value. Mrs. Effingham quietly quitted the -room, feeling very desolate and low, and thinking that for her the most -welcome home would be one much narrower and much quieter than any -cottage dwelling. Just as she was entering her own apartment, Vincent, -who had been an excited though silent listener to the preceding -conversation, rushed after and overtook her. The boy flung his arms -tightly around her neck, exclaiming, “Mother! you and I will stick -together through thick and thin!” - -Clemence returned the embrace with fervour; she clasped the boy to her -aching heart as if she would have pressed him into it, and wept aloud in -passionate grief, till almost choked by her convulsive sobs. It was even -as the accumulated masses of Alpine snows, melting under the warm -sunshine, burst through the barriers which restrain them, and pour their -swelling floods into the valleys below. Vincent was almost alarmed at -the sudden violence of emotion in one usually so quiet and gentle; but, -oh! what a weight of sorrow had been pent up in that burdened heart! - -Clemence was relieved by the burst of tears, and, when again alone, -seated herself before her desk, and, resting her brow upon her hand, -gave herself up to thought. Yes, she had something to live for! That -boy, that son of her heart, to him would she devote her life, while the -painful separation from his father should last. What Lady Selina had -said on the subject of Vincent’s education, now pondered over in -solitude, wrought some change in the plans of Clemence. She must give up -the idea of renting a cottage at Stoneby, where she could again enjoy -the society of dear friends, and return to the occupations which she -loved. Clemence could not, with justice to Vincent, undertake his -tuition herself, and Mr. Gray was far too busily engaged in his -extensive parish to do so. There was a market-town about ten miles from -the village, where Clemence well knew that excellent daily tuition at an -academy might be secured at a very trifling expense. This determined her -course; personal comfort and inclination should not for a moment be -weighed against that which might be of such importance to the future -prospects of her step-son. Clemence dipped her pen, and wrote an answer -to the letter of Mr. Gray. She told him briefly of the part which she -had taken in regard to the fortune; declined with deep gratitude his -offer of a home; and entreated him, as soon as possible, to secure for -her a cottage within walking distance of the academy of M——. Clemence -limited the annual rent to a sum which would scarcely have paid for one -of the dresses which she had worn in the days of her wealth, and -requested that one of the girls from her Sunday school might be engaged -as her solitary servant. - -The descent into poverty is most painful when one slow step after -another is reluctantly taken down the road of humiliation,—at each some -cherished comfort mournfully laid aside! Better far to calculate at once -the full amount of what must be resigned, put away every superfluity, -and resolutely make the plunge! Clemence ended her letter by a -reiterated entreaty that her friend might engage the cottage at his -earliest convenience, as she yearned to quit London, where every moment -brought with it some bitter pang of remembrance. - -And now one other task remained to be performed—a task intensely -painful. Most thankfully would Clemence have avoided it, or, if it must -be fulfilled, have deputed its execution to another. But to whom could -the young wife intrust the delicate office of disposing of her jewels? -Was it absolutely necessary to part with them at all? Would none of her -friends, her numerous acquaintances, assist her at least with a loan? -Clemence was sorely tempted to try, and more than once commenced a note -to one whom she knew had the means to aid, and whom she hoped might have -also the heart; but she never got beyond the first line. Would it be -honest to borrow money, which she could hardly hope ever to repay? would -it be right, while she was in possession of valuables which might be -converted into gold? After all, she could look on the meditated -sacrifice as made for her son, her Vincent, the child of her beloved -husband, and that would give her courage to make it. - -With a sickening heart Clemence removed from her jewel-box her husband’s -miniature, her mother’s wedding-ring, and the little locket containing -her parents’ hair, which had been her bridal-gift from her uncle,—these, -at least, she must ever retain; and after a hasty preparation, as if -fearful that her resolution might fail her if she should delay, even for -an hour, the accomplishment of her design, Clemence glided out of her -house with her jewel-case under her cloak. - -Rapidly she walked through the streets, like one who dreads observation, -drawing her thick black veil closely before her face. The shops in one -of the principal thoroughfares of London, which it was her object to -visit, were distant from Belgrave Square, and Mrs. Effingham had never -before attempted to reach them on foot. She had repeatedly to inquire -the road to them, and she did so with a shrinking timidity, which made -more than one of her informants watch with an eye of instinctive pity -her slight, fragile form, clad in its mourning garb, as it hurried on -its onward way. - -At length the gay, bright street was reached, noisy with carriages, -thronged with pedestrians, offering in its thousand decorated windows -temptations for every eye. Clemence had often driven down that street in -her own carriage, one of the fairest, the most admired, the most envied -of the throng. Now, the bankrupt’s wife dreaded the recognition of any -familiar face, as, weary and faint, she entered a magnificent shop, -which she had often noticed, in passing, for the brilliant display of -jewellery behind its plate glass. - -There were several customers in the shop, and Clemence, whose courage -was failing her, was almost upon the point of retreating, when the -jeweller requested her to take a seat, she should be served in an -instant; and Clemence sank wearily upon the proffered chair. She had -some time to wait. A young betrothed couple were choosing ornaments at -the counter. At another time, the sight of their happiness would have -only called forth emotions of pleasure; but the painful contrast between -their errand and her own—they coming to purchase, she to part with -pledges of tender affection—was so overcoming to Clemence, that when the -jeweller at length, after smilingly bowing out his customers, turned to -inquire her pleasure, she could scarcely command her voice sufficiently -to make her wishes intelligible. - -[Illustration: - - GOING TO SELL THE JEWELS.] - -The man’s face at once lost its smiling expression. “We sometimes -exchange jewels,” said he coldly “but never make purchases in that way.” -Like a fluttered bird, Clemence made her escape out of the shop. - -Must she try another? Yes, that one on the opposite side of the street. -So engaged in her own thoughts was Mrs. Effingham, so abstracted from -all that was passing around her, that as she crossed the road she -narrowly escaped being thrown down by a passing vehicle. Once more -summoning all her resolution, she entered the shop. Here she was at -least attended to without delay. A tall, hard-visaged man in spectacles, -was ready to receive the lady’s commands. Clemence did not seat herself, -but resting her trembling hand on the counter, told her errand, and -produced her jewels. The man opened the case, and examined one article -after the other, as if mentally calculating its value. That precious -guard-ring, first gift of affection; that chain which loved hands had -placed round her neck; the diamond brooch selected by her husband; the -watch, by which she had counted so many blissful hours,—it seemed to -Clemence almost like desecration to see them in the hand of a stranger! -It was really a relief to her that a sum so much below their actual -value was offered by the jeweller, that she could, without -self-reproach, bear her treasures away from the place. - -And yet they must—they must be sold! She must not return to her home -without success! A third time the drooping, heart-sick Clemence crossed -the threshold of a shop, where everything spoke of luxury and wealth. -This visit was the most trying of all! The dapper little tradesman -behind the counter eyed with a quick and penetrating glance, not only -the jewels, but their owner. Clemence read in his curious look, “How -came you possessed of such things as these?” The bare idea of suspicion -covered the pallid countenance of the youthful lady with a burning glow. -It seemed to her as if the first words from the tradesman might be a -question as to her own right to the property of which she wished to -dispose. He spoke, but to Clemence’s relief it was only to mention terms -of purchase. Clemence, who had been tried almost beyond what she could -bear, hastily closed with his offer, and again had to encounter that -curious, scrutinizing look. Glad, most glad was she to leave the shop -and the street, with their bustle and grandeur, far behind her, though -the sum which she bore with her as the price of her jewels was less than -one-third of what they had originally cost! - -“But is the sacrifice sufficient?” Such was the question which Clemence -asked herself as, almost sinking from fatigue, she at length regained -the well-known precincts of Belgrave Square, and wearily remounted the -steps of her magnificent mansion. “Is the sacrifice sufficient?” she -repeated, as, hastily throwing off the cloak, whose weight even in that -wintry day oppressed her, she sank on the sofa in her own apartment. -Could she on so trifling a sum travel to Cornwall, and support Vincent -and herself until she could draw her interest in June? It was barely -possible that, by the severest economy, she might procure the -necessaries of life, but Vincent’s schooling, small as would be its -expense—it would be idle to think of that! And was he, of whose talents -and progress his father had been so proud, to lose by months of idleness -all that he had gained during years of application? Clemence opened her -desk, and drew from it her most precious possession—the miniature of her -husband. Its diamond setting was even as the admiration and praise of -the world which had once gathered around the original of that portrait, -whom the same world now scorned and condemned. Would the picture be less -precious without it, to her who valued every feature in the likeness -beyond all the jewels in Peru? And yet fast fell the tears of the -unhappy wife, as she removed from its sparkling encirclement the ivory -from which her husband’s eyes seemed to be looking upon her, calm and -bright, as in the first happy days of their love! Could such a -countenance deceive? Could dishonour ever sit on such a brow? Fervently -Clemence pressed to her lips again and again the lifeless miniature, -divested of outward adornment, but to its possessor even dearer than -ever. Dearer, because there was nothing now but itself to give it value; -dearer, because by man it would now be regarded as a worthless -thing!—was it not an emblem of the beloved one whose image it bore? - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXII - - COMING DOWN. - - -We will now change our scene, and pass over the events of more than a -fortnight—a most weary fortnight to Clemence, who pined in vain for -another letter from Mr. Effingham, and who dreaded that, by obeying what -she considered to be the call of justice and conscience, she had drawn -upon herself the displeasure of him whom she most desired to please. - -The creditors, grateful for the noble disinterestedness which had -preserved to them something from the wreck of their fortunes, were -disposed to treat the bankrupt’s wife with consideration and indulgence. -She might remain in her present dwelling as long as it should suit her -convenience to do so. But to Clemence, Belgrave Square was now a more -intolerable abode than the wastes of Spitzbergen might have proved; to -escape from it was to quit a prison, and she hastened her departure -accordingly. - -Lady Selina was also on the look-out for another abode, and spent the -greater part of her time in house-hunting with Arabella; Louisa was -seldom of the party, as she shrank from exertion, and considered herself -yet too delicate to be exposed to the wintry air. During the fortnight -before Clemence left London, Louisa was often her companion, and many a -gentle word of counsel from the step-mother, whose misfortunes had -rendered her dearer, sank into the poor girl’s heart. Lady Selina, whose -pride was now undergoing perpetual mortifications—whose present -occupation made her more bitterly feel the change in her fortunes, and -more bitterly hate “the scrupulous idiot whose folly had plunged her -whole family into distress,” was so irritable and peevish, that Louisa -sometimes asked herself whether, even in a worldly point of view, her -choice had been a wise one. She parted from Clemence with many tears, -and with many promises of remembrance;—like Orpah, she could weep for -her Naomi,—but, like Orpah, she turned back to her idols. - -It is a bright wintry evening. The orb of the sun is just resting on a -distant hill, and his reflected beams are lighting up the windows of a -small cottage with a ruddy gleam; the abode itself, however, has a -lonely and rather desolate air. It stands on an embankment which -overlooks a railway whose straight dark lines form no picturesque object -to the view, disappearing in the blackness of a tunnel which pierces a -hill to the left. That hill, with its bare outline, entirely shuts out -from sight the town of M——, distant about a mile from the spot. There is -no appearance of any human habitation near, except this solitary little -brick cottage, perched like a sentinel on the embankment, but turning -its back to the railway, its front to the road, like one who prefers old -friends to new, having probably been erected before the line was -projected. The lone abode has a small, uncultivated garden in front, -surrounded by a straggling fence, through whose sundry gaps an active -child could easily force his way—from which a foot-path, seldom trodden, -and green with moss, runs into the narrow road which leads to the town -of M——. - -There is, certainly, little to attract in the outward appearance of the -dwelling, and within we shall find it furnished in the most plain and -homely style. No carpet adorns the floor, no curtain breaks the straight -line of the windows; but the floor itself is spotlessly clean, the -bright windows exclude none of the sunbeams, and a cheerful fire -diffuses kindly warmth through the little white-washed parlour. The deal -table is spread with a snowy cloth, and heaped with little -dainties—nuts, oranges, and apples—brought by Mr. Gray in a hamper -carefully packed by his wife. A rosy-cheeked girl, about fifteen years -old, is for the third time this day busily dusting the rush seats of the -chairs, and altering their positions, so as to show them off to the best -advantage. She stops in her employment every few minutes to run into the -miniature kitchen and watch whether the chicken, likewise provided by -Mrs. Gray, duly revolves before the fire. There are eggs, bacon, and -cheese on the dresser, all produced from the Stoneby hamper, and the -young servant looks with admiration on her own preparations for the -feast. - -A proud, rich, and happy girl Martha Jones feels herself this day to be! -Is it not wondrous promotion to be sole servant to such a lady as Mrs. -Effingham,—to take the place of so many footmen dressed more dashingly -than militia officers,—a housekeeper who, as she has heard, looks much -grander than Mrs. Gray—and a bevy of fine London maids! And a whole -sovereign every quarter! is not that wealth to one who has never touched -a gold piece in her life? Can any service be more delightful than that -of sweet, gentle “Miss Clemence,” who has always a kind word for every -one, and never willingly gives trouble or pain! Martha envies the lot of -no queen as she cheerfully goes about her work, the joyousness of her -blithe young heart often breaking forth into song. - -R-r-r-r-r! with a roar a train rushes past, and vanishes into the dark -chasm of the tunnel, before the cottage has ceased to tremble or the -windows to rattle with the vibration! Martha, unaccustomed to the sound, -starts as if she were shot, then bursts into a merry laugh. - -“How it makes one jump! I thought as how the house would come down! I’d -as lief not live quite so near a railway! But I’ll get used to it, no -doubt; and they say, as the trains come in so reg’lar, they’ll serve -instead of a clock. Missus must be a-travelling by that train; she’ll -get to the town in no time. She’ll be gladsome to find Mr. Gray at the -station, all ready to welcome her back. They say, poor dear lady, she’s -had a deal of trouble since that merry day of the wedding, when we had -such a feast on the green. First there was the good old captain drowned, -and she was the light of his eyes—I guess there was no love lost atween -them; then her money ran away. How it went at once I can’t make out. Mr. -Effingham seemed to have no end of it when he married! Had we not each -of us a warm winter’s cloak, and Mr. Gray a silver inkstand! and did not -Mr. Effingham’s gentleman tell the clerk as how his master was wondrous -rich, and lived in a palace in Lunnon, whose very stables were bigger -than the parsonage, and that he would spend as much at one dinner as -would build us a new church-tower! It’ll be a mighty change to Miss -Clemence,” soliloquized the girl, her merry, good-humoured face assuming -a graver expression as she looked around her; “certain, things are very -different here from what they was even in the captain’s cottage. She -made everything so pretty around her! But so she will here; we shan’t -know the place when she’s been here a month!” quoth the light-hearted -Martha, as she arranged for the last time in a saucer of white crockery -some six or seven early violets discovered after much search by the -school-children at Stoneby, and sent as tokens of affection to their -former dear young teacher. Surely the perfume of those wild-flowers -would not have been sweeter had they been placed in a vase of Sèvres -china! - -The sun had now entirely disappeared, though a red glow remained on the -horizon. Martha became more and more impatient. Even at the hazard of -spoiling the dinner, she could not help running to the little broken -gate at the end of the garden, to see if any one were coming up the -road. - -“Surely they’ll take the evening coach; Mr. Gray must return in it to -Stoneby, or he’ll not get back to-night. ’Twill drop ’em just at the -gate. Was not that the sound of wheels? Yes! surely! and there’s the -coach turning the corner!—and—I’ve never cut the bacon ready for frying, -and the chicken will be burned to a coal!” - -Back flew the little maid to her post of duty, busy, bustling and happy -as a bee in a clump of heather; and she returned to the gate just in -time to see Mr. Gray bending from the top of the coach to give a last -word and blessing to Clemence, while Vincent assisted, with more -good-will than strength, to haul down a corded box and portmanteau. - -Clemence stood for some moments with clasped hands and swimming eyes, -watching the coach as in the darkening twilight it rattled away, bearing -from her the only friend upon earth who had given her ready assistance -and counsel in this her time of adversity and trial. How gladly would -she have accompanied the pastor to the dear village where her happy -childhood had been spent! Vincent was too busy to watch his step-mother. -He felt as self-important in charge of the luggage as if all the wealth -that his father had ever possessed had been intrusted to his sole care. - -“Here, you—what’s your name, little girl!” he cried to Martha, “just -help me in with this box. Is not the servant there to uncord it?” -Clemence turned at the sound of his voice, and her kindly greeting to -the smiling, curtsying Martha, first announced to Vincent that the -“little girl” was actually the servant who was to comprise in herself -all the establishment of Willow Cottage. - -Vincent was young and merry-hearted, and as he helped to drag the -portmanteau into the cottage, and looked at its white-washed walls and -bare floor, so unlike everything to which he had been accustomed, the -idea of actually dwelling in such a place struck him as irresistibly -comic. - -“I say, mamma!” he exclaimed with a laugh, “are we really to live in -this nut-shell? How amazed Aunt Selina would be could she see it! It’s -just like a gardener’s cottage!” - -“As we can’t turn the cottage into a palace to suit Master Vincent,” -said Clemence, with a desperate attempt at cheerfulness, “suppose that -Master Vincent turn into a gardener to suit the cottage?” - -“I think that I must turn into a great many other things besides—cook, -for instance,” he added, as Martha placed the roasted chicken upon the -table; “I think that we must call that a _black cock_!” - -Clemence silenced the boy by a glance till the poor girl had quitted the -room, and then Vincent laughingly exclaimed, “Why, I was making game of -the chicken, and not of the cook! but could we not give her a hint not -to roast a poor fowl to a cinder next time?” - -Clemence thought, “It will be long enough before we have another fowl to -roast!” - -Notwithstanding the inexperience of the cook, Vincent, whose appetite -was sharpened by fatigue and cold, did ample justice to the feast which -Mrs. Gray had provided, and ate half of the chicken himself, to say -nothing of bacon and eggs. He vainly endeavoured to induce his -step-mother to follow his example. - -“I say,” observed Vincent, busy with a wing, “that girl is a capital -servant, I dare say, and Mrs. Ventner is not fit to hold a candle to -her; but I wish that she knew how to hold a candle to us! Just see!—she -has forgotten to bring us any, and has left her own tallow dip, to ‘make -darkness visible,’ as papa would say.” - -“My dear boy,” replied Clemence quietly, “we must not look for better -light here, till we have the sun himself as our candle.” - -“A _dip_ into poverty; but we’ll _make light of it_!” cried Vincent, the -pun reconciling him to the privation. Whether exhilarated by change of -air, or desirous to cheer his companion, the boy seemed disposed to make -a jest of every discomfort. There was in him a buoyancy of spirit, an -energy of will, which had never appeared to such advantage in the -pampered child of the wealthy banker. - -“But, I say, we must make ourselves a little more comfortable!” cried -Vincent; “the wind blows through that window like a gale, and Martha has -forgotten to close the shutters!” Up he sprang to remedy her negligence. -“Why, there’s not a bit of a shutter!” he exclaimed in surprise; -“nothing at all to keep the wind out!” - -“I think that you will have to make some,” said Clemence. - -“Make shutters!” exclaimed Vincent, look doubtful at first whether to be -pleased or disgusted, but deciding at last on the former. “Well, it’s -lucky I brought my tool-box. I never did anything but spoil wood as yet, -but maybe I’ll turn out a capital carpenter, if I mayn’t be a cook. I’ll -saw away at my shutters in the evening when I come back from my -studies.” Then in a softer tone Vincent went on: “Won’t you be very dull -here all alone during the day? what will you do to amuse yourself here?” - -“I have provided myself, dear boy, with plenty of occupation. I found, -before we left London, that you required new shirts, so I have brought a -supply of the material with me that I may make them myself.” - -“You make my shirts!” exclaimed Vincent with feeling; “well, I shall -like them better than any that ever I wore. I’m growing quite proud, you -see, now that I’ve such a lady for my needlewoman!” - -“And I quite grand,” replied Clemence, with a smile, “when I’ve such a -gentleman for my carpenter!” - -With such light conversation the weary, heart-stricken wife strove to -beguile the first evening in Willow Cottage. Whatever her own secret -sorrows might be, she was resolved that they should not sadden her -intercourse with Vincent. It was a pleasure to her to see the brave -cheerfulness with which he was preparing to do battle with difficulties. -With his bright eyes and ringing laugh, Vincent was to his step-mother -the impersonification of Hope. And never had Clemence with more fervent -thankfulness pronounced the grace after meals, than in that small, cold, -and comfortless cottage, for which she had exchanged all the luxuries of -her splendid mansion. She had resigned those luxuries for the dearer one -of eating her bread in peace, and with a quiet mind, conscious of -wronging none; and sweeter, oh! how much sweeter, would be the poorest -crust partaken of thus, than all the dainties of a board at which it -were mockery to ask a blessing! - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII - - COTTAGE LIFE. - - -Vincent was much too weary that night to notice whether his bed were -soft, and slept in luxurious repose till the morning light awoke him. -Dressing quickly, he entered the little parlour where Clemence was -preparing the breakfast. She greeted him with a cheerful smile. “We have -not the fatigue of stairs here,” she observed. - -“And we’ve the advantage of hearing at one end of the house everything -that passes at the other,” said Vincent;—“while I was dressing I did not -lose a note of the song that Martha was singing in the kitchen. I think -that there was an earthquake last night, or else I dreamed that I felt -one.” - -“It was a train passing,” said Clemence; “it was too dark yesterday when -we arrived for us to notice how close to our house the line runs.” - -“So half-a-dozen times a day we’ll have the earthquake of Lisbon, -without paying our shilling—so much to treat the ear; and as for the -eye—is there anything in the Royal Academy brighter than that famous -patch-work table-cover, which I see displayed in all its glory? I’m sure -that you are determined to make our cottage gay with every colour of the -rainbow!” - -The mind of Clemence was wandering to graver subjects. How the anxious -wife pined for a letter with the foreign post-mark! It came not, and her -heart was full of uneasy forebodings, which she struggled, however, to -hide from her young companion. Clemence even chatted merrily with the -boy, as, after herself putting up the dinner which he was to carry with -him to M——, she accompanied him to the town, to introduce him to his new -master. Clemence was not aware that an entrance fee had been required, -still less that it had been already paid from the slender purse of her -friend, Mr. Gray. - -In quiet routine sped the lives of Clemence and Vincent; the simple -meal, the social prayer, the reading the Word of consolation, ever -preceding hours of busy study to the one—to the other a long day of -quiet occupation and anxious thought. The evening was always cheerful; -Vincent returned home full of all that had happened either to himself or -his companions, and made his step-mother laugh at his tales out of -school. She knew all the fun that the boys had had at football, and the -hopes of a famous cricket-match to come off between M—— and B——. With -pleasant converse and plenty of occupation, no wonder that Vincent cared -not that the evening meal was but a basin of porridge. The pressure of -poverty, indeed, fell far more heavily on the lady, whose health had -been much shaken by sorrows, and who required the comforts which a rigid -sense of duty induced her to deny herself. All her ingenuity was taxed -to prevent Vincent from feeling its weight. Little did he dream that the -fire which blazed so merrily in the evening was never kept in during the -day, that the small stock of fuel might be husbanded; and that when the -chill of the parlour was no more to be endured, Mrs. Effingham carried -her work to the kitchen for the sake of its kindly warmth. Little did he -dream how different the meal which was packed up so neatly for him every -morning, was from that which his kind provider reserved for herself in -the cottage, till one day Vincent unexpectedly made his appearance in -the parlour two or three hours earlier than usual. - -“The academy’s broken up!” he cried, as he entered, “and when we shall -meet again no one can say. There are three cases of scarlet fever -amongst the boys!” - -“Not alarming ones, I trust?” said Clemence. - -Vincent went on without appearing to notice the question. “So I’d better -begin the profession of gardener at once, and learn about English roots -instead of Greek ones. As I knew I’d be back in time for dinner, I gave -my sandwiches away to a beggar—I prefer something hot in such weather as -this! But how’s this?” he continued, seating himself at the table: -“you’ve come to your cheese-course already!” - -“Did you consider meat as a matter of course?” said Mrs. Effingham -playfully, as she cut a slice of bread for her unexpected guest. - -“You don’t mean to say that you are going to dine upon nothing but bread -and cheese?” - -Clemence only smiled in reply. - -“And what was your dinner yesterday?” - -“Nay, I am not going to let you into the secrets of my establishment,” -Mrs. Effingham gaily answered. - -“And the fire’s out!” - -“We shall try your skill in re-lighting it, dear Vincent,” said his -mother. - -The boy gazed thoughtfully into her pale thin face, and for the first -time since he had come to Willow Cottage, Vincent heaved a sigh. -“Poverty is a trial—a great trial,” was his silent reflection; “but when -I am old enough to earn my own living and hers, she shall never know its -bitterness more.” - -Clemence regretted less the pause in her step-son’s attendance at -school, as the weather had become unusually severe. Winter, who for a -few days had seemed on the point of yielding up his empire to his -smiling successor, now with fiercer fury than ever resumed his iron -sway. Standing-water froze even within the cottage, the windows were dim -with frost, the little garden was one sheet of snow, and even the -postman made his way with difficulty along the road. It was seldom that -he stopped at the gate of Willow Cottage, and he never did so without -sending a thrill of hope, not unmingled with fear, through the bosom of -Clemence Effingham. The morning after the breaking up of the academy he -brought a letter for Vincent. - -“It is Louisa’s hand,” called out the boy, as he tramped back through -the snow to the cottage door, at which Clemence was impatiently waiting; -“I’m glad that she has answered my note at last. She is such a lazy girl -with her pen!” - -“Come and read it comfortably by the fire,” said his step-mother, -concealing her own disappointment. - -“_Pro bono publico_, I suppose, you and I being all the public at hand.” -Vincent threw himself down in front of the cheerful blaze. “Now for a -young lady’s epistle—written on dainty pink paper and perfumed—to be -given with sundry notes and annotations by the learned Vincent -Effingham:— - - “MY DEAR VINCENT, - - “You ask me how I like our new house. What a question! - Beaumont Street after Belgrave Square! I feel as if I were - imprisoned in a band-box! [I wish she could see our cottage!] - Our grand piano blocks up half our sitting-room—a miserable - relic of grandeur, which only serves to incommode us, since none - of us have the heart to touch it. The furniture of the house is - wretched—fancy chintz-covered chairs and a horse-hair sofa! - [Fancy rush-bottomed chairs, and no sofa at all!] Aunt Selina is - in shocking spirits [_alias_ temper], has not appetite for food - [while we have not food for our appetite], and is always - painfully recurring to the past. Our horse—you know we have now - only one—has fallen lame [a misfortune which can’t happen to - us]; and, as Arabella says that she detests walking, I am quite - shut up in the house. It is dull work looking out of the window, - with nothing for view but the brick houses on the opposite side - of the street, scarce anything passing but those wretched - grinding organs which murder my favourite opera airs! It is - strange how our friends seem to have forgotten us: we have - hardly a visitor here. I suppose that this is caused by the - change in our position—which gives one a very bad opinion of the - world. But I hope that things may look brighter when this long, - miserable winter is past, and the London season commences. - - “Pray give my love to dear Mrs. Effingham. I miss both her and - you very much. I am sure that she will let me know if she - receives any tidings of papa.” - - * * * * * - -“Well!” exclaimed Vincent, as he folded up the note, and replaced it in -its rose-tinted envelope, “I would rather leave the world as we have -done, than find out that the world was leaving me!” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV - - DARKNESS AND DANGER. - - -As Martha on the next morning took in the breakfast, she told her -mistress with a look of alarm that she had just heard from the baker -that the scarlet fever was making rapid progress in M——. Many had died -from its effects; amongst them two of the boys who had been attending -classes in the academy. - -As Martha retailed her tidings, Clemence noticed that Vincent turned -pale. - -“Did you hear the boys’ names?” he asked hastily. - -“I think, sir, as one was the curate’s eldest son.” - -“Ah, poor Wilson!” exclaimed Vincent with feeling; “and to think that -but three days ago he was sitting at my side, laughing and joking, as -strong and as merry as any boy in the school!” - -“They says,” observed Martha, always glad of an opportunity to -gossip,—“they says that the fever be raging in a terrible way. There’s -been three children carried off in one house, and now the mother’s -a-sickening. The baker says ’tis just like the plague; people die a’most -before they’ve time to know they be ill!” - -“I wonder if my turn will come next,” said Vincent, as Martha quitted -the little parlour. “I had the place next to Wilson in the class, and we -were wrestling together on the green. Oh, don’t look so frightened,” he -added more cheerfully, “there’s nothing the matter with me now.” - -He walked to the window and looked out, having scarcely tasted his -breakfast. “Did you ever see such a day!” he exclaimed; “the snow falls, -not in flakes, but in masses! I don’t believe that the coach will be -able to run. There were three horses to it yesterday; they could -scarcely drag it along, and snow has been falling ever since. One would -be glad of a little sunshine. I think that this winter never will end!” - -Vincent remained so long listlessly watching the snow, that Clemence at -last suggested that he should read to her a little, while she would go -on with her work. Vincent, with a yawn, consented; but though the book -had been selected for its power of entertaining, this day it did not -seem to amuse. Vincent did not read with his wonted spirit, and soon -handed over the volume to Clemence. - -Mrs. Effingham read a few pages, and then suddenly stopping, looked -uneasily at her boy. He was leaning his brow on his hand, and closing -his eyes as if in thought or in pain. - -“You are unwell, my Vincent!” she exclaimed. - -“Oh, I’m all right,” was the nonchalant reply. - -“The death of his young companion has naturally saddened his spirits. -God grant that this depression have no other cause!” was the silent -thought of the step-mother. - -She read a little longer, and stopped again. “Indeed, my son, you do not -look well!” Clemence rose and laid her hand upon his forehead—it was -feverish and hot to the touch. - -“Well, I do not feel quite as usual,” owned Vincent, scarcely raising -his heavy eyelids. “I’ve such a burning feeling in my throat.” - -Clemence’s heart sank within her; she knew the symptom too well. -Trembling with an agonizing dread lest another fearful trial of -submissive faith might be before her, she yet commanded herself -sufficiently to say, in a tone that was almost cheerful, “I see that I -must exert my authority, and order you off to bed.” - -“Do you think that I have taken the fever?” said Vincent, rising as if -with effort. - -“Whether you have taken it or not, you can be none the worse for a -little precaution, and a little motherly nursing,” she added, putting -her arm fondly around the boy. - -As soon as Clemence had seen Vincent in his room, she flew with anxious -haste to the kitchen. “Martha!” she cried, but in a voice too low to -reach the ear of her step-son, “you must go directly to M—— for Dr. -Baird. He lives in the white house on the right, next the church. Beg -him to come without a minute’s delay; I fear that Master Vincent has -caught the fever! Go—no time must be lost!” - -The kind-hearted girl appeared almost as anxious, and looked more -alarmed than her mistress. Having repeated her directions, Clemence -returned to the small apartment of Vincent. He was sitting on the side -of his little bed, one arm freed from his jacket, but apparently with -too little energy to draw the other out of its sleeve. His head was -heavy and drooping, and an unnatural flush burned on his cheek. He -passively yielded himself up to his step-mother’s care, and soon was -laid in his bed. Before an hour had elapsed Vincent was in the delirium -of fever, the scarlet sign of his terrible malady overspreading every -feature! - -How helpless Clemence felt in her loneliness then! Not a human being -near to suggest a remedy or whisper a hope! She waited and watched for -the doctor, till impatience worked itself up to torture. Why did he -delay, oh, why did he delay, when life and death might hang on his -coming! A train passed, and Clemence started, though by this time well -accustomed to the sound. Amongst all the human beings—living, loving -human beings—who passed in it so close to her cottage, there was not one -to pity or to help—not one who could even guess the anguish and danger -overshadowing the lone little dwelling! - -Clemence’s only comfort was to weep and to pray by the bed-side of her -suffering boy. He could neither mark her tears nor hear her prayers; he -lay all unconscious of the love of her who would so gladly have -purchased his life with her own. - -At last hope came; there was a sound at the door! With rapid but -noiseless step Clemence glided from Vincent’s room to meet the doctor so -anxiously expected. Martha stood at the threshold, stamping off the snow -which hung in masses to her shoes. Bonnet, cloak, and dress were all -whitened with the storm; but notwithstanding the bitter cold, heat-drops -stood on the brow of the girl. - -“Is he coming?” gasped Clemence. - -Martha burst into tears. “O ma’am, I’ve done all that I could. I’ve been -battling against it this hour! I’m sure I thought I’d be buried in the -snow!” - -“The doctor!—the doctor!” cried Clemence, impatiently. - -“I could not get as far as M——. The way’s blocked up with the snow. -Sure, ma’am, I did my best.” - -Clemence clasped her hands almost in despair. Then her resolution was -taken. “Watch by my son; do not quit him for an instant. I will go for -the doctor myself.” - -“It’s impossible! quite impossible!” cried the girl. “I sank up to the -knee every step. You’ll be lost, oh, you’ll be lost in the snow!” Her -last words were unheard by Clemence, who had already commenced her brief -preparations for encountering the storm. - -Can love, strong as death, enable that slight, fragile form to force its -way through the piled heaps of snow which block up and almost obliterate -the path? Can it give power to the young, delicate woman to face such a -blast as strips the forest trees of their branches, and levels the young -pines with the sod? For a short space Clemence struggles on, the fervour -of her spirit supplying the deficiency in physical strength; but every -yard is gained by such an effort, that she feels that her powers must -soon give way. She could as well try to reach London as M——. In her -agony she cries aloud—“O my God! my God! have pity upon me!” and when -was such a cry, wrung from an almost breaking and yet trusting heart -uttered to the Father of mercies in vain? - -Clemence cast a wild gaze around her. Almost parallel with the road, and -at no great distance from it, a long break in the wide dreary waste of -snow marked the course of the railway. Clemence turned to the right, by -instinct rather than reflection, made her difficult way to the top of -the bank, and gazed down on the cutting below. Snow there was on it, -indeed, but the line of communication was too important for it to be -suffered to accumulate there in such heaps as on the comparatively -unfrequented road. Within the tunnel itself all would, of course, be -clear. A desperate thought flashed on the soul of Clemence. One way was -open to her still,—a way dark and full of terrors, but one by which M—— -might yet be gained, and assistance brought to her suffering boy! She -gave herself no time for reflection, but scrambling, stumbling, slipping -down the bank, soon found herself on the side of the line, half buried -by the snow carried with her in her descent. - -[Illustration: - - ENTERING THE TUNNEL. - Page 237.] - -Clemence made a few steps, and then paused and shuddered. Before her was -the opening of the tunnel—dark, dreadful as a yawning grave. Could she -venture to enter its depths—perhaps to be there crushed beneath the next -passing train? Were any trains expected at this time? Clemence pressed -her forehead, and tried to remember. One she had heard within the -hour—of that at least she was certain—the up-train to London, she -believed. But the state of the railway had delayed all traffic; and it -was impossible for Clemence to calculate exactly the chances of a coming -train. The idea of being met or overtaken by one was too terrible for -the mind to dwell on. The risk was too great to be run. Clemence, -marvelling at her own temerity in having entertained the thought for a -moment, turned round to go back to her home. But the sight of her own -lone cottage on the summit of the bank made her hesitate once more. -Before her mind floated the image of her beloved boy dying for want of -that assistance which it might be in her power to bring; then that of -her husband in the anguish of his grief for his own—his only son! Again -Clemence turned, her face almost as white as the snow falling fast -around her. Clasping her hands in prayer, with her eyes raised for a -moment to the lowering sky above, she faintly murmured the words, -“_Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no -evil, for Thou art with me_;” then rousing all her courage for the -desperate attempt, she entered the gloomy tunnel. - -No lingering step there—no doubting, hesitating heart! as with the -painful duties which conscience had before imposed upon her shrinking -nature, Clemence felt a necessity to _go through_, and through as -quickly as possible. She hastened on as rapidly as the darkness would -permit, guiding herself by the wall, and the daylight at the end, which -gleamed before her like a large, pale star. The timid woman wished to -place, as soon as might be, such a distance between herself and the spot -where she had entered, that she might feel it as dangerous to return as -to proceed. She sped on her way, scarcely daring to think, keeping her -eye on that increasing star, till it was needful to pause to take -breath. The air was thick, clammy, and unwholesome—Clemence felt it like -a shroud around her, as she stood in that living grave. “Oh, shall I -ever be in daylight again?” she exclaimed, with the horror of darkness -upon her. Her foot was on one of the iron lines; she thought that she -felt a vibration—was it not the wild fancy of her excited brain? It was -sufficient to make the very blood seem to curdle in her veins, and to -absorb all her senses in the one act of listening. - -Yes!—yes!—yes!—the low, distant rumble that she knows too well,—it comes -from behind, from the London down-train; the horror of death is to -Clemence concentrated in each terrible moment, as, almost petrified with -fear, she turns round to gaze! A fiery red eye gleams through the -darkness; the light from the entrance is almost blocked out; the rumble -becomes a hollow roar, ever growing louder and louder; and, with a wild -shriek of terror, Clemence falls senseless to the earth! - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXV - - THE SEARCH. - - -Three gentlemen are travelling from London on that dreary wintry day. -They occupy the same carriage in the train, but are personally unknown -to each other. Two of them, a lawyer and a railway director, soon break -through the cold reserve which marks an English traveller. A proffered -newspaper, a remark on the weather, and they have launched into the full -tide of conversation on railway speculations, foreign politics, and the -future prospects of the nation. - -The third passenger, a grave and silent man, sits in a corner of the -carriage with his hat drawn low over his brow, keeping company only with -his own thoughts, which seem to be of no agreeable nature. The mind of -Effingham—for it is he—is in harmony with the gloomy, wintry scenes -through which he is passing. He has but yesterday arrived from France, -his case having been carried through the bankruptcy court during his -absence. He has this morning had an interview in London with his -daughters and Lady Selina. - -Clemence’s decision in regard to the fortune so carefully secured to her -by her husband at the expense of honour and conscience, had wakened a -wild tumult of feeling in the breast of the unhappy bankrupt. Anger, -shame, surprise, not unmingled with secret approbation, had struggled -together in Effingham’s soul. Early impressions had been revived -there—impressions made when his young heart had been guileless as his -son’s was now, when he would have shrunk from dishonour as from a viper, -and have as lief touched glowing metal as a coin not lawfully his own! -It had needed a long apprenticeship to the world to efface these early -impressions, or rather, to render them illegible, by writing above them -the maxims of that wisdom which is foolishness with God. Effingham was -perhaps the more irritated against his wife, because he had sufficient -conscience left to have a secret persuasion that she had only done what -was right—returned that to its lawful possessors which never ought to -have been hers. The difficulty, rather the shame, which he felt in -expressing his feelings on the subject, had prevented him from writing -at all. - -It was while still enduring this mental conflict—now accusing Clemence -of romantic folly, now condemning himself on more serious grounds—that -Effingham, on his return from France, had a meeting with Lady Selina. A -visit to Beaumont Street, under existing circumstances, was little -likely to soothe the proud man’s irritated feelings. Lady Selina -neglected nothing that could make him more painfully aware of the change -in the circumstances of his family. She artfully sought to revenge -herself upon Clemence, by bringing that change before the eyes of her -husband, not as the result of his own wild speculations, but as caused -by the obstinate folly of one who presumed to be more scrupulous than -her lord, and who followed her own romantic fancies rather than the -advice of experienced friends. Arabella followed in the track of her -aunt; while Louisa’s drooping looks and tearful eyes did more, perhaps, -than the words of either, to increase Effingham’s displeasure towards -his wife. He set out on his long journey to Cornwall full of bitterness -of spirit, attempting to turn the turbid tide of emotion into any -channel rather than that of self-condemnation. - -Effingham remained, therefore, moody and abstracted, while his -companions chatted freely together on subjects of common interest, till -the entrance of the train into a tunnel caused that pause in -conversation which a change from light to sudden darkness usually -produces. - -“What was that sound!” exclaimed Effingham. - -“The whistle,” shortly replied his next neighbour, immediately resuming -his discourse with the gentleman opposite, while Effingham relapsed into -silence. - -“We must be nearly an hour behind time!” observed the lawyer, looking at -his watch by the light of the lamp. - -“Impossible to keep to it—state of the roads—never knew such a season!” -was the director’s reply. “You saw the signal as we passed; the rest of -the trains will be stopped; no more travelling till the lines are -cleared.” - -“I hear that a stage-coach in the north had actually to be dug out of -the snow,” said the other. - -As the observation was uttered, the train burst again into the open -daylight, and in a few minutes more the black, hissing engine was -letting out its steam at the station of M——. - -Effingham sprang out of the carriage, and proceeded immediately to make -inquiries as to the direction of Willow Cottage. Hearing that the -distance was not great, and judging that it would be less difficult to -make his way over the snow on foot than in any conveyance, he left his -portmanteau, with directions that it should be forwarded after him, and -set out at once for the cottage. - -The snow-shower had ceased, and the wind was on his back, therefore, -though sinking deep at every step, the strong man made his way through -the obstacles which had proved insurmountable to Clemence. His thoughts -were so painfully engaged, that those obstacles were scarcely heeded. On -he pressed with gloomy resolution, making, however, extremely slow -progress, till, on passing a bend of the road, he came in sight of the -little lone cottage. - -“It is impossible that Clemence can be living in that miserable hovel; -and yet, by the description, the cottage can be none other than this!” -exclaimed Effingham, surveying the tenement with mingled surprise and -displeasure. - -At this point the snow lay so thick on the path, that Effingham found it -very difficult to proceed; but the goal was near, and by main strength -he forced his way over and through the drifted heaps. Suddenly an object -on the road before him arrested his attention. Almost close to -Clemence’s little gate, a horse, which had fallen floundering amongst -the heavy masses, was struggling to his feet; and his rider, whose -shaggy great-coat, almost covered with snow gave him the appearance of a -Siberian bear, was encouraging the efforts of the animal both by voice -and rein. Effingham redoubled his exertions, in order to give aid to the -stranger; but before he could reach the spot, horse and horseman had -risen from the snow. - -“Thank you, sir; no harm done!” said the rider to Effingham, patting the -neck of his panting steed. “No danger of broken bones with such a soft -bed to receive us. But I don’t see how I’m ever to get back to M——. It’s -unlucky, for I’ve plenty of patients there anxious enough to see me. I -was sent for in great haste this morning by an old gentleman who lives -some way off. I expected to find him in extremity, and it turned out to -be nothing worse than a fit of the gout! I wish that I’d prescribed him -a three miles’ ride through the snow!” The doctor shook his broad -shoulders and laughed. - -“What will you do now?” said Effingham. - -“Do! I can neither get backward nor forward, so I suppose I must stay -where I am. Lucky there’s that cottage so near; for though there’s no -sign up that I can see, doubtless I shall find in my extremity ‘good -entertainment for man and beast.’” - -“The cottage, sir, is mine,” said Effingham stiffly; then added, with -his natural graceful politeness, “I am sure that whatever accommodation -it may afford will be very much at your service.” - -Before the doctor had time to reply to one whose appearance and -demeanour so little corresponded with that of his dwelling, Martha came -running breathlessly to the gate. “O sir, I’m so thankful to see you!” -she exclaimed; “but haven’t you brought back my mistress with you?” - -“Here’s a riddle to read!” cried the doctor gaily, turning with a smile -to Effingham; but the husband had caught alarm from the anxious, excited -face of the servant. - -“What’s the matter?” he sternly exclaimed. - -“Master Vincent is bad with the fever, and mistress—surely, sir, she -sent you here?” added Martha, turning anxiously towards the doctor. - -“No, my good girl, I’ve seen no lady.” - -“Oh! mercy! mercy!” cried Martha, wringing her hands; “then maybe she -never got through the tunnel!” - -“The tunnel!” exclaimed Effingham, with a start of horror; “for mercy’s -sake, girl, explain yourself!” - -“Master Vincent is ill, and mistress went herself for the doctor,” -replied the trembling Martha, terrified both by his tone and his eye. -“She could not get on through the snow; I saw her slide down the bank -there; I saw her go into the tunnel.” - -The words seemed to sear Effingham’s brain. Without waiting to hear -more, with the gesture of a madman he rushed forward, as if impelled by -irresistible impulse, to fly to the succour of his wife. Then he -suddenly stopped, and called loudly for a torch. - -“There’s no torch, but,—but a lantern.” - -“Bring it, for the love of Heaven!” cried the miserable husband. The -girl flew to obey, while he stood almost stamping with fierce -impatience, as if every moment of delay were spent on the rack. - -“My dear sir,” began the compassionate doctor,— - -He was interrupted by Effingham, who said, in a hoarse, excited tone, -“My boy, she says, is ill. Providence has brought you here; see to -him—save him! I—I have a more terrible mission to perform! O God! -preserve my brain from distraction!” - -Martha brought the lantern after a brief absence, which seemed to the -husband interminable. He snatched it from her hand, with the question, -which his bloodless lips had hardly the power to articulate, “Did any -train pass after she left this place?” - -“Yes; _one_!” - -Without uttering another word Effingham sprang forward on his fearful -quest. - -The snow displaced on the top of the bank and down its side, and the -scattered flakes on the cutting below, served but as too sure guides. To -plunge down the steep descent was the work of a moment. Effingham was -now upon the line where not two hours previously Clemence had stood and -trembled. The blackness of the opening before him recalled to him, with -a sense of unutterable horror, the cry which had pierced his ear in the -tunnel. Effingham loved his young wife—fondly, passionately loved. If -any emotion of displeasure towards her were remembered in that awful -hour, it was but to intensify the anguish of remorse. He felt himself to -be a wretch marked by the justice of Heaven for the keenest torment that -mortal can bear and live. Loss of fortune, friends, fame—what was all -that to the misery which he might now be doomed to endure! He might find -her—his loved, his beautiful Clemence, the pride of his life, the -treasure of his heart—oh, how he might find her he dared not think. On -he pressed, the dim light from his lantern gleaming on the cold iron -below, the stony walls, the damp, dripping roof; but there was yet no -sign of a human form. - -Effingham called aloud. The dreary arches resounded with the much-loved -name; their hollow echoes were the only reply. There! surely there is -some object dimly seen through the gloom,—a dark mass lying straight -before him! With one bound Effingham is beside it, on his knees, -trembling like an aspen, then sobbing like a child! That is no crushed -and mangled form that he clasps; cold, indeed, and still, it lies in his -arms, but there is breath on the lip and pulsation in the heart. “She -lives! God be praised, she lives!” - -Yes, she lives; but the miseries and terrors of the past have shattered -the health of Clemence Effingham. Borne by her husband back to the -cottage, for weeks she remains helpless, unconscious, hovering on the -brink of eternity—while the lesson of penitence, submission, humility, -is branded as by fire on the heart of her lord. It is now that the world -appears to Effingham, even as it may appear to us all in the light of -the last great day:—its treasures, dross; its distinctions, bubbles; its -pleasures, a vanishing dream. Now, by the side of his suffering wife, -Effingham prays as he prayed when a boy over the grave of a cherished -parent; he bows at the foot of the Cross, even as the publican bent in -the Temple, feeling himself unworthy so much as to lift up his eyes unto -heaven. Dare he ask that a wife so precious may be spared,—that his -guardian angel may delay her upward flight, to linger yet in a vale of -tears, that she may trace with him, through that dark vale, the strait -path to a promised heaven? The heart of the once proud Effingham is -broken and contrite now; like the lost coin in the parable, that which -was once hidden in the defiling dust of earth is raised again to the -light, and the image and superscription of a heavenly King is found to -be stamped upon it still. - -When Clemence awoke from her state of lethargic unconsciousness, the -soft breath of spring came wooingly through the casement, sweet with the -perfume of violets, and musical with the song of birds. Young Vincent, -pale from recent illness, sat at the foot of her bed, watching, with a -face radiant with delight, the first sign of recognition. And whose was -the countenance that bent over her with joy more still, but even more -intense? whose hand so tenderly clasped hers? whose voice breathed her -name in tones of the deepest love? That was a moment whose exquisite -bliss repaid the anguish of the past. The darkness of night had indeed -rolled away,—the dreary winter was ended; Clemence was beginning, even -upon earth, to reap the harvest of light and gladness sown for the -upright in heart, who have not chosen their portion here. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXVI - - A CONTRAST. - - -Seven years have flowed on their silent course since the events recorded -in the last chapter took place, and we will again glance at Clemence -Effingham in the same humble abode. Its aspect, however, is so greatly -altered, that at first we shall scarcely recognize it. Its size has been -enlarged, though not considerably, and the rich blossoming creepers have -mantled it even to the roof, reversing the image of the poet, by “making -the _red_ one _green_,” and rendering the dwelling an object of beauty -to the eye of every passing traveller. The little garden is one bed of -flowers, radiant with the fairest productions of the spring. If we enter -the fairy abode, we find ourselves in a sitting-room which, though -small, is the picture of neatness and comfort. A refined taste is -everywhere apparent; and there are so many little elegant tokens of -affection—framed pictures, worked cushions, and vases filled with bright -and beautiful flowers—that we could rather fancy that one of earth’s -great ones, weary of state, had chosen this for a rural retreat, than -that stern misfortune had driven hither a bankrupt and his ruined -family. - -Clemence, looking scarcely older than when she left her first, splendid -abode—for peace and joy seem sometimes to have power to arrest the -changing touch of Time—is seated at the open door. Perhaps she sits -there to enjoy the soft evening breeze which so gently plays amongst her -silky tresses, or she is watching for the return of her husband and -Vincent from their daily visit to M——. Effingham, through the exertions -of Mr. Gray, has procured a small office in the town—one which, some -years ago, he would have rejected with contempt, but the duties of which -he now steadily performs, thankful to be able, by honest effort, to earn -an independence, however humble. Vincent still pursues his studies at -the academy, paying his own expenses by private tuition, and is regarded -as the most gifted scholar that M—— has ever been able to boast of. - -Clemence is not alone—a lovely little golden-haired girl is beside her, -helping, or seeming to help her mother to fasten white satin bows upon a -delicate piece of work, so light and fragile in fabric that it might -have appeared woven by fairies. It is a wedding gift for Louisa, and -will be dearly valued by the bride. - -“And, mamma dear,” said the child, looking up into the smiling face of -Clemence, “is there not something that I could send to sister too?” - -“The wild-flowers which you gathered this morning, my darling, in the -meadow.” - -“Oh, but won’t they all die on the way?” - -“We will press them in a book first, to dry them, and then they will -look lovely for years.” - -“Poor flowers—all crushed down!” sighed little Grace. - -“Only preserved,” said Clemence; and her words carried a deeper meaning -to herself than that which reached the mind of the child. - -“I wish I were rich—very rich!” cried little Grace, after a silent -pause. - -“And what would my May-blossom do with her riches?” - -“I would send a cake—such a cake—to sister!” replied Grace, opening her -little arms wide to give an idea of its size; “and it should be sugared -all over!” - -“Anything else?” inquired Clemence. - -“I’d make dear Vincy happy—quite happy. He wants so much to go to -college and be a clergyman, like Mr. Gray, and teach all the people to -be good; but he says that he has not the money. Mamma, don’t you wish -you had plenty of money?” - -“No, my love,” replied Clemence, more gravely, parting the golden locks -on the brow of her little daughter. - -“Martha told me,” said Grace, with the air of one in possession of an -important secret—“Martha told me that once you had a grand house, and a -carriage, and horses, and servants, and dresses—oh, such fine dresses to -wear!” - -“Long, long ago,” replied Clemence. - -“Was it when you lived with your dear old uncle, who gave you the pretty -little locket which always hangs round your neck?” - -“No; I lived very happily with him in a cottage not much larger than -this.” - -Little Grace remained for some moments twirling the white ribbon round -her tiny fingers, with a look of thought on her innocent face; then she -said reverently,— - -“Mamma, did God take away your money?” - -“Yes, dearest; in wisdom and love.” - -“But if you asked Him—if you prayed very hard—would He not give it all -back to you again?” - -“I should not dare to pray for it, my Grace; I should not dare even to -_wish_ for it again. I have been given blessings so much dearer, so much -sweeter”—and she stooped to press a kiss on the soft, fair brow of her -child. “God has taught me that what makes His people happy is not -wealth, but religion and peace and love. I have had more real joy in -this little cottage than I ever knew in my large and beautiful home. -But, see! there are your father and brother! Quick, quick—run forward to -meet them, or the first kiss will not be yours!” - - * * * * * - -We turn from the sunshine of Willow Cottage to the shady side of the -narrow street in which Lady Selina and her nieces for years have made -their abode. How have those years sped with the woman of the world? - -They have sped in the constant pursuit of pleasure, grasping at shadows, -seeking satisfying joys where such are never to be found; in straining -to “keep up appearances,” efforts to dress as well, entertain as well as -those whose fortunes greatly exceeded her own; in paying by the -self-denial of a month for the ostentatious display of a night; in -exchanging rounds of formal visits with acquaintance who would not shed -a tear, or forego an hour’s mirth, were she to-morrow laid in her grave. -Lady Selina feels her strength decaying, but by artificial aids she -attempts to hide the change from others—by wilful delusion from herself. -She would ignore sickness, ignore trial, ignore death! And yet, in hours -of solitude and weakness, truth, however unwelcome, will sometimes force -its way; and those whose _all_ is contained within the hour-glass of -Time are constrained to watch the sands ever flowing, to see below the -accumulating heap of infirmities, troubles, and cares, and mark above -the hollow, inverted cone of ever-lessening pleasures. How miserable, -then, is the reflection, that no mortal hand can restore a single grain, -and that, when the last runs out, nothing will remain but the grave, and -the dark, awful future beyond it. - -But Lady Selina spares no effort to banish such reflections. It is but -recently that she has even mustered courage sufficient for the -performance of the necessary duty of making her will, leaving her small -property to her nephew, Vincent; perhaps as a salve to her conscience -for utterly neglecting him during her lifetime. Lady Selina is less -willing than she ever was before to fix her meditations on death or the -grave. She will struggle on to the last, laden with the vanity which -distracts, the prejudice which distorts, the malice which corrodes the -mind. Her temper has become very irritable, for which her infirmities -may offer some excuse; but her peevish nervousness serves to imbitter -the lives of the two sisters who have chosen her dwelling as their own. - -The haughty Arabella has suffered not less acutely, though more silently -than her aunt, from the change in their outward circumstances; but she -wraps herself up in selfishness and pride, and though she often finds -her present life painful and mortifying, deems it more tolerable than -one spent in a cottage, with Clemence Effingham for a companion. - -The case is somewhat different with her sister. There have been times -when, wearied with a round of amusements, longing for gentle sympathy -and affection, wounded by the peevishness of her aunt, or the selfish -indifference of Arabella, Louisa has felt almost disposed to accept -reiterated invitations to Willow Cottage, and has half resolved to cast -in her lot with those nearest and dearest to her heart. But she is like -some fluttering insect, caught in the double web of her own habitual -love of pleasure and the influence of worldly relatives. Lady Selina -ever represents Cornwall as an English Siberia, a desolate wild, in -which existence would be perfect stagnation. She paints the gloom which -must surround the dwelling of a ruined, disappointed man, till Louisa -actually regards her indulgent father with feelings approaching to fear. -Arabella is indignant if her sister even alludes to the subject of any -change in her arrangements; so, enchained by indolence, folly, and fear, -Louisa quietly resigns herself to a position which is often painful as -well as unnatural. Her father’s kindness permits her a choice; her -choice is to remain where pleasure may be found. Her longing for -happiness is unsatisfied still, but it is at the world’s broken cisterns -that she seeks to quench the thirst of an immortal soul. - -Lady Selina’s ambition is now concentrating itself on one object. Her -nieces must form brilliant alliances—they must be united to men of -fortune and rank, and in their homes she must find once more the luxury, -grandeur, and importance which she once enjoyed in that of their father. -The wish so long indulged, and scarcely concealed, appears now to be on -the point of partial fulfilment. Sir Mordaunt Strange has offered his -hand to Louisa; it has been, after some hesitation, accepted, and every -letter to the cottage from Lady Selina is full of encomiums on the -character, manner, and appearance of the “Intended,” and of -felicitations on the happy prospects opening before the young bride -elect. - -Mr. Effingham and his son are to be present at the wedding. Clemence -would fain accompany them to London, for her heart yearns over Louisa, -and the very praise so lavishly bestowed upon Sir Mordaunt by Lady -Selina excites misgivings in the step-mother’s breast. Prudential -motives and other obstacles, however, prevent Clemence from -accomplishing her wish. - -We shall glance for a moment at Louisa, as she stands before a -pier-glass in the drawing-room of her aunt, trying on her bridal veil -and wreath of white orange-blossoms. A milliner is adjusting the spray -which is to fall on the fair girl’s graceful neck. - -“Stay for a moment,” says Lady Selina, walking towards the bride with a -feeble step (for she is infirm, though she will not own it, and was more -fit for her couch last night than for the gay assembly at which she -appeared); “Sir Mordaunt’s beautiful diamond spray will make the -_coiffure_ complete,” and she draws from its case a sparkling ornament, -which she places upon the brow of her niece. “Look, Arabella, could -anything be more charming? The dear child is _mise à peindre_!” - -Louisa glances into the mirror with a smile and a blush. It is chiefly -by working upon her vanity that her aunt has obtained such influence -over her weak and ill-regulated mind. It is an hour of pride to the -maiden. About to change her name for a title—her present small abode for -a luxurious house of her own—receiving congratulations from every -quarter—her table covered with splendid gifts—rich jewels glittering on -her fair brow—her childish heart is elated, and for the instant she -believes herself happy. But why, while the blush heightens on her cheek, -has the smile entirely disappeared? Why is the feeling of momentary -elation succeeded by misgiving and gloom? The door has opened, and the -bride elect sees reflected in the mirror beside her own image that of -another. She sees a face, not plain, but unpleasing—not coarse in its -outlines, but hard in its expression; she sees him whom she is about to -pledge herself to love, honour, and obey yet whom she regards with -indifference—happy if indifference be not one day exchanged for fear, -mistrust, and aversion! Louisa Effingham has for the second time made -the world her deliberate choice. House, carriage, title, jewels, -estate,—for such baubles as these will she, a few days hence, in the -presence of God and man, bind herself to one whom she loves not, whom -she never can learn to love! Slave to a proud and capricious tyrant, her -home will be but a luxurious prison, and the unhappy wife will bitterly -rue the day when she sold herself to a bondage more intolerable than -that under which the poor African groans! - -This is the crowning sacrifice to which the world dooms its willing -slaves. The poor victim goes crowned to the altar; friends smile, -relations congratulate, and admiring spectators applaud. Who would then -whisper of a galling yoke, a wounded spirit, a breaking heart; who would -whisper that the gold circlet on the finger may be but the first link in -a heavy chain? Moloch’s shrieking victims were soon destroyed in the -flames;—more wretched the fate of those whose slow-consuming pangs make -life itself one long sacrifice of woe! - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXVII - - PASSING AWAY. - - -Lady Selina had succeeded in making “a most eligible marriage” for one -of her nieces, but she speedily discovered that she had by no means -effected her chief object, that of securing a home for herself. “I am -married to Louisa, and not to her family,” said Sir Mordaunt, not long -after the wedding, and his conduct to his wife’s relations accorded with -the spirit of his words. - -Lady Selina was bitterly disappointed and deeply wounded. The failure of -her most cherished project preyed on her spirits, and probably shortened -her life. The base ingratitude of mankind, the emptiness of all earthly -hopes, became the constant topic of her conversation. But though she -could rail against the world in her hours of depression, it was still -her most cherished idol. Dagon might be broken, its fair proportion and -beauty all destroyed, but the mutilated stump was enthroned on its -pedestal of pride, to be honoured and worshipped still! - -“Arabella, my dear,” said Lady Selina, as one morning she appeared in -the breakfast-room at a late hour, wrapped in her dressing-gown, and -shivering as if with cold—“Arabella, my dear, I feel so ill, that I wish -that you would write and ask the doctor to call.” - -Arabella was seated at her desk. She had not risen on the entrance of -her aunt, nor did she think it in the least necessary to bear her -company at her lonely meal. Lady Selina, with a shaking hand, helped -herself to some tea, but left the cup unemptied, its contents were so -bitter and cold. - -“I suppose,” said Arabella carelessly, without looking up from her -writing, “that you’ll not go to the countess’s to-night?” - -“I fear I am not equal to the effort, though I was very anxious to be -there.” - -“Then, when the note goes to the doctor, William can take one at the -same time to Lady Praed, to ask her to chaperon me to the concert.” - -“If you wish it,” replied the lady faintly. “Would you be so good, my -dear, as to close that window? the cold seems to pierce through my -frame.” - -“Cold! nonsense, aunt! How can you talk of cold on such a grilling -morning as this? If I were to keep the window shut we should be stifled, -there’s not a breath of air in this hot, narrow street.” - -Lady Selina was too weak and languid to dispute the point with her -niece; she only sighed, shivered, and drew her wrapper closer around -her. - -The day was a long, weary one to Lady Selina; she spent it chiefly in -peevish complainings, to which the only listeners were her medical man -and her maid. Towards evening, however, she rallied; and Arabella was -surprised on descending to the drawing-room, to await the arrival of -Lady Praed, to find Lady Selina there, also ready attired for the -concert. What mocking brilliancy appeared in the diamonds which gleamed -beside those ghastly and withered features! How ill the robe of amber -satin beseemed the shrunken form that wore it! The painful incongruity, -however, did not attract the attention of Arabella. - -“I wish, aunt, that you knew your own mind,” she said impatiently to -Lady Selina; “if you were determined to go yourself, there was no need -to ask a favour of Lady Praed. I really don’t see now how we are to -manage; we have not ordered our own carriage, and there will not be room -in hers for three. My new dress will be crushed to a mummy!” and the -young lady shook out the rustling folds with a very dissatisfied air. - -Whether in consideration to Arabella’s _moire antique_, or (as is more -probable) from feeling herself, when the moment for decision arrived, -quite unable to go to the party, Lady Selina, on Lady Praed’s calling -for her niece, finally determined on remaining behind. Arabella did not -conceal her satisfaction, and passed her evening gaily amongst a -fashionable throng, without giving even a thought to the poor invalid, -except when inquiries concerning her health were made as a necessary -form, and answered with careless unconcern. - -It was midnight when Arabella returned. The servant, as she entered the -house of her aunt, addressed her with the words, “Her ladyship has not -yet gone to her room.” - -“Not gone to rest yet! that’s strange!” cried Arabella; and with rather -a quickened step she proceeded at once to the room in which she had left -Lady Selina. - -The candles had burned down to their sockets; the light of one had died -out, and only a curling line of dark smoke issued from the fallen wick; -the other cast around its dull, yellow light, revealing to the eye of -Arabella a scene which even her proud, cold spirit could not contemplate -without a sensation of horror. - -A form still sat upright in its high-backed, cushioned chair,—a form -attired in amber satin, and adorned with magnificent gems; but the -ghastly hue of death was on the brow, the glaze of death on the dull, -fixed eye, the hand hung down motionless and stiff. Arabella uttered a -faint cry, for the first glance was sufficient to reveal to her the -terrible truth—she was gazing on the corpse of Lady Selina! - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXVIII - - CONCLUSION. - - -Once again we will pass over seven years—their lights and shades, their -joys and their sorrows—and join on their path over the fresh -green-sward, bright with dew-drops that glitter in the sunshine, a party -on their way to an ivy-mantled church. We recognize at a glance the -tall, manly form of Effingham, though there are now deeper lines on his -features, and broader streaks of silver in his hair. Perhaps we may also -trace in his countenance an expression of thought more subdued and -earnest,—the expression of one who has known much of the trials of life, -but who has had the strength to rise above them,—an expression -brightening into cheerfulness whenever his gaze is bent on the gentle -partner who rests on his arm. - -The face of Clemence can never lose its charm, for it wears _the beauty -of holiness_,—that beauty which time has no power to wither, and -eternity itself can but perfect. Grace is at her mother’s side, a bright -and blooming girl, whose type may be found in the fragrant blush-rose -which she has culled in passing from the spray. - -But whose is the drooping form, clad in widow’s attire, which Mr. -Effingham supports with the gentle tenderness of compassion? It is a -bruised reed, a withered blossom,—one over which the harrow has -passed—one which the rude foot has trodden down. Louisa, broken-spirited -and weary of the world, has come to seek rest in her father’s home, as a -wandering bird, pierced by the shaft of the fowler, with quivering wing -and ruffled down flies back to the shelter of its nest. - -“Mother!” exclaimed Grace, “you once told me that you had but one great -earthly wish unfulfilled, and that was to see our dear Vincent in the -pulpit, preaching the gospel of peace. That last wish will be gratified -to-day, mother; are you now quite happy?” - -“As happy, I believe, as a mortal can be on this side heaven,” replied -Clemence; and the beaming sunshine in her blue eyes, as she raised them -for a moment towards the calm sky, expressed more even than her words. - -“That Vincent should ever have devoted himself to the ministry, giving -his whole heart to its duties, is mainly owing, I believe,” said Mr. -Effingham, “to the influence of your mother.” - -“Oh! Vincent always says,” exclaimed Grace, “that he was the most -wayward and wilful of boys, and that any good that he may ever do in -this world is owing to her prayers and example.” - -Effingham bent down his head, so that his voice should reach the ear of -his wife alone,—“Vincent’s father has yet more cause,” he murmured, “to -bless those prayers and that example.” - -Clemence entered the church with a heart so full of gratitude, peace, -and love, that there seemed left in it no room for a worldly care or an -earthly regret. Through infirmity, weakness, and sorrow, she had humbly -endeavoured to follow her Lord, and He had led her from darkness to -light,—He had turned even her trials into blessings. Had she resigned -wealth in obedience to His will? He had made poverty itself the channel -by which the riches of His grace had been freely poured into her bosom. -In poverty her husband’s affection had deepened,—that affection which, -for the sake of conscience, she had hazarded to weaken or to lose; in -poverty her son, removed from evil influence, had learned lessons of -self-denial, faith, and love, which would make him her _joy and crown_ -through the ages of a blissful eternity; in poverty her own character -had been strengthened,—she had learned more fully, more submissively to -trust the love of her heavenly Father: and now her cup overflowed with -blessings,—blessings which she need not fear freely to enjoy; for it was -the smile of her Lord that had changed the waters of bitterness to the -wine of gladness; it was from His hand that she had received her -treasures—and those treasures were _not_ her idols. - - Whatever comes between the soul and Christ, the Fount of Light - Must cast a shadow on the soul, how fair soe’er it seem. - Yet need we not resign earth’s choicest blessings,—all is bright - When what we love _obstructs not_ but _reflects_ the heavenly beam. - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - -Transcriber’s note: - - ○ Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected. - - ○ Typographical errors were silently corrected. - - ○ Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only - when a predominant form was found in this book. - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IDOLS IN THE HEART*** - - -******* This file should be named 60486-0.txt or 60486-0.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/6/0/4/8/60486 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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/* remove all borders except the top one */ - border-style: solid; - border-color: #000000; - clear: both; } - </style> -</head> -<body> -<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, Idols in the Heart, by A. L. O. E.</h1> -<p>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States -and most other parts of the world 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 <a -href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you are not -located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this ebook.</p> -<p>Title: Idols in the Heart</p> -<p> A Tale</p> -<p>Author: A. L. O. E.</p> -<p>Release Date: October 13, 2019 [eBook #60486]</p> -<p>Language: English</p> -<p>Character set encoding: UTF-8</p> -<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IDOLS IN THE HEART***</p> -<p> </p> -<h4>E-text prepared by<br /> - Richard Hulse, Barry Abrahamsen,<br /> - and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> - (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> - from page images generously made available by<br /> - Internet Archive<br /> - (<a href="https://archive.org">https://archive.org</a>)</h4> -<p> </p> -<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> - <tr> - <td valign="top"> - Note: - </td> - <td> - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - <a href="https://archive.org/details/idolsinhearttale00aloeiala"> - https://archive.org/details/idolsinhearttale00aloeiala</a> - </td> - </tr> -</table> -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<div class='figcenter id002'> -<img src='images/i000.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>THE SICK-CHAMBER.<br />Page <a href='#ch13'>131</a>.</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c001' /> -</div> -<div> - <h1 class='c002'><span class='xxlarge'>IDOLS<br /> <br />IN THE HEART.</span></h1> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c003'> - <div><span class='large'><span class="blackletter">A Tale.</span></span></div> - <div class='c003'><span class='small'>BY</span></div> - <div class='c000'><span class='xlarge'><i>A. L. O. E.</i>,</span></div> - <div class='c000'><span class='small'>AUTHOR OF “THE GIANT-KILLER,” “PRIDE AND HIS PRISONERS,”</span></div> - <div><span class='small'>ETC. ETC.</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class='c004' /> -<div class='lg-container-b c005'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Keep yourselves from idols.” —<i>1 John</i> v. 21.</div> - <div class='line'>“Covetousness, which is idolatry.” —<i>Col.</i> iii. 5.</div> - <div class='line'>“Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth.” —<i>Col.</i> iii. 2.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class='c006' /> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div><span class='large'><span class="blackletter">London:</span></span></div> - <div>T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW.</div> - <div>EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class='c007' /> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>1883.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c008'><span class="blackletter">Contents.</span></h2> -</div> -<hr class='c009' /> -<div class='fs90'> - -<table class='table0' summary=''> -<colgroup> -<col width='18%' /> -<col width='72%' /> -<col width='9%' /> -</colgroup> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>I.</td> - <td class='c011'>THE ARRIVAL,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch01'>5</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>II.</td> - <td class='c011'>THE YOUNG BRIDE,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch02'>16</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>III.</td> - <td class='c011'>FIRST STEPS,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch03'>24</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>IV.</td> - <td class='c011'>CONSULTATION,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch04'>34</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>V.</td> - <td class='c011'>THE FIRST SKIRMISH,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch05'>43</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>VI.</td> - <td class='c011'>A DECIDED MOVE,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch06'>55</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>VII.</td> - <td class='c011'>THE DINNER PARTY,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch07'>67</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>VIII.</td> - <td class='c011'>A STORMY MORNING,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch08'>82</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>IX.</td> - <td class='c011'>OPPOSITION SIDE,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch09'>97</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>X.</td> - <td class='c011'>SOCIAL CONVERSE,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch10'>104</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>XI.</td> - <td class='c011'>POLICY AND POLITENESS,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch11'>113</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>XII.</td> - <td class='c011'>A PLUNGE,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch12'>120</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>XIII.</td> - <td class='c011'>THE CHAMBER OF SICKNESS,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch13'>130</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>XIV.</td> - <td class='c011'>THE EFFECT OF A WORD,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch14'>139</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>XV.</td> - <td class='c011'>A RAY OF LIGHT,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch15'>147</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>XVI.</td> - <td class='c011'>QUIET CONVERSE,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch16'>155</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>XVII.</td> - <td class='c011'>GATHERING CLOUDS,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch17'>162</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>XVIII.</td> - <td class='c011'>CALCULATIONS,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch18'>172</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>XIX.</td> - <td class='c011'>SACRIFICE,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch19'>182</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>XX.</td> - <td class='c011'>DECISION,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch20'>191</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>XXI.</td> - <td class='c011'>JEWELS AND THEIR WORTH,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch21'>200</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>XXII.</td> - <td class='c011'>COMING DOWN,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch22'>213</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>XXIII.</td> - <td class='c011'>COTTAGE LIFE,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch23'>224</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>XXIV.</td> - <td class='c011'>DARKNESS AND DANGER,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch24'>230</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>XXV.</td> - <td class='c011'>THE SEARCH,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch25'>240</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>XXVI.</td> - <td class='c011'>A CONTRAST,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch26'>251</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>XXVII.</td> - <td class='c011'>PASSING AWAY,</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch27'>262</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c010'>XXVIII.</td> - <td class='c011'>CONCLUSION</td> - <td class='c012'><a href='#ch28'>267</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -</div> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div><span class='xxlarge'>IDOLS IN THE HEART.</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class='c013' /> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch01' class='c008'>CHAPTER I<br /> <br /><span class='small'>THE ARRIVAL.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/m.jpg' width='100' height='189' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_4'> -“My dear girls, I can indeed enter into your -feelings,” said Lady Selina Mountjoy in -a tone of sympathy; “it is trying to -have to welcome a stranger to your -home, to see her take the place once -occupied by your dear departed mother.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“It is not so much that,” interrupted Arabella -with some abruptness, “but—”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I understand—I understand perfectly,” said -Lady Selina, with an expressive movement of the -head; “if your dear papa had chosen differently—some -one whom you knew, valued, could confide in—some -one, in short, of your mother’s position in -life, to whom you could look up as to a second -parent, it would have been very different; but the -orphan of a country doctor—so young, so inexperienced—to -have her placed at the head of an -establishment like this, is—But I ought not to -speak thus; of course your dear papa has chosen -very well, very wisely; no doubt Mrs. Effingham is -a very charming creature;” and the lady leaned -back on her cushioned chair, folded her hands, and -looked into the fire with an air of melancholy -meditation.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Vincent, the youngest of the party, a boy about -eleven years of age, had been sitting at the table -with a book before him, but had never turned over -a leaf, drinking in eagerly every word uttered by -his aunt on the subject of the step-mother whose -arrival with her husband was now hourly expected -in Belgrave Square. He was a bright, intelligent -boy, in whose blue eyes every passing emotion was -mirrored as in a glass, whether the feeling were -good or evil. The expression of those eyes was -neither kind nor gentle as he said abruptly, “Didn’t -you tell us that her grandmother was a Frenchwoman? -I do hate and detest everything French!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Her own name—Clemence—is French,” observed -Louisa, the younger of the two girls who sat, -with embroidery in their hands, before the fire, with -their feet resting on the bright fender for the sake -of warmth, as the month was November, and the -weather cold.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Yes,” sighed Lady Selina, “it is true. Her -grandmother was a French refugee,—of course a -Papist; and, no doubt, her descendant is tinctured -with Romish errors. No fault of hers, poor thing!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“She’s not a Roman Catholic,” said Vincent -quickly. “Don’t you remember that papa said that -she was a great friend of the clergyman at Stoneby, -and helped him in the schools and with the poor? -He would not have let a Papist do that.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“My dear child,” replied Lady Selina, languidly -stirring the fire, “I never for a moment imagined -that your papa would marry one who was avowedly -a Papist; but, depend upon it, there will be a -leaning, a dangerous leaning. We shall require to -be on our guard, there is such a natural tendency -in the human heart towards idolatry. As to her -having helped Mr. Gray, that was very natural—very -natural indeed. She was glad to make friends, -and the clergyman and his wife were probably her -only neighbours. Besides, in a dull country place -there is such a lack of occupation, that young ladies -take to district visiting to save themselves from -dying of ennui.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Oh!” exclaimed Louisa, “after such a dismal -life, what a change it will be to her to come to -London! How she will delight in all its amusements! -I hope that she’ll be as mad after the opera -as I am; and that from week’s end to week’s end -we may never have the penance of an evening at -home, except when we entertain company ourselves! -I can forgive anything in her but being dull, sober, -and solemn.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Giddy child!” lisped Lady Selina, with uplifted -finger and affected smile, “you sadly need some one -to keep you in order—some one to hold the rein -with a firmer hand than your poor indulgent aunt -ever has done.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Hold the rein!” repeated Arabella with indignant -pride, the blood mounting to her forehead as -she spoke. “I hope that Mrs. Effingham will make -no attempt of that kind with us. There’s but five -years’ difference between her age and mine; and as -regards knowledge of the world, I suppose that the -difference lies all the other way. I have no idea of -being governed by an apothecary’s daughter!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Nor I!” exclaimed Louisa, shaking her pretty -ringlets with a contemptuous toss of the head.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Nor I!” echoed Vincent, shutting his book, and -joining his sisters by the fire.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Little rebels!—fy! fy!” said their aunt, with -a smile on her lips that contradicted her words. -Lady Selina saw that she had succeeded in her aim. -She had prejudiced the minds of her sister’s children -against the young bride of their father; she had -created a party against Clemence in the home which -she was about to enter as its mistress. Arabella, -Louisa, and their brother, would be on the watch to -find out defects in the character, manners, and education -of their step-mother; they would regard her -rather in the light of a usurper, from whom any -assertion of power would be an encroachment on -their rights, than as a friend united to them by a -close and tender tie.</p> - -<p class='c015'>It was not, perhaps, surprising that Lady Selina -should contemplate with little satisfaction a marriage -which dethroned her from the position in Mr. Effingham’s -house which she had held for seven years. -Lady Selina had enjoyed more of the luxuries of life -and the pleasures of society in the dwelling of her -brother-in-law, than her small capital of ten thousand -pounds could have secured for her anywhere else. -To Vincent Effingham it had been a satisfaction to -have at the head of his household a lady of position -and intelligence, who would take a general super-intendence -of the education of his three motherless -children. How far Lady Selina was fitted to do -justice to the charge, is a different question. She -was one who passed well in the world when viewed -only in its candle-light glare—one to whom had -been applied the various epithets of “a sensible -woman,” “an amiable creature,” and “a very desirable -acquaintance.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Lady Selina had acquired the reputation for <i>sense</i>, -from those whose opinions resembled her own, for -her tact in steering clear of every theological difficulty. -Her religion, if religion it could be called, -was of the simplest and most easy description. To -her the path to heaven was so wide that its boundaries -were scarcely visible. There was, of course, -a decent attendance to forms, for that the laws of -society demanded; nay more, Lady Selina had about -half-a-dozen cut and dried religious phrases, to be -brought forward before clergymen and serious -visitors, and put back again immediately upon their -departure: these were, perhaps, satisfactory evidence -to herself that her condition, as regards spiritual -things, was one of the most perfect security. Enthusiasm -on any subject regarding a future state -appeared to the “woman of sense” a weak and -childish folly. She could understand a politician’s -strong interest in his party, a landlord’s in his estate, -a lady’s in raising her position by a single step in -the social circle; but the longing of an immortal -soul for peace, pardon, and purity, was a matter -completely foreign to her experience, and beyond -her comprehension. Lady Selina wore her religion -as she did her mantle; it was becoming, fashionable, -and commodious, and it could be laid aside at a -moment’s notice if it occasioned the slightest inconvenience.</p> - -<p class='c015'>And Lady Selina was called “an amiable creature” -by such as are easily won by a polished manner and -courteous address. She possessed the art of being -censorious without appearing so. She seldom openly -expressed an unfavourable opinion of any one; but -conveyed more sarcastic meaning in a word of faint -praise or disparaging pity, a shake of the head, a -hesitating tone, or a soft, compassionating sigh, than -might have been expressed by severe vituperation. -None of her strokes were direct strokes—she never -appeared to take aim; but her balls ever glanced off -at some delicate angle, and effected her object without -visible effort of her own. She had a secret pride -in her power of influencing others, never considering -that her ingenuity simply consisted in the art of -gratifying malice at the expense of generosity and -candour.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Lady Selina was “a very desirable acquaintance” -to those who only knew her as an acquaintance. -Her kindliness was as the blue tint on the distant -mountain, which vanishes as we approach nearer towards -the barren height. Whoever might rest upon -her friendship, would lean, indeed, upon a broken -reed. But, in the exchange of ordinary courtesies, in -the art of simulating cordiality and sympathy, Lady -Selina was a perfect adept. Few left her presence -without a feeling of self-satisfaction and gratified -vanity, which caused both the visit and her to whom -it had been made to be remembered with pleasure.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The woman of the world’s ideas of education were -the reflection and counterpart of her views on religion. -To her, the first object in life was to shine in the -world; and, accordingly, so far as young people were -trained to accomplish this object, so far she deemed -their education complete. Arabella and Louisa were -provided with a French governess, and the first -masters in music and drawing; and their aunt, with -the air of one who feels that she has conscientiously -performed an arduous duty, spoke to her acquaintance -of her anxious and indefatigable efforts to do -full justice to her motherless charge. It is true, -that occasionally a moral maxim or religious precept -dropped from the lips of Lady Selina for the benefit -of her sister’s children; such was the caution against -the heart’s tendency to idolatry uttered in the preceding -conversation. The words had been lightly -spoken, and their meaning weighed neither by speaker -nor listeners; but whether they might not with advantage -have been applied to the consciences of all, -will be seen in the following narrative.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The marriage of Mr. Effingham with Clemence -Fairburne, a young lady whom he had met in Cornwall -while on a visit to a clerical friend, was to -Lady Selina an unwelcome event. Notwithstanding, -however, the complaint that she rather insinuated -than expressed to her numerous acquaintance, that -her wealthy brother-in-law had united himself to one -possessing neither fortune nor high position, it is -probable that Lady Selina would have been far more -annoyed had his second wife been equal in rank to -his first. Clemence was young and unacquainted -with the world. She would probably enter into -society with the diffidence of one to whom its usages -were not familiar. Lady Selina, like some astute -politician of old, foresaw an extension of her own -regency under the minority of the rightful sovereign. -She determined that Clemence should be a mere -cipher in her own house, and follow instead of leading; -she should occupy as low a position as possible -in the eyes of those over whom circumstances had -placed her. Artfully and successfully Lady Selina -impressed the family, and even the household, with -the idea that Clemence was some low-born, half-educated -girl, whom Mr. Effingham had had the -weakness to marry, because she possessed a few -personal attractions! On the few hints thrown out -by Lady Selina others enlarged—they filled up her -lightly sketched outlines. The French governess, -Mademoiselle Lafleur, shrugged her shoulders in the -school-room, ventured to breathe the word <i>mésalliance</i> -even in the presence of her pupils, and -directed the flow of her conversation perpetually -on the theme of the miseries inflicted by tyrannical -step-mothers. Arabella and Louisa began almost to -look upon themselves in the light of injured parties, -because their father, still in the vigour of life, had -sought to add to his domestic happiness! Their -prejudices would have been still more strong and -bitter but for the young wife’s letters, which reached -them from time to time, and which breathed such a -kindly spirit, such a desire to know and to love the -children of her dear husband, that even Lady Selina’s -insinuations could scarcely destroy their effect.</p> - -<p class='c015'>And now the day appointed for the first meeting of -Clemence with her new family had arrived; everything -in the house was made ready for the reception -of the master and the lady of his choice. There -was the bustle of preparation in the lower regions -of the dwelling; the harsh voice of Mrs. Ventner, -the housekeeper, was pitched to a sharper key than -usual; while in the drawing-room a restless sensation -of expectation prevailed, which prevented -Lady Selina and her nieces from settling to any of -their usual occupations. The piano had been opened, -but its keys were untouched; the needle pressed -the embroidery, but not a single additional leaf gave -sign of progress in the work.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The short November day was darkening into -twilight; the yellow lights round the Square started -one by one into view, faintly gleaming through the -cold white haze. A few snow-flakes fell noiselessly -upon the pavement, along which, at long intervals, -a foot-passenger hurried, wrapping his cloak tightly -around him to fence out the piercing north wind. -Vincent took his station at the window to give -earliest notice of the arrival, while Lady Selina and -his sisters chatted around the blazing fire.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Here they are at last!” exclaimed Vincent, as -a chariot dashed up to the door, with dusty imperial -and travel-soiled wheels, and horses from whose -heated sides the steam rose into the chill evening air. -“Here they are!” he repeated, and swinging himself -down the stairs, he was at the hall door almost before -the powdered footmen who were there in waiting -had had time to open it. The ladies more slowly -followed; but curiosity with Louisa getting the -better of dignity, she ran lightly down the long -broad flight of steps, and found Vincent returning -the affectionate embrace of her who longed to find -in him indeed a son.</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch02' class='c008'>CHAPTER II<br /> <br /><span class='small'> THE YOUNG BRIDE.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/w.jpg' width='100' height='163' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_4'> -What were the sensations of the fair young -bride when she crossed the threshold of -that lordly dwelling, when she entered -the spacious and luxurious apartments -which she was thenceforth to call her -own? Clemence looked round her with admiration -on the many beautiful things which adorned her -husband’s home. She who from childhood had known -little of luxury, saw, with the fresh pleasure of girlhood, -inlaid tables spread with elegant specimens of -the arts of many lands—mosaics from Italy, porcelain -from Sevres, the delicate ivory carving of -China. The exquisite paintings on the panelled -wall, the grand piano with the graceful harp beside -it, even the luxurious furniture, the crimson drapery -of the satin curtains, and the rich softness of the -velvet carpet, impressed Clemence’s mind with an -idea of beauty and grandeur to which a girl not -quite one and twenty years of age could scarcely -be insensible. Frankly and artlessly the bride expressed -her admiration, knowing that to do so would -gratify her husband, who listened with a pleased -smile; and yet her warm young heart was conscious -of some feeling of oppression, some sensation almost -resembling that of fear! The coldness with which -her two step-daughters had received, not returned -her kindly kiss,—the frigid courtesy of Lady Selina,—had -had much the same effect upon Mrs. Effingham’s -spirit as the cold November mist upon nature. -Clemence could not feel at her ease, though the -natural grace of her manner prevented her shyness -from betraying her into awkwardness. She could -not but deem it a relief when at length she could -retire to her own apartment; and dismissing the -maid, who pressed forward with officious offers of -assistance, Clemence seated herself upon a sofa, and -endeavoured to collect her scattered thoughts.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I wish that they had been younger!” was almost -the first idea which took definite shape in her -mind; “little ones who would have nestled into -my heart, and who would have won and returned -all my love! I am afraid—but how foolish, how -wrong it is to let a shadow of anxiety or fear dim -the brightness of a day which should be one of the -happiest of my life! We shall love one another; -yes, we must—we shall! <i>His</i> children cannot but -be dear to me, and I will earnestly try to gain their -affections; and if I am weak and inexperienced, and -utterly unequal to perform rightly the duties of this -new, strange state of life, is not my heavenly Father -as near me here as when I was in the dear old -cottage?” Then, sinking on her knees, with clasped -hands Clemence returned fervent thanks for the -boundless blessings which Providence had lavished -upon her, and implored for wisdom and aid, and for -favour in the sight of those with whom she was now -so nearly connected.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence rose from her devotions joyous and -hopeful, and proceeded at once to do that which she -regarded rather as a pleasure than as a duty. Unlocking -her little travelling-case, she took out writing -materials, and hastily penned a note to her uncle, -Captain Thistlewood, the guardian of her orphaned -youth, announcing her arrival at her home. Clemence -knew how impatiently the letter would be -watched for, and how eagerly welcomed by the old -sailor; and as she placed within the envelope an -enclosure, addressed to the care of her former pastor, -she smiled to think how many hearths she would -warm, how many boards she would spread in Stoneby, -and how many a family would bless her in the -village where she counted as many friends as there -were poor. “Oh! this is the luxury of being rich!” -thought Clemence; and carrying the letter in her -hand, with a light step and light heart she descended -the staircase. The joy which she felt in sending her -remittance was purer and brighter than any which -merely personal gratification could have bestowed.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“She’s no more French than I am!” muttered -Vincent to himself, as he gazed on her fair brow and -clear blue eyes. His prejudices were fast melting -away beneath the spell of that sunny smile.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The sound of the gong now summoned the family -to a sumptuous repast. Notwithstanding her disposition -to be pleased with everything, Clemence, at -the head of the table loaded with plate and glittering -with crystal, felt her timid misgiving return. -It was not so much that the young wife found the -unaccustomed presence of powdered servants oppressive, -that her new state was irksome to her, and -that it seemed as if freedom were exchanged for -grandeur; but that, with intuitive perception, she had -become aware that her every word and movement -were watched and criticized, and that by no friendly -eyes. Mr. Effingham was a silent man—that evening -he was more silent than usual; Arabella and -Louisa sat as if unable to open their lips; the chief -burden of the conversation fell upon the young -timid woman, whose heart fluttered with the excitement -of her new position, and her anxiety to say -nothing and do nothing that could possibly shock or -offend. Lady Selina, indeed, repeatedly broke the -silence which, notwithstanding the efforts of Clemence, -frequently fell on the circle; but, whether by -design or not, she so directed the conversation as to -puzzle and embarrass the bride.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I think that the estates of the Marquis of Bardston -lie near Stoneby.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Very near to the village,” replied Clemence.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Does the picture of the old marchioness by Sir -Joshua Reynolds deserve its fame?” inquired Lady -Selina. “I have often wished to see it; of course, -you have very frequently done so!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I was never in the Castle,” answered Clemence; -“it is not opened to the public.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>There was something disagreeable to the bride, -though she scarcely knew why, in the slight bend -of the head and pursing of the lip with which Lady -Selina received her straightforward reply. The lady -of fashion seemed determined to discourse that evening -upon no subject but that of the various connections -of persons of rank. Her memory appeared unusually -at fault. She could not remember whom -Lord Greenallen’s sister had married, or what had -been the family name of the Duchess of Dinorben, -and was ever referring for information to poor Clemence, -who had never looked into a peerage in her -life. Mrs. Effingham felt herself painfully ignorant -of everything that Lady Selina seemed to think it -quite necessary to know, and was heartily glad when, -the tedious ceremony of dinner being ended, the -party adjourned to the drawing-room.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Vincent was the only one of her new acquaintance -with whom Clemence was quite at ease, and she was -heartily sorry to find that he was to return to his -school early on the morrow, having only come home -in order to be introduced to his step-mother. She -could rest her hand on his shoulder, and her kind -and playful words would call up an answering smile -on the face of the boy; but his sisters’ monosyllabic -replies to her questions, the marked manner in which -they always addressed her as “Mrs. Effingham,” -chilled and discouraged the young wife, while she -felt an increasing mistrust and almost dread of their -polite and dignified aunt. There was, likewise, something -repellent to the frank and open nature of Clemence -in the flowery compliments, the exaggerated -politeness, with which Mademoiselle Lafleur, who -joined the circle at tea, received her courteous greeting. -Clemence secretly reproached herself for foolish -prejudice, but could not shake off a sensation of -repulsion. Weary with her journey and the excitement -of the meeting, Clemence rejoiced when the -long evening closed. She was startled at the sound -of her own sigh, as she sat listlessly before her toilet-table; -and unconsciously raising her eyes to her -mirror, saw reflected there her own pale face, marked -with a thoughtful and anxious expression.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“What a child I must be!” exclaimed Clemence -half aloud, “to let such trifles weigh upon me—I -who have everything to enjoy, everything to be -thankful for!” and she struggled, and not unsuccessfully, -to throw from her spirit its burden, and to look -upon the untried future before her with cheerful -confidence and hope. Had Clemence fully on that -evening realized the difficulties of her position, her -heart would indeed have sunk within her. A youthful -servant of the Lord, she stood alone in a house -where faith in Him had hitherto been nothing but a -name; she had entered a family where every heart -had a secret idol set up in its inmost shrine. Clemence -looked up to her husband as to one all wisdom -and goodness. Mr. Effingham bore in the world a -spotless name; he was liberal in his charities, and -appeared earnest in his profession of religion. His -young wife, with loving, trusting confidence, had -twined her heart’s affections around him, as some fair -creeper clasps with its tendrils a stately forest tree. -No suspicion crossed her mind that any unworthy -passion could have place in a heart that she deemed -the abode of every virtue—that the tree so goodly -to the eye could nourish a destroyer within. With -different eyes would Clemence have surveyed all the -expensive luxuries of the banker’s mansion had she -known—. But we must not anticipate. Clemence -was not the first woman, nor will be the last, whose -affections have blinded her judgment, whose fond -credulity has invested the object of her choice with -the noblest and highest qualities of man. Alas! -when the cold touch of experience awakens the loving -spirit from such a blissful delusion!</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch03' class='c008'>CHAPTER III<br /> <br /><span class='small'>FIRST STEPS.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/o.jpg' width='100' height='181' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_4'> -“Oh, Arabella!—mademoiselle!” exclaimed -Louisa on the following day, as she entered -the school-room at a later hour than usual, -“I have been so much diverted—I have -been enjoying such a rare treat!” and -she threw herself into an arm-chair, and gave way -to a burst of merriment.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Qu’est-ce que c’est?” inquired the governess.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I have seen Mrs. Effingham’s trousseau!” cried -Louisa. Arabella looked up from her drawing, and -the exclamation of mademoiselle expressed her curiosity -on a subject which is supposed to be one of -some interest to the fair sex.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I was passing the door of her dressing-room,” -continued Louisa, “and as it happened to be ajar -she saw me, and called to me to come in.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“As one school-girl might another,” said Arabella -contemptuously.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And there was the bride on her knees, herself -unpacking her boxes!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“She has not been accustomed to many servants,” -observed Arabella, “and finds it most convenient to -wait upon herself.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And the trousseau de madame was magnifique, -no doubt?” said mademoiselle, with a little irony -in her tone.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Beautiful simplicity!” laughed Louisa; “I -suppose that Mrs. Effingham has met somewhere -with the line, ‘Beauty when unadorned adorned -the most,’ and has adopted it for her motto!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Perhaps,” suggested mademoiselle, “the <i>marchande -de modes</i> at Stoneby—”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Lived in the time of King Pharamond,” interrupted -Louisa; “or the bride played <i>marchande de -modes</i> herself; or, what is more probable still, employed -her school-girls to run up her dresses, and -make them true charity pattern! There’s not a -flounce or a fringe in the whole set, from the white -silk wedding-dress to the neat cotton-print.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Cotton-print! est-il possible!” exclaimed mademoiselle, -lifting up her hands.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And the dressing-case—oh!” cried Louisa, -bursting into fresh laughter at the recollection.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Quelque chose très-bizarre—very extraordinary!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Ordinary, certainly, without the extra! Brushes, -combs, all enclosed in a simple <i>bag</i>, ingeniously -made, with many pockets big and little, quite a -curiosity of art;—I believe it was one of her wedding -presents!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Arabella and mademoiselle joined in the mirth -which this idea inspired.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I should like to have seen <i>les cadeaux</i>,” observed -the latter.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I saw everything—all her treasures,” cried -Louisa; “I have a correct inventory of them in my -head. The diamond ring which Mrs. Effingham -wears is papa’s gift; so is the bracelet, and his -miniature surrounded with brilliants.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Oh! but her own family—her own friends, -what did they give?” asked mademoiselle.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Her own family seems to consist of her old -uncle, Captain Thistlewood, who presented her with—let -me see! an old-fashioned locket containing -her parents’ hair. It does not look like gold; I -think that he must have picked it up at a pawnbroker’s. -Oh! and she has some distant lady -relations, who seem to enjoy a monopoly of making -markers—red, pink, and blue; and that she may -have no lack of books to put them into, the clergyman, -Mr. Gray, has given her a Church-Service; -and his wife—such a present for a bridal! it -would have been much more appropriate for a -funeral—Baxter’s ‘Saint’s Everlasting Rest’!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Anything else?” inquired Arabella with a sneer.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“The gem of the collection is to come. You -should have seen Mrs. Effingham unfolding it, and -the look with which she surveyed it! A huge -patchwork table-cover all the colours of the rainbow. -‘My dear school-girls’ present,’ said she, as -tenderly as if each ugly patch had been a love-token -set in jewels!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I hope that she’s not going to display it in our -drawing-room,” exclaimed Arabella.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I think that madame should wear it as a shawl—bring -in a new <i>mode</i>,” said Lafleur.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I wish that I’d thought of recommending that!” -exclaimed Louisa, clapping her hands; “she looks -so unsophisticated and ready to believe. I’d lay -anything that were we to tell her that the hoods of -opera-cloaks are worn expressly as pockets to hold -bits of bread for distribution to beggars, that such -is the approved method of being charitable in London, -she would say, with one of her gentle smiles, -‘What an admirable plan!’ and adopt the fashion -directly. I thought of passing something of the -kind upon her, but somehow I could not command -my countenance when she looked at me with her -inquiring blue eyes!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I suspect she’s sharper than you think,” said -Arabella shortly.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Well, she is going to the milliner and dressmaker -to-day—she saw the necessity for that; and -I’m going in the carriage with her, and Aunt Selina -also, I fancy.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I wonder what pleasure you can find!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Oh! it will be the rarest fun in the world! -She is such a shy, timid creature, I can see at a -glance that she has an awe for my aunt, and is -afraid of the sound of her own voice when the earl’s -daughter is present; so what between Lady Selina, -and chattering little Madame La Voye, we’ll get -Mrs. Effingham into such a whirlpool of fashion, -we’ll bewilder her so with our <i>nouveautes</i>, that she -will order anything and everything that we please, -and come out into the world so gay that she will -not know herself when she looks in her glass!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>The visits to the fashionable dressmaker and -milliner were accomplished that afternoon under the -auspices of Lady Selina, who, in according her undesired -presence, contrived to make Clemence very -sensibly feel that she was performing an act of condescension. -If Clemence was ignorant of the intricacies -of the peerage, she was also entirely at -fault in the mysteries of <i>la mode</i>; she scarcely -knew <i>moire antique</i> and <i>point d’Alençon</i> even by -name, and the jargon of French terms which flowed -so glibly from the tongue of Madame La Voye, -would have been scarcely more unintelligible to -Mrs. Effingham if uttered in the Japanese language. -This and that rich article of attire, to be adorned in -some incomprehensible style, was recommended as -absolutely indispensable, and in a manner which -left the shy young wife scarcely the option of refusal. -If knowledge be power, ignorance is weakness; -and Clemence, dazzled, confused, painfully -anxious to please, and shrinking from exposing -herself to ridicule, suffered her own taste and inclination -to be overborne by those of her fashionable -companions.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence returned home with the disagreeable -conviction that she had been led into extravagance -to an extent which she was unable to calculate; -for in the presence of Lady Selina she had not -ventured to ask the cost of anything. She felt that -she had yielded with the helplessness of a child to -an influence which her judgment told her was not -an influence for good.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“How exceedingly weakly I have acted to-day!” -such was the mortifying reflection of Clemence as -soon as she had leisure for thought. “I fear that -I have abused the generosity and confidence of my -dear husband, and spent more in selfish indulgence -in one hour than should have sufficed me for a year. -True, my situation in life has been changed, and -some things were really necessary; but I was -carried away like a feather on the breeze, afraid to -say what I liked or disliked, afraid to show that I -thought money of any value except as a means of -gratifying caprice. What a strange, new existence -this is! I seem to be breathing quite a different -atmosphere—to have entered a world where ideas of -right and wrong, important and trivial, are utterly -unlike those to which I have been accustomed from -my childhood. Except my beloved husband, there -is no one here to whom I could speak the feelings -of my heart, believing that they would be even -understood. I wonder if, as I become experienced in -the ways of the world, I shall gradually become like -those around me—if I shall ever resemble Lady -Selina!” A smile passed across Clemence’s face as -the idea first suggested itself to her mind; but it -almost instantly faded away, and was succeeded by -an expression of serious thought. “I fear that I -am very unfit to meet the temptations of this new -scene. The world appears to me like a petrifying -stream. Some spirits, like my noble Vincent’s, can -drink of it uninjured, and then rise above it on the -strong wings of reason and faith; but I fear that I -shall be like some weak spray, gradually losing all -inward life, and growing harder and colder as the -waters flow by it! These two days have shown -me more of weakness and folly, yes, and vanity too, -in my own heart, than I was ever sensible of before. -I have felt as much ashamed of my ignorance of -that which I have never had an opportunity of -knowing, as if I had been charged with a serious -fault. I have been tempted to equivocation, and -have more than once assented with my lips, or by -my silence, to that which in my heart I denied. I -have felt my vanity gratified even by the silly -flattery of one who probably considers flattery as a -part of her trade. If I am thus on first entering -these scenes, fresh from the instructions of my pious -friends, full of the earnest resolutions made before -God in my home, what shall I be when time may -have weakened the remembrance of those instructions, -the strength of those resolutions? If I -stumble at the very first step, how shall I walk -steadily and faithfully along a path which I foresee -will for me be full of snares? O my God, help me, -for I am a weak, infirm child! Let me not forget -Thy warning, <i>Love not the world, neither the things -that are in the world</i>. The difficulties which beset -me must make me more earnest in prayer, more -diligent in self-examination, more watchful over my -deceitful heart!”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id002'> -<img src='images/i032.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p><span class='small'>MRS. EFFINGHAM.</span></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence slowly paced her apartment, and -wingèd thought earned her back to her childhood’s -home. “How true are the words which I once -heard,—Every new change in the course of our -lives, like a bend in a river, brings before us new -difficulties, new duties, and new dangers, and shows -us our own characters in a new light! I have -hitherto been gently gliding with the tide; and if -the banks sometimes appeared a little flat and dull, -there was nothing in outward circumstances to shut -out from me the light of Heaven. In seeking to -please God, I best pleased the dear ones who regarded -me with such partial affection. My duties -accorded with my inclinations. But now,—my -duties, what are they?” Clemence paused for -some minutes and reflected. “I must learn to be -able to say ‘No’—a painful task, from which my -cowardice shrinks; I must be content sometimes -<i>not</i> to please, and yet in indifferent matters be as -careful—even more careful than ever—not to give -offence or cause displeasure. I must exercise the -grave duties of a housewife, nor from indolence or -timidity shift upon others the responsibilities which -God made mine when I became a wife. Mine own -Vincent!”—her eye rested on the miniature of her -husband—“would that I were more qualified to -make his home what that home ought to be! But -he will cheer and encourage me in the attempt to -do so; he will have indulgence on my ignorance; -he will be my support, my guide, my example; and -he will teach me to become more worthy to be his -wife!”</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch04' class='c008'>CHAPTER IV<br /> <br /><span class='small'>CONSULTATION.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='lg-container-b c016'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>See how the orient dew,</div> - <div class='line in2'>Shed from the bosom of the morn</div> - <div class='line'>Into the blowing roses,</div> - <div class='line'>Yet careless of its mansion new,</div> - <div class='line in2'>For the clear region where ’twas born,</div> - <div class='line'>Round in itself encloses;</div> - <div class='line'>And in its little globe’s extent</div> - <div class='line'>Frames as it can its native element.</div> - <div class='line'>How it the purple flower does slight,</div> - <div class='line in2'>Scarce touching where it lies,</div> - <div class='line in2'>But gazing back upon the skies,</div> - <div class='line'>Shines with a mournful light.</div> - <div class='line in2'>Like its own tear;</div> - <div class='line'>Because so long divided from the sphere!</div> - <div class='line'>Restless it rolls, and insecure,</div> - <div class='line'>Trembling lest it grow impure!</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>So the soul—that drop, that ray</div> - <div class='line'>Of the clear fountain of eternal day—</div> - <div class='line'>Could it within the <i>human flower</i> be seen,</div> - <div class='line in2'>Remembering still its former height,</div> - <div class='line'>Shuns the sweet leaves and blossoms green,</div> - <div class='line in2'>And recollecting its own light,</div> - <div class='line'>Does in its pure and circling thoughts express</div> - <div class='line'>The greater heaven in a heaven less.</div> - <div class='line'>In how coy a figure wound,</div> - <div class='line in2'>Every way it turns away;</div> - <div class='line'>So the world excluding round,</div> - <div class='line in2'>Yet receiving in the day,—</div> - <div class='line'>Dark beneath, but bright above,—</div> - <div class='line'>Here disdaining, there in love:</div> - <div class='line in2'>How loose and easy hence to go!</div> - <div class='line'>How girt and ready to ascend!—</div> - <div class='line in2'>Moving but on a point below,</div> - <div class='line'>In all about does upward bend.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='c017'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/h.jpg' width='100' height='188' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_4'> -How quaintly, yet how exquisitely, in these -lines has the old poet Marvell portrayed -those who, <i>in the world</i>, are yet <i>not of the -world</i>! How few, alas! can read their -own description in that of the pure bright -dew-drop! How many, instead of resting even on -the flower, “loose and easy hence to go,” waiting -till the warm sun “exhales it back again,” have -dropped from leaf to leaf, lower and lower, till, -sinking at length to earth, and mingling with its -dust, they are lost for evermore!</p> - -<p class='c015'>About a week after her arrival in Belgrave Square -we will glance again at Clemence Effingham. She -is in her husband’s quiet study—her favourite retreat. -The ruddy fire-light falls cheerfully on the -shelves of the well-filled book-case, which occupies -almost an entire side of the small but comfortable -apartment. Cheerfully glances that light on the -expansive brow and handsome features of Mr. Effingham, -cheerfully on the locks of shaded gold of her -who sits at his feet. Clemence, still girlish in -manner, and glad to throw off for a brief space the -wearisome formality of etiquette, has seated herself -on a low footstool, and, resting her clasped hands on -her husband’s knee, is looking up into his face with -a look of earnest inquiry.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“You see, my Vincent, that all is so new to me,—I -am so fearful of making mistakes, so conscious -of my own inexperience. You must guide and assist -me, dearest. Ever since you told me what large -sums—to me they seem startling sums—are constantly -passing through Mrs. Ventner’s hands, I -cannot help imagining that there must be strange -waste in some quarter.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“There always is waste in a large establishment; -there is no necessity that we should mark the expenditure -of every shilling, or enter into the details -of every domestic arrangement.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“But supposing that there should be something -even worse than waste,” asked Clemence in a tone -of hesitation, “ought we to place temptations in the -way of those who serve us, by exercising no watchfulness -over them, by placing such unbounded -confidence in them as may be, as is sometimes, -abused?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Well, my love,” replied Mr. Effingham, “exercise -as vigorous a superintendence as you will; keep -the machinery in as perfect order as you like.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“It is no question of liking with me,” cried Clemence, -laughing a little, but not merrily; “for bills -and books—tradesmen’s books, I mean—I have a -horror; and, like Macbeth, I have to screw up my -courage to the sticking-point before I venture on a -colloquy with Mrs. Ventner. I never had a taste -for governing, and the power intrusted to me is almost -too heavy a weight for these poor little hands -to grasp. I really need the support of my liege -lord’s stronger arm! I am like a minister of state -who has to manage a troublesome House of Commons, -and,” she added, with a little hesitation, “rather -a refractory House of Lords, and who cannot command -a majority in either!” Clemence spoke gaily -and lightly, but painful truth lay beneath the jest.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Refractory House of Lords! I see—I see!” -said Mr. Effingham, with a smile; “Louisa is a -giddy child, and Arabella has a temper of her own. -But all will come right—all will come right, with a -little patience and firmness. I have the utmost -confidence in your sense and judgment, my love.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I wish that others had,” replied Clemence, speaking -at first playfully, but her voice becoming earnest -and almost agitated as she proceeded. “It is doubtless -my own fault, Vincent, or perhaps the fault of -my youth, but it seems to me that my wishes and -opinions are of very little weight in this house. I -want to consult you on so many points, that I may -know whether I am right or wrong. Do you think -it well that Louisa should be so constantly out, -especially in the society of those from whom it seems -to me, as far as I can judge, that she can only learn -worldliness and levity? Her studies are perpetually -interrupted at an age when steady application is -most valuable; and exposure to the night air really -injures her health,—she could hardly sleep last night -on account of her cough.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Forbid her, then, to go out again till she has -lost it.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“O Vincent, I shall be a dreadfully unpopular -premier!” exclaimed Clemence. Then she added, -drawing her husband’s hand within her own, “If -you, dearest—you, whose will should be law, to -whose judgment all must defer—would only say a -few words yourself, both on this subject and—”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“No, no!” interrupted Mr. Effingham quickly; -“these trifles do not lie within my province. I make -it a rule never to interfere with these petty domestic -concerns. You will consult with Lady Selina, and -then decide as seems best to yourself.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Lady Selina!” murmured Clemence, in a tone -of disappointment; “oh, she never assists me at all -I should be rather inclined”—the young wife looked -up playfully but timidly as she spoke—“to call her -the leader of the Opposition!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>A slight frown passed across the brow of Mr. -Effingham. He was by no means disposed to weaken, -in any way, the connection of his family with a -lady of rank and fashion, whose title gave a certain -<i>éclat</i> to the establishment over which she so long -had presided. The first time that the watchful eye -of Clemence had ever perceived the slightest shade -of displeasure towards her on the face of her husband -was as he replied to her last observation,—</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I think, Clemence, that you do her injustice. -Lady Selina is a woman of sense, and a great deal -of experience in the world—one not in the least -likely to be influenced by petty jealousies. I consider -myself to be greatly indebted to her; and it is -my wish that every member of my family should -regard her in the same light that I do myself. As -for little differences,” he continued, rising from his -seat and standing with his back to the fire, “the -thousand trifles which make up the sum of domestic -life, I desire to hear nothing, know nothing, of them. -My mind is occupied with affairs more important, -and in my own home, at least, I look for peace and -repose.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>It is possible that Mr. Effingham observed by the -fire-light something like glistening moisture on the -downcast lashes of his wife; for, laying his hand -kindly on her shoulder, he added in a gayer tone, -“As long as my watch goes well, Clemence, I do -not care to examine the works. I give you unlimited -authority. Dissolve your whole House of -Commons, if you please it; visit your peers with fine -or imprisonment; but don’t bring up appeals to me. -A little time—a little judgment—they are all that -is wanted; just act for the best, and take things -easily.”</p> - -<p class='c015'><i>Act for the best, and take things easily!</i> How -many times Clemence Effingham repeated to herself -these oracular words! How long she pondered over -the possibility of reconciling with each other the two -clauses of the sentence! She had become the mistress -of a mansion where everything, beyond mere -externals, was in a state of woeful neglect. Petty -dishonesty was but one of the many evils which prevailed -amongst the numerous members of the household; -while, in the family, selfishness, worldliness, -and vanity reigned uncontrolled and scarcely disguised. -It was a Gordian knot, indeed, that the -young wife was given to untie, and she lacked -strength to wield the conqueror’s sword! Into the -ear of her husband Clemence would have loved to -have poured all her difficulties and trials; his sympathy -and counsel might have removed many of the -former, and cheered and encouraged her under the -latter; but, occupied by other cares, Mr. Effingham -left his young partner to bear her burden alone. -Clemence made more than one attempt to avail herself -of the experience of Lady Selina; but the woman -of the world was cautious not to compromise herself, -or in the slightest degree to share the unpopularity -which is the almost inevitable fate of reformers. Nor -was she inclined to own the existence of evils that -had chiefly arisen from her own neglect. Lady -Selina, when consulted by Clemence, listened to her -with the cold, impassive smile which seemed the -stereotyped expression of her unuttered opinion, -“You are such a poor, inexperienced child!” Clemence -was left to fight her battles quite alone.</p> - -<p class='c015'>But was it not possible to “take things easily”—to -close her eyes to everything that it might be -disagreeable to see; to follow the example of Lady -Selina, and let affairs take their own course; to enjoy -the luxury, and brightness, and gaiety of her life, -without examining too closely behind the scenes? -Clemence was strongly tempted to do so—strongly -tempted to swim with the tide; to fling from herself -the burden of responsibility, and forget care in the -pleasures of the hour.</p> - -<p class='c015'>It was well for her that she had not received a -kinder welcome into the family. Had the path of -Clemence been strewn with nothing but flowers, it -would have been a path much more fraught with -peril. The unkindness and coldness which daily -wounded her affectionate and sensitive spirit, were -like thorny hedges which fenced her in from wandering -from the narrow way. Had the cup of life been -all sweetness, it is too probable that it might have -intoxicated; Lady Selina and her nieces were unconsciously -mixing with it a bitter but salutary medicine. -Safer, far safer is it to have the worldly as enemies -than as friends. Nothing, perhaps, is more calculated -to make a Christian walk carefully than the <i>unavoidable</i> -companionship of those who dislike both -himself and his religion. He feels that he must not -disgrace his profession—that he must give no handle -to the sharp blade of detraction, no occasion for the -enemy to blaspheme. His trials drive him to the -footstool of grace; and while his patience and spirit -of forgiveness find constant exercise, the evil from -which he suffers makes him more keenly appreciate, -more earnestly desire, the harmony, holiness, and -happiness of heaven!</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch05' class='c008'>CHAPTER V<br /> <br /><span class='small'>THE FIRST SKIRMISH.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/t.jpg' width='100' height='185' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_4'> -The circle of Mr. Effingham’s acquaintance -was large, and even in the dull wintry -season Clemence found that the claims of -society took up much of her time and attention. -Knocks were frequent at her door; numerous -visitors came to introduce themselves to the young -wife of the wealthy banker. Clemence felt at first -embarrassed, then amused, then wearied by that -which lost its charm with its novelty. She became -tired of ringing changes on the weather, the last new -book, political prospects, and the movements of the -court, with a succession of wearers of velvet bonnets -and furred mantillas, whom she scarcely knew even -by name. Clemence had not as yet much of the -small change of conversation, and she had not the -courage to produce her gold. Mrs. Effingham seldom -entered her carriage, which was usually at the disposal -of Lady Selina; Clemence being well pleased -to purchase, by relinquishing the luxury of a drive, -a little respite from the oppressive companionship of -the earl’s daughter.</p> - -<p class='c015'>At Mr. Effingham’s desire, Clemence, early in December, -issued cards of invitation for that most formal, -and, to a young housewife, most formidable of entertainments—a -grand dinner party. She was almost -ashamed to find how much her thoughts were occupied -by earthly cares, how large a share of her anxious -attention was given to preparations for an event of -such comparatively trivial importance. Lady Selina, -indeed, regarded such arrangements as part of the -chief business of life, and did her best to wind up to -nervous anxiety Clemence’s desire to order all things -so as to do credit to her husband’s establishment. -The favourite topic of Lady Selina now appeared to -be the strange mistakes, the unpardonable blunders -which had occurred within, and far beyond, the limits -of her experience, at parties given by the uninitiated. -She also delighted to expatiate on such qualities in -the expected guests as might render them formidable -to their young hostess. Lord Vaughan was a connoisseur -in the culinary art, and paid an unheard-of -salary to his French cook; Lady Praed always detected -at a glance the smallest error in matters of form; -Colonel Parsons and Sir William Page were keen -opponents in politics, and it would require much tact -and management on the part of Mrs. Effingham to -ward off any unpleasant discussion. Clemence listened, -sighed, and heartily wished that the dreaded -evening were over.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Then serious cares disturbed her. The more the -young wife entered into the details of her establishment, -the more she became aware of the difficulties -which surrounded her at every step. Her servants -appeared in a combination to overreach and deceive -her. Every effort to introduce greater order and -economy into her household was met with dogged -opposition, and Mrs. Ventner resented all interference -on the part of her mistress as a personal injury. The -annoyance which Clemence had to endure from the -members of her family was of a more painful nature. -Arabella and Louisa never forgot—their aunt would -never have suffered them to forget—that if Mrs. -Effingham was placed above them by marriage, by -birth she was not their equal. Clemence, inexperienced -as she was, had sufficient natural powers of observation -to detect the radical errors in the education -of the daughters of her husband. But while -she perceived the evil, she sought in vain for its -cure; and the joyous hopes with which she had commenced -her married life, like the fabled wings of -Icarus melting in the sultry beams of the sun, no -longer bore her buoyantly aloft!</p> - -<p class='c015'>It is, perhaps, only those who have known little of -common cares who can smile on them as a trifling -burden. To the young and the sensitive, who have -hitherto trodden earth almost as free from petty -anxieties as the bird on the wing, or the blossom on -the tree, the sudden pressure of new responsibilities -is sometimes almost overwhelming. They could -better endure hardship and pain; human compassion -might then bring them relief, and they would more -fully realize the blessed consolations of religion. And -yet, is the command which embodies a precious privilege—the -command to cast all our cares upon One -who careth for us—limited only to that class of trials -which man recognizes as afflictions? All earthly -events in the sight of our Great Master must appear -in themselves to be but trifles; but when connected -with their effects upon immortal beings, when made -a means to train and discipline souls, the merest -trifles assume weight and importance. A teacher’s -anxieties, a housewife’s cares, the responsibilities of -the mistress of an establishment, seem of too trivial -and uninteresting a nature even for the light pages -of a fiction; but yet they, in the history of thousands -and tens of thousands, form “the sum of human -things.” A decisive battle may be fought even in -the narrow limits of a home. Solomon prayed for -wisdom from above to direct aright the affairs of a -kingdom; the same wisdom in kind, though not in -degree, is required by the humblest matron who -would rule her household in the fear of God; and -where Solomon sought, she must seek it.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I could wish that I were ten years older!” said -Clemence to herself, as, seated in a large arm-chair, -she nervously awaited the appearance of a servant -whose conduct had given just subject for displeasure, -and to whom she felt it necessary to administer rebuke. -“I almost think that Vincent and I would -enjoy life more in some country cottage, with just -one maid to attend on us, away from all this grandeur -and state, contented and happy in each other. -Money does not seem worth all the care and trouble -that it brings. I was much merrier last Christmas -time, when, with my well-filled basket on my arm, -I trod over the crisp snow on my way from cottage -to cottage, sure of a welcome everywhere from lips -that would not flatter and hearts that would not deceive! -I have, perhaps, larger means of usefulness -here, but not of that kind of work which would most -warm and gladden my own spirit! It is pleasanter -to build up than to pull down—to do good than to -oppose evil—to serve God by winning blessings from -man, than to serve Him by drawing on one’s self the -anger and dislike of others. But what is clear duty -must be done, whether it be painful or pleasant. -We are not left to choose our own work, but we must -trust to be given strength to perform it bravely.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>A few days before the one fixed upon for the party, -Mr. Effingham left Belgrave Square for a short period -upon business. It was Clemence’s first separation -from her husband since their marriage, and she felt -that during his absence all the sunshine of her life -would be gone. To have been left quite alone would -have been less painful; it was far worse than solitude -to be left with her step-daughters and Lady -Selina.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The haughty shyness which Arabella and Louisa -had at first displayed before Mrs. Effingham had entirely -worn away. They rather now, at least while -their father was absent, made a parade of their perfect -ease, and on the evening preceding his return -chatted together with Mademoiselle Lafleur, as if -scarcely aware of their step-mother’s presence. Clemence -sat quietly at her work, a pained listener to a -flow of folly and gossip. Lady Selina appeared to -be dozing in her arm-chair before the fire.</p> - -<p class='c015'>At length the conversation turned upon the clergyman -whose ministry the family regularly attended—an -earnest, good, but eccentric man. Arabella began -turning him into ridicule, to the great amusement of -her sister and governess, but the indignation of Mrs. -Effingham.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“He ought to be elected preacher to the blind,” -laughed Louisa; “it would be so much better not to -be able to see him!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“They would make him over to the deaf and -dumb,” rejoined her sister; “for it would be better -still not to be able to hear him!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence felt that she should no longer keep -silence—she felt that she was bound to bear her -witness to what was right in the presence of the -children of her husband; and yet, reluctant as she -was to give pain or offence, her reproof was couched -in the mildest language, and uttered in the most -gentle tone.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Do you not think, dear Arabella,” said the step-mother, -“that when we listen to the preaching of -the Word, it is rather upon the message than the -messenger that we should fix our earnest attention?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>It was the first time that Clemence Effingham -had ventured on anything approaching to a rebuke -to her step-daughters. Her words, so strongly contrasting -with the tone of the preceding conversation, -had the effect of instantaneously silencing it; and -such an uncomfortable stillness succeeded that Clemence -at last felt herself forced to break it.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I think that I must propose a little sociable -reading,” she said, “to make the evenings pass -pleasantly while my husband is away. It will give -us subjects to think of and talk over. I remember -that my dear father used often to say that it is far -safer and better, as a general rule, to converse about -<i>things</i> than about <i>persons</i>.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Had his unfortunate patients to take his precepts -as well as his physic?” cried Arabella, with a pert -insolence which was intended to “put down” the -first attempt of her step-mother to interfere with her -perfect freedom.</p> - -<p class='c015'>If Lady Selina was asleep, her dreams must have -been of a pleasing nature, for they called up a smile -on her face. Louisa and mademoiselle glanced at -each other, and then at Mrs. Effingham, to see how -the insult would be taken.</p> - -<p class='c015'>A burning flush rose to the cheek of Clemence,—she -had been touched in a most tender part; not -that she was so keenly sensible to the allusion to -her own humble parentage intended to be conveyed -in the flippant remark, but anything like disrespect -to the memory of her venerated father stung her to -the quick. Her heart glowed with angry resentment; -it was with a painful effort that she repressed -the expression of it. Clemence paused for -a few seconds till she could speak calmly, then, -with a quiet dignity, said, “Arabella Effingham, -you appear scarcely to recollect that you address -yourself to the wife of your father.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Arabella started from her seat, and hastily left -the room, shutting the door violently behind her. -Not another word was spoken for some time in the -drawing-room, and Louisa and her governess took -the first opportunity of quietly following Arabella, -and leaving Mrs. Effingham to that which was -ever to her most depressing—a <i>tête-à-tête</i> with Lady -Selina.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“She has thrown down the gauntlet! she has -chosen to commence the war!” exclaimed Arabella, -as, pacing up and down her room, with all her proud -spirit flashing from her eyes, she poured out her -indignation to her sister and mademoiselle. “If -she expects that she’s to rule and dictate here, she’ll -find herself very much mistaken; the daughters of -Lady Arabella Effingham never will bow to the -control of the orphan of an apothecary!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“We must take care, though, that we do not -bring ourselves to grief,” said Louisa, who was, if -not more cautious, yet less irritable by nature; -“she has papa’s ear, and may set him against us. -I dare say she’s as spiteful as a toad—those meek, -sanctified creatures always are!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence went early to her own room, but it was -very long before she retired to rest. Her spirits -were fluttered and agitated. In vain had been all -her efforts to conciliate, all her attempts to win for -herself the affections of her husband’s daughters. -She saw stretching before her, in endless perspective, -a prospect of disunion and dissension, proud -insolence and malicious enmity. Clemence leaned -her brow on her clasped hands, and the hot tears -trickled slowly down her cheeks, as she repeated to -herself the words of the wise king: <i>Better is a -dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and -hatred therewith</i>.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And how will it all end?” she murmured. “Is -it not hard that I, who never willingly offended -a human being, should be the object of such determined -dislike, should find hatred where I proffer -love, and be regarded as an enemy by those whom -I would sacrifice much to serve? Is it not hard?”—the -words died upon her lips, a feeling of self-reproach -arose in the young wife’s breast. What -was she, that she should look for exemption from -the common lot of her Master’s followers? Had she -any right to murmur under the pressure of a daily -cross? <i>Hard!</i>—and had it ever been promised that -life should be all softness and enjoyment? Would -it not be folly to expect it? would it not be -cowardice to desire it? If the Christian, overlooking -second causes, fix his thoughts on an all-directing -Providence, he will see how that Providence, -working by earthly means, makes even the unkindness - that wounds, and the malice that injures, -important aids in forming the characters of the -heirs of glory. It was from the elements of chaos -that God drew forth a world of beauty; and some -of His children’s fairest virtues spring, as it were, -from the evil around them. Patience could not -have birth in heaven, nor forgiveness in the society -of angels; without opposition Christian firmness -could not appear, nor without trials be shown resignation.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence pondered over the words, <i>If ye love -them which love you, what reward have you? do -not even the publicans the same?</i> and a clearer light -than had ever been granted to her before fell on the -command, <i>Love your enemies</i>—that divine command, -enforced by a divine Example, and requiring divine -aid to fulfil. Her hopes of overcoming the prejudices -of her husband’s family were now becoming -faint; but a nobler hope had succeeded—the hope -of overcoming her own feelings of resentment towards -them, and of pleasing her heavenly Master -by a meek endeavour to fulfil His will. Were not -the hearts of all in His hands?</p> - -<p class='c015'>While Arabella and Louisa were revolving schemes -of opposition, and their aunt was secretly rejoicing -in the disunion, which had chiefly resulted from her -own malicious efforts, Clemence knelt down and -earnestly, fervently prayed in the silence of her -chamber. Nor prayed she alone for herself, or the -husband dearer than self, but separately and by -name for each of the members of her family. If -the prayer was not answered for all, was it not -returned in blessings into her own bosom—the -blessing of that peace in the heart which is even -more priceless than peace in the home?</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch06' class='c008'>CHAPTER VI<br /> <br /><span class='small'>A DECIDED MOVE.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/a.jpg' width='100' height='182' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_1'> -Arabella marked with secret satisfaction -on the following morning the weary -looks of her youthful step-mother; she -regarded them as a favourable token of -her own success in what she called “the -war of independence.” Following up what she considered -to be her advantage, Arabella treated Mrs. -Effingham at breakfast with marked discourtesy and -neglect; would not even reply to her morning -salutation, but preserved a proud silence throughout -the whole of the meal. Clemence was pained -by her manner, but outwardly took no notice of it.</p> - -<p class='c015'>In the afternoon, to the joy of his wife, Mr. -Effingham returned to his home. The quick eye of -affection soon detected that he looked graver, more -thoughtful and careworn, than before he had quitted -London. Doubtless he was wearied by his journey, -and with tender consideration Clemence attended to -everything that might promote his comfort. “I -will vex him with none of my own little troubles,” -was her inward resolution; “if clouds will gather -without, all must be sunshine for him at least within -his own little home-circle.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>So, when they were alone together, Clemence -again assumed the gaiety of a child, and, shunning -painful themes, amused her husband by a description -of the little housewifely devices and arrangements -which she had formed during his absence, -especially in reference to her first dinner party. -She told him how she had planned this, and discovered -that, during long and serious colloquies -with Mrs. Ventner; she made him laugh at her -own blunders and mistakes, but assured him of her -resolve that, in the face of all difficulties, her first -entertainment should prove “<i>un grand succès</i>!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And yet, after all, Vincent,” she exclaimed, -taking his hand within both her own, “I do not -think that I was ever intended to play a distinguished -part in the great world! All these -elaborate preparations for a few hours’ amusement -seem, to my unsophisticated mind, like making an -iron strong-box to enclose a bubble. We take every -precaution to prevent accident—rack invention to -make our pleasure secure—fasten it in with golden -padlock and key;—in a short space we look in to -see what has become of it, and lo! the bubble has -vanished into thin air, or,” she added, laughing, -“been metamorphosed into a heap of ugly bills! -If what we seek in entertaining be simply to give -enjoyment, a party of children in a strawberry-bed -will succeed much better, I suspect, in finding it, -than all our grandee guests to-morrow over their -turtle, venison, and champagne. I know that I, -for one, would much rather lead the party amongst -the strawberries. I should hardly find courage to -sit at the head of that formidable table, between -an erudite lord and a satirical baronet, but for remembering -who presides at the other end. O -Vincent! how little have outward circumstances to -do with real, solid enjoyment! Your presence gives -an interest and zest to the pleasures which wealth -may procure; but that presence would suffice to -make me happy even in the midst of poverty.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>The thoughts of Mr. Effingham had wandered -while Clemence was speaking; his eyes were fixed, -not upon her, but upon the fire, as if watching the -little gas-jets which caught fire for a moment, burned -vividly, and then were suddenly extinguished in -smoke. But the last word which his wife had -uttered struck his ear, and jarred like a discord -upon it.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Poverty!” he repeated quickly, “you never -will, never can know it. I have just settled sixty -thousand pounds on you, Clemence, in case—in -case of anything happening to me.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence raised her head, and silently thanked -him by a look of grateful love, then pressed his -hand to her lips. Could Mr. Effingham have read -the thought which passed through his young wife’s -mind, he would have seen it instinctively form itself -into a prayer that she never might survive her beloved -husband to benefit by this new proof of his affection.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The long <i>tête-à-tête</i> held in the study filled -Arabella’s mind with considerable alarm. Louisa’s -warning recurred to her with unpleasant vividness, -and she dwelt on the idea until she became certain -that her step-mother would try to influence her -father against her, and perhaps act the part of the -cuckoo nestling towards the unfortunate little hedge-sparrows.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Notwithstanding the pride which made her “defy -the malice of any low-born intruder,” Arabella’s -relief was considerable when, on Mr. and Mrs. -Effingham rejoining the family, not even her jealous -suspicion could detect the slightest alteration in her -father’s manner towards her. “She has not complained -of me, after all,” thought Arabella. “Well, -that is more than I expected.” She might have -added, “More than I deserved.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>It was, perhaps, some slight feeling of obligation -to Clemence for her forbearance, or, more probably, -a little natural prudence, that now occasioned an improvement -in the demeanour of the two girls towards -Mrs. Effingham, though Arabella never dreamed of -stooping to offer an apology for her former impertinence. -Clemence rejoiced at the change, though she -doubted its motive, and, by cordial kindness and -winning attention, sought to follow up her advantage. -After breakfast the next morning, Clemence, -laying her hand affectionately on the shoulder of -Louisa, proposed that she should accompany her to -her Parnassus, as she playfully called the school-room. -Mademoiselle Lafleur had gone for a few -weeks to spend her Christmas holidays with some -friends, and Mrs. Effingham looked upon the time of -her absence as a favourable opportunity to draw her -husband’s daughters more closely to her by mingling -more in their occupations and amusements. Clemence -was also anxious to be better acquainted with their -usual routine of life; for the more she had seen and -known of their governess, the more she distrusted -her as a guide of youth.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I think that this room would be more comfortable -with curtains,” observed Clemence; “and you -really require a nice little book-case on this table. -What a delightful piano!” and she ran her fingers -lightly over the keys. “Louisa, you and I must -have many a duet together; I do so delight in -music.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Then the drawings of Arabella were examined; -and if the praise of Clemence was less profusely -garnished with superlatives than that of mademoiselle -had been, it carried on it more of the -stamp of sincerity. Mrs. Effingham had a correct -eye, and a taste for art, though she had had little -opportunity of cultivating it; and the pleasure and -interest with which she looked over the portfolio -were gratifying to the haughty Arabella.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And what may this beautiful book be?” inquired -Clemence, laying her hand upon a volume -bound in pink and gold.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“That is my album,” replied Louisa; “it is to -be filled with original poetry. I hope that you -will write in it some day, Mrs. Effingham;” and -as Clemence smiled and shook her head, Louisa -added, “You will at least answer the three questions -at the end of the book;” and she turned over -rapidly to the place where, at the head of three -separate columns, were written three sentences: -<span class='sc'>What is happiness? What is misery? What -do you much wish for?</span></p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence glanced down the page with an amused -eye, reading a most heterogeneous collection of descriptions -of the various pleasures and pains of mankind. -She needed not the initials at the end of -each written opinion to guess who had penned to -the three questions the following replies:—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c005'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Distinction; Obscurity; A Name.—A. E.</span></div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>A Fancy-ball; Small-pox; An Opera-box.—L. E.</span></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c017'>“I must have you write, I am so curious to know -what you think!” exclaimed Louisa, dipping a pen -in the bronze ink-stand which stood on the table.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence had neither the affectation which requires -urgent entreaties, nor the vanity which -refuses to do anything which it is not certain to do -well. She reflected for a few seconds, then under the -questions—<span class='sc'>What is happiness? What is misery? -What do you much wish for?</span> wrote,—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c005'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Unison; Discord; Harmony.</span></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c017'>“I see little variety in unison and harmony,” said -Arabella coldly; “it is what papa would call a -distinction without a difference.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Does it seem so to you?” replied Mrs. Effingham. -“I tried to condense into three words the -sentiment contained in the verse,—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c005'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Judge not thy differing brother, nor in aught</div> - <div class='line in2'>Condemn; his prayer and thine may rise above,</div> - <div class='line'>Though mingling not in <i>unison of thought</i>,</div> - <div class='line in2'>Yet blending in the harmony of love.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c017'>We cannot have here below that perfect <i>unison</i> in -all things which will form part of the happiness of -heaven; but <i>harmony</i>, peace, concord may exist -even between those whose opinions and tastes are -dissimilar; and that,” she added, with a cordial -smile, “is what I most ardently ‘wish for.’”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Fire and water can never agree together,” -muttered Arabella to herself, in a tone too low to -reach the ear of her step-mother, though Clemence -saw the expression on the proud girl’s face, which -needed no words to convey its meaning. Not choosing -to take open notice of the look, Mrs. Effingham -turned to another part of the book, in which selections -of poetry were written in various hands. One -brief piece arrested her eye (it was written in the -French language), and an unwonted shade of displeasure -passed over her countenance as she read it.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“This is worse than levity,” observed Clemence -very gravely; “how could such lines have found -entrance into your book?” And turning the leaf, -she marked the name “Antoinette Lafleur” at the -end of the piece.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Oh! mademoiselle calls that a <i>jeu d’esprit!</i> -She thinks it remarkably clever; but she did not -compose it herself,” added Louisa quickly, for she -met Clemence’s glance of indignant surprise; “she -copied it out of this book; it is a book that she -raves about.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Have you ever read it?” inquired Mrs. Effingham.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Just parts of it. Mademoiselle only lent it to -us last week; but she says that it is the first book -in the language.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I have heard of it, though I have never perused -it, never seen it before,” said Clemence, retaining the -volume in her grasp. She knew it to be the work -of a famous infidel writer, who so mingled wit with -blasphemy, that the brilliancy of his style, like the -phosphorescent light which sometimes gleams from -corruption, gave strange attraction to opinions repugnant -alike to morality and religion.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence made no further observation to her -step-daughters on the subject while she remained in -the school-room; but on quitting it she descended -at once, with the book in her hand, to Mr. Effingham’s -study. “This is no trifling matter,” she -thought, “to be lightly passed over and forgotten; -this is no little personal concern which I should -forbear intruding on the attention of my husband. -This unhappy woman may for years have been -undermining the principles of his daughters, and I -should wrong him were I to withhold from him the -knowledge which I have providentially obtained.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Mr. Effingham had not that morning gone, as was -his wont, to his banking-house in the city. Clemence -found him in his study, and with a few -words to explain where and how she had discovered -it, she placed the poisonous work of the infidel -author before him.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Mr. Effingham had been a careless, although an -affectionate father. With his family, as with his -household, he had been content to believe that all -was right, if he saw nothing very glaringly wrong. -He had been imbued deeply with the idea that -making money was the main business of man’s life; -and the regulation of his establishment, the education -of his children, the training of immortal souls, -he had quietly left to others. He was, however, -full of reverence for religion; he wished his children -to be brought up in the same, though his efforts to -secure that end had not gone far beyond the mere -wish. He was as much startled at the idea of -infidel doctrines being instilled into the unsuspicious -minds of his young daughters, as if he had seen a -serpent coiling beside the pillow on which they -were sleeping. He was more aware of the perilous -nature of the book than his wife could be, who had -known it only by report. Mr. Effingham’s usually -placid nature was roused into stern indignation.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id003'> -<img src='images/i064.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p><span class='small'>THE FRENCH BOOK.</span></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c015'>“Never shall that woman set her foot across my -threshold again!” he exclaimed, striking his hand -upon the volume. “I have never liked her—never -felt confidence in her; with her soft, cat-like manner, -she always gave me the impression of claws being -concealed beneath the velvet! Write to her at once, -Clemence, and dismiss her; I will give you a cheque -to enclose. And send away that detestable book; -the only fit place for it is the back of the fire!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence obeyed, and with a thankful heart. -It seemed to her that by the dismissal of Mademoiselle -Lafleur, one of the heaviest obstructions in -her own path had been suddenly and unexpectedly -removed. She had felt it almost a hopeless endeavour -to influence her step-daughters for good, -while her efforts were secretly, insidiously counteracted -by one with whom they were in daily familiar -intercourse; yet without some definite cause, some -obvious reason, Clemence would have shrunk from -dismissing the governess chosen by Lady Selina, and -favoured by her nieces. So bold a step would be -certain to raise such a storm! The imagination of -the youthful step-mother now rapidly built up for -itself a bright castle in the air, founded on the hope -that mademoiselle’s place might be supplied by some -woman of high principles and sterling worth, who -would go hand in hand with herself in every plan -for improvement. Clemence did not blind her eyes -to the fact that her own unpopularity would almost -assuredly be shared by any governess whom she -might select; that Lady Selina’s penetration would -be certain to discover faults in an angel; and that -Arabella, if not Louisa also, would meet the stranger -at first with determined dislike. But at Clemence’s -age hope is strong; and one difficulty overcome seems -an earnest that all others will be removed. Young -Vincent, too, was expected home the next day, and -Clemence looked forward with pleasure to a meeting -with one in whom she saw the image of his father. -Her spirit felt lighter and more joyous than it had -done ever since her first cold reception in Belgrave -Square.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Mrs. Effingham despatched her letter to Mademoiselle -Lafleur, after showing it to her husband for -his approval; but it was resolved, by his advice, to -say nothing on the subject to the family till the -ordeal of her grand entertainment should be over.</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch07' class='c008'>CHAPTER VII<br /> <br /><span class='small'>THE DINNER PARTY.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/i.jpg' width='100' height='186' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_4'> -It still wanted twenty minutes to the hour -appointed in the cards of invitation, but -the toilet of Mrs. Effingham was already -concluded, and after a somewhat anxious -examination into what her husband would -have termed “the machinery” of her establishment, -now to be brought to its first formidable test, she -entered her superb drawing-room, there to await her -guests. The apartment was dimly lighted by a -single pair of candles at the further end; the crystal -chandelier suspended from the ceiling, the ormolu candelabra -on the mantel-piece, had not yet been kindled -into sparkling constellations; but the arrangement -of every article of furniture was faultless, and the -young mistress glanced around her with a feeling of -pleasure, not, perhaps, unmingled with a little pride.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“O Mrs. Effingham, I am so glad that you -have come!” exclaimed Louisa, advancing towards -her with almost a dancing step, in a flutter of muslin -and lace. “Here is a little note which came for you -about five minutes ago; I dare say that it is an -excuse from one of the guests.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence broke the seal, and glanced over the -contents. “You are right; Dr. Howard has been -suddenly summoned to see a patient in the country.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Oh! then, dear Mrs. Effingham,” cried Louisa -eagerly, laying her white-gloved hand on the arm of -her step-mother, “you know that some one must fill -his place; do—do let me go down to dinner!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Arabella is the elder,” replied Clemence.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Arabella!” repeated Louisa, pettishly; “there is -very little difference between our ages, and I am the -taller of the two; besides,” she added more slowly, -as if measuring her words as she spoke—“besides, -after what passed the day before yesterday, I should -hardly have expected you to favour Arabella.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I should think it very wrong to favour either,” said -Clemence gravely, “and still more wrong to neglect -either; for—” here she was suddenly interrupted and -startled by the sound of a loud knock at the door.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“A guest already!” exclaimed Louisa, hurriedly -attempting to pull on her left-hand glove.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“A guest already!” echoed Clemence, glancing -uneasily at the unlighted chandelier, and laying -her hand on the bell-rope.</p> - -<p class='c015'>In two minutes a loud voice was heard below in -the hall. “Not see me!—going to have company! -Trash and nonsense, man! she’ll see me at any hour, -and in any company!” and a heavy, tramping step -immediately sounded on the stair, while Clemence -exclaimed, with mingled pleasure, surprise, and -vexation, “Oh! can it be my dear Uncle Thistlewood?” -and hastening down the long room, she met -him just as he flung the door wide open.</p> - -<p class='c015'>In a moment she was in his arms! The old sea-captain -kissed his niece heartily, again and again, -each time making the room resound. Louisa, -extremely diverted, perhaps a little maliciously so, -at what she considered the inopportune appearance -of one of Mrs. Effingham’s vulgar relations, advanced -towards the door to have a nearer view of the meeting, -and so came in for her share of it.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Ah! one of your daughters, Clemence?” cried -her old uncle, and he immediately bestowed on the -astonished Louisa a fatherly salute. “Fine, well-grown -girl,” he continued in his loud, cheerful voice; -“must make you feel quite old, my darling, to have -children as tall as yourself! But let us have a little -of the fire, for it’s blowing great guns to-night, and -I’ve had my feet half frozen off on the top of the -omnibus!” And marching up to the grate at the -end of the room, the captain spread out his coarse -red hands to the warmth, after having stirred the -fire to a roaring blaze, and stamped on the rug to -warm his feet, leaving the impression of his boots on -the velvet. “And now, let me have a better look -of your sweet face, blessings on it!” cried the sea-man, -turning towards Clemence, and taking hold of -both her hands, while he fixed on her a gaze of fond -admiration. Very lovely, indeed, looked Mrs. Effingham, -with the flush of excitement on her cheek, and -the sparkle of affection in her eye. Captain Thistlewood -was evidently pleased with his survey, though -he said,—</p> - -<p class='c015'>“You seem to me a little older and thinner than -when we parted, May-blossom, and you looked just -as well in your good russet gown as in that dainty -blue velvet with the sparklers; but you’ll do very -well—do very well! And now I dare say that you -want to know what brought the old man gadding -here.” He threw himself into an arm-chair to converse -more at ease, perfectly regardless of the presence -of the servants, now engaged in illuminating -the room.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“You see, ever since you left us, Stoneby’s grown -as dull as ditch-water—all the life seems gone out -of it. Parson’s always busy as usual—too busy to -have much time to give to a little social gossip; -and his wife’s sick, and keeps her room in the cold -weather. There’s nothing stirring in the village, -or for ten miles round—the very windmill seems to -have gone to sleep; and the robins, to my mind, -don’t chirp and sing as they used to do. Susan -has taken it into her silly head to marry, like her -mistress, and the new girl don’t suit me—breaks -my crockery, and over-roasts my mutton. The long -and short of it is, that home is not home without my -May-blossom. I bore it as long as I could—lonely -evenings and all. At last says I to myself, ‘I’ll put -up my bundle and be off to London. I know there’s -some one there will be glad to see the old man; let -him arrive when he may, he won’t be unwelcome!’”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence felt indignant with herself for not being -able more fully and cordially to respond to her -uncle’s assurance. “The world must indeed have -already exercised its corrupting influence over me,” -was her silent reflection, “when I can experience -anything but joy at the sound of that dear familiar -voice! But what will my husband say?” As the -thought crossed her mind, the door opened, and Mr. -Effingham entered the room.</p> - -<p class='c015'>A greater contrast could scarcely be imagined -than that between the tall, dignified, handsome -gentleman, with his polished manner and graceful -address, and the short, square-built, jovial old -captain, with a face much of the shape and colouring, -without the smoothness, of a rosy-cheeked -apple. Mr. Effingham was aware of the arrival of -Thistlewood—indeed, no one in the house, not -afflicted with deafness, was likely to be altogether -ignorant of it; he was therefore quite prepared for -the meeting. To the unspeakable relief of Clemence, -Mr. Effingham cordially held out his hand to -the sailor, who shook it as he might have worked a -pump handle, and then said in a kindly voice, “I -am glad to see you, captain; you must take up your -quarters with us.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Thistlewood nodded in acquiescence, as one who -felt an invitation to be quite an unnecessary form; -but Clemence’s expressive eyes were turned on her -husband with a look of gratitude, which told how -much it was appreciated by her.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“We expect company this evening,” continued -Mr. Effingham.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Ay, so the white-headed chap with the gold -cable told me.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“It does not want a quarter of an hour to dinner-time,” -said the gentleman, taking out his watch.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Dinner-time! I should rather call it supper-time. -Ha! ha! ha! I dined before one, but my -long journey has made me rather peckish. A beefsteak -wouldn’t come anyways amiss.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“You may like to make some little alteration in -your dress,” observed Mr. Effingham, glancing at -the pea-jacket and muddy boots of his guest; “my -servant will show you your apartment.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>The question of toilet was evidently one of -supreme indifference to the honest captain; a dress -good enough to walk in seemed to him to be good -enough to eat in; but he made no difficulty about -compliance. He was just about to quit the room, -when it was entered by Arabella.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The young lady stared at the rough-looking -stranger with an air of haughty inquiry which -would have abashed a sensitive man; but Captain -Thistlewood was as little troubled with shyness as -with hypochondria—his nerves were weather-proof, -as well as his constitution—his perceptions were blunt -to ridicule or insult, if only directed against himself.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Ha! another fine daughter!” he exclaimed; -“we must not meet as strangers, my dear;” and he -would have greeted Arabella in the same paternal -style as her sister, but for the backward step and -the indignant look, which might have beseemed an -empress.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Who is this man?” she exclaimed.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Mrs. Effingham’s uncle and my friend,” was her -father’s reply, uttered in a tone which effectually -repressed for the time any further expression of -Arabella’s scorn.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The two girls retired to the back drawing-room to -converse together, Louisa full of mirth, Arabella of -indignation; while Clemence, glad to be a few -minutes alone with her husband, laid her hand -fondly on his arm, and murmured, “How good you -have been to me, Vincent!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I could wish that your uncle had not arrived -till to-morrow,” said Mr. Effingham; “but I could -not but treat with courtesy and kindness him from -whose hand I received my wife. Will there be -room at the table?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Yes; Dr. Howard has declined.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“To which lady would you introduce Captain -Thistlewood?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Let me consider,” said Clemence, thoughtfully; -“who is most good-natured and quiet? Uncle -sometimes says such strange things.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“What say you to Miss Mildmay?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“She would show no rudeness at least, but—” -here the conversation was interrupted by the entrance -of servants.</p> - -<p class='c015'>When the little captain re-appeared in the drawing-room, -radiant in blue coat, buff waistcoat and -brass buttons, most of the guests had arrived. That -semicircle of ladies had been formed which presents -to the eye of a hostess as formidable a front as the -unbroken square of infantry, bristling with steel, -does to an opposing general. Mrs. Effingham was, -as yet, entirely unskilled in the art of mixing together -the various materials of society. With a -shy, anxious air, she glided from one guest to another -to accomplish the necessary form of introduction,—to -her a serious undertaking, especially as some -of her visitors were strangers to her. Clemence tried -to forget that the cold, criticizing eye of Lady Selina -was watching her every movement, and sought to -remember only, that even in the arrangement of a -party she might please her husband, and do credit -to him. The entrance of Captain Thistlewood had -considerable effect in breaking the ice of formality -which lies like a crust upon London society, though -in a manner that astonished the guests, and embarrassed -the master and mistress of the house. The -jovial sailor was as much at his ease in the polished -circle as amidst shipmates round a cuddy table; and -his loud voice and merry laugh, as he stood with his -thumbs in his pockets, chatting with Louisa, created -an unusual sensation.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Who may that lively old gentleman be?” inquired -Lord Vaughan of Lady Selina.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“One of Mrs. Effingham’s near relations,” was -her distinctly audible reply.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence hastened to introduce the captain to -Miss Mildmay, in hopes that that lady’s opposite -qualities might serve as a kind of compensation -balance, to moderate her uncle’s boisterous mirth. -Miss Mildmay was a sallow lady on the shady side -of forty, attired in a pale sea-green silk, with long, -lank sprays of artificial leaves drooping low on each -side of her head. She was a mild, inanimate sample -of gentility, whose very eyes seemed to have had -the colour washed out of them, and whose prim, -pursed-up lips rarely unclosed to speak, and still -more rarely to smile. Miss Mildmay was one of the -dead-weights of society, and was, therefore, judiciously -coupled with the little, noisy, bustling captain, -who, like some steam locomotive, would sturdily -puff straight on his way, regardless of obstacles, -unconscious of observation, ready to go over or -through an obstruction, but never to turn aside for -it, let it be what it might.</p> - -<p class='c015'>As Captain Thistlewood wanted nothing but a -listener, he dashed bravely along the railway of conversation, -choosing, of course, his own lines—now -on country subjects, now on sea—turnips and tornadoes, -calves and Cape wines,—till, on dinner being -announced, he gallantly handed down his partner, -and in his simplicity took his seat near the top of -the table, in order to be, as he said, “within hail -of my niece.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Miss Mildmay languidly drew off her gloves; -there was a pause of a few minutes in the conversation, -for Captain Thistlewood, bending forward, was -looking with curious eyes down the length of the -table, decked out in the magnificence of modern -taste. He had never seen anything like it before.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I say!” he burst out at length, “do you call -this a dinner? Nothing on the table but fruit, and -flowers, and sweat-meats, that wouldn’t furnish a -meal for a sparrow!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>The sailor’s exclamation overcame the gravity of -several of those who sat near him; even Miss Mildmay -put up her feather-tipped fan to her lips,—it is -possible that it might be to conceal a smile.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“But what’s that on the dish before us?” continued -the captain, surveying it with curious surprise. -“Peaches in December! I never heard of -such a thing!” And determined to investigate the -phenomenon more closely, he suddenly plunged his -fork into the nearest peach, and carried it off to his -plate. In a moment his knife had divided the -sugared cake into halves. “It’s all a sham!” he -cried, pushing it from him; “no more a peach than -I am!”—and then, for the first time in the experience -of man, a little laugh was actually heard from Miss -Mildmay, in which Clemence herself, who had seen -the proceeding, could not refrain from joining. The -captain laughed loudest of all, quite unconscious that -anything excited mirth except the “sham” of the -peaches.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I did not know, Clemence,” he cried, “that you -would have been up to such dodges!” and the exclamation -set his end of the table in a roar. Such -a merry party had perhaps never before assembled -round the mahogany in Belgrave Square.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Notwithstanding the prognostications of Lady -Selina, nothing glaringly wrong appeared in the arrangements -of the banquet. Perhaps the sharp eye -of malice detected here and there some token of inexperience -in the mistress of the feast, but few were -disposed to criticize harshly. Lord Vaughan did -not regret the absence of his French cook; and -Colonel Parsons and Sir William Page sat as contentedly -on the same side of the table, as if they had -never occupied opposite benches in “The House.” -All would have proceeded in the most approved -routine of formality and regularity, but for the presence -of the merry old captain, who cut his jokes, -and told his stories, and pledged his niece in a loud, -jovial tone, to the great amusement of the guests, -but the embarrassment of Mrs. Effingham.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Arabella and Louisa awaited the ladies in the -drawing-room, where they were joined by Thistlewood -and the other gentlemen. The stiff semicircle -was again dashingly broken by the brave old captain, -who chatted merrily with the laughing Louisa, -proposed a country dance or a reel, and engaged her -as his partner. But nothing so informally lively as -an impromptu dance after dinner was to be thought -of in Belgrave Square. The grand piano, indeed, -was opened; but it was that a succession of ladies, -after a due amount of declining and pressing, might -give the company the benefit of their music.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Captain Thistlewood was extremely fond of music, -and therefore at once planted himself by the piano, -beating time like a conductor. The concert opened -with a bravura song from Miss Praed, to which he -listened with much of the feeling which Johnson -expressed when asked if a lady’s performance were -not wonderful: “Wonderful!—would it were <i>impossible</i>!” -Then followed a languid “<i>morceau</i>” -from Miss Mildmay, which the composer must have -designed for a soporific; and then Arabella seated -herself before the instrument. Her forte was rapid -execution; hers was a hurry-skurry style of playing, -hand over hand, the right suddenly plunging into -the bass, then the left unexpectedly flourishing away -in the treble—each seeming bent on invading the -province of the other, and causing as much noise -there as possible. As the performer finished with a -crashing chord, the captain, who had been watching -her fingers with great diversion, clapped Arabella -on the shoulder. “Well done, my lass!” he exclaimed; -“that’s what I should call a thunder-and-lightning -piece, stunning in both senses of the word! -But still, for my part, I like a little quiet tune;—did -you ever hear your mother sing ‘Nelly -Bly’?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Arabella looked daggers as she withdrew from the -piano. To be so treated, as if she were a child—she, -an earl’s grand-daughter—before so many guests, -and by <i>him</i>, the vulgar little brother-in-law of an -apothecary; it was more than her proud spirit could -endure! Mrs. Effingham should pay dearly for the -insult!</p> - -<p class='c015'>Nothing further occurred to vary the monotony -of the fashionable London entertainment. The evening -wore on, much after the usual style of such -evenings, till, one after another, the guests took -leave of their young bright hostess; and there was -cloaking in the ante-room, and bustle in the hall, -and rolling of carriages from the door—till at length -the lights in the drawing-room were darkened, silence -settled down even on the servants’ hall, the grand -entertainment was concluded, the laborious trifle -ended, and that which had cost so much thought -and anxious care, to say nothing of trouble and -expense, passed quietly into the mass of nothings, -once important, which Memory, when she takes -inventory of her possessions, throws aside for ever -as mere tarnished tinsel not worth the preserving.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I am so glad that it is over!” thought Clemence.</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch08' class='c008'>CHAPTER VIII<br /> <br /><span class='small'>A STORMY MORNING.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/m.jpg' width='100' height='189' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_4'> -Mr. Effingham was always an early riser. -The next morning he was earlier than -usual, and had not only commenced his -breakfast, but concluded it, and gone off -to his business eastward, before any of -the ladies, except his wife, had made their -appearance in the breakfast-room. Want of punctuality -in her step-daughters was one of the evils -which Clemence longed, though in vain, to reform. -Lady Selina’s example not only excused it, but rendered -it in a certain degree fashionable in the family. -“It is for slaves to be tied down to hours!” exclaimed -Arabella, on a gentle hint being once ventured -by Clemence; “only dull mechanics, whose -time is their bread, count their minutes as they -would count their coppers!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence was not, however, Mr. Effingham’s only -companion at his early meal. The jovial captain, -full of merriment and good-humour, and disposed to -do full justice to the ham and an unlimited number -of eggs, performed his part at the table. His niece -would have been extremely diverted by his <i>naïve</i> -observations on the events of the previous evening—observations -which showed at once natural shrewdness -and the most absolute ignorance of fashionable -life—had she not feared that his boisterous heartiness -of manner might be disagreeable to her husband. -Mr. Effingham was perfectly polite, but did not look -disposed to be amused. He appeared hardly to hear -the jokes of the captain, and hurried over his breakfast -with a thoughtful, pre-occupied air.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence’s own mind was often wandering to the -subject of Mademoiselle Lafleur, and she contemplated -with some uneasiness and fear the effect which -would be produced on her circle by the announcement -of that lady’s dismissal. She also felt anxious -as to the footing on which her dear old relative -would stand in the proud family to which she had -been united by marriage. In him a new and very -vulnerable point seemed presented to the shafts of -malice which were constantly levelled at herself. -His very simplicity and unconsciousness of insult -made her doubly sensitive on his account, and many -a plan Clemence turned over in her mind for guarding -him from the well-bred rudeness which none knew -better than Lady Selina how to show to one whom -she despised. Mrs. Effingham’s reflections made her -more silent and grave than had been her wont. -“She is not such a good talker as she used to be,” -thought the old uncle; “nor such a good listener -neither, for the matter of that!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Captain Thistlewood found, however, both a ready -talker and listener when Louisa entered the room. -The young lady, if the truth must be confessed, regarded -the merry old sailor as rather an acquisition -to the circle. He noticed her much, and Louisa -would rather have been censured than unnoticed; -he amused her, and love of amusement was one of -her ruling passions. She could laugh <i>with</i> him when -he was present, and <i>at</i> him when he was absent. -Louisa imagined herself a wit; and what so needful -to a wit as a butt! Her morning greeting to him -was given with an air of coquettish levity, which -contrasted with Arabella’s sullen silence, and Lady -Selina’s frigid politeness.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And what did you think of our party, Captain -Thistlewood?” inquired Louisa, as the old sailor -gallantly handed to her the cup of chocolate which -Clemence had prepared.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Well, it was good enough in its way, only too -many kickshaws handed about, and too many lackeys -behind the table to whip off the plate from before -you, if you chanced to look round at a neighbour. -I must say that your London society is a stiff, formal -sort of thing. It reminds one of those swindling -pieces of goods which tradesmen pass off on the -unwary—all <i>dress</i>, you see, just stiffened and -smoothed to sell, and not to wear. Only give the -gentility a good hearty pull, and the powder flies up -in your face!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I suppose that yesterday was the first time that -he ever sat at a gentleman’s table!” muttered Arabella -inaudibly to herself; but the thought expressed -itself in her face.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“If there’s any powder about that young lass it’s -<i>gunpowder</i>!” thought the captain; “we may look -out for an explosion by-and-by—I see she’s primed -for a volley. But I’ll try a little conciliation for -May-blossom’s sake—hang out a flag of truce. No -wonder that my poor child looks grave and pale;—a -pretty life she must have of it here, with an iceberg -on the one side and a volcano on the other!” -All the more determined to draw Arabella into conversation, -from marking her haughty reserve, Captain -Thistlewood rested his knife and fork perpendicularly -on either side of his plate, and addressed -her across the table.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“We’re coming near to Christmas now. I like -the merry old season, and I shall be glad to see for -once how Christmas is kept in London. I noticed -many a jolly dinner hanging up in the butchers’ and -poulterers’ shops as I passed along in the ’bus; -quite a sight they are, those shops—turkeys strung -on long lines, as though they were so many larks; -and huge joints of beef, that, for their size, might -have been cut from elephants! Glorious they look -in the flaring gas-light, decked out with whole -shrubberies of holly! Then the pretty little Christmas-trees, -hung with tapers and gim-cracks—they -pleased me mightily too; for, thinks I, there’ll be -plenty of harmless fun, plenty of laughing young -faces round those trees, when the tapers are lighted! -I love to see children happy, and ’specially the children -of the poor. Shall I tell you my notion of a -good Christmas-tree?” Arabella looked as though -she did not care to hear it, but the captain took it -for granted that she did. “I’d have a tree as big -as the biggest of those yonder in the Square, and -invite all the ragged little urchins far and near to -the lighting of the same. I’d have it hung, not -with sparkling thing-a-bobs, or sugar trash in funny -shapes, not even with sham peaches,” he added, -laughing, “but with good solid joints of meat for -blossoms, and warm winter jackets for leaves; and -I’ll be bound that every child would think my tree -the very finest that he ever had seen in his life. -Don’t you call that uniting the ornamental with the -useful?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“The idea shows so much elegance, so much refinement -of taste,” replied Arabella, with satirical -emphasis, “that it will doubtless be instantly carried -out by Mrs. Effingham.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>There was something in the tone in which the -name was pronounced which stung the old sailor as -no personal rudeness to himself could have done. -As a single word will sometimes suffice to rouse a -whole train of associations, startle a host of ideas -into life, the name “Mrs. Effingham,” so pronounced -by her step-daughter, conjured up before -the warm-hearted old man a picture coloured indeed, -by fancy, but not without an outline of truth. His -sweet Clemence was not loved and valued in her -home; she, his darling, his heart’s delight, was -looked down upon by those who should have -deemed it an honour to sun themselves in her smile! -Such was the suspicion which flashed out into words -of sudden indignation.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Mrs. Effingham! and pray who may she be? I -see here my niece, your father’s wife, your mother -by marriage; but no one whom you or I can either -speak or think of as ‘Mrs. Effingham!’”</p> - -<p class='c015'>The most insolent in temper are usually those -who have least courage to back their insolence. -Those who delight in wounding the sensitive and -brow-beating the timid, when they find their weapon -crossed by another, when they become aware that -their shafts may be returned on themselves, often -are the first to draw back from the contest so -wantonly provoked. Arabella was startled into a -momentary confusion; and her opponent, who carried -“anger as the flint bears fire,” at once recovered -his usual temper. The captain was aware that he -had given way to a burst that had been scarcely -called for by anything actually uttered; he had, -perhaps, been too ready to imagine an affront where -no such thing was intended.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Forgive an old man’s vehemence,” he said -frankly; “I got my ideas in the last century, and -they may by this time be quite old-fashioned. -There are many, I take it, who scarcely know what -to call a step-mother at first, especially one so -young. For once I think that the French have hit -on a better title than our own. It must sound odd -enough applied to many; but here is a case where -<i>belle-mère</i> is quite appropriate,”—he glanced fondly -at his niece; then added, bowing gallantly to -Louisa, “and also the title of <i>belle-fille</i>.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>The thunder-cloud only gathered blacker on the -brow of Arabella, but Louisa tittered and gaily replied, -“I have often wondered why our French -neighbours should make such a spell of marriage—to -turn connections on both sides into beauties, -brothers, old fathers, and all! I’ll ask mademoiselle -for the derivation of the term. By-the-by,” -added Louisa, addressing Clemence, “on what -day does mademoiselle come back?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>It was an unfortunate question at that moment. -The flush which rose to the cheek of Clemence, her -little pause before she replied, fixed every eye upon -her. The young wife felt like one about to fire a -train, when she answered, “Mademoiselle is not -coming back at all.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Not coming back!” exclaimed both girls at -once. “Not coming back!” echoed Lady Selina, -in accents of unfeigned surprise. Clemence knew -that some explanation was required, and she gave -it, in a tone as firm as she could command. “Mr. -Effingham and I have, after due reflection, decided -on making a change. We have very sufficient reasons, -and I trust—”</p> - -<p class='c015'>But the train had been fired indeed, and before -Clemence could finish her sentence there was an unmistakable -explosion! Not that the governess had -in reality attached to herself any one present, or -that her pupils actually looked upon her dismissal -as a personal misfortune; but a good handle was -suddenly offered to the hand of malice,—“the war -of independence” had required its watchword and -its martyr, and the maligned, persecuted mademoiselle -served at once for both. Arabella’s -smothered indignation could now creditably boil -over in wrath, and a torrent of invective burst -forth, swelled by Louisa’s passionate exclamations. -But most formidable was the awful dignity with -which Lady Selina rose from her seat, adding her -broken sentences of calm indignation: “Strange, -mysterious, incomprehensible proceeding!”—“Personal -insult to myself!”—“One who had selected -that lady on the highest recommendations, who for -years had reposed the utmost confidence in that -lady, and who had ever found her more than justify -that trust, not to be consulted on a step so important!” -The very dress of Lady Selina seemed to -rustle and tremble with offended pride. How could -the timid, sensitive Clemence stand her ground -against such an overwhelming avalanche of opposition?</p> - -<p class='c015'>She had but one ally present, and her dread was -lest he should come to her aid. The veins on the -captain’s forehead were growing very large and his -cheek very red; he glanced hurriedly, and almost -fiercely, from one assailant to the other, as a lion -might when encompassed by the hounds, only -doubting in which quarter to make his spring. But -none of the enemy awaited the attack; Lady Selina -and her nieces all quitted the apartment, to excite -each other to fiercer wrath against the household -tyrant, who had dared, by such an unwarrantable -act of independence, to bid defiance to the clique!</p> - -<p class='c015'>“If ever I heard anything like this!” exclaimed -Captain Thistlewood, striking the table with vehemence; -“the insolence, the audacity of these -young shrews!—the malice of that cantankerous -old dame! You must be protected from them, -Clemence. I’ll after and tell them—”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“O uncle, dear uncle, let them go!” exclaimed -Clemence, holding the captain’s arm to prevent his -sudden exit from the room; “you cannot help me, -indeed you cannot; it will blow over, it will—”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Blow over!” thundered the veteran, trying to -extricate himself from her hold; “such a tornado -may blow over indeed, but it will first blow you -out of your senses! I’m glad I came here—I’m -heartily glad. I’ll not have you exposed to this; -I’ll—”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Uncle!” cried Clemence nervously, “any movement -on your part would only make matters a thousand -times worse. For my sake be calm—be composed. -There is nothing from which I so shrink as -quarrels and dissensions in the house. Let us have -peace—”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Peace!” exclaimed the indignant captain; “lay -down our arms—strike our flag to such viragoes -as these! No; if your husband has not the spirit -to keep these termagants in order—”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“If you would not make me miserable,” cried -Clemence, “leave me and Mr. Effingham to smooth -and settle things by ourselves. You cannot imagine -the evil that might arise from the interference even -of one so kind, and good, and loving as yourself! -Be persuaded, dear uncle, be persuaded; take no -notice of what has occurred.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>It was with considerable difficulty that Clemence -succeeded to a certain degree in quieting the old -man’s excitement. She persuaded him at length -to leave the house for a few hours, in order to -visit some London sights, knowing well that the -sailor’s anger, though it might be warm, was never -enduring. It was with a sense of real relief that -she heard the hall door close behind him; and she -earnestly hoped that he might find so much amusement -that he would not return until Mr. Effingham -had come back from his business in the city.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id003'> -<img src='images/i092.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p><span class='small'>CAPTAIN THISTLEWOOD.<br />Page 91.</span></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c015'>Before Clemence had had breathing time in which -to recover from the excitement of the last painful -scene, one of her footmen entered the room, with -two envelopes on a silver salver. As Mrs. Effingham -mechanically took them up, he informed her -that Mrs. Ventner wished to speak to her for a few -minutes.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The interview it is unnecessary to describe. From -the first hour that the housekeeper had discovered -that she had not a mere puppet to deal with, that -her mistress could overlook accounts and detect inaccuracies, -from that hour she had made up her mind -that the same house could not hold them both. -Mrs. Ventner had plundered enough from her -master, during Lady Selina’s careless reign, to make -her, as she believed, independent; and, knowing -that her books would not bear the close scrutiny -which had probably been only postponed till the -party should be over, and perhaps alarmed by the -tidings which had now spread through the house -that mademoiselle had been dismissed at a moment’s -notice, she resolved to avoid sharing the same fate -by anticipating it, and gave her young mistress -warning.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence received the communication, to outward -appearance, with great composure, but her spirits -were fluttered and her mind oppressed; and when -she had sought the quiet of her own room, she sat -for some time in an attitude of listless thought, before -remembering to examine the contents of the -envelopes which she had carried unopened in her -hand.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Only bills—uninteresting bills; and yet not so -uninteresting neither, or there would not be that -slight tremble in the fingers that grasp them, or -that faint line on the fair brow so smooth but a -minute before. These are the milliner’s and dressmaker’s -bills; and the courage of Clemence is -failing her, as she glances down the long line, and -sums up the amount again and again, with ever-lessening -hope that there may be some error in the -calculation. Clemence had no fixed allowance -assigned her; but her husband, soon after their -marriage, had replenished her slender purse with a -sum so large, that it had appeared to her almost -inexhaustible. Clemence had a generous heart, and -loved to give with a liberal hand. She had expended -money very freely upon others, before becoming -aware how much her personal expenses were -now likely to exceed the narrow limits within which -they had hitherto been restrained. She had, however, -reserved what she had hoped would be sufficient -to defray the two bills now before her, the only ones -yet unpaid. But the young girl, brought up in -rural seclusion and ignorance of the fashionable -world, had formed a most incorrect estimate of rich -velvet dresses, and mantillas trimmed with costly -fur, handkerchiefs edged with the delicate productions -of Mechlin or Brussels—beautiful trifles, upon which -luxury lavishes her gold so freely, and which yet -contribute so little to actual enjoyment. Clemence -had little more than sufficient money left to clear -her debt to the milliner; Madame La Voye’s heavy -bill lay before her, a weight upon her conscience as -well as her spirits.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“What will Vincent think—my noble, generous-hearted -husband—when he knows of my folly and -selfish extravagance? Not three months married, -and already in debt, deeply in debt—in debt for -the mere vanities of dress! Oh! he never would -have deemed his wife capable of acting so unworthy -a part. How shall I confess to him that his liberality -has led me into such extravagance—that his -trusting love has met with such a return! And he -has been looking anxious and careworn of late; the -thought has even crossed my mind that business -concerns may not be prospering—that he may be -uneasy as regards his affairs. Oh! if it should be -so, and if I—vain, weak, thoughtless—should have -added, to his cares instead of lightening them!” -The idea was to Clemence almost unbearable; bitter -self-reproach added its keen pang to those of anxious -care and wounded feeling; and it was some time -before she could calm her agitated spirits, or look -her difficulties fairly in the face.</p> - -<p class='c015'>When Clemence quitted her apartment, she was -suddenly met on the staircase by young Vincent, -who had reached home about an hour previously, -though, absorbed in her own painful reflections, she -had not noticed the sound of an arrival. A joyful -exclamation of welcome was on her lips, but her -first glance at the face of the boy was sufficient to -check its utterance. Giving her a look, in which -dislike, scorn, and defiance were mingled, Vincent -brushed past his step-mother without saying a word. -And this was the son whom her heart had learned -already to love—the son on whom she had built -such hopes—in whose countenance she had traced -such a resemblance to his father—who bore his name, -and, as she trusted, would bear his character—the -only member of her husband’s family who had -given her anything approaching to a welcome. The -disappointment came at a moment when the spirit -of Clemence was wounded by unkindness and -depressed by self-reproach. This last drop of bitterness -made her cup overflow. She returned to her -own room with a hurried step, and throwing herself -on her sofa, buried her face in her hands, and gave -way to a burst of tears.</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch09' class='c008'>CHAPTER IX<br /> <br /><span class='small'>OPPOSITION SIDE.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/w.jpg' width='100' height='163' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_4'> -“Well, Vincent, you have returned to a -strange house; strange doings have -there been during your absence.” Such -were the words with which Arabella -had greeted her young brother, when, -on his first arrival, he had burst into the drawing-room, -with all the impatient joy of a boy just emancipated -from school.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“You’ll hardly believe what has happened,” said -Louisa.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Why, what’s the matter?” exclaimed Vincent, -looking in surprise from the one to the other.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“We none of us can tell where we may find -ourselves in another month,” continued Louisa. -“I foretell that I shall be finishing my education -in Jersey, and Arabella in the Isle of -Man.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“What has happened?” cried Vincent impatiently; -“anything in which our pretty step-mother -is concerned?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“<i>Pretty</i> step-mother, indeed!” exclaimed Arabella. -“She has begun to change and overturn everything -in the house. Nothing is free from her meddling. -She has turned off Mademoiselle Lafleur without so -much as the shadow of a reason.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Turned off mademoiselle!” cried Vincent. -“Well, I don’t break my heart about that; but it -was a bold stroke for a beginning.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Then Mrs. Ventner.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Mrs. Ventner!” echoed Vincent in amazement. -“I should have as soon expected to hear of her -moving the Monument of London!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“It won’t end here,” said Lady Selina oracularly, -pursing in her thin lips, as if to restrain them from -uttering some dread prognostication.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Is it really Mrs. Effingham who is turning everything -topsy-turvy?” cried the schoolboy; “why, -she looked as gentle as a dove!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“A dove!—she’s a vulture,” said Louisa.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“A vampire!” muttered her sister.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“What I cannot bear,” observed Lady Selina, “is -the art with which she conceals her designs. Smooth -above, false beneath—wearing a mask of such perfect -innocence, that she would take in any one who was -unaccustomed to the ways of the world. I confess,” -she added, in a tone of self-depreciation, “that I was -deceived myself by her manner.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Oh! if she’s artful, I shall hate her,” exclaimed -Vincent; “I can’t endure anything sly.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And so hypocritical,” chimed in Louisa; “she -would pass herself off for such a saint. I believe -that poor dear mademoiselle’s grand offence was -liking a French book that was a little witty—a -book which Mrs. Effingham unluckily hit upon when -she came spying into our school-room in her fawning, -hypocritical manner.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And to bring in such an ally to support her, -before she dared let us know what she had done.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Yes,” said Lady Selina, “I am perfectly convinced—and -I am one not often mistaken—that the -arrival of Captain Thistlewood was a preconcerted -arrangement.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Captain Thistlewood—who may he be?” inquired -Vincent.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Mrs. Effingham’s uncle,” replied Louisa. “The -funniest old quiz—”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“The most blustering savage—”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“A low, vulgar fellow,” joined in Lady Selina; -“one who thinks that he may swagger in a gentleman’s -house as if he were on the deck of a whaler.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And does papa suffer it?” exclaimed Vincent.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Mr. Effingham is infatuated, quite infatuated,” -said the lady, apparently addressing the fire and -not any one present, and speaking so low, that -Vincent had to lean forward in order to catch her -accents. “I do not know why it should be—I do -not pretend to guess, but he certainly has not been -like the same man ever since his second marriage.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Papa has grown much graver,” observed Louisa.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And sadder,” joined in Arabella.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Lady Selina only uttered an “Ah!” with a slight -jerk of the head; but what a world of meaning -was condensed into the brief exclamation! Compassion -for the infatuated husband, contempt for -the manœuvring wife, sympathy with the persecuted -children. It was the sigh of wisdom and experience -over what was wrong in the world in general, and -in the Effingham family in particular.</p> - -<p class='c015'>It is no wonder that Vincent was not proof -against the contagion of prejudice, hatred, and -malice, when entering the scene where they all were -rife. He threw himself, heart and soul, into the -cause of the insurgents, in the war of independence; -and determined, with all the vehemence of boyhood, -to oppose his step-mother in everything, and not to -be daunted by the “swaggering bully,” whom she -had so cunningly brought to London to aid her in -tyrannizing over his sisters, and altering all the good -old customs of the house.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence sat lonely and heavy-hearted in her -own room, her eyelids swollen with weeping. She -felt so unwilling to face the family at the approaching -meal, that twice her hand was on the bell-rope, -to summon a servant to convey the message that, -having a severe headache, she would not come down -to luncheon. The excuse would have been a true -one, for her temples throbbed painfully, and a -weight seemed to press on her brain; but a little -reflection induced Clemence to change her intention. -When a trial is to be faced, the sooner and the more -boldly that it is faced the better; the nettle-leaves -grasped by a firm hand are less likely to sting than -when touched by a timid and shrinking finger. -There would be moral cowardice in secluding herself -from envious eyes and bitter tongues, which would -only serve to encourage malice. But Clemence’s -strongest incentive was consideration for her uncle, -who might return early, and who must not be left -to face the enemy alone; so she washed all trace of -tears from her eyes, and descended at the summons -of the gong. Clemence was glad to find that -Captain Thistlewood was yet out on his exploring -expedition.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Lady Selina did not please to appear at table. -Mrs. Effingham breathed more freely in her absence. -But the meal was a very uncomfortable one, as must -ever be the case where hatred and strife are guests at -the board. Hardly a word was spoken <i>to</i> Clemence, -but many were spoken <i>at</i> her; every effort which -she made to commence conversation ended in making -her more painfully aware of her position in regard -to her husband’s children. Even her meek and -quiet spirit might have been roused to anger, had -not the recollection of her debt, of the confession of -extravagance to be made to Mr. Effingham, rendered -her too much dissatisfied with herself to be easily -stirred up to indignation against others.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence would willingly have taken an airing -in her carriage during the brief hours of the winter’s -afternoon—the rapid motion, the freedom from -vexatious interruptions, would have been welcome -to her harassed mind; but Lady Selina was certain -to require a drive, and, as usual, it was yielded up -to her by Mrs. Effingham, rather as a matter of -right than of courtesy. Clemence contented herself -with a rapid, solitary walk in the square.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The air was intensely cold, but its freshness -braced and invigorated her spirits, and helped to -restore them to their wonted healthy tone. The -dark clouds which flitted across the sky, the leafless -trees whose dark branches waved in the gale, in -their very wintry dreariness spoke to the young -heart of hope. Those clouds would soon be succeeded -by sunshine. Spring would clothe those bare -boughs with beauty, the piercing blast would -change to the soft zephyr beneath the genial influence -of a milder season! And were not bright -days in store for herself! Clemence struggled to -throw off her depression, made earnest resolutions, -breathed silent prayers, and determined not yet to -despair even of conquering hatred by the power of -gentleness, and prejudice by the strength of patience.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“There goes one of Fortune’s favourites!” remarked -Lady Praed to her daughter, as, driving -through Belgrave Square, she recognized Mrs. Effingham; -“young, lovely, rich, with good health, good -establishment, good position—she has everything -that the world can give. I should think that -Mrs. Effingham must be one of the happiest beings -to be found on the face of the earth!”</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch10' class='c008'>CHAPTER X<br /> <br /><span class='small'>SOCIAL CONVERSE.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/y.jpg' width='100' height='216' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_4'> -“You cannot, dearest, blame my folly, or wonder -at my extravagance, more than I do -myself,” were the concluding words of Clemence, -as, with the timidity of a child -acknowledging a fault, she laid on the -desk before her husband the heavy bill of Madame -La Voye.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Mr. Effingham opened it in silence. If his young -wife had ventured to raise her downcast eyes to his -face, she would have viewed there, not anger, not -sorrow, but a peculiar and unpleasing expression -which flitted across it for a moment, as a bat wheels -suddenly between us and the twilight sky, visible -for a space so brief that we can hardly say that we -have seen it. As it was, Clemence only heard the -words of her husband, as he folded the paper, and -placed it in his desk, “Fifty pounds more or less—what -matters it! you may leave this for me to settle.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Not one syllable of reproach, not even a hint of -displeasure! What intense gratitude glowed in the -heart of Clemence, deepening, if possible, the fervour -of her love for the most noble, the most generous of -men! But when she attempted to express something -of what she felt, Mr. Effingham suddenly -changed the subject; it appeared to be irksome, -almost irritating to him to receive the grateful thanks -of his wife.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The evening closed far more joyously to Clemence -than the morning had begun. Her husband’s presence, -as usual, sufficiently protected her from insolence -on the part of his family. A pert reply -from Vincent to a question asked by his step-mother, -drew upon him such a stern reproof from Mr. Effingham, -that the boy was for the time effectually silenced. -Captain Thistlewood had walked off all his fierce -indignation, and finding that the domestic tempest -had subsided into an apparent calm, he made no -attempt to stir up the sleeping elements of discord, -but, on the contrary, exerted himself to spread around -him the atmosphere of good-humour in which he -himself habitually lived. His flow of conversation -was almost incessant. Having on that day ascended -to the ball of St. Paul’s, and explored the depths -of the Thames Tunnel, he was equally primed, as he -termed it, for the highest or the deepest subjects. -He had been wandering over a great part of London, -from the stately squares of the West End to the -crowded thoroughfares of the East; he had seen -skating on the Serpentine, horses sliding and struggling -up Holborn Hill, and described all with the same -minuteness and zest with which he might have portrayed -peculiarities in the manners and customs of -some island of our antipodes.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“This merry old sailor must be as deceitful as -Mrs. Effingham herself,” thought Vincent. “If I -had not heard that he was a bully and a savage, I -should have thought him an uncommonly jolly old -chap!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I took an omnibus back,” said Captain Thistlewood; -“for what with the ‘getting up stairs’ at St. -Paul’s, and the walking about for hours in the streets, -I found myself tolerably well tired. That reminds -me,” he turned towards Vincent,—“that reminds -me of the riddle, ‘What is always tired, yet always -goes on?’ Will you guess it? Bad hand at riddles—eh? -It is a <i>wheel</i>, to be sure; so that brings me -back to my omnibus.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“We were a pretty full party in it, now one dropping -in, then another out,—men of business from the -city, clerks from the bank; one I noticed with a -broad-brimmed hat, another with a smart new tile, -cocked roguishly on the side of the head. They -talk” (here he addressed himself to Louisa) “of telling -the character of a man by the bumps on his head: -I think that one might tell something by the style -of his hat; he has a choice in one thing, and not in -the other. Well, presently the man who stands on the -door-step puts his head into the conveyance. ‘Gentlemen -and ladies,’ says he, ‘have a care of your -purses; there’s two of the swell-mob in the ’bus.’ -So, as you may imagine, we gen’lmen and ladies -(the ladies consisting of one good fat old dame opposite -me, with a well-stuffed bag on her arm, or -rather on her knee) looked awkwardly round on our -companions, half smiling, as if to say, ‘Which of us -are the thieves?’ I thought that the fat dame -opposite kept rather a suspicious eye upon me, and -held her hand tight over the opening of her big bag, -afraid that some one should feloniously make off with -her sandwiches or sausages. Presently the man -with the new hat, dashing neck-tie, sparkling pin, -and diamond studs to match, puts his hand into his -pocket: ‘I’ve a large sum about me,’ he mutters -half to himself, half as if apologizing to us for depriving -us of the pleasure of his society, and out he -pops with all convenient speed. Then he in the -broad-brim gives signs of following; he was at the -very inner end of the omnibus, and had to push past -us all to get out. ‘I’ve a thousand pounds on my -person,’ says he, and so gets down, off, and away! -I could not help saying to my old lady, ‘There are -more purses than two the safer for the discretion of -these good gentleman: depend on’t, we’ve now nothing -more to fear from the two dangerous members -of the swell society!’”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“’Tis conscience that makes cowards of us all,” -observed Mr. Effingham with a smile.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“It reminds me,” said Clemence, “of an Eastern -tale of a merchant, who, having been robbed of a -large quantity of cotton, and entertaining suspicions -of the honesty of several of his acquaintance, invited -all whom he doubted to a social meal. In the -midst of his entertainment he suddenly exclaimed, -with affected indignation, ‘Why, what audacious -rogues are these, to steal my cotton, and then every -one come to my house with a bit of it sticking to -his beard!’ In a moment several hands were raised, -each thief laid hold of his own beard, and the merchant, -by this involuntary confession, was enabled -to single out those who had robbed him.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“We leave all that sort of work to the detective -police,” observed Lady Selina.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Yes, in old England,” replied Captain Thistlewood; -“it is a different matter in some other countries -that I have heard of, where the constables and -the highwaymen form a kind of joint-stock company,—the -robbers the active managers, the police -the <i>sleeping partners</i>—ha! ha! ha! What was the -book, Clemence, in which we read that good story of -the Englishman in Rome?” The eyes of Vincent -brightened at the idea of a story; he unconsciously -edged his chair nearer to that of the captain.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I do not recollect the story,” replied Clemence; -“let us by all means have it.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“An Englishman was on a visit to the city of -Rome, and he had been told that bandits were plentiful -there as blackberries, and that a man there -thought as little of cutting a throat as he would in -France of cutting a caper, or a joke in the Emerald -Isle. John Bull had, therefore, been advised by no -means to take his constitutionals after the sun had -set.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Our friend, however, once received an invitation -to an evening party, which he had a mind to accept; -and, thinks he, ‘A stout heart and a good crab-tree -cudgel will make me a match for any brigand that -breathes!’ So he went to his party, took a cheerful -glass (maybe did not confine himself to one), -and then set out in the darkness to return to his -lodging in Rome. Now, our Englishman was a bold -fellow, but that night he could not help thinking a -little of what he had heard of stilettoes, and stabbing, -and all that sort of thing. Suddenly a man coming -in an opposite direction knocked right up against -him, and then hurried on with rapid step. Our -friend clapped his hand on his watch-pocket—never -a watch was there!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“The man must have robbed him!” exclaimed -Vincent.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“So thought our Englishman, and he was not one -to part with his property lightly. Turning round -sharp, he rushed after the fellow, overtook him, -seized him by the throat, shouted, ‘Oriuolo!—watch!’ -in the best Italian that he could muster, -and was well rewarded when a watch was thrust into -his hand by the half-throttled, gasping Roman!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“The robber had caught a Tartar!” exclaimed -Vincent.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“The Englishman went home in triumph. He -could not help boasting a little of his exploit when -he and his family met round the breakfast-table. -‘Well, it is odd enough,’ said his sister, ‘but I could -have been sure that I saw your watch hanging up -in your room last evening after you had gone to -your party.’ The Englishman stared for a moment, -clapped his hand to his forehead to catch the thought -which suddenly darted across it, pulled out from his -pocket the watch which he had taken from the -Italian—and lo! it was no more his than the clock -at the Horse-Guards! He recollected that he had -left his own watch at home, as a measure of precaution. -So, instead of having been attacked, as he -had imagined, by a brigand, he had played the -brigand himself, and had actually robbed a poor -fellow of his property, under the idea of recovering -his own!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Vincent could not help laughing. “It is the first -time,” he exclaimed, “that an English gentleman -ever acted as a thief!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I wish that I could say as much, my boy,” -observed Captain Thistlewood, slowly sipping his -glass of port. “I’m sorry to say that I’ve met with -pickpockets, even in the higher ranks of life, quite -as dangerous as the gentlemen of the swell-mob in -my omnibus. I’ve known a man, and one who drove -his cabriolet too, go to a shop and order goods to the -amount of hundreds of pounds, aware all the time -that he had as little chance of paying for them as of -discharging the national debt. I’ve met with another, -looked upon as a man of honour, who built up a -grand establishment upon the fortunes and credulity -of others, who ate his turtle, and drank his claret,—ay, -and asked his friends to share in the feast,—knowing -all the time that he was spending the -money of those who had confided their all to his -care. Such men are, in my eyes, pickpockets—heartless -pickpockets—for they not only violate -honesty, but abuse a trust, and add hypocrisy to -theft!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Let us adjourn to the drawing-room,” said Mr. -Effingham abruptly, pushing back his chair from the -table.</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch11' class='c008'>CHAPTER XI<br /> <br /><span class='small'>POLICY AND POLITENESS.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/i.jpg' width='100' height='205' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_4'> -“I heard there was glorious skating on the -Serpentine yesterday!” cried Vincent. -“I’ll be off there this fine morning, and -see the fun!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I’ll go with you,” said Louisa; “I’m -sick to death of both books and work. Belgrave -Square is as dull as a city of the dead; I want -to go where a little life is stirring!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Pray, on no account venture on the ice,” -cried Clemence; “the weather is so much milder -to-day, that I feel sure that there must be a -thaw.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I suppose,” said Louisa very pertly, “that I -may use my own judgment in the matter. I happen -to possess a little common sense, and have not the -slightest wish to be drowned.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I am sure that you are greatly indebted to Mrs. -Effingham for her tender anxiety on your account,” -said Lady Selina very ironically, glancing up from -the last number of <i>Punch</i>.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“That old mischief-maker!” thought Captain -Thistlewood; “we should all get on well enough -but for her! What a blessing it would be to Clemence -if the proud dame could once be got out of -the house.—Well, young folk!” he said aloud, -“if you want some one to see that you don’t make -ducks and drakes of yourselves, I’m your man; I’ll -go to the park with you myself!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“We don’t want your company,” said the schoolboy -rudely; “I can take care of my sister.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“A footman will follow us,” added Louisa superciliously; -“I may meet friends in the park, and it -would cause too great a sensation amongst them if -I were to be seen escorted by Captain Thistlewood!” -and so saying, with a mock reverence she quitted -the room, and was followed by Vincent whistling.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The old sailor did not appear to understand the -implied satire, or to be aware that an earl’s granddaughter -could possibly be ashamed to be seen with -an unfashionable companion. But if his simplicity -warded the insult from himself, it glanced off from -him to wound the more sensitive spirit of his niece.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“You will escort me, dear uncle,” said Clemence; -“it will be such a pleasure to walk with you -again!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Presently, my dear,” replied the captain, seating -himself on the sofa, of which the greater part was -occupied by the stiff silk flounces of Lady Selina.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I will put on my bonnet—”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Do not hurry yourself,” was the sailor’s quiet -reply. The truth is, that he had resolved upon -having a <i>tête-à-tête</i> with Clemence’s arch tormentor, -and was revolving in his honest mind how best to -make it clear to her apprehension, without showing -discourtesy to a lady, that as two suns cannot shine -in one sphere, no more can two mistresses bear rule -in one dwelling. Captain Thistlewood had sufficient -observation to perceive that Lady Selina’s influence -lay at the root of all the bitterness and unkindness -which Clemence was called on to endure, and he -considered that it would be a master-stroke of diplomacy, -could he induce the grand lady voluntarily to -resign a position which he could not think that she -had any right to hold in the house of his niece.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Lady Selina was also meditating, though her eyes -appeared to be riveted upon <i>Punch</i>. She was -pondering how Mrs. Effingham’s new and strange -ally, formidable from the straightforward vehemence -of his manner, and his invulnerability to personal -insult, could best be coaxed, since he could not be -chased from the field. These were strange opponents -left to face each other alone,—Simplicity <i>versus</i> - Art—the warm-hearted, honest old sailor, <i>versus</i> the -cold, calculating woman of the world!</p> - -<p class='c015'>Lady Selina was the first to commence the conversation. -She laid her paper down upon the cushion -beside her, and turning towards her auditor, observed -with an air of affected indifference, as if merely fulfilling -an office of common courtesy to a guest, “You -must greatly miss, Captain Thistlewood, the delightful -serenity of the country. I dare say that, after a -life spent in charming seclusion, you find London a -sad, noisy, bustling place.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I like it—I like it,” replied the old sailor good-humouredly; -“there was never anything of the -hermit about me. I was knocked about the world -for many a long year, and rather like to live in a -bustle, and see plenty of my fellow-creatures about -me. No babbling stream pleases my old eyes so -much as the stream of people down Oxford Street.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Lady Selina was instantly upon another tack. “I -perfectly agree with you,” she said; “and I must -own” (here she lowered her voice confidentially) -“that Belgrave Square is a great deal too dull and -out of the way for my taste.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Is it?” cried the captain eagerly.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“So far from the best shops, all the exhibitions—from -everything, in short, that gives its charm to -the great metropolis.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“So it is—the dullest spot in all London,” was -the hearty rejoinder. “She’s really preparing for a -removal,” thought the exulting captain.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Now, there are a great many excellent lodgings -a great deal nearer to the centre of the city—reasonable, -too,” pursued Lady Selina, imagining that her -fish was approaching the bait, and that, by a little -delicate management, she could land him in some -convenient spot well removed from the Effingham -mansion. “I should say, now, that Bloomsbury -Square is a very centrical situation.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I’ve no doubt of it—no doubt of it at all!” -cried the captain, who had not the faintest idea of -the locality, but caught something rural in the sound -of the name.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And you see, Captain Thistlewood,” continued -Lady Selina, feeling her line with dexterity and -caution,—“you see that there is a freedom to be -enjoyed in a life of independence, which must necessarily -be resigned by any one forming a member of -a large establishment. One is not tied down to -hours—one can indulge little fancies and tastes -without encroaching upon the comfort of others.” -She paused and glanced at her auditor, to see -whether she might venture on a little stronger -pull.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The face of the captain was becoming quite -radiant. “You feel and think exactly as I do, -ma’am,” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“It must be so painful to a refined mind,” pursued -the lady, “to contemplate the possibility of -being a little in the way of causing any inconvenience,—any -disturbance of arrangements,—any—”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Any bickerings in the family, you would say,” -eagerly joined in the captain; “yes, yes, you express -my very thoughts. It does not do to have many -wills in one house,—one pulling this way, another -that. It is far better to meet now and then as -good friends, than to live under one roof with perpetual -jarring.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Then, perhaps, you perceive the advisability of -soon looking out—”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Looking out for lodgings?” interrupted the old -gentleman. “I’ll do so with the greatest pleasure -in life! I’m quite at your ladyship’s service. I’ll -hunt half London over, but I will get a place to suit -you!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“To suit <i>me</i>!” exclaimed the astonished lady. -As the words were upon her lips Clemence re-entered -the room, and her uncle, too full of his success to -keep it to himself, cried out as he got up to meet -her, “Had we not better put off our walk, Clemence? -I’m going off at once to look for lodgings for Lady -Selina in Bloomsbury Square.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence’s blue eyes opened wide in astonishment; -she turned them inquiringly towards Lady Selina, -who rose from her seat with the dignity of which -even surprise and anger could not deprive her. -“There are some people,” she said bitterly, “who -mistake impertinence for wit, and pride themselves -on their talent for raising a laugh, even if it be at -their own expense. Captain Thistlewood is an -adept in the art; but he may learn that under my -brother-in-law’s roof such jesting may be carried too -far;” and she swept out of the room without vouchsafing -a single word of explanation to the wondering -Clemence.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The captain remained perfectly silent until the -rustle of the lady’s silk was heard no more on the -staircase, and then burst into a loud fit of uncontrollable -mirth. “A regular Irish blunder!” he -exclaimed, as soon as he could command his voice; -“Politeness and Policy bowing each other so ceremoniously -out of the house, that they knocked their -heads together at the door!” and he laughed and -chuckled over his own mistake, and that of the astute -Lady Selina, long after he and Clemence had quitted -Belgrave Square on their way to the scene of the -skating.</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch12' class='c008'>CHAPTER XII<br /> <br /><span class='small'>A PLUNGE.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/t.jpg' width='100' height='185' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_4'> -The park presented a gay and animated appearance. -Crowds of pedestrians were -sauntering to and fro on the shores of the -Serpentine to watch the rapid and graceful -evolutions of the skaters. Rings of spectators were -formed on the ice itself around the most practised -proficients; while without these exclusive circles -little ragged urchins, some without jackets, some -minus hats or caps, amused themselves by gliding -along extensive slides—their cheeks glowing with -the exercise, their faces looking as full of enjoyment -as that of the most aristocratic skater who cut -the figure S on the ice.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence and her companion were much amused -by the scene, though the lady did not fail to remark -in how many spots the warning post, marked -“Dangerous,” had been inserted, and to notice that -the circles of spectators on the Serpentine were beginning -to be rapidly thinned, while a very large -majority of persons preferred <i>terra firma</i> to the ice. -The wind had shifted to the west, the air had become -sensibly milder, the icicles which had hung -from the trees were dripping to the earth like tears, -and the round, red sun, glowing like a fiery ball in -the sky, was making his influence to be felt.</p> - -<p class='c015'>It was some time before Clemence discovered -those for whom her eye was seeking amongst the -crowds. She saw them at last on the frozen -Serpentine, walking together, their young countenances -rosy with the cold. Vincent was laughing -and talking to his sister, imitating the awkward -movements of some skater whom he had seen making -his <i>debût</i> on the ice, when he caught the eye of -his step-mother, towards whom he happened at the -time to be approaching.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I say, Loo, there’s that woman and her tame -bear come to hunt after us, as if we could not be -safe unless tied to her apron-strings! I vote we -turn round sharp and cut them!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I think that I see some of my friends at the -other side of the Serpentine,” said Louisa; “I wish -that we could get across to them,—but only—did -you not fancy that the ice just now gave a -crack!” and she grasped the boy’s arm in a little -alarm.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Oh, nonsense!” exclaimed Vincent; “the ice -is as hard as a rock!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>A loud, clear halloo came ringing to them across -the ice.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I say, I won’t stand that; I am not accustomed -to be hallooed to, as if I were a cab-driver on a -stand—”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Or a dog,” suggested Louisa: “just look how -the vulgar old man is making signs to us to come -off the ice.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“He may shout himself hoarse, and flourish away -till his arms ache,” said Vincent, “we’ll stop here as -long as we choose. Just come along this way, -Louisa.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Again, as the young Effinghams turned their steps -towards the further shore of the Serpentine, again -came that loud, warning halloo. It was not unheard, -but it was unheeded. Then Louisa stopped -short, trembling violently—there was a sudden -crash—shriek—splash—and on the spot where Clemence -had a moment before beheld the two well-known -forms on the surface, with horror she could -distinguish nothing but a black pool of water, with -an ill-defined margin of broken, jagged ice around -it!</p> - -<p class='c015'>Her cry of anguish mingled with the short, stifled -scream of the miserable Louisa. Captain Thistlewood -uttered no exclamation; before his niece -could realize what was passing beside her, he had -flung his great-coat at her feet, and, with the -instinct of generous humanity, was darting across -the ice to the place where the Effinghams had disappeared! -He reached it while the air-bubbles -were yet floating on the surface of the fatal pool, -and plunged in without an instant’s hesitation. -Clemence’s cries for help were bringing speedy -assistance, but they seemed to be unconsciously -uttered. Almost petrified with terror, she stood on -the shore, watching with straining eyes and blanched -cheek that dark spot fraught with such fearful -interest.</p> - -<p class='c015'>There is a hand grasping the ice!—yes!—no! -the brittle substance has broken under the drowning -grasp—yet there it is again! and now—oh, thank -Heaven! a dripping head emerges!—then another!—a -boy, supported by a strong arm, his hair hanging -in wet strands over his face, is clinging, scrambling, -on to the surface of the ice! Clemence stretches -out her arms, and, impelled by an irresistible impulse, -springs forward several paces on the frozen -Serpentine, but is stayed by the firm grasp of one -of the spectators.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“He has dived again!—fine fellow! he is saving -the lady!” cried many voices. “Where are the -officers of the Humane Society? Ah, here they -come! here they come! God speed them!” and, -with a rumbling, rushing sound, the machine on -skates, invented by ingenious humanity to rescue -the drowning from death, is pushed rapidly on to -the spot, and plunged into the dark hole on whose -brink, in an agony of apprehension, now stands the -shivering, gasping, dripping Vincent.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Moments appear hours to Clemence—all power of -uttering a sound is gone—the voices around her -seem rather as if heard in the confusion of a horrible -dream, than as if actually striking upon her waking -sense. Oh, that it were but a dream!</p> - -<p class='c015'>“They can’t find ’em!—they must have floated -under the ice,—got entangled in the weeds!—’twill -be too late—too late to save them!” Then suddenly -a loud, glad cheer burst from the excited -spectators, as a senseless form, with its wet garments -clinging closely around it, and long, clotted tresses -streaming unconfined by the crushed and dripping -bonnet, was lifted triumphantly out of the water.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“She’s saved! she’s saved!” shouted a hundred -voices; “but the brave fellow!—the gallant old -man!—they’ll never recover him alive!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence remained as if rooted to the spot, her -lips parted, her hands clasped, her soul gushing forth -in one inarticulate prayer. Louisa was carried to -the society’s receiving-house, a large crowd accompanying -her to the door; but Clemence was not in -the crowd. Vincent, likewise, would not stir from -the spot while the officers were redoubling their -efforts to find the body of the captain. Wringing -his hands, the boy, with passionate entreaties, promises, -even tears, sought to stimulate the exertions -of any one and every one who could lend a hand to -rescue his brave preserver! After a space—a space, -alas! how fearfully long—the ice having been broken -in various directions, and the drag let down again -and again, a heavy body was raised to the surface. -There was not the faintest sign of life in it, though -the cold hand yet firmly grasped a fragment of a -black lace veil, such as Louisa had worn on that fatal -morning! Clemence read no hope on the faces of the -experienced men who lifted the body on the ice; -but in that terrible moment she neither trembled -nor wept. Grasping eagerly at the last chance of -restoring life to the inanimate frame, struggling to -keep down the feeling of despair which was wrestling -in her heart, she hastened with the bearers of -the body to the receiving-house, which was not far -distant. Clemence was met on the way by her -own servant, the one who had followed Vincent and -his sister to the park.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Miss Louisa has been brought back to life, -ma’am,” said the man eagerly; but even such good -tidings fell dulled on the ear of Clemence Effingham,—it -seemed as if at that moment she could think of -no one but her uncle.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Take her and your young master home at once,” -was all that she could say, as she hurried on, absorbed -in anxiety so agonizing that the peril of Louisa was -half forgotten.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The servant touched his hat, and proceeded to -obey; but nothing would induce Vincent to return -to his home while the fate of his preserver hung in -the balance. Louisa was conveyed to Belgrave -Square in a cab; but wet and half frozen as he -was, the boy clung to the side of his step-mother.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“They will restore him!—the warmth will restore -him!—he will—oh! he must!—he shall recover!” -cried Vincent in an agony of grief.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Every means will be tried,” said Clemence -faintly; “we, Vincent,—we can do nothing now -but pray!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Every means was indeed tried, every resource of -science was exhausted, but the vital spark had fled, -and all was in vain! The pulse had entirely ceased -to beat,—not the faintest breath stirred the lungs—the -brave heart was stilled for ever! The -death of the gallant old sailor had been a fitting -close for a life of active benevolence. Death had -come to him suddenly, but it had found him not -unprepared; it had found him in the path of duty; -it had found him pressing onward toward heaven, -with his pilgrim staff in his hand—faith, hope, and -charity in his heart. He was taken away before -the infirmities of age had dulled his senses, bowed -his frame, or chilled the warm affections of his -heart; and he was taken away in the very act of -risking his life to save that of a fellow-creature! Is -there nothing enviable in such a departure?</p> - -<p class='c015'>Dark, heavy clouds had blotted out the sun from -the sky, when Clemence returned with Vincent to -her home, a lifeless corpse in the vehicle beside her. -Her own calmness appeared strange to herself, but -it was the stunning effect of a terrible shock, which -for a while had almost paralyzed feeling. She was -met in the hall by Arabella, who looked pale, and -whose manner betrayed considerable excitement.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Louisa is very ill,—goes from one faint into -another,—Aunt Selina has sent for Dr. Howard!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>But not one word of sympathy to the bereaved -Clemence—not one word of regret for the brave old -man! Arabella averted her eyes almost with a -shudder as the body was borne into the house. -Clemence and Vincent saw it reverently placed on -the bed in the room which the captain had occupied -on the preceding night, and then, when the servants -had quitted the apartment, both sank on their knees -beside it and wept.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence’s burst of sorrow was violent, but brief; -she folded her step-son in her arms, drew him close -and closer to her heart, and it was like balm to her -bleeding spirit to feel the boy’s tears on her neck.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Oh!” cried Vincent passionately, “if I had not -treated him so ill!—if I had not laughed at him, -mocked him, insulted him! And he will never -know how sorry I am! But he did not die saving -me! no, no,—his life was not lost for me!” the -boy’s voice was choked in his sobs.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“My Vincent—it was God’s will—we must not -murmur! We must think on the happiness which -we trust one day to share with him who has gone -before us. My care must now be for you—<i>he</i> is -beyond our aid! You must have rest, and warmth, -and dry clothes instantly, my Vincent; your hands -are cold as ice, your very lips colourless and white,—come -with me at once to your own room—your -comfort must be my first thought now.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>And then, with the tenderness of a mother, Clemence -tended her boy. She insisted on Vincent’s -at once retiring to rest, prepared a warm beverage -to restore circulation to his chilled and shivering -frame, chafed his numbed hands within her own, -and spoke to him soothing words of tenderness and -love. Clemence left him at last dropping into -slumber, and then bent her rapid steps towards the -apartment of Louisa, about whom she had felt less -anxiety, as knowing her to be under the care of her -sister and aunt.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Mrs. Effingham met Dr. Howard quitting the -room, accompanied by Lady Selina. The countenance -of the physician was grave.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“The shock to so delicate a constitution has been -very severe,” he said in reply to a question from -Clemence; “an increase of fever is to be apprehended. -I should certainly recommend that some -one should sit up with Miss Effingham during the -night.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I will watch beside her,” said Clemence.</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch13' class='c008'>CHAPTER XIII<br /> <br /><span class='small'>THE CHAMBER OF SICKNESS.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/f.jpg' width='100' height='238' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_1'> -Fiercely raged the wind through that night; -angrily it shook the casements, howled in -the chimneys, dashed the winter-shower -against the panes! One pale watcher sat -listening to the storm beside the couch on -which lay stretched a restless, fevered form: Clemence -held her vigils in the chamber of sickness. -Weary and exhausted though she was, sleep would -have fled her eyelids on that night, even had she -had no reason for watching. The events of the preceding -day had been to Clemence as a terrible vision, -and she was thankful for some hours of solitude and -comparative stillness in which to collect her thoughts, -calm her agitated mind, and cast the burden of her -grief at the feet of her Master. The faintest sound -from the restless invalid brought Clemence to her -side, moving with noiseless step, like a ministering -spirit, to bathe the fevered brow, administer the -cooling draught, smooth the pillow of the suffering -Louisa. During the intervals between such gentle -services the step-mother sat quietly at a little table, -where the dim-burning taper threw its faint light -on the leaves of her Bible. Clemence read little—her -mind during that night had scarcely power to -follow any consecutive train of thought; but every -now and then her eye rested on the page, and her soul -drew richer comfort from a single verse, pondered -over, dwelt upon, turned into prayer, than to a careless -reader the whole of the sacred volume might -have afforded. Clemence thought much upon her -uncle; and even in these first hours of bereavement -her meditation on him was sweet. For him she -could no longer pray, but she could praise! She -thought on Vincent also—of the warm gush of -generous emotion which had broken through the ice -of reserve. Fondly Clemence thought on the boy, -and every thought linked itself with a fervent petition -for him to the throne of mercy. Nor was the -sufferer beside her forgotten. As Clemence gazed -on the poor girl’s pallid face, and heard her restless -moans, no feeling towards her step-daughter remained -but that of tender, sympathizing compassion. The -heart of Clemence was softened by sorrow—quiet, -submissive, holy sorrow; and there seemed to be no -room left in it now for any bitter, resentful emotion.</p> - -<p class='c015'>These were solemn, peaceful hours to Clemence, -though a tempest raged without the dwelling, and -sickness was within, and in one of the lower apartments -lay the lifeless remains of one who had been -very dear. The Almighty can give His children -“songs in the night;” His presence can brighten -even the chamber of sickness, even the couch of -death.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The winter’s sun was just rising when Arabella -softly entered the room; and as Louisa had at length -sunk into a quiet slumber, Clemence resigned for a -while her watch over the invalid to her sister. Mrs. -Effingham then hastened to her husband to relieve -his mind regarding his daughter. She had hardly -seen him since the accident, and gladly now sought -the comfort of his sympathy and affection. Her -next thought was for Vincent. She went to his -room—it was empty; to the public apartments—he -was not there. She found the boy in the darkened -chamber in which lay the captain’s remains, gazing -earnestly on the features of the dead, as though a -lingering hope had yet remained that life might -return to them once more. Clemence pressed a -fervent kiss upon her step-son’s brow, and left her -tear upon his cheek.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence felt herself too much exhausted both in -body and mind to appear in the breakfast-room that -morning; she feared that she could not restrain before -her husband emotion that might distress him, -and she shrank from meeting the cold, unsympathizing -gaze of Lady Selina. Her eyelids were heavy -with watching and weeping, and, retiring to her -own apartment, Clemence threw herself on her sofa; -and her head had scarcely rested on the cushion -before she fell into a deep, untroubled slumber, which -lasted for several hours.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Vincent hurried over his breakfast, feeling as if -every morsel would choke him, and soon left his -father and aunt to conclude their cheerless meal together. -Arabella was still keeping watch beside -her sister.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Clemence appears much relieved on Louisa’s account,” -remarked Mr. Effingham, after rather a long -pause in conversation.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Something approaching towards a smile slightly -curled the lip of the lady—slightly, indeed, but -sufficiently to fix upon her the attention of her companion.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Dear Mrs. Effingham is at that happy age when -anxieties do not press very heavily upon the mind,” -said Lady Selina; “at least, it is evident that she -apprehended no serious consequences from the accident -to Louisa, or she would never have sent her -home in a public conveyance, almost sinking from -exhaustion and terror, just rescued from a terrible -death, with no attendant but a hired menial.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>The brow of Mr. Effingham darkened, but he made -no reply, and Lady Selina continued in an apologetic -manner: “But dear Mrs. Effingham was not -aware how much Louisa was suffering from the -effects of long immersion in the icy water; she did -not see her before sending her home, so was, of -course, less able to judge of her condition. Mrs. -Effingham was so entirely engrossed with regret for -her good old uncle that everything else was entirely -forgotten!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>The irritable cough of Mr. Effingham encouraged -the lady to proceed, which she did, after sipping a -little of her chocolate, with a meditative, melancholy -air.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“It is perfectly natural, perfectly right, that a -warmer degree of interest should be inspired by an -aged relative, no doubt a very estimable, valuable -creature, with whom your dear lady had associated -for years, than for a connection, however near, known -for a time comparatively so brief. I must not judge -of Mrs. Effingham’s feelings by my own—I who -have watched my dear sister’s orphans from their -birth, and bear towards them the affection of a -mother! I own that <i>I</i> could not have been an hour -in the house before visiting the sick-bed of the precious -sufferer; but then, I know the extreme delicacy -of Louisa’s constitution. I have long regarded -her as a fragile flower, one to be reared like a tender -exotic, almost too fair for this world!” Lady Selina -softly sighed; Mr. Effingham rose from the table.</p> - -<p class='c015'><i>Blessed are the peacemakers.</i> Have we ever -realized how fearful must be the reverse of that -benediction? Of whom can they <i>be called the children</i> -whose delight is in sowing suspicion, awakening -mistrust—they who would rob the innocent of a -treasure dearer than life, the confidence and affection -of those whom they love? Lady Selina rejoiced in -the secret hope that she had done something that -morning to loosen Clemence’s strong hold on the -affections of her husband; that she had with some -skill employed paternal love as a lever to shake that -perfect confidence in which lay the young wife’s -power. Lady Selina saw Mr. Effingham depart for -the city, his brow clouded, and his manner abstracted, -with feelings, perhaps, in some degree resembling -those of the Tempter when he had succeeded in -bringing misery into the abode of peace. She little -considered <i>whose</i> work she was doing, whose example -following; not the slightest shadow of self-reproach -lay on the conscience of the woman of the world.</p> - -<p class='c015'>In the meantime the weary Clemence slept sweetly, -and at length awoke refreshed. Sorrow, however, -returned with consciousness; and, springing up like -one who fears that some duty may have been neglected, -Clemence hastened towards the room of -Louisa, which was upon the same floor as her own. -She was met in the corridor by her maid.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Oh, ma’am! Miss Louisa is so dreadfully ill! -Lady Selina has sent for another doctor besides Dr. -Howard.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Why was I not awakened?” exclaimed Clemence; -and as she spoke, a knock at the outer door -announced the arrival of one of the medical men.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Louisa was, indeed, alarmingly ill. Lady Selina -had had cause for her fear. With a throbbing heart -Clemence awaited the decision of the doctors, who, -after seeing their patient, remained together in consultation. -It was a time when she would naturally -have felt her soul drawn towards Lady Selina by a -common dread. But an icy barrier appeared to be -between the ladies; and the aunt tacitly treated the -young step-mother as one who affected an anxiety -which she did not feel,—one who was only adding -hypocrisy to heartless indifference. Never are we -more acutely sensitive to unkindness than when the -heart is lacerated by sorrow; and never had Lady -Selina inflicted a keener pang than she did in that -interval of anxious suspense.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Miss Effingham is in a very precarious state,” -was the opinion at length given by one of the medical -men, addressing himself to Clemence.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“We must be prepared, I fear, for the worst,” -rejoined Dr. Howard, “though the patient’s youth is -greatly in her favour.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Prepared for the worst,” faintly repeated Clemence, -as the doctors quitted the house. The -words brought with painful force before her mind -the thought how totally <i>unprepared</i> the unhappy -girl was for the awful change which might be so -near. She who had lived only for pleasure,—she -who had put religion aside as a tedious, gloomy -thing, profitable only for the sick and the aged,—charity -itself, which <i>thinketh no evil</i>, could not have -regarded her as prepared; and now but a few days -or hours might remain of a life hitherto wasted and -thrown away,—precious days or hours, if given to -God. “Louisa ought to know her danger,” said -Clemence gravely and thoughtfully to Lady Selina.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Goodness me!” exclaimed the aunt in indignant -surprise, “you would not kill the poor child outright -by talking to her about dying! I know well -your sentiments towards her, Mrs. Effingham; but -this would be carrying them a little too far.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“God guide me!” murmured Clemence, as, turning -sadly away, she glided noiselessly into the sick-room.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“She’s a heartless hypocrite—a canting bigot,” -said Lady Selina, when she joined Arabella in the -boudoir. “She’s going to frighten the little remaining -life out of our suffering darling by her terrible -warnings and denunciations!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I would not let her enter the room,” exclaimed -Arabella, almost fiercely.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“My love, she’s the mistress here—the absolute -mistress. Mrs. Effingham takes particular care that -we should all be made fully aware of that fact. We -have no power to protect your poor sister against -her fanatical cruelty, for so I must call it; and the -end is to crown the beginning. Little has our Louisa -had for which to thank her step-mother—hypocritical -smiles, plenty of soft words, but not a single -act of real kindness.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Mrs. Effingham sat up with her all last night,” -observed Arabella, with perhaps a latent sense of -justice.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“A sop to her conscience!” exclaimed Lady -Selina indignantly; “a heathen, a savage could -have done no less after yesterday’s horrible neglect. -To send her home dripping and dying—it makes me -shudder to think of it. After such treatment of the -dear girl, no one on earth would ever persuade me -that Mrs. Effingham possesses a heart.”</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch14' class='c008'>CHAPTER XIV<br /> <br /><span class='small'>THE EFFECT OF A WORD.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/w.jpg' width='100' height='163' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_4'> -“Why were two doctors sent for? Did they -say I am ill, <i>very</i> ill?” exclaimed Louisa -with feverish excitement, fixing her hollow -eyes anxiously upon the face of her -step-mother.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Lady Selina wished to try every means to make -you quite well, dear one,” replied Clemence quietly, -“and thought it best, therefore, to ask the advice of -an additional physician.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And they think that I’ll be quite well soon?” -The nervous quiver in the poor girl’s voice betrayed -her own doubt on the subject.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“You must keep very quiet, and not excite yourself, -if you wish to be quite well,” said Clemence -evasively.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“But what did they say? I wish to know.” -Louisa made a vain effort to raise herself in the -bed.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“They said,—Dr. Howard said, that your youth -was greatly in your favour.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“But he did not, he did not think me very ill?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“He thought you ill, dear Louisa”—as Clemence -spoke, she gently laid her hand on that of the sufferer; -“but—”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“But not dying—not dying!” The agitated -tongue could scarcely articulate the words, while -the gaze of the glassy eye became yet more distressingly -intense.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence felt the moment exceedingly painful. -She dared not deceive a soul which was now, perhaps, -on the point of being launched into the -unfathomable sea; and yet, her dread lest she -should by one word hasten the event which she -dreaded, almost overcame her courage. “We will -pray that your life may be long spared, dear -Louisa,” was her reply; “all is in the hands of -our merciful Lord; He can restore you to health, -and make even this trial a blessing.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I can’t pray,” said Louisa, gloomily. “I never -thought much upon God in my health—I cannot, -dare not think of Him now. It is so terrible, so -terrible to die!” She grasped Clemence’s hand -convulsively.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And yet some have found it sweet to die.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Ah! yes,—some; the religious—the good.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“<i>There is none good save one, that is God</i>,” -whispered Clemence, gently bending over the sufferer. -“If only the righteous had hope in their death, -there would be no human being who could meet it, -as many can and have done, not only with submission, -but joy.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“What do you mean?” said Louisa faintly.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Then Clemence, in few, brief words, spoke of the -sinner’s only stay, of pardon offered to penitence, -forgiveness unlimited and free. She scarcely knew -whether Louisa understood her, though her language -was simple as that in which a little child might -have been addressed. It was a comfort, however, -to feel the nervous grasp of the fevered hand relax, -to see the eye lose its excited glare, and, when she -paused, to hear the voice feebly murmur, “Pray for -me; I can’t pray for myself.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence sank on her knees, and prayed aloud—prayed -from the very depths of her soul. She -addressed the Almighty as the Father of mercies, -the God of all comfort; she recommended a feeble -lamb to the care of the heavenly Shepherd. Not -by the terrors of the law, but the strong cords -of love, she sought to draw a wandering soul to her -God. Louisa turned her face to the wall, a few -quiet tears dropped on her pillow; as she listened, -her spirit was calmed, her excitement subsided,—it -was soothing to hear one of the servants of God -pleading for her before the throne.</p> - -<p class='c015'>When Clemence arose from her knees, Louisa was -perfectly still, thanked her by a gentle pressure -of the hand, and, closing her eyes, looked disposed -to sleep. Clemence was thankful that the first step -was over—that the sick, perhaps dying girl knew -her peril, and might, through that knowledge, be -led to seek better joys than those which she might -now be quitting for ever. Her fever had not increased; -it had appeared to be a solace to have one -to whom she could lay open her doubts and fears—one -who would intercede for her with her offended -Maker. And how immeasurably precious might be -the time still left to her who had been brought up -in total ignorance, not of the forms, but of the vital -power of religion! Louisa had never thought of -herself as a creature responsible to God, as a sinner -condemned in his sight, till the veil between her and -the invisible world seemed about to be withdrawn -by death, and her soul trembled at the prospect of -the unknown terrors that might lie beyond that veil.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence was silently revolving in her mind how -words of peace and consolation could be spoken -without sacrificing truth or lulling conscience to -sleep—how this, her first opportunity of speaking to -the heart of her step-daughter, might be most wisely -and most gently improved, when Vincent, with the -thoughtlessness of a child, suddenly opened the door.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Oh, come, if you wish to see him again!” said -the boy in a loud agitated whisper to Clemence; -“the men have brought the coffin already!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>There was enough in the intimation itself to touch -a painful chord in the bosom of Clemence, regarding -her uncle, as she had done, with mingled gratitude -and affection; but her thoughts were instantly turned -from her own regrets, by alarm at the effect on -Louisa of the inconsiderate words which had reached -her in her dreamy, half conscious state. Clemence -had endeavoured, and not without success, to lead -the mind of the poor girl beyond death itself, to the -great and merciful Being who has rendered it to His -faithful servants only the passage to life eternal. -But the sentence, so thoughtlessly uttered by Vincent, -and not half understood by the fevered patient, -from whom Clemence had kept the captain’s death -carefully concealed, brought fearfully before her at -once all the array of the king of terrors. The hearse, -with its nodding plumes, the black pall, the coffin, -the shroud—these were the least frightful of the -images which flashed through Louisa’s burning brain. -With a shriek she sprang up in her bed, rolling her -eyes in frantic terror, and clinging to Clemence, as -if for life, implored her wildly to save her! Vincent, -alarmed at the condition in which he beheld his -sister, and unconscious that he himself had been the -cause of it, hurried to call in the assistance of Lady -Selina and Arabella. A messenger was despatched -to Dr. Howard, another to the city to summon Mr. -Effingham—all was excitement and alarm.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Lady Selina went to the room of her unhappy -niece, who was now raving in fearful delirium, but -did not remain in it long. Her nerves, she said, -could not stand such a scene; and she found her -only solace in repeating again and again, “I knew -that it would be so—I warned Mrs. Effingham of -what would ensue; her cruel, fanatical folly has -driven the poor child mad!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Before Mr. Effingham’s arrival, Louisa, exhausted -with her own frantic terrors, had fallen into a state -of insensibility. Her parched hand yet clasped -that of Clemence in a grasp so firm, that the young -step-mother stood by the bed-side for hours, afraid -to stir or change her position, lest by doing so she -should arouse the miserable sufferer to another -paroxysm of delirium.</p> - -<p class='c015'>While Clemence remained in her standing posture, -till she almost fainted with fatigue and the reaction -of her overwrought nerves, Lady Selina, with characteristic -tact, availed herself of the vantage-ground -left to her by a rival’s absence, to place every occurrence -before Mr. Effingham in her own peculiar light. -As the anxious father restlessly paced the drawing-room, -listening for any sound from the apartment -above, Lady Selina described to him his child’s most -distressing symptoms, and gave her own version of -their cause. She rather pitied than blamed Mrs. -Effingham, gave her conduct no harsher name than -that of indiscretion, yet contrived to make it appear -such as might have beseemed some familiar of the -Inquisition, whose ears were deafened by ruthless -bigotry to the cries of his tortured victim.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Mr. Effingham was at length, and for the first time -in his life, much irritated against his wife; and when, -late in the evening, Clemence, with tears of thankfulness -glistening in her eyes, came to tell him that -the sufferer breathed more calmly, and that the fever -seemed to have abated, he received her with a cold -sternness which struck like a dagger into her heart.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I shall watch by Louisa again to-night,” said -Clemence, struggling to keep down the emotion -which almost choked her utterance.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“You had better leave such watching to the nurse -whom Lady Selina has considerately procured,” replied -her husband with some asperity; “she has -experience and judgment, and the arrangement will -be better upon every account.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Not one word of tenderness after all that she had -suffered,—not one look of kindness to repay her for -her devoted nursing of his child during that sleepless -night, that miserable day! A sensation of dizziness -came over Clemence,—a sinking at the heart,—a -sense of overpowering weariness both of body and -mind. She doubted not that she owed her husband’s -displeasure to the offices of Lady Selina, but had -neither spirit nor strength to defend herself from -charges which she rather guessed at than understood. -With a slow, languid step, Clemence returned to the -chamber of sickness, to arrange for the night in compliance -with the will of her husband; but she found -such compliance impracticable. Louisa, whose state -varied from fits of wild excitement to nervous depression, -could not endure the sight of a stranger, -and with such agonized earnestness implored her -step-mother not to leave her, that Clemence again -spent the night alone with the suffering girl. The -sound of her voice, the touch of her hand, the soft -notes of a low warbled hymn, seemed to have more -power to soothe the invalid than all the medical art. -Louisa, who, in the time of health, had despised and -disliked her step-mother, appeared now to look upon -her as a protecting angel, whose presence could -guard her pillow from the frightful phantoms conjured -up by imagination. She could scarcely bear -that Clemence should quit her side for an instant.</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch15' class='c008'>CHAPTER XV<br /> <br /><span class='small'>A RAY OF LIGHT.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/i.jpg' width='100' height='186' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_4'> -It was a bright Christmas morn. The sound -of the sweet church bells ringing for service -reached the dull, darkened chamber -in which Clemence sat beside her slumbering -charge. She had seen Mr. Effingham -and Lady Selina, accompanied by Vincent and his -sister, set out in the joyous sunlight on their way to -the nearest church. It was sadly that Clemence had -watched their departure; she had once looked forward -to so happy a Christmas, and now trials seemed to -shut her out from enjoyment, even as the half-closed -shutter and heavy curtain excluded from the room -in which she sat the sparkling rays which shone so -brightly on all beside! The tongue that had been -wont to give cordial greeting on a day like this lay -cold and silent in the coffin below—no other season -could remind Clemence so forcibly of her blyth, -kindly, warm-hearted guardian, as the joyous season -of Christmas. The lively Louisa, once gay as the -butterfly sporting its silken wings in the sunshine, -was stretched beside her on a bed of sickness; and -though the apprehensions entertained on the sufferer’s -account were now of a less alarming nature, -her recovery was still precarious. Beneath these -sources of sorrow lay one deeper—so deep that even -to herself Clemence would not acknowledge its existence. -Not for a moment would she entertain the -thought that it was possible to find disappointment -where hope had been sweetest; any doubt of her -husband being indeed the noblest, best of men, she -would have repudiated as treason. But it <i>was</i> -possible that he might be disappointed in her; her -weakness, her extravagance, her inferiority in everything -to himself—thus pensively mused the young -wife—might by this time have become apparent to -one whose judgment was quick and discerning. He -was amongst those who would cast no veil over her -failings—those who would make no allowance for her -inexperience—those who might even misrepresent -her motives, and place her actions before him in a -light not only unfavourable but false. Was not his -manner changing towards her—had he not become -silent, reserved, even stern?</p> - -<p class='c015'>Such reflections were exquisitely painful to Clemence, -whose mind was perhaps rendered morbid by -fatigue and want of natural rest. It is when the -frame is weary, and the nervous system unhinged, -that fancy conjures up phantoms of dangers perhaps -altogether unreal, and seems bent on accumulating -causes of pain and regret to brood over in silent -gloom. It is an unhealthy state of mind—one of -the many forms of sickness to which that most delicate -and mysterious part of our constitution is subject. -Religion alone can offer for such mental -malady a cure—religion, which whispers to the -burdened spirit, that though <i>heaviness may endure -for a night</i>, yet <i>joy cometh in the morning</i>.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence was trying to raise her thoughts from -earthly fears to contemplation of that great event -which was upon that day celebrated—to open her -soul to the sunshine from heaven, and in its genial -warmth forget the shadows that lay on her path, -when a gentle sigh breathed beside her told that -Louisa had awakened from her sleep, and turning, -Clemence saw the invalid, pale indeed, and with -traces of suffering on her features, but with a calm -expression of countenance, which showed that the -fever had departed.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“You are better, my love?” said the step-mother -tenderly.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Much better, only—so weak!” was the feeble -reply. “Why are the church bells ringing?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“It is Christmas-day; and such a bright clear -morning! Your father and the rest of our party -have gone to church.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And you—you have stayed to take care of me -here! How good you are! I have not deserved it!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Few words, and faintly uttered; but how sweetly -they fell on the heart of Clemence! They resembled -one sunny ray which, straight and bright, had forced -its way through the opening of the shutters, and -striking on a crystal drop which hung from a mantel-piece -ornament, not only gave to the opposing glass -the brilliancy of the diamond, but itself breaking in -the encounter, painted the wall beyond with all the -tints of the rainbow.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Is Captain Thistlewood in church too?” inquired -Louisa.</p> - -<p class='c015'>It was well for Clemence that the darkness of the -room enabled her to conceal the unbidden tears which -rose to her eyes at the question, but to reply to it -was at that moment impossible. Louisa, however, -scarcely waited for an answer, following the current -of her own wandering thoughts.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I have behaved very ill to him,” she murmured; -“do you think that he too will forgive me?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“He never harboured a resentful feeling against -you or any one,” replied Clemence with an effort.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I shall see him again?” inquired Louisa.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I hope—trust—one day,” faltered Clemence, -her tears fast overflowing, while her lips formed the -unuttered words—“one day—in a better world.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“When I am well I will lead a very different life -from what I have hitherto done. I will think much -more of religion and duty. I would not for worlds -go again through all the misery of a time like this! -O Mrs. Effingham, if you only knew the horror of -that plunge, the icy cold water gurgling over my -head, and the thoughts rushing into my mind; -and then I fancied that some one caught hold of -me to save me, and there was a moment’s hope, and -then—”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“You must not dwell on these things—indeed -you must not!” cried Clemence, who dreaded a -return of the fever; but Louisa was not to be -silenced.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I have had such horrible, horrible dreams,” she -said, passing her thin hand across her eyes. “I was -drowning, but it was in a fiery sea, all burning and -glowing around me; and I fancied that you laid -hold of me—and that my dress gave way in your -hand—and I plunged down—down—”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Hush, dear one, hush!” said the young step-mother -anxiously; “you must not let your mind -recall these terrors. There are such sweet, peaceful, -holy subjects to rest upon—an immovable Rock to -cling to, one over which the waters never can break. -I was going to open the Bible; have you strength -to hear a few verses read aloud?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I should like it—and then—you will pray,” -murmured Louisa faintly.</p> - -<p class='c015'>There was joy in that gloomy chamber—joy in -the soul of the pale watcher, the joy of hope, and -gratitude, and love! If there be pure happiness on -earth, it is when a mortal is permitted to share the -rejoicings of angels over a wandering sheep found, -an erring soul brought to its God. Clemence had -never thought the words of Holy Writ so beautiful -as she did now, where every verse, as it flowed from -her lips, was turned almost unconsciously into a -supplication for the poor young listener at her side. -She could not have experienced deeper peace even -kneeling in the house of prayer with her husband, -or joining with the congregation in the hymn of -joyful adoration.</p> - -<p class='c015'>On the following morning the remains of Captain -Thistlewood were consigned to the grave, Mr. Effingham -and Vincent, at his own request, following the -hearse as mourners. The day had not concluded -ere the sound of the harp, touched by the hand of -Arabella, and accompanied by her powerful voice, -jarred painfully on the ear of the sorrowing Clemence. -Disrespect to the memory of the dead, disregard -to the feelings of the living, breathed in the -lively Italian air sung in a house from whose door -the dark funeral had so lately departed.</p> - -<p class='c015'>It was not till now that to Louisa—the doctors -having pronounced her entirely out of danger—the -fact of the death of Captain Thistlewood was gently -broken by Clemence, who then assumed her own -mourning garb. Louisa was startled and shocked; -the reflection, “If I had been the one summoned -instead of him, where, oh, where would my soul -have been now?” impressed more forcibly on her -mind the solemn lesson taught to her by her own -illness.</p> - -<p class='c015'>But would the impression last? Would that -light and volatile mind retain the form into which -circumstances had moulded it, when these circumstances -themselves should be altered? Would the -holy resolutions made on a sick-bed stand when -brought to the trial by worldly society, vain pleasures, -and evil influence? A clergyman, who had -laboured for a great number of years, once recorded -his melancholy experience, that, out of <i>two thousand</i> -whom he had known to give signs of repentance -when prostrated by sickness, only <i>two</i> individuals -evidenced by their conduct after recovery -that their repentance had been sincere. Let all -who would postpone the solemn work till they are -stretched upon a death-bed, ponder well this alarming -testimony. Friends may eagerly mark the cry -for mercy, wrung by fear of approaching judgment, -as evidence that a broken and contrite heart has -been touched by the Spirit of grace; but the Omniscient -alone can know whether repentance is indeed -unto salvation, or only as the dew that vanisheth, -as the morning cloud that passeth away.</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch16' class='c008'>CHAPTER XVI<br /> <br /><span class='small'>QUIET CONVERSE.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/i.jpg' width='100' height='186' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_4'> -“I think that Sunday is the dullest day in -the week,” exclaimed Vincent, stretching -himself with a weary yawn; “and a wet -Sunday is the worst of all.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence put down the book which -she had been reading, and joined Vincent at the -window, where he was drearily watching the raindrops -plashing on the brown pavement, making -circles in the muddy pools, and coursing each other -slowly down the panes. She seated herself beside -him, resting her arm on the back of his chair.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Some people speak of enjoying Sunday,” pursued -Vincent. “I’m certain it is nothing but talk. -I know Aunt Selina said that she did so one day -when our clergyman was making a call. I know -that what she does on Sunday is to notice the dress -of everybody at church, and find fault with the -sermon, and talk over all the plans for the week. -I don’t see much enjoyment in that.” Nor did -Clemence; but she thought it better not to express -her opinion.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Do you enjoy Sunday?” asked Vincent, turning -round, so that he could look his step-mother in -the face.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Yes; especially Sundays in the country.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Where’s the difference between Sundays in -London and Sundays in the country?” asked Vincent.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Here was an opening for pleasant, familiar converse, -and Clemence was not slow in availing herself -of it. She talked of her school at Stoneby; -gave interesting anecdotes of her girls; told of an -aged, bed-ridden woman, who loved to receive a call -every Sunday afternoon, always expecting that her -visitor would repeat to her the leading points in the -morning’s sermon. Greatly had Clemence missed -her accustomed Sabbath labours of love, her husband -having decidedly objected to her undertaking -any such in the great metropolis. It was sweet to -her now to recall them; and in Vincent, who was -thoroughly weary of his own society, she found a -willing listener.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I can fancy that it must be pleasant going to -the cottages, where every one is glad to see you,” -said the boy; “but then there are the long, tiresome -evenings, especially during the winter; how did you -manage to get over them?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I sang hymns, and read a good deal.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Oh, but Sunday books are so dull.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Do you think so? I find some so interesting.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I never saw one yet which did not set me -yawning before I had got through half a page.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence went to the book-case without replying, -and returning with a volume of the “History of -the Reformation,” resumed her seat by Vincent. -“Would you like to hear a story?” she said, after -turning to an interesting passage in the life of -Luther.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“A story, yes; but I don’t want a sermon.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence read with animation and expression, -and Vincent speedily became interested. The history -naturally led to questions from the intelligent -boy, which his step-mother readily answered. He -was unconsciously drinking in information upon one -of the most important of subjects.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“How odd it is,” exclaimed Vincent suddenly, -“that I should ever have taken you for a Papist!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“A Papist!” repeated Clemence in a little surprise.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Why, Aunt Selina told us that your grandmother -was a Frenchwoman.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And so she was, but not a Romanist.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Vincent’s countenance fell. “So you’re partly -French, after all,” cried he; “I’m sorry for that, for -I hate the French.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Should we hate anything but sin?” said -Clemence softly.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I’m a regular John Bull!” cried Vincent, “and -I don’t care if all the world knew it! Britannia -for ever, say I!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“You cannot love old England better than I do,” -said Clemence; “but patriotism is one thing, and -prejudice another.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“What do you call prejudice?” asked Vincent.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“The determination to dislike some one or -something before judgment has had time to decide -whether it merit your dislike or not. Surely this -is neither reasonable nor right!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I think that we were prejudiced against you,” -said Vincent thoughtfully—“that is, before we knew -you, and perhaps some of us after we had known -you. We did not wish to like you; only, you see, -we really could not help ourselves,” and the boy -looked up archly into the blue eyes that met his -gaze so kindly.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Prejudice,” observed Clemence, “prevents our -seeing objects as they actually are.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I see, I see,” said Vincent quickly; “prejudices -are like the knots in the glass of one of our windows -at school. They alter the shape of everything that -we choose to look at through them; they make -straight things crooked, and nothing distinct—even -your face would look quite ugly only seen through -that glass.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“One would not wish to have one’s mind full of -such knots,” said Clemence, smiling at the schoolboy’s -smile.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I think that <i>your</i> glass is all rosy-coloured!” -cried Vincent, “and that makes you look at every -one kindly. But Aunt Selina don’t deserve it -of you. Do you know what she said of you -once?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I have no wish to hear it, dear Vincent.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Something about idolatry, which was not at all -true; and she said—I did not believe a word of it!—that -there is a natural leaning in our hearts toward -idolatry. That was downright nonsense, I -know. Nobody has idols in England.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I wish that I could think so,” replied Clemence.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“What! do you believe that there are any in -this country?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I fear that there is scarcely a house in it that -is really without one. Idols, dear Vincent, are not -merely lifeless figures of silver or gold, such as the -poor heathen worship; anything, everything that -takes the place of God in the heart,—anything, -everything that is loved more than Him is an idol, -and brings on us the sin of idolatry.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Vincent sat for a space very silent, revolving his -step-mother’s words in his mind, then said, “If that -be the case, I think that there are idols in this very -house. Bella’s idol is Pride, Louisa’s is Pleasure, -Aunt Selina’s—”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Hush!” said Clemence gravely, laying her -hand on the arm of Vincent; “it is worse than useless -to find out the idols of our neighbours; our -duty is to search for our own. The same volume -in which we read, <i>Judge yourselves, brethren</i>, also -bids us, in respect to others, <i>Judge not, that ye be -not judged</i>.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I don’t think that I have any idol,” said Vincent, -after another pause for reflection. Clemence -Effingham remained silent.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Do you think that I have?” said the boy.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Are you willing to know, dear Vincent, or will -you be vexed if I tell you the truth?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I wish to know it,” replied Vincent.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Then it appears to me, dear boy, as though you -had hitherto made an idol of Self-will. It appears -to me that when any duty presents itself, ‘What do -I like to do?’ not ‘What ought I to do?’ is usually -your first consideration. You are ready for any -kind, generous, noble act, if it accord with your own -inclination; but if it run counter to that, duty is -sacrificed at once. Is not this putting Self-will in -the place of the law of God? is not this bowing to -an idol that usurps the authority of God?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I never had it put to me in that way before,” -replied Vincent. “I suppose that it was thinking -of what <i>I liked</i>, instead of <i>what I ought to do</i>, that -made me disobey you by going on the ice, and cost -that noble old captain——but I do not like to -speak of that,” said Vincent, interrupting himself, -“and it makes you look so sad. I wonder,” he -cried in an altered tone, “if you have an idol too, -and if you try hard to put it away?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Before Clemence had time to reply to the bright-eyed -boy, the door opened, and Mr. Effingham -entered. If the heart of Clemence enshrined an -idol—if there were one being whose love was -almost more precious to her than celestial hopes, -whose approbation was almost more fondly sought -for than that of her Lord, that idol was before her -now!</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch17' class='c008'>CHAPTER XVII<br /> <br /><span class='small'>GATHERING CLOUDS.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/d.jpg' width='100' height='166' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_1'> -Day by day Louisa regained her strength, -and day by day old tastes and impressions -revived, and she more eagerly anticipated -the time when she should be able to plunge -again into a vortex of light amusements. -She was still, indeed, courteous, almost affectionate -to Clemence, retaining a grateful sense of the kindness -which had so tenderly nursed her through a -distressing illness. A pretty token of remembrance -was received by her step-mother on the anniversary -of Clemence’s birth-day, accompanied by a few lines -expressive of grateful regard. But Lady Selina was -gradually resuming her influence over the convalescent; -and Arabella was her constant companion. -The secession of Louisa to “the enemy’s side” was -an event not to be suffered by either. Arabella -spoke bitterly against Clemence in the presence of -her sister, not altogether sparing even the memory -of Captain Thistlewood; but this had no effect beyond -that of annoying Louisa. Lady Selina worked -more cautiously and surely. Gradually she commenced -raising anew the wall of prejudice, which -had been swept away as by a flood from the mind -of her niece. She did not deny Clemence’s merit, -but she depreciated it—praised her kindness, but -cast suspicion on its motives; and by many a covert -allusion to “Mrs. Effingham’s extraordinary conduct -on the day of the accident,” tried to convert the -gratitude of Louisa into a totally opposite feeling.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The world, from which the young girl had for a -time been separated by her illness, like a magnet -possessed more and more attraction the nearer she -approached to it again. The Bible, though not entirely -neglected, was often laid aside for the novel; -and gossip about the fashions, a new dress, or a new -acquaintance, was readily welcomed by Louisa as a -substitute for serious thought. Her conscience was -no longer dead, but its voice was drowned in other -sounds; the terrors which had oppressed her were -melting away like a dark, dissolving view, into new -bright tints; and when the sick-room was exchanged -for the drawing-room, Louisa seemed to have left -behind her most of the serious resolves and solemn -impressions which had owed their birth only to -fear.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Not contented with her insidious endeavours to -alienate from Clemence the affection which she had -won, Lady Selina employed all her art in throwing -difficulties in the way of replacing Mademoiselle -Lafleur. Her own education, though not more solid, -had been conducted on more fashionable principles -than that of Mrs. Effingham; and Lady Selina had -little difficulty in making it appear even to her -brother-in-law that she was far better qualified than -the youthful step-mother to choose an instructress -for his children. If Clemence deemed that she had -met with a lady whose high character, experience, -and knowledge were likely to render her services -valuable, Lady Selina at once detected some defect -of manner, education, or age, which would render -it perfectly out of the question to receive her as -governess in Belgrave Square. The earl’s daughter -appeared, by Mr. Effingham’s tacit consent, to reserve -to herself a power of negativing every proposition -which did not please her; and it was evident to -Clemence that this power would never lie dormant -in her hands. The young wife, too timid to court -opposition, too diffident to maintain her own opinion -boldly, except in cases where conscience was concerned, -gave great advantage to an adversary well -versed in the tactics of the world, and by no means -scrupulous in making use of its weapons.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The small property of Captain Thistlewood, amounting, -clear of needful expenses, to less than a hundred -pounds per annum, had by his death reverted to his -niece; but the money would not for some months be -available, and in the meantime Clemence, the wife of -the opulent banker, was annoyed by petty pecuniary -embarrassments. Her expenses had been regulated -with the strictest economy since her first and only -visit to Madame La Voye; but necessary expenditure -on mourning, however simple, had involved her -again in difficulties, which harassed without seriously -distressing. Clemence shrank with invincible reluctance -from applying for money to her husband, -who had so recently generously taken upon himself -the debt which she had so thoughtlessly incurred. -Nor could Clemence conscientiously apply to her -own private use even a fraction of the large sums -appropriated to household expenses; she looked upon -herself as her husband’s steward, and scrupulously -acted as such. It thus happened that, in the midst -of luxury and plenty, the young mistress of that -superb mansion found her purse drained of its last -shilling. The consequences of her excessive liberality -and thoughtless expenditure on first coming to London -clung to her still; and it did not lessen her -chagrin to suspect that Lady Selina was aware of -her little difficulties, and secretly rejoiced in the -embarrassments into which she herself had helped -to lead an inexperienced girl.</p> - -<p class='c015'>One afternoon towards the end of January, Mr. -Marsden, the clergyman of the parish, paid a visit -in Belgrave Square. He was a man who laboured -faithfully in his vocation; and though his manner -might be ridiculed, and his sermons criticised, his -character always commanded respect. Lady Selina -usually brought out for his benefit her most choice -religious phrases. When he feelingly congratulated -the pale Louisa on her deliverance from danger and -her recovery from illness, her aunt chimed in with -such admirable observations on the uncertainty of -life and the necessity for constant readiness for death, -as raised the lady in the eyes of the clergyman. He -was proportionately disappointed to mark Clemence’s -apparent coldness on the subject; for her truthful -nature could not show approval of sentiments, however -true, which she knew to be uttered by the lip -of hypocrisy.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The object of Mr. Marsden’s visit was to lay before -his rich parishioners the pressing necessities of -his poor. The winter was a very severe one. Behind -the magnificent mansions of the aristocracy, -want pined and sickness languished. He had come -from the garret of the widow, the loathsome crowded -dwellings of the indigent; he pleaded the cause of -the orphan, and of those who had no certain shelter -from the piercing cold, even in a season so inclement.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Lady Selina shook her head mournfully at the -clergyman’s description of prevailing poverty, sighed, -drew forth her purse, and taking from it the smallest -gold coin of the realm, gave it with some excellent -comments on the privilege of assisting the poor, and -the necessity of supporting all the numerous valuable -institutions springing up on all sides for their -relief!</p> - -<p class='c015'>Mr. Marsden bowed, and turned towards Mrs. -Effingham. Clemence’s sympathy for her suffering -brethren had been strongly called forth by his appeal; -but what could she do to prove it? The -mistress of that stately mansion, in her own luxurious -apartment, could plead no disability to give. -Young Vincent’s eyes were fastened upon her; Clemence -knew that he expected that the liberality of -one who had often spoken to him of the poor, and -of the duties of the rich in regard to them, should -be in accordance with her principles. There was a -short, awkward pause, and Clemence was about to -promise to lay the appeal before Mr. Effingham, -when Lady Selina drew forth a bank-note from the -porte-monnaie which she still held in her hand.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“If your purse is not here, Mrs. Effingham, I -shall be most happy to accommodate you,” she said -with a smile; and there being no time for reflection, -the note was hesitatingly received by Clemence, and -transferred to the clergyman, who shortly afterwards -quitted the house, leaving the young wife the consciousness -of having performed not a liberal, but a -foolish act—of being, not the benefactress of the -poor, but a plaything in the hands of Lady Selina.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Shall I never acquire the power of saying ‘No,’ -and lose my childish fear of offending or disappointing?” -thought Clemence, greatly discontented with -herself. “I am actually in debt to Lady Selina; -but I will not be so beyond this evening. I will -speak to my husband frankly, and ask him to advance -me some of the interest that will be due to -me in June. I will try to be much more prudent -and watchful over my expenditure in future, divide -my several items of expense, and appropriate a fixed -sum to each, so that vanity may never encroach on -benevolence, or thoughtless folly leave me again -without the means of assisting the poor. I see that -economy is not required alone by those whose means -are narrow; true is the saying, that every man, -whatever be his wealth, is poor, if he spend a shilling -more than he possesses!”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i168.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p><span class='small'>ILL NEWS.</span></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c015'>More impatiently than usual Clemence on this -evening awaited her husband’s return from the city. -That return was delayed far beyond the usual hour. -Clemence felt, however, at first no uneasiness at his -absence. He had had some unusual press of business, -or had been delayed by seeing some friend. -Twilight deepened into night, the shutters were -closed, the lamp was lighted on the table, and many -observations were exchanged as to the cause of Mr. -Effingham’s lateness.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Papa’s watch must have gone backwards,” observed -Louisa, who, wrapped up in shawl and fur -cloak, occupied an invalid’s place on the sofa.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“If he were as hungry as I am,” cried Vincent, -“he’d have no need of a watch! Well, there’s no -use in watching and waiting; who’ll have a game -of draughts with me to while away the time?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Not I,” said Louisa wearily; “there is no use -in commencing anything which we may have to -leave off in a minute.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Draughts is the most tiresome game in the -world, and only fit for children,” added Arabella.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Set the pieces, Vincent, and I’ll try if I cannot -beat you,” said Clemence, putting aside her work. -Vincent readily obeyed, and a game was commenced. -Lady Selina took out her watch.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Really I am becoming uneasy,” she said, resolved -that Clemence at least should be so. “Mr. -Effingham is always so punctual; I trust that nothing -serious is the matter!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“How ill papa has been looking lately,” observed -Arabella.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Vincent found that his partner was paying very -little attention to her game.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“This is the third time that you have been -huffed!” he exclaimed; “if you do not take care I -shall carry off every one of your men!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Mr. Effingham is very much changed; I am distressed -to perceive it,” pursued Lady Selina. “Six -months ago he was the youngest man of his age that -ever I saw,—you might have really taken him for -thirty,—and now!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I was noticing yesterday a streak of grey in -his hair,” observed Arabella, glancing maliciously -towards Mrs. Effingham.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Won’t you move?” cried Vincent rather impatiently -to his abstracted partner. Clemence mechanically -placed her piece.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I dare say that papa is worried by business,” -said Lousia, resuming the thread of the conversation.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“There’s a carriage at last!” exclaimed Vincent; -but the quick, listening ear of Clemence had caught -the sound before he could hear it, and hastily rising, -she quitted the room.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“The game’s up!” cried Vincent, making a clean -sweep of the board, and tossing black and white -promiscuously into the box; “it’s a shame, for I -had much the best of it.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Papa must have been taking a long drive,” -observed Louisa.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“One can judge of that in a minute by the -horses,” cried Vincent, sauntering up to a window, -and opening a leaf of the shutters that he might -look out into the night. “Why, that’s not our -carriage at all, it has only one horse; I know whose -it is, it’s Mr. Mark’s,—papa’s man of business; what -on earth brings him here at this hour?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“That’s not papa’s voice in the hall,” said Arabella.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I fear that something is indeed the matter!” -exclaimed Louisa, starting from her seat.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Her suspicion was soon confirmed by the sound -of the study-bell violently rung; then they heard the -door open, and Mr. Mark’s voice below, calling for -water for Mrs. Effingham.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Something terrible has happened,” cried Lady -Selina, and the next moment the drawing-room was -vacated by all.</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch18' class='c008'>CHAPTER XVIII<br /> <br /><span class='small'>CALCULATIONS.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/b.jpg' width='100' height='148' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_4'> -“Bankrupt! stopped payment!” exclaimed -Lady Selina, as Mr. Mark repeated to -her the substance of the tidings, which, -like a sudden blow, had prostrated the -spirit of Clemence. The lady and the -man of business were conversing alone, Clemence -having been removed to her room in a fainting state, -attended by Louisa and Vincent.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Is there no hope—no means of rallying—of -struggling through the difficulty?” continued Lady -Selina.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Mr. Mark looked very grave, and shook his head.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I fear that this has been no thing of yesterday. -The firm must have been for some time in a tottering -state, though appearances were so carefully kept -up that the crash took every one by surprise.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“The strangest thing of all,” said Lady Selina, -“is, that Mr. Effingham himself should, as you tell -me, have disappeared—not have ventured to face -his creditors!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“It is strange,” observed the lawyer almost sternly; -for he was an honest, straightforward man, who had -not learned to regard all things as fair in the way -of business. “It is strange!” he repeated more -slowly: “when the affairs of the firm are wound -up, we shall be better able to account for such a -step on his part. It was this disappearance which -touched Mrs. Effingham so nearly; she bore the -news of the failure with a degree of firmness which, -I own, surprised me; but when I informed her that -her husband had fled, she was struck down at once; -I was seriously alarmed for the consequences.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Oh! she is subject to hysterical fits; they do -not alarm those who know her,” said the lady, -whose malice would glance forth even at a time like -this. “Of course Mrs. Effingham must feel the -change in her fortunes; none shrink from poverty -more than those who have once experienced its -trials.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Mrs. Effingham is secured from anything approaching -to poverty,” said the lawyer; “ample -provision has been made for her comfort. Sixty -thousand pounds were settled upon her not long -after her marriage.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Sixty thousand pounds! and settled upon Mrs. -Effingham!” exclaimed Lady Selina; “and what -becomes of the rest of the family?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“As you are aware, madam, the dowry of the late -Lady Arabella Effingham, amounting to ten thousand -pounds, was, by her will, divided share and share -alike between her two surviving daughters. That is -safe—invested in Government securities; for the rest, -everything—house, furniture, estate—will, doubtless, -be seized and disposed of for the benefit of the -creditors.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“But the sixty thousand pounds that you mentioned?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“That sum is settled on Mrs. Effingham; no one -will be able to deprive her of that.” Mr. Mark’s -manner was cold and dry, and he soon afterwards -closed the interview, leaving Lady Selina in a state -of no small excitement and perplexity.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Clever man of the world, Mr. Effingham,” she -said to herself, as soon as she found herself alone; -“I should hardly have given him credit for the tact -to save such a sum out of the wreck. And all -settled upon Mrs. Effingham!”—she bit her lip with -vexation. “I wish that it had been disposed of in -any other manner. Sixty thousand pounds! The -interest of that will be—let me see—enough to keep -a good house, a carriage. It is much more than she -had ever a right to expect. We must not part -company, after all. The weak little creature will -never be able to manage by herself; and it will -suit my convenience better for the family to keep -together. Yes,” soliloquized the earl’s daughter, -resting her chin on her hand in an attitude of -thought, “it would be folly under these circumstances -to part. I must change my tactics a little. -I must make her feel me necessary; there must be -no division. If I had ever had a suspicion of the -turn which affairs would take, I would have played -my cards very differently with Clemence Effingham.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Regard for self-interest was striving against prejudice -and pride, and, as often happens in hostilities -of a more extended nature, the war was ended by a -compromise, or rather a treaty of alliance. In a -few minutes Lady Selina was gently tapping at Mrs. -Effingham’s door.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence appeared seated at her little writing-table, -pale but tearless. Louisa was weeping beside -her. Vincent, standing a little apart, was repeating -to himself half aloud, “Poverty is no disgrace,” as -one who is determined to face the enemy with resolution. -It is possible, however, that poverty presented -itself to the mind of the boy as little beyond -exemption from going to school, and was, therefore, -no great trial of his youthful philosophy. Lady -Selina motioned to Louisa and her brother to quit -the room, and then seating herself on the sofa close -to Clemence, with strange, unwonted show of tenderness, -laid her hand on that of the young wife, which -lay cold and impassive on the cushion beside her.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Dear Mrs. Effingham, we are truly partners in -sorrow; for, believe me, my share in this trial is no -light one,” and the lady heaved a deep sigh.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence remained silent. That Lady Selina -grieved for her she could not for a moment believe; -but it was possible that even that cold, worldly -heart might cherish a regard for her husband. How -could it indeed be otherwise, after such long, intimate -acquaintance with one who possessed such power to -attract to himself the affections of all who knew -him? Such a thought was quite sufficient to prevent -the gentle wife from repelling the sympathy, -such as it might be, even of her who had hitherto -acted the part of an enemy. It would, however, -have been hypocrisy to have accepted it with any -warmth of gratitude. The pressure of Lady Selina’s -thin fingers was not returned, and the eyes of Clemence -remained bent upon the floor.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“But, dear Mrs. Effingham,” resumed Lady Selina, -“this trial has alleviations—great alleviations.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>In an instant the blue eyes were riveted on the -countenance of the speaker with an expression of -hope. “Alleviations! Then you know where he -is,—you have tidings—”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“None, none,” replied the lady sadly; “but is it -not a comfort to think that your beloved husband, -even under the heavy pressure of adversity, thought -and cared for his family with a foresight which does -him such honour? Mr. Mark, of course, informed -you that the sixty thousand pounds settled upon -you by Mr. Effingham are safe; the creditors cannot -lay a finger upon them.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Lady Selina watched the effect of her words. A -bright flush suffused the countenance of Clemence, -rising even to her temples, and then suddenly retreating, -left it even more pallid than before.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I did not hear about money—could not think -about money,” she replied hoarsely, withdrawing her -hand from Lady Selina’s.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Your delicacy of feeling, your disregard of worldly -considerations is noble—is quite in character,” said -that lady, with a little touch of sarcasm in her tone; -“nevertheless, it must be a great relief to your mind -to find that everything is not lost—that, though on -a smaller scale, you can still maintain a suitable -establishment, still offer a home to those who have -dwelt together under this roof.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence pressed her aching brow with both her -hands. “Lady Selina, I cannot think, I cannot -realize what has happened, far less form plans for an -uncertain future. I must hear from my husband, I -must learn our actual position, know the full extent -of the ruin which has come upon our house. Of -one thing I am certain—<i>certain</i>,” she repeated more -earnestly, rising from the sofa as she spoke, “my -husband would be the last man to claim or to desire -an exemption from the sufferings which may, I fear, -fall upon some of his creditors. I feel assured that, -when he settled a fortune upon his wife, it was in -perfect ignorance of the crash which was so near. -Unforeseen events have brought on a crisis, and he -will meet it, like himself, with firm courage, unblemished -honour, and a conscience free from reproach.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“She is a greater fool than I thought her,” was -Lady Selina’s mental reflection, as she relieved Clemence -from her unwelcome presence.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence, notwithstanding her fearless declaration, -felt strangely uneasy and anxious. Vincent’s childish -words recurred again and again to her mind, -“Poverty is no disgrace.” Why should such words -give her pain? She feared to question her own -heart as to the reason. Clemence wrote a long letter -to her friend Mr. Gray, the faithful counsellor -of her youth, detailing to him what had occurred, -as far as her own knowledge extended, mentioning -to him the words of Lady Selina, and asking him, -in the absence of her best and dearest guide, to say -whether he thought that she could conscientiously -avail herself of resources so considerately provided for -her before the day of adversity had arrived. Clemence -touched tenderly on the subject. Doing so, even in -the gentlest manner, pained her like pressure upon -a wound. She shrank from writing a word which, -even in the most remote way, could convey the -slightest imputation upon the conduct of her husband.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The wings of Time sometimes appear to be clogged -with lead. How wearily move the hours when -anxious sorrow watches the shadow on the dial! -Clemence’s prevailing feeling was an intense desire for -tidings from her absent lord. If uneasy doubts -would arise in her mind, a letter, she felt assured, -would remove them. Her husband would make all -clear. Whatever had occurred, no fault could rest -with him; her loving faith in him was unshaken. -Clemence started at every post-knock, and trembled -when her room was hastily entered, so nervously -was her mind on the watch for tidings.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Louisa was in a state of great depression. The -first breath of misfortune was sufficient to lay low -the fragile reed, which had no firm support to -counterbalance its own weakness. Perhaps there -was a secret painful impression on the young girl’s -mind that, since God’s first visitation had failed to -produce lasting effects, one yet more terrible might -be coming upon her. Louisa refused to listen to -words of comfort or hope, persisted in viewing everything -in the darkest light, and by her tears, complaints, -and forebodings, irritated the prouder and -firmer spirit of her sister, which was struggling to -tread misfortunes under foot, and rise triumphant -above them.</p> - -<p class='c015'>On the following day, which was Sunday, neither -Lady Selina nor her nieces quitted their dwelling. -Those who had attended divine service only <i>to be seen -of men</i>, naturally absented themselves from the house -of prayer when observation would be painful. But -to Clemence, weary and heavy-laden, social worship -was a privilege not to be lightly foregone. In the -solemn exercises of prayer and praise, she trusted to -be raised for a while above the cares and the grief -that oppressed her; the jarred and strained chords -of her heart could yet be tuned to swell the church’s -hymn of thanksgiving. Avoiding mixing with the -stream of the congregation of which she had been -lately a member, Clemence, accompanied only by -Vincent, attended a more distant church.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The preacher’s sermon appeared as if addressed -expressly to herself, so closely did Clemence apply -it. He spoke of the blessedness of that home which -sin and sorrow never can enter, and of the boundless -riches of God’s grace, so unlike to the treasures of -earth which take to themselves wings and flee away. -He dwelt on the glories of the heavenly city, till -clouds of present affliction seemed to reflect its distant -brightness. He then described the heaven in -the heart, which may be experienced by the believer -while yet a sojourner in a world of trial, yea, even -when plunged into the seven-fold heated furnace of -<i>great tribulation</i>,—the consciousness of the presence -of an Almighty Friend, of the support of the everlasting -arm, of the possession of that unspeakable love -which passeth knowledge, and <i>is stronger than death</i>! -Tears, but not tears of grief, flowed from the eyes of -Clemence as she listened, and her heart seemed able -to echo the words of the poet, with which the -preacher concluded his address—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c005'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Give what Thou canst, without Thee we are poor—</div> - <div class='line'>And with Thee rich, take what Thou wilt away.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch19' class='c008'>CHAPTER XIX<br /> <br /><span class='small'>SACRIFICE.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/m.jpg' width='100' height='189' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_4'> -Monday came, and with it a letter from -Mr. Effingham, bearing the Dover postmark. -How eagerly was it received and -torn open! The note was a very brief -one, and communicated but a vague idea -of the position or feelings of its writer. -He was on the point of crossing over to France,—hoped -that his stay there might be a brief one,—that -necessary forms having been complied with, he -might soon be able to return to her who was ever in -his thoughts. He trusted that her health had not -suffered from the shock of receiving tidings which -he had not had the courage to communicate to her -himself; and he desired his wife, in the conduct of -her affairs, to place implicit confidence in Mr. Mark, -and to be guided by the judgment of a man of such -experience and worth. This was all,—not even an -address given; but such as it was, the letter was a -great relief to Clemence. Her mind had formed -dark forebodings; she had dreaded that sudden illness -might have been the result of Mr. Effingham’s -distress of mind, and the cause of his not coming -forward personally to meet those whose interests -had been confided to his care. She now felt able -to enter his study again, that little room consecrated -by so many dear recollections, to gather up and -arrange any stray papers that might have been left -there, that her husband, on his return to England, -might find that nothing was missing.</p> - -<p class='c015'>How little that room was altered! The fire -blazing brightly as ever, the familiar tomes ranged -in their accustomed places, the morning’s <i>Times</i> laid -on the table, the book beside the desk with half its -leaves yet uncut, and the paper-knife marking the -place where Mr. Effingham had lately been reading! -Clemence tried by an effort of imagination to blot -out all remembrance of the last few days, to look -upon what had passed as a dream, and to listen for -that well-known step which would never be heard on -that threshold again! She would not occupy the -arm-chair which she had seen so often filled by her -husband. One thing was changed—but one; the -clock on the mantel-piece, which Mr. Effingham had -suffered no one to touch but himself, which had belonged -to his father before him, that clock which he -had regularly wound on each Saturday night, stood -silent, with motionless pendulum,—an emblem of the -fortunes of the house.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Vincent followed his step-mother to the study. -The boy was restless and sought companionship, but -Louisa was too melancholy, and Arabella too irritable -to make their society congenial to their brother. -Clemence would at that time have greatly preferred -being left alone with her own sad musings, but she -would not, even by a hint to that effect, drive from -her side the only being who clung to her in her sorrow. -Vincent was therefore allowed to sit beside -her, endeavouring to glean amusement from the -<i>Times</i>, while she slowly and sadly pursued her occupation -of collecting scattered papers. One struck -her eye—its appearance seemed familiar to her; -upon examination it proved to be the bill of Madame -La Voye—that bill which had cost her such painful -self-reproach. It had surely been paid long ago;—no! -unreceipted, it lay amongst others! Clemence -bit her lip, but at the moment was startled by a -vehement exclamation from Vincent.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“What a shame! how dare they write so of -papa!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence caught the paper from his hand. Vincent -pointed to one of the leading paragraphs; it -commenced thus:—</p> - -<p class='c018'>“We have again to record a great crash in the commercial world, -attended with circumstances which force upon our attention the fact -that the laws of bankruptcy, as at present constituted, are inadequate -to protect the property of the subject.”</p> - -<p class='c017'>Clemence read on, every sentence falling like a -drop of glowing metal on her heart; she saw the -name most dear to her coupled with duplicity, craft, -dishonour!</p> - -<p class='c018'>“We hear on undoubted authority,” said the <i>Times</i>, “that Mr. -Effingham has settled a large fortune upon his wife, with whom the -<i>bankrupt</i> doubtless looks forward to enjoying in luxurious retirement -the spoils of the widow and the orphan. These evasions of law and -equity have been of late of such frequent occurrence, that we have -learned complacently to behold the giant offender rolling in his carriage, -while the meaner felon is consigned to a jail.”</p> - -<p class='c017'>The paper dropped from the hand of the miserable -wife. Vincent sprang to her side. “It is not -true!” he exclaimed passionately; “it is all nonsense -and lies!—it is!—oh, say that it is!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Leave me, Vincent! leave me!” gasped Clemence; -with an imploring gesture she motioned to the door, -and, as soon as her command had been obeyed, -threw herself down upon the floor and writhed, as -if in convulsions of bodily pain! What physical -torture could have equalled the agony of that hour! -The anguish caused to a loving and conscientious -spirit by the errors of the being most beloved, resembles -in nature, and is scarcely exceeded in intensity -by that of remorse! To Clemence, her husband’s -disgrace was her disgrace; his transgressions seemed -even as her own. So closely was she joined to him -in heart, that the consciousness of personal blamelessness -brought her no comfort—the shadow which -had fallen on him enveloped her also in its blackness!</p> - -<p class='c015'>“What am I called upon to endure!” was a -thought ere long superseded by another: “What am -I called upon to do?” A gulf of misery was yawning -before the bankrupt’s wife—could no personal sacrifice -close it? Clemence started to her feet, took the -writing materials which lay on the table, and hastily -penned to Mr. Mark a scarcely legible note, praying -him to come to her as soon as was possible, as she -needed his assistance and advice. This done, and -the letter despatched, Clemence could breathe a little -more freely. She declined seeing any one until after -his arrival, and as that was delayed for several hours, -the unhappy wife had time to become more calm, -and to revolve in her mind what course of duty lay -before her. Yet the sound of the long waited-for -knock at the door which announced the man of -business, was to her much as that of the hammer-stroke -on a scaffold might be to one doomed to suffer -thereon.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Mr. Mark entered with apologies for delay, of -which Clemence understood not one word. With -tremulous hand she pointed to the <i>Times</i>, and could -scarcely articulate, “You have seen it?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Mr. Mark gravely inclined his head.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And is there any—” Clemence stopped short—she -could not endure to put the question in such a -form. “Is it not all cruel calumny?” she faltered.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Mr. Mark hesitated. “The language is harsh and -strong,” was his guarded reply: it was too well -comprehended by the miserable Clemence.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“When that—that money was settled,” she stammered -forth, without daring to look at her listener, -“the house was safe, secure—there was no prospect -of the ruin that followed?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I believed so when I followed Mr. Effingham’s -directions. I, for one, had not the slightest doubt -at that time of the solvency of the firm.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And he—”</p> - -<p class='c015'>There was a long, painful silence; Clemence -heard nothing but the throbbing of her own heart. -When the lady spoke again her tone was strangely -altered; there was in it no more of tremulous earnestness, -but the calm resolution of despair.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Mr. Mark, let me ask one more question. Is -that money entirely at my own disposal?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“It is so by the terms of the settlement.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Then I request you, acting in my name, to place -the whole of it in the hands of the creditors.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“My dear madam—”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“My resolution is quite fixed,” said Clemence, -compressing her bloodless lips.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“But consider your position, that of the family—”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I have resources of my own,” replied Clemence -firmly; “and my step-daughters are already provided -for.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“You have resources?” repeated the lawyer -doubtfully; “and the boy?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Shares whatever I have,” answered Clemence.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Perhaps a partial sacrifice,” began Mr. Mark, -but the lady interrupted him.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“All—all—I will give up all!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Not without reflection, dear madam, not on the -impulse of the moment, not without consulting your -friends.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I consult you, the friend and adviser of my -husband. Would not the act be a just one?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Just, perhaps, but—” and he paused.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I have also consulted another friend, one who -has been to me as a father—the Reverend Mr. Gray -of Stoneby.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And he advises this step?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I have not yet had time to receive his reply.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Wait for it then,” said the lawyer; “do nothing -without beforehand weighing the consequences, or -it is possible that you may regret even the noble -and generous act, the thought of which does you -honour.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>After some further conversation, it was settled -that Clemence should delay her decision until Mr. -Gray’s letter should be received, and then convey -her final decision in writing to the man of business. -Mr. Mark left her with a mingled sentiment of compassion -and respect, which softened his usually abrupt -manner to that of almost paternal tenderness.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“She has much to suffer, but she will suffer -bravely,” thought he, as he stepped into his -brougham.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence heaved a deep sigh when she found -herself left alone. The spirit which had supported -her through that painful interview now seemed to -fail her. Very repugnant was it to her feelings to -consult any one before her husband, on a point which -concerned his honour so nearly. Could she not learn -his will ere making so momentous a decision? To -do so was the instinct of her heart, but not the -judgment of her reason. No; even had she the -means of communicating with Mr. Effingham, how -could she seek guidance from him on the very path -from which he had wandered? how ask him if it -were her duty to counteract his own schemes, and -clear, as far as possible, his character from a stain -which he had deliberately contracted? It was, -perhaps, better that a cloud of doubt should rest on -what Mr. Effingham’s ultimate wishes might be, -and that Clemence should not behold in actual opposition -her obedience to her husband and her duty to -her God.</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch20' class='c008'>CHAPTER XX<br /> <br /><span class='small'>DECISION.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/m.jpg' width='100' height='189' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_4'> -Mr. Gray, as Clemence expected, viewed -the subject of retaining or relinquishing -the fortune in the same light that she -did herself. He had, before answering -her letter, seen the article in the <i>Times</i> -which had so deeply wounded the young -wife, and he had anticipated the resolution that she -would form. The ideas of the simple-minded pastor -were drawn, not from the maxims or example of the -world, of which he indeed knew little, but from the -pure, written Word of God. He read and believed -that <i>the love of money</i> is <i>the root of all evil</i>; he read -and believed that it is impossible <i>to serve God and -Mammon</i>; and he had imbibed the spirit of that -most solemn question, <i>What shall it profit a man if -he gain the whole world and lose his own soul; or -what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?</i></p> - -<p class='c015'>The clergyman’s letter was a very tender one, -full of pious consolation, and concluded by offering -to the bankrupt’s wife a home in the vicarage, where -his dear partner, as well as himself, would ever regard -her as a cherished daughter.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The good man’s words were as balm to Clemence’s -wounded spirit, though she felt that her duty to her -husband’s family might render it impossible to accept -an invitation which would otherwise have opened a -harbour of refuge to her weary, storm-tossed soul. -Clemence, without further delay, wrote her final -decision to Mr. Mark. Never had she more impatiently -despatched a letter than that which -stripped her at once of the wealth which lay like a -mountain’s weight upon her conscience. Then, ringing -the bell of the study—the room which she now -almost exclusively occupied—Mrs. Effingham summoned, -one after another, every member of her -numerous household, and gave warning to all, -without exception. It was a painful duty to the -young mistress, but Clemence had nerved herself to -its performance, and uttered a sigh of relief as the -last of the servants quitted her presence. After all, -it was easier to act than to think; the necessity for -exertion was perhaps in itself a blessing.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence, since reading the article in the <i>Times</i>, -had secluded herself much from the family; she -could not, in the first hours of her anguish, have -endured the sight of familiar faces—the torture of -being harassed with questions; she shrank even from -the idea of sympathy, and could scarcely bear to look -upon Vincent, the breathing image of one whom she -thought of with grief, only exceeded by her love. -Clemence felt it now, however, necessary to communicate -with those whose interests were closely -linked with her own, and to ascertain the views and -feelings of her step-children before replying to the -letter of Mr. Gray. With this view, mastering a -strong sensation of repugnance, she ascended to the -drawing-room, and found herself, on opening the door, -in the presence of the assembled family.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Lady Selina was standing near the fire-place in -earnest conference with Arabella; Vincent had -stretched himself on the velvet rug, leaning upon his -crossed arms in an attitude of thought, but he started -up on his step-mother’s entrance; Louisa lay on the -sofa, her hand pressed over her eyes. There was a -sudden break in the conversation when Clemence’s -form appeared, and Lady Selina, with a slow and -stately air, advanced forward a few steps to meet her.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Mrs. Effingham,” she commenced, in tones even -more cold and formal than usual, “I have been much -surprised, greatly astonished to find that you have -at once, without consulting any one, dismissed the -whole of your husband’s establishment! May I -presume to ask your reason for so extraordinary a -step?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I cannot now afford to keep any such servants,” -replied Clemence, gently but firmly.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Not afford!—really, Mrs. Effingham, your language -is incomprehensible! Not afford, with sixty -thousand pounds of your own in the funds!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence leaned on the table for support as she -answered, “I will never touch a farthing of that -money. I have given up all to the creditors, without -reserve.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“That’s right!” was the hearty exclamation of -Vincent. Lady Selina stood for a moment actually -speechless! Had she seen Clemence deliberately -put an end to her own existence, the lady’s amazement -and horror could not have been greater.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“You have done such an insane thing!” she exclaimed -at length.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I have done it!” was the reply of Clemence.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Then, madam, you have qualified yourself for -Bedlam!” cried Lady Selina, condensed fury flashing -from her eyes, all sense of what is due from one lady -to another lost in the torrent of furious passion. -“You have reduced your family to beggary; you -have subscribed to the condemnation of your own -husband; you have confirmed the opinion which I -formed of you from the day when Mr. Effingham -had the infatuation to throw himself away on a child—an -idiot such as you!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Aunt, you must not, you shall not—” cried -Vincent; but there was no staying the rushing flow -of bitter words. Clemence endured them as the tree, -whose leafy honours have been struck down by the -woodman’s axe, endures the pelting rain upon its -prostrate form. It has felt the cold steel dividing -its very core; the sharp blow, the heavy fall, have -been its fate; the furious shower may now do its -worst, it cannot lay it lower, any more than it has -power to restore life to the withered foliage! But -when Lady Selina paused at length, mortified, perhaps, -to find that her fiercest invectives could awake -no answering flash of angry retort, Clemence quietly -expressed her hope that she might be enabled so to -economize as to live upon her limited resources without -incurring debt.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Resources!” exclaimed Lady Selina with ineffable -contempt; “the paltry interest of two or -three thousand pounds, of which an hospital has the -reversion! If you can reduce yourself, madam, to -such pauper allowance for the future, how extricate -yourself from the meshes of present difficulties? -You speak of avoiding debt—you are in debt at the -present moment to myself!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence unclasped the massive bracelet on her -arm, and silently laid it on the table. It was her -only reply. She then turned and quitted the apartment.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I wish that she had flung it at aunt’s head!” -was Vincent’s muttered comment on the scene.</p> - -<p class='c015'>A servant met Clemence as she was about to -ascend the staircase. “Please, ma’am, Madame La -Voye is at the door, and says that she must see you -directly.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Send her away,” began Clemence, who felt as -though her patience had already been tried to its -utmost power of endurance; but as the man hesitated -before again attempting a task in which he -had already failed, she altered her resolution. “No; -let her be shown into my room. Better meet this -difficulty at once, and end it,” murmured Clemence -to herself, as the footman turned to obey.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Madame La Voye had, like all the rest of the -world, heard of the bankruptcy of Mr. Effingham, -and trembled for her unpaid bill. Her indignation -had been inflamed to a high pitch by the article in -the <i>Times</i>. Mr. Effingham she had denounced, and -loudly, as a swindler, a cheat, and a felon; and she -resolved, come what might, to have justice done to -herself. She called at his house on Monday, and -heard that Mrs. Effingham refused to see any one. -Driven with difficulty from the door, the dressmaker -repeated her call on the next day, with yet more -fixed resolution to assert her claim. She would not -be one of the miserable creditors who suffered themselves -to be quietly robbed; she would not leave the -house till she had received her money! Madame -La Voye had worked herself up to an effervescence of -indignation very unlike, indeed, to the smooth-tongued -politeness with which she had received Mrs. -Effingham into her show-apartments.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The Frenchwoman entered the house prepared to -do battle for her rights, and the first words which -she addressed to Clemence were abrupt almost to -rudeness; but even she was in some degree awed by -that pale, meek face, stamped with such deep impression -of sorrow, and the first gentle tones of the -silvery voice stilled her anger as if by a charm.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence owned her debt and her inability to pay -it (“Was all false, then, about the fortune?” thought -La Voye); “But”—the lady hesitated and glanced -at her wardrobe—“perhaps;” the Frenchwoman -was not slow in comprehension—she spared the lady -the humiliation of an explanation.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Pride was not Mrs. Effingham’s besetting sin; but, -in one form or other, perhaps no human heart is -entirely free from it. It was painful to the lady to -hear the value of her wardrobe estimated in her -presence—repugnant to her feelings to hear this -mantle depreciated as no longer <i>à la mode</i>—that -dress, because the folds of the velvet had been slightly -ruffled in wearing. Madame La Voye was not without -a heart, and her anger had subsided into pity; -but the coarseness of her nature appeared even in -what she intended for kindness, and in her compassion -for the reduced lady she never for an instant -forgot self-interest. Balancing, doubting, chaffering, -making a parade of “a wish to oblige,” forming a -shrewd calculation that a beautiful Indian shawl, -“thrown into the lot, would make all even between -them,” for almost an hour Madame La Voye made -her victim do bitter penance for a day’s extravagance. -The mortifying interview, however, ended at last; -the Frenchwoman, well satisfied with her bargain, -quitted the house, and Clemence held in her hand, -receipted, that bill which had been the cause of so -much annoyance.</p> - -<p class='c015'>A sleepless night was passed in forming plans for -the future. There had been only too much truth in -Lady Selina’s words—how could the bankrupt’s wife -find means to extricate herself from present difficulties? -Clemence’s purse was empty. The first instalment -of her income, miserable pittance as it appeared, -was not due to her for months; she had none to -whom to apply for assistance—none from whom she -could hope for relief. Again and again Clemence -thought of her jewels, but they were all, with the -exception of her watch, and a few trifles of little or no -intrinsic worth, the gifts of her husband, and she regarded -them almost as one in the Dark Ages might -have regarded precious relics,—things far too valuable -to be parted with, except with life. Yet there seemed -to be no other resource, and Clemence now felt that in -resigning all her fortune she had made a sacrifice indeed.</p> - -<p class='c015'>She rose sad and unrefreshed from her sleepless -pillow, and yet a spirit of submission was shed into -her heart. The iron had entered into her soul, but -the wound was not poisoned by rebellious unbelief. -Clemence was able to pray hopefully for her husband, -and to trust that even the trials of his condition -might be a means of drawing him nearer to his God. -Surely the Almighty had judged his errors less -severely than the harsh, unfeeling world? Had not -those errors arisen from the very tenderness of his -affection towards his wife? The temptations of -prosperity had raised a mist around him; the blast -of misfortune had dispersed that mist, and the blue -heaven would again smile above him! Thus mused -the young wife, her mind ever recurring to her -absent lord as the centre of all its earthly thoughts. -She could not see him, write to him, cheer him; but -she could still pour out her soul for him in prayer, -and was there not sweet comfort in that?</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch21' class='c008'>CHAPTER XXI<br /> <br /><span class='small'>JEWELS AND THEIR WORTH.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/i.jpg' width='100' height='186' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_4'> -“I think it right to lay before the children of -my dear husband the course which I intend -to pursue; their welfare is very near to my -heart, and I cannot separate their interests -from my own.” Such were the words addressed -by Clemence to Vincent and his sisters, while -Lady Selina sat listening near, her face wearing a -smile of cold scorn.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I propose,” continued Clemence, “to rent a cottage, -a very small cottage in Cornwall, my native -county, where necessary expenses can be reduced to -a very narrow scale, unless I should receive directions -from my husband which would induce me to alter -my arrangements. If any of his family will share -that humble abode, it will be my heart’s desire to -make them as—;” the word “happy” would not -come, it died on the trembling lip, and a sigh concluded -the broken sentence.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Arabella slightly elevated her brow and her -shoulders; Louisa looked uneasily at her aunt.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Such is your offer, madam; now listen to mine,” -said Lady Selina, folding her hands with the air of -one about to give a proof of magnanimous self-denial. -“I need not speak of the fervent affection which I -have ever borne to my sister’s children. My dear -nieces have always looked to me as to the representative -of a cherished mother, and in the hour of -adversity I shall be the last to desert them. To my -home, wherever that may be, most freely do I bid -them welcome. With Vincent the case is different; -though my love for him is the same, I cannot, as -doubtless Mrs. Effingham will do, undertake the -expenses of his education, or give to my dear nephew -the advantages which are indispensable to a boy of -his age.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Doubtless the affectionate aunt had not forgotten -that whereas Vincent was absolutely penniless, the -united incomes of her nieces, moderate as they were, -would exactly double her own. Few of those who -knew the lady intimately would have given her -credit for disinterested kindness; but whatever might -be her motive for the offer, Arabella was not slow to -accept it.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“As, after what has occurred,” said the proud girl, -drawing herself up to her full height, “I should have -declined sharing a palace with Mrs. Effingham, her -society would scarcely allure me to the hovel which -she chooses as her place of abode. I shall certainly -remain with my aunt.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>But the choice of Louisa was not so readily made. -Her heart was drawn towards her step-mother, so -gentle and patient in her sorrow; she felt for Clemence’s -loneliness and desolation. Louisa could not -quite forget the tenderness with which she had been tended -through her illness; she could not quite forget how, -in the long dreary nights, a gentle watcher had -bathed her fevered brow, offered the cooling draught, -and spoken words of holy comfort and hope. Her -step-mother was connected in her mind with all that -her conscience approved as right, her regret for past -errors, her resolutions of amendment, her thoughts -on religion and heaven. Louisa had sufficient intelligence -to see the difference of character between -Clemence and her aunt. She could neither love nor -trust Lady Selina, as she could the pure-minded and -unselfish woman whom her father had chosen as his -wife. But if Mrs. Effingham stood in the mind of -Louisa as the emblem and the representative of quiet -piety, her aunt, on the other hand, seemed that of the -world and all its tempting delights. Lady Selina -would doubtless remain in London; to stay with her -was to partake of its pleasures, to enjoy its dazzling -scenes,—to dance, to shine, to see and to be seen. -Oh! what magic images of glittering splendour were -conjured up before the mind’s eye of Louisa, by the -name of a “London season!” And could she give -up all this? could she endure to bury herself in -dreary Cornwall, with no gaiety, no amusement, no -admirers, like some flower doomed to—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c005'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in20'>“Blush unseen,</div> - <div class='line'>And waste its sweetness on the desert air?”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c017'>The idea was intolerable! Not gratitude, esteem, -pity, conscience, were sufficient to fortify the poor -girl against its terrors. She loved the world—she -was of the world. Her idol had been shaken—but -destroyed, never! It was resuming its old supremacy -in a heart which, though apparently cleansed for -a while, had been found empty of that divine faith -which <i>overcometh the world</i>! Louisa hesitated, indeed, -but not for long. Avoiding looking at her -step-mother as she spoke, in a low, faltering voice, -she said, “I think—I would rather—remain in -London—like my sister.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Lady Selina cast a triumphant glance at Clemence, -and going up to her nieces, embraced them both with -many tender expressions, of which they, perhaps, -guessed the real value. Mrs. Effingham quietly -quitted the room, feeling very desolate and low, and -thinking that for her the most welcome home would -be one much narrower and much quieter than any -cottage dwelling. Just as she was entering her own -apartment, Vincent, who had been an excited though -silent listener to the preceding conversation, rushed -after and overtook her. The boy flung his arms -tightly around her neck, exclaiming, “Mother! you -and I will stick together through thick and thin!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence returned the embrace with fervour; she -clasped the boy to her aching heart as if she would -have pressed him into it, and wept aloud in passionate -grief, till almost choked by her convulsive sobs. -It was even as the accumulated masses of Alpine -snows, melting under the warm sunshine, burst -through the barriers which restrain them, and pour -their swelling floods into the valleys below. Vincent -was almost alarmed at the sudden violence of -emotion in one usually so quiet and gentle; but, -oh! what a weight of sorrow had been pent up in -that burdened heart!</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence was relieved by the burst of tears, and, -when again alone, seated herself before her desk, -and, resting her brow upon her hand, gave herself -up to thought. Yes, she had something to live for! -That boy, that son of her heart, to him would she -devote her life, while the painful separation from his -father should last. What Lady Selina had said on -the subject of Vincent’s education, now pondered -over in solitude, wrought some change in the plans -of Clemence. She must give up the idea of renting -a cottage at Stoneby, where she could again enjoy -the society of dear friends, and return to the occupations -which she loved. Clemence could not, with -justice to Vincent, undertake his tuition herself, and -Mr. Gray was far too busily engaged in his extensive -parish to do so. There was a market-town about -ten miles from the village, where Clemence well -knew that excellent daily tuition at an academy -might be secured at a very trifling expense. This -determined her course; personal comfort and inclination -should not for a moment be weighed against -that which might be of such importance to the future -prospects of her step-son. Clemence dipped her -pen, and wrote an answer to the letter of Mr. Gray. -She told him briefly of the part which she had -taken in regard to the fortune; declined with deep -gratitude his offer of a home; and entreated him, -as soon as possible, to secure for her a cottage within -walking distance of the academy of M——. Clemence -limited the annual rent to a sum which would -scarcely have paid for one of the dresses which she -had worn in the days of her wealth, and requested -that one of the girls from her Sunday school might -be engaged as her solitary servant.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The descent into poverty is most painful when one -slow step after another is reluctantly taken down -the road of humiliation,—at each some cherished -comfort mournfully laid aside! Better far to calculate -at once the full amount of what must be resigned, -put away every superfluity, and resolutely -make the plunge! Clemence ended her letter by a -reiterated entreaty that her friend might engage -the cottage at his earliest convenience, as she yearned -to quit London, where every moment brought with -it some bitter pang of remembrance.</p> - -<p class='c015'>And now one other task remained to be performed—a -task intensely painful. Most thankfully would -Clemence have avoided it, or, if it must be fulfilled, -have deputed its execution to another. But to -whom could the young wife intrust the delicate office -of disposing of her jewels? Was it absolutely -necessary to part with them at all? Would none -of her friends, her numerous acquaintances, assist -her at least with a loan? Clemence was sorely -tempted to try, and more than once commenced a -note to one whom she knew had the means to aid, -and whom she hoped might have also the heart; -but she never got beyond the first line. Would it -be honest to borrow money, which she could hardly -hope ever to repay? would it be right, while she -was in possession of valuables which might be converted -into gold? After all, she could look on the -meditated sacrifice as made for her son, her Vincent, -the child of her beloved husband, and that would -give her courage to make it.</p> - -<p class='c015'>With a sickening heart Clemence removed from -her jewel-box her husband’s miniature, her mother’s -wedding-ring, and the little locket containing her -parents’ hair, which had been her bridal-gift from -her uncle,—these, at least, she must ever retain; -and after a hasty preparation, as if fearful that her -resolution might fail her if she should delay, even -for an hour, the accomplishment of her design, Clemence -glided out of her house with her jewel-case -under her cloak.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Rapidly she walked through the streets, like one -who dreads observation, drawing her thick black -veil closely before her face. The shops in one of -the principal thoroughfares of London, which it was -her object to visit, were distant from Belgrave Square, -and Mrs. Effingham had never before attempted to -reach them on foot. She had repeatedly to inquire -the road to them, and she did so with a shrinking -timidity, which made more than one of her informants -watch with an eye of instinctive pity her slight, -fragile form, clad in its mourning garb, as it hurried -on its onward way.</p> - -<p class='c015'>At length the gay, bright street was reached, -noisy with carriages, thronged with pedestrians, offering -in its thousand decorated windows temptations -for every eye. Clemence had often driven down -that street in her own carriage, one of the fairest, -the most admired, the most envied of the throng. -Now, the bankrupt’s wife dreaded the recognition of -any familiar face, as, weary and faint, she entered a -magnificent shop, which she had often noticed, in -passing, for the brilliant display of jewellery behind -its plate glass.</p> - -<p class='c015'>There were several customers in the shop, and Clemence, -whose courage was failing her, was almost -upon the point of retreating, when the jeweller requested -her to take a seat, she should be served in an -instant; and Clemence sank wearily upon the proffered -chair. She had some time to wait. A young -betrothed couple were choosing ornaments at the -counter. At another time, the sight of their happiness -would have only called forth emotions of pleasure; -but the painful contrast between their errand -and her own—they coming to purchase, she to part -with pledges of tender affection—was so overcoming -to Clemence, that when the jeweller at length, after -smilingly bowing out his customers, turned to inquire -her pleasure, she could scarcely command her voice -sufficiently to make her wishes intelligible.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id005'> -<img src='images/i208.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p><span class='small'>GOING TO SELL THE JEWELS.</span></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c015'>The man’s face at once lost its smiling expression. -“We sometimes exchange jewels,” said he coldly -“but never make purchases in that way.” Like a -fluttered bird, Clemence made her escape out of the -shop.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Must she try another? Yes, that one on the -opposite side of the street. So engaged in her own -thoughts was Mrs. Effingham, so abstracted from all -that was passing around her, that as she crossed the -road she narrowly escaped being thrown down by a -passing vehicle. Once more summoning all her -resolution, she entered the shop. Here she was at -least attended to without delay. A tall, hard-visaged -man in spectacles, was ready to receive the lady’s -commands. Clemence did not seat herself, but resting -her trembling hand on the counter, told her -errand, and produced her jewels. The man opened -the case, and examined one article after the other, -as if mentally calculating its value. That precious -guard-ring, first gift of affection; that chain which -loved hands had placed round her neck; the diamond -brooch selected by her husband; the watch, by -which she had counted so many blissful hours,—it -seemed to Clemence almost like desecration to see -them in the hand of a stranger! It was really a -relief to her that a sum so much below their actual -value was offered by the jeweller, that she could, -without self-reproach, bear her treasures away from -the place.</p> - -<p class='c015'>And yet they must—they must be sold! She -must not return to her home without success! A -third time the drooping, heart-sick Clemence crossed -the threshold of a shop, where everything spoke of -luxury and wealth. This visit was the most trying -of all! The dapper little tradesman behind the -counter eyed with a quick and penetrating glance, -not only the jewels, but their owner. Clemence -read in his curious look, “How came you possessed -of such things as these?” The bare idea of suspicion -covered the pallid countenance of the youthful -lady with a burning glow. It seemed to her as -if the first words from the tradesman might be a -question as to her own right to the property of -which she wished to dispose. He spoke, but to Clemence’s -relief it was only to mention terms of purchase. -Clemence, who had been tried almost beyond -what she could bear, hastily closed with his offer, and -again had to encounter that curious, scrutinizing -look. Glad, most glad was she to leave the shop -and the street, with their bustle and grandeur, far -behind her, though the sum which she bore with -her as the price of her jewels was less than one-third -of what they had originally cost!</p> - -<p class='c015'>“But is the sacrifice sufficient?” Such was the -question which Clemence asked herself as, almost -sinking from fatigue, she at length regained the well-known -precincts of Belgrave Square, and wearily -remounted the steps of her magnificent mansion. “Is -the sacrifice sufficient?” she repeated, as, hastily -throwing off the cloak, whose weight even in that -wintry day oppressed her, she sank on the sofa in -her own apartment. Could she on so trifling a sum -travel to Cornwall, and support Vincent and herself -until she could draw her interest in June? It was -barely possible that, by the severest economy, she -might procure the necessaries of life, but Vincent’s -schooling, small as would be its expense—it would be -idle to think of that! And was he, of whose talents -and progress his father had been so proud, to lose -by months of idleness all that he had gained during -years of application? Clemence opened her desk, -and drew from it her most precious possession—the -miniature of her husband. Its diamond setting was -even as the admiration and praise of the world which -had once gathered around the original of that portrait, -whom the same world now scorned and condemned. -Would the picture be less precious without it, to her -who valued every feature in the likeness beyond all -the jewels in Peru? And yet fast fell the tears of -the unhappy wife, as she removed from its sparkling -encirclement the ivory from which her husband’s eyes -seemed to be looking upon her, calm and bright, as -in the first happy days of their love! Could such a -countenance deceive? Could dishonour ever sit on -such a brow? Fervently Clemence pressed to her -lips again and again the lifeless miniature, divested -of outward adornment, but to its possessor even -dearer than ever. Dearer, because there was nothing -now but itself to give it value; dearer, because by -man it would now be regarded as a worthless thing!—was -it not an emblem of the beloved one whose -image it bore?</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch22' class='c008'>CHAPTER XXII<br /> <br /><span class='small'>COMING DOWN.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/w.jpg' width='100' height='163' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_4'> -We will now change our scene, and pass -over the events of more than a fortnight—a -most weary fortnight to Clemence, -who pined in vain for another letter from -Mr. Effingham, and who dreaded that, by -obeying what she considered to be the call of justice -and conscience, she had drawn upon herself the displeasure -of him whom she most desired to please.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The creditors, grateful for the noble disinterestedness -which had preserved to them something from -the wreck of their fortunes, were disposed to treat -the bankrupt’s wife with consideration and indulgence. -She might remain in her present dwelling as -long as it should suit her convenience to do so. But -to Clemence, Belgrave Square was now a more intolerable -abode than the wastes of Spitzbergen might -have proved; to escape from it was to quit a prison, -and she hastened her departure accordingly.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Lady Selina was also on the look-out for another -abode, and spent the greater part of her time in -house-hunting with Arabella; Louisa was seldom of -the party, as she shrank from exertion, and considered -herself yet too delicate to be exposed to the wintry -air. During the fortnight before Clemence left London, -Louisa was often her companion, and many a -gentle word of counsel from the step-mother, whose -misfortunes had rendered her dearer, sank into the -poor girl’s heart. Lady Selina, whose pride was -now undergoing perpetual mortifications—whose -present occupation made her more bitterly feel the -change in her fortunes, and more bitterly hate “the -scrupulous idiot whose folly had plunged her whole -family into distress,” was so irritable and peevish, -that Louisa sometimes asked herself whether, even in -a worldly point of view, her choice had been a wise -one. She parted from Clemence with many tears, -and with many promises of remembrance;—like -Orpah, she could weep for her Naomi,—but, like -Orpah, she turned back to her idols.</p> - -<p class='c015'>It is a bright wintry evening. The orb of the sun -is just resting on a distant hill, and his reflected -beams are lighting up the windows of a small cottage -with a ruddy gleam; the abode itself, however, has -a lonely and rather desolate air. It stands on an -embankment which overlooks a railway whose -straight dark lines form no picturesque object to the -view, disappearing in the blackness of a tunnel which -pierces a hill to the left. That hill, with its bare -outline, entirely shuts out from sight the town of -M——, distant about a mile from the spot. There -is no appearance of any human habitation near, -except this solitary little brick cottage, perched like -a sentinel on the embankment, but turning its back -to the railway, its front to the road, like one who -prefers old friends to new, having probably been -erected before the line was projected. The lone -abode has a small, uncultivated garden in front, -surrounded by a straggling fence, through whose -sundry gaps an active child could easily force his -way—from which a foot-path, seldom trodden, and -green with moss, runs into the narrow road which -leads to the town of M——.</p> - -<p class='c015'>There is, certainly, little to attract in the outward -appearance of the dwelling, and within we shall find -it furnished in the most plain and homely style. No -carpet adorns the floor, no curtain breaks the straight -line of the windows; but the floor itself is spotlessly -clean, the bright windows exclude none of the sunbeams, -and a cheerful fire diffuses kindly warmth -through the little white-washed parlour. The deal -table is spread with a snowy cloth, and heaped with -little dainties—nuts, oranges, and apples—brought by -Mr. Gray in a hamper carefully packed by his wife. -A rosy-cheeked girl, about fifteen years old, is for -the third time this day busily dusting the rush seats -of the chairs, and altering their positions, so as to -show them off to the best advantage. She stops in -her employment every few minutes to run into the -miniature kitchen and watch whether the chicken, -likewise provided by Mrs. Gray, duly revolves before -the fire. There are eggs, bacon, and cheese on the -dresser, all produced from the Stoneby hamper, and -the young servant looks with admiration on her own -preparations for the feast.</p> - -<p class='c015'>A proud, rich, and happy girl Martha Jones feels -herself this day to be! Is it not wondrous promotion -to be sole servant to such a lady as Mrs. Effingham,—to -take the place of so many footmen dressed more -dashingly than militia officers,—a housekeeper who, -as she has heard, looks much grander than Mrs. Gray—and -a bevy of fine London maids! And a whole -sovereign every quarter! is not that wealth to one -who has never touched a gold piece in her life? -Can any service be more delightful than that of -sweet, gentle “Miss Clemence,” who has always a -kind word for every one, and never willingly gives -trouble or pain! Martha envies the lot of no queen as -she cheerfully goes about her work, the joyousness of -her blithe young heart often breaking forth into song.</p> - -<p class='c015'>R-r-r-r-r! with a roar a train rushes past, and -vanishes into the dark chasm of the tunnel, before -the cottage has ceased to tremble or the windows to -rattle with the vibration! Martha, unaccustomed to -the sound, starts as if she were shot, then bursts into -a merry laugh.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“How it makes one jump! I thought as how -the house would come down! I’d as lief not live -quite so near a railway! But I’ll get used to it, no -doubt; and they say, as the trains come in so reg’lar, -they’ll serve instead of a clock. Missus must be a-travelling -by that train; she’ll get to the town in no -time. She’ll be gladsome to find Mr. Gray at the -station, all ready to welcome her back. They say, -poor dear lady, she’s had a deal of trouble since that -merry day of the wedding, when we had such a feast -on the green. First there was the good old captain -drowned, and she was the light of his eyes—I guess -there was no love lost atween them; then her money -ran away. How it went at once I can’t make out. -Mr. Effingham seemed to have no end of it when he -married! Had we not each of us a warm winter’s -cloak, and Mr. Gray a silver inkstand! and did not -Mr. Effingham’s gentleman tell the clerk as how his -master was wondrous rich, and lived in a palace in -Lunnon, whose very stables were bigger than the -parsonage, and that he would spend as much at one -dinner as would build us a new church-tower! It’ll -be a mighty change to Miss Clemence,” soliloquized -the girl, her merry, good-humoured face assuming a -graver expression as she looked around her; “certain, -things are very different here from what they was -even in the captain’s cottage. She made everything -so pretty around her! But so she will here; we -shan’t know the place when she’s been here a month!” -quoth the light-hearted Martha, as she arranged -for the last time in a saucer of white crockery some -six or seven early violets discovered after much -search by the school-children at Stoneby, and sent as -tokens of affection to their former dear young teacher. -Surely the perfume of those wild-flowers would not -have been sweeter had they been placed in a vase of -Sèvres china!</p> - -<p class='c015'>The sun had now entirely disappeared, though a red -glow remained on the horizon. Martha became more -and more impatient. Even at the hazard of spoiling -the dinner, she could not help running to the little -broken gate at the end of the garden, to see if any -one were coming up the road.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Surely they’ll take the evening coach; Mr. Gray -must return in it to Stoneby, or he’ll not get back -to-night. ’Twill drop ’em just at the gate. Was -not that the sound of wheels? Yes! surely! and -there’s the coach turning the corner!—and—I’ve -never cut the bacon ready for frying, and the chicken -will be burned to a coal!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Back flew the little maid to her post of duty, busy, -bustling and happy as a bee in a clump of heather; -and she returned to the gate just in time to see Mr. -Gray bending from the top of the coach to give a -last word and blessing to Clemence, while Vincent -assisted, with more good-will than strength, to haul -down a corded box and portmanteau.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence stood for some moments with clasped -hands and swimming eyes, watching the coach as in -the darkening twilight it rattled away, bearing from -her the only friend upon earth who had given her -ready assistance and counsel in this her time of -adversity and trial. How gladly would she have -accompanied the pastor to the dear village where -her happy childhood had been spent! Vincent was -too busy to watch his step-mother. He felt as self-important -in charge of the luggage as if all the wealth -that his father had ever possessed had been intrusted -to his sole care.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Here, you—what’s your name, little girl!” he -cried to Martha, “just help me in with this box. Is -not the servant there to uncord it?” Clemence -turned at the sound of his voice, and her kindly -greeting to the smiling, curtsying Martha, first -announced to Vincent that the “little girl” was -actually the servant who was to comprise in herself -all the establishment of Willow Cottage.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Vincent was young and merry-hearted, and as he -helped to drag the portmanteau into the cottage, -and looked at its white-washed walls and bare floor, -so unlike everything to which he had been accustomed, -the idea of actually dwelling in such a place -struck him as irresistibly comic.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I say, mamma!” he exclaimed with a laugh, -“are we really to live in this nut-shell? How -amazed Aunt Selina would be could she see it! It’s -just like a gardener’s cottage!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“As we can’t turn the cottage into a palace to -suit Master Vincent,” said Clemence, with a desperate -attempt at cheerfulness, “suppose that Master -Vincent turn into a gardener to suit the cottage?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I think that I must turn into a great many -other things besides—cook, for instance,” he added, -as Martha placed the roasted chicken upon the -table; “I think that we must call that a <i>black -cock</i>!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence silenced the boy by a glance till the -poor girl had quitted the room, and then Vincent -laughingly exclaimed, “Why, I was making game -of the chicken, and not of the cook! but could we -not give her a hint not to roast a poor fowl to a -cinder next time?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence thought, “It will be long enough before -we have another fowl to roast!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Notwithstanding the inexperience of the cook, -Vincent, whose appetite was sharpened by fatigue -and cold, did ample justice to the feast which Mrs. -Gray had provided, and ate half of the chicken himself, -to say nothing of bacon and eggs. He vainly -endeavoured to induce his step-mother to follow his -example.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I say,” observed Vincent, busy with a wing, -“that girl is a capital servant, I dare say, and Mrs. -Ventner is not fit to hold a candle to her; but I -wish that she knew how to hold a candle to us! -Just see!—she has forgotten to bring us any, and -has left her own tallow dip, to ‘make darkness -visible,’ as papa would say.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“My dear boy,” replied Clemence quietly, “we -must not look for better light here, till we have the -sun himself as our candle.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“A <i>dip</i> into poverty; but we’ll <i>make light of -it</i>!” cried Vincent, the pun reconciling him to the -privation. Whether exhilarated by change of air, -or desirous to cheer his companion, the boy seemed -disposed to make a jest of every discomfort. There -was in him a buoyancy of spirit, an energy of will, -which had never appeared to such advantage in the -pampered child of the wealthy banker.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“But, I say, we must make ourselves a little -more comfortable!” cried Vincent; “the wind blows -through that window like a gale, and Martha has -forgotten to close the shutters!” Up he sprang to -remedy her negligence. “Why, there’s not a bit of -a shutter!” he exclaimed in surprise; “nothing at -all to keep the wind out!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I think that you will have to make some,” said -Clemence.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Make shutters!” exclaimed Vincent, look doubtful -at first whether to be pleased or disgusted, but -deciding at last on the former. “Well, it’s lucky -I brought my tool-box. I never did anything but -spoil wood as yet, but maybe I’ll turn out a capital -carpenter, if I mayn’t be a cook. I’ll saw away at -my shutters in the evening when I come back from -my studies.” Then in a softer tone Vincent went -on: “Won’t you be very dull here all alone during -the day? what will you do to amuse yourself -here?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I have provided myself, dear boy, with plenty -of occupation. I found, before we left London, -that you required new shirts, so I have brought a -supply of the material with me that I may make -them myself.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“You make my shirts!” exclaimed Vincent with -feeling; “well, I shall like them better than any -that ever I wore. I’m growing quite proud, you -see, now that I’ve such a lady for my needlewoman!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And I quite grand,” replied Clemence, with a -smile, “when I’ve such a gentleman for my carpenter!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>With such light conversation the weary, heart-stricken -wife strove to beguile the first evening in -Willow Cottage. Whatever her own secret sorrows -might be, she was resolved that they should not -sadden her intercourse with Vincent. It was a -pleasure to her to see the brave cheerfulness with -which he was preparing to do battle with difficulties. -With his bright eyes and ringing laugh, Vincent -was to his step-mother the impersonification of Hope. -And never had Clemence with more fervent thankfulness -pronounced the grace after meals, than in -that small, cold, and comfortless cottage, for which -she had exchanged all the luxuries of her splendid -mansion. She had resigned those luxuries for the -dearer one of eating her bread in peace, and with a -quiet mind, conscious of wronging none; and sweeter, -oh! how much sweeter, would be the poorest crust -partaken of thus, than all the dainties of a board at -which it were mockery to ask a blessing!</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch23' class='c008'>CHAPTER XXIII<br /> <br /><span class='small'>COTTAGE LIFE.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/v.jpg' width='100' height='171' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_4'> -Vincent was much too weary that night -to notice whether his bed were soft, and -slept in luxurious repose till the morning -light awoke him. Dressing quickly, he -entered the little parlour where Clemence -was preparing the breakfast. She greeted him with -a cheerful smile. “We have not the fatigue of -stairs here,” she observed.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And we’ve the advantage of hearing at one end -of the house everything that passes at the other,” -said Vincent;—“while I was dressing I did not -lose a note of the song that Martha was singing in -the kitchen. I think that there was an earthquake -last night, or else I dreamed that I felt one.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“It was a train passing,” said Clemence; “it -was too dark yesterday when we arrived for us to -notice how close to our house the line runs.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“So half-a-dozen times a day we’ll have the -earthquake of Lisbon, without paying our shilling—so -much to treat the ear; and as for the eye—is -there anything in the Royal Academy brighter than -that famous patch-work table-cover, which I see -displayed in all its glory? I’m sure that you are -determined to make our cottage gay with every -colour of the rainbow!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>The mind of Clemence was wandering to graver -subjects. How the anxious wife pined for a letter -with the foreign post-mark! It came not, and her -heart was full of uneasy forebodings, which she -struggled, however, to hide from her young companion. -Clemence even chatted merrily with the -boy, as, after herself putting up the dinner which -he was to carry with him to M——, she accompanied -him to the town, to introduce him to his -new master. Clemence was not aware that an -entrance fee had been required, still less that it had -been already paid from the slender purse of her -friend, Mr. Gray.</p> - -<p class='c015'>In quiet routine sped the lives of Clemence and -Vincent; the simple meal, the social prayer, the -reading the Word of consolation, ever preceding -hours of busy study to the one—to the other a long -day of quiet occupation and anxious thought. The -evening was always cheerful; Vincent returned -home full of all that had happened either to himself -or his companions, and made his step-mother laugh -at his tales out of school. She knew all the fun -that the boys had had at football, and the hopes of -a famous cricket-match to come off between M—— -and B——. With pleasant converse and plenty of -occupation, no wonder that Vincent cared not that -the evening meal was but a basin of porridge. The -pressure of poverty, indeed, fell far more heavily on -the lady, whose health had been much shaken by -sorrows, and who required the comforts which a -rigid sense of duty induced her to deny herself. -All her ingenuity was taxed to prevent Vincent -from feeling its weight. Little did he dream that -the fire which blazed so merrily in the evening was -never kept in during the day, that the small stock -of fuel might be husbanded; and that when the -chill of the parlour was no more to be endured, -Mrs. Effingham carried her work to the kitchen for -the sake of its kindly warmth. Little did he dream -how different the meal which was packed up so -neatly for him every morning, was from that which -his kind provider reserved for herself in the cottage, -till one day Vincent unexpectedly made his appearance -in the parlour two or three hours earlier than -usual.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“The academy’s broken up!” he cried, as he -entered, “and when we shall meet again no one can -say. There are three cases of scarlet fever amongst -the boys!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Not alarming ones, I trust?” said Clemence.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Vincent went on without appearing to notice the -question. “So I’d better begin the profession of -gardener at once, and learn about English roots -instead of Greek ones. As I knew I’d be back in -time for dinner, I gave my sandwiches away to a -beggar—I prefer something hot in such weather as -this! But how’s this?” he continued, seating himself -at the table: “you’ve come to your cheese-course -already!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Did you consider meat as a matter of course?” -said Mrs. Effingham playfully, as she cut a slice -of bread for her unexpected guest.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“You don’t mean to say that you are going to -dine upon nothing but bread and cheese?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence only smiled in reply.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And what was your dinner yesterday?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Nay, I am not going to let you into the secrets -of my establishment,” Mrs. Effingham gaily answered.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And the fire’s out!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“We shall try your skill in re-lighting it, dear -Vincent,” said his mother.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The boy gazed thoughtfully into her pale thin -face, and for the first time since he had come to -Willow Cottage, Vincent heaved a sigh. “Poverty -is a trial—a great trial,” was his silent reflection; -“but when I am old enough to earn my own living -and hers, she shall never know its bitterness more.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence regretted less the pause in her step-son’s -attendance at school, as the weather had become -unusually severe. Winter, who for a few -days had seemed on the point of yielding up his -empire to his smiling successor, now with fiercer -fury than ever resumed his iron sway. Standing-water -froze even within the cottage, the windows -were dim with frost, the little garden was one sheet -of snow, and even the postman made his way with -difficulty along the road. It was seldom that he -stopped at the gate of Willow Cottage, and he never -did so without sending a thrill of hope, not unmingled -with fear, through the bosom of Clemence -Effingham. The morning after the breaking up of -the academy he brought a letter for Vincent.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“It is Louisa’s hand,” called out the boy, as he -tramped back through the snow to the cottage door, -at which Clemence was impatiently waiting; “I’m -glad that she has answered my note at last. She -is such a lazy girl with her pen!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Come and read it comfortably by the fire,” said -his step-mother, concealing her own disappointment.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“<i>Pro bono publico</i>, I suppose, you and I being -all the public at hand.” Vincent threw himself -down in front of the cheerful blaze. “Now for a -young lady’s epistle—written on dainty pink paper -and perfumed—to be given with sundry notes and -annotations by the learned Vincent Effingham:—</p> - -<p class='c018'>“<span class='sc'>My dear Vincent</span>,</p> -<p class='c019'>“You ask me how I like our new house. What -a question! Beaumont Street after Belgrave Square! I feel as if I -were imprisoned in a band-box! [I wish she could see our cottage!] -Our grand piano blocks up half our sitting-room—a miserable relic -of grandeur, which only serves to incommode us, since none of us -have the heart to touch it. The furniture of the house is wretched—fancy -chintz-covered chairs and a horse-hair sofa! [Fancy rush-bottomed -chairs, and no sofa at all!] Aunt Selina is in shocking -spirits [<i>alias</i> temper], has not appetite for food [while we have not -food for our appetite], and is always painfully recurring to the past. -Our horse—you know we have now only one—has fallen lame [a -misfortune which can’t happen to us]; and, as Arabella says that -she detests walking, I am quite shut up in the house. It is dull work -looking out of the window, with nothing for view but the brick -houses on the opposite side of the street, scarce anything passing but -those wretched grinding organs which murder my favourite opera -airs! It is strange how our friends seem to have forgotten us: we -have hardly a visitor here. I suppose that this is caused by the -change in our position—which gives one a very bad opinion of the -world. But I hope that things may look brighter when this long, -miserable winter is past, and the London season commences.</p> - -<p class='c020'>“Pray give my love to dear Mrs. Effingham. I miss both her -and you very much. I am sure that she will let me know if she receives -any tidings of papa.”</p> - -<hr class='c021' /> - -<p class='c015'>“Well!” exclaimed Vincent, as he folded up the -note, and replaced it in its rose-tinted envelope, “I -would rather leave the world as we have done, than -find out that the world was leaving me!”</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch24' class='c008'>CHAPTER XXIV<br /> <br /><span class='small'>DARKNESS AND DANGER.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/a.jpg' width='100' height='182' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_1'> -As Martha on the next morning took in the -breakfast, she told her mistress with a -look of alarm that she had just heard -from the baker that the scarlet fever -was making rapid progress in M——. -Many had died from its effects; amongst them two -of the boys who had been attending classes in the -academy.</p> - -<p class='c015'>As Martha retailed her tidings, Clemence noticed -that Vincent turned pale.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Did you hear the boys’ names?” he asked -hastily.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I think, sir, as one was the curate’s eldest son.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Ah, poor Wilson!” exclaimed Vincent with -feeling; “and to think that but three days ago he -was sitting at my side, laughing and joking, as -strong and as merry as any boy in the school!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“They says,” observed Martha, always glad of an -opportunity to gossip,—“they says that the fever -be raging in a terrible way. There’s been three -children carried off in one house, and now the -mother’s a-sickening. The baker says ’tis just like -the plague; people die a’most before they’ve time -to know they be ill!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I wonder if my turn will come next,” said -Vincent, as Martha quitted the little parlour. “I -had the place next to Wilson in the class, and we -were wrestling together on the green. Oh, don’t -look so frightened,” he added more cheerfully, -“there’s nothing the matter with me now.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>He walked to the window and looked out, having -scarcely tasted his breakfast. “Did you ever see -such a day!” he exclaimed; “the snow falls, not -in flakes, but in masses! I don’t believe that the -coach will be able to run. There were three horses -to it yesterday; they could scarcely drag it along, -and snow has been falling ever since. One would -be glad of a little sunshine. I think that this -winter never will end!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Vincent remained so long listlessly watching the -snow, that Clemence at last suggested that he should -read to her a little, while she would go on with her -work. Vincent, with a yawn, consented; but -though the book had been selected for its power of -entertaining, this day it did not seem to amuse. -Vincent did not read with his wonted spirit, and -soon handed over the volume to Clemence.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Mrs. Effingham read a few pages, and then suddenly -stopping, looked uneasily at her boy. He -was leaning his brow on his hand, and closing his -eyes as if in thought or in pain.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“You are unwell, my Vincent!” she exclaimed.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Oh, I’m all right,” was the nonchalant reply.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“The death of his young companion has naturally -saddened his spirits. God grant that this depression -have no other cause!” was the silent thought of the -step-mother.</p> - -<p class='c015'>She read a little longer, and stopped again. “Indeed, -my son, you do not look well!” Clemence -rose and laid her hand upon his forehead—it was -feverish and hot to the touch.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Well, I do not feel quite as usual,” owned -Vincent, scarcely raising his heavy eyelids. “I’ve -such a burning feeling in my throat.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence’s heart sank within her; she knew the -symptom too well. Trembling with an agonizing -dread lest another fearful trial of submissive faith -might be before her, she yet commanded herself -sufficiently to say, in a tone that was almost cheerful, -“I see that I must exert my authority, and -order you off to bed.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Do you think that I have taken the fever?” -said Vincent, rising as if with effort.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Whether you have taken it or not, you can be -none the worse for a little precaution, and a little -motherly nursing,” she added, putting her arm -fondly around the boy.</p> - -<p class='c015'>As soon as Clemence had seen Vincent in his -room, she flew with anxious haste to the kitchen. -“Martha!” she cried, but in a voice too low to -reach the ear of her step-son, “you must go directly to -M—— for Dr. Baird. He lives in the white house -on the right, next the church. Beg him to come -without a minute’s delay; I fear that Master Vincent -has caught the fever! Go—no time must be lost!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>The kind-hearted girl appeared almost as anxious, -and looked more alarmed than her mistress. Having -repeated her directions, Clemence returned to -the small apartment of Vincent. He was sitting on -the side of his little bed, one arm freed from his -jacket, but apparently with too little energy to draw -the other out of its sleeve. His head was heavy -and drooping, and an unnatural flush burned on his -cheek. He passively yielded himself up to his step-mother’s -care, and soon was laid in his bed. Before -an hour had elapsed Vincent was in the delirium of -fever, the scarlet sign of his terrible malady overspreading -every feature!</p> - -<p class='c015'>How helpless Clemence felt in her loneliness then! -Not a human being near to suggest a remedy or -whisper a hope! She waited and watched for the -doctor, till impatience worked itself up to torture. -Why did he delay, oh, why did he delay, when life -and death might hang on his coming! A train -passed, and Clemence started, though by this time -well accustomed to the sound. Amongst all the -human beings—living, loving human beings—who -passed in it so close to her cottage, there was not -one to pity or to help—not one who could even -guess the anguish and danger overshadowing the -lone little dwelling!</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence’s only comfort was to weep and to pray -by the bed-side of her suffering boy. He could -neither mark her tears nor hear her prayers; he lay -all unconscious of the love of her who would so -gladly have purchased his life with her own.</p> - -<p class='c015'>At last hope came; there was a sound at the -door! With rapid but noiseless step Clemence -glided from Vincent’s room to meet the doctor so -anxiously expected. Martha stood at the threshold, -stamping off the snow which hung in masses to her -shoes. Bonnet, cloak, and dress were all whitened -with the storm; but notwithstanding the bitter -cold, heat-drops stood on the brow of the girl.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Is he coming?” gasped Clemence.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Martha burst into tears. “O ma’am, I’ve done -all that I could. I’ve been battling against it this -hour! I’m sure I thought I’d be buried in the -snow!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“The doctor!—the doctor!” cried Clemence, impatiently.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I could not get as far as M——. The way’s -blocked up with the snow. Sure, ma’am, I did my -best.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence clasped her hands almost in despair. -Then her resolution was taken. “Watch by my -son; do not quit him for an instant. I will go for -the doctor myself.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“It’s impossible! quite impossible!” cried the -girl. “I sank up to the knee every step. You’ll -be lost, oh, you’ll be lost in the snow!” Her last -words were unheard by Clemence, who had already -commenced her brief preparations for encountering -the storm.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Can love, strong as death, enable that slight, -fragile form to force its way through the piled -heaps of snow which block up and almost obliterate -the path? Can it give power to the young, delicate -woman to face such a blast as strips the forest -trees of their branches, and levels the young pines -with the sod? For a short space Clemence struggles -on, the fervour of her spirit supplying the deficiency -in physical strength; but every yard is gained by -such an effort, that she feels that her powers must -soon give way. She could as well try to reach -London as M——. In her agony she cries aloud—“O -my God! my God! have pity upon me!” and -when was such a cry, wrung from an almost breaking -and yet trusting heart uttered to the Father of -mercies in vain?</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence cast a wild gaze around her. Almost -parallel with the road, and at no great distance from -it, a long break in the wide dreary waste of snow -marked the course of the railway. Clemence turned -to the right, by instinct rather than reflection, made -her difficult way to the top of the bank, and gazed -down on the cutting below. Snow there was on it, -indeed, but the line of communication was too important -for it to be suffered to accumulate there in -such heaps as on the comparatively unfrequented -road. Within the tunnel itself all would, of course, -be clear. A desperate thought flashed on the soul -of Clemence. One way was open to her still,—a -way dark and full of terrors, but one by which -M—— might yet be gained, and assistance brought -to her suffering boy! She gave herself no time for -reflection, but scrambling, stumbling, slipping down -the bank, soon found herself on the side of the line, half -buried by the snow carried with her in her descent.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id002'> -<img src='images/i236.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p><span class='small'>ENTERING THE TUNNEL.<br />Page 237.</span></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence made a few steps, and then paused -and shuddered. Before her was the opening of the -tunnel—dark, dreadful as a yawning grave. Could -she venture to enter its depths—perhaps to be there -crushed beneath the next passing train? Were any -trains expected at this time? Clemence pressed her -forehead, and tried to remember. One she had -heard within the hour—of that at least she was -certain—the up-train to London, she believed. But -the state of the railway had delayed all traffic; and -it was impossible for Clemence to calculate exactly -the chances of a coming train. The idea of being -met or overtaken by one was too terrible for the -mind to dwell on. The risk was too great to be -run. Clemence, marvelling at her own temerity in -having entertained the thought for a moment, turned -round to go back to her home. But the sight of -her own lone cottage on the summit of the bank -made her hesitate once more. Before her mind -floated the image of her beloved boy dying for want -of that assistance which it might be in her power -to bring; then that of her husband in the anguish -of his grief for his own—his only son! Again -Clemence turned, her face almost as white as the -snow falling fast around her. Clasping her hands -in prayer, with her eyes raised for a moment to the -lowering sky above, she faintly murmured the words, -“<i>Though I walk through the valley of the shadow -of death I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me</i>;” -then rousing all her courage for the desperate attempt, -she entered the gloomy tunnel.</p> - -<p class='c015'>No lingering step there—no doubting, hesitating -heart! as with the painful duties which conscience -had before imposed upon her shrinking nature, Clemence -felt a necessity to <i>go through</i>, and through -as quickly as possible. She hastened on as rapidly -as the darkness would permit, guiding herself by -the wall, and the daylight at the end, which gleamed -before her like a large, pale star. The timid woman -wished to place, as soon as might be, such a distance -between herself and the spot where she had entered, -that she might feel it as dangerous to return as to proceed. -She sped on her way, scarcely daring to think, -keeping her eye on that increasing star, till it was -needful to pause to take breath. The air was thick, -clammy, and unwholesome—Clemence felt it like a -shroud around her, as she stood in that living grave. -“Oh, shall I ever be in daylight again?” she exclaimed, -with the horror of darkness upon her. Her -foot was on one of the iron lines; she thought that -she felt a vibration—was it not the wild fancy of -her excited brain? It was sufficient to make the -very blood seem to curdle in her veins, and to -absorb all her senses in the one act of listening.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Yes!—yes!—yes!—the low, distant rumble that -she knows too well,—it comes from behind, from -the London down-train; the horror of death is to -Clemence concentrated in each terrible moment, as, -almost petrified with fear, she turns round to gaze! -A fiery red eye gleams through the darkness; the -light from the entrance is almost blocked out; the -rumble becomes a hollow roar, ever growing louder -and louder; and, with a wild shriek of terror, Clemence -falls senseless to the earth!</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch25' class='c008'>CHAPTER XXV<br /> <br /><span class='small'>THE SEARCH.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/t.jpg' width='100' height='185' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_1'> -Three gentlemen are travelling from London -on that dreary wintry day. They occupy -the same carriage in the train, but are -personally unknown to each other. Two -of them, a lawyer and a railway director, soon -break through the cold reserve which marks -an English traveller. A proffered newspaper, a -remark on the weather, and they have launched -into the full tide of conversation on railway speculations, -foreign politics, and the future prospects of -the nation.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The third passenger, a grave and silent man, sits -in a corner of the carriage with his hat drawn low -over his brow, keeping company only with his own -thoughts, which seem to be of no agreeable nature. -The mind of Effingham—for it is he—is in harmony -with the gloomy, wintry scenes through which he is -passing. He has but yesterday arrived from France, -his case having been carried through the bankruptcy -court during his absence. He has this morning -had an interview in London with his daughters -and Lady Selina.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence’s decision in regard to the fortune so -carefully secured to her by her husband at the expense -of honour and conscience, had wakened a wild -tumult of feeling in the breast of the unhappy bankrupt. -Anger, shame, surprise, not unmingled with -secret approbation, had struggled together in Effingham’s -soul. Early impressions had been revived there—impressions -made when his young heart had been -guileless as his son’s was now, when he would have -shrunk from dishonour as from a viper, and have as -lief touched glowing metal as a coin not lawfully his -own! It had needed a long apprenticeship to the -world to efface these early impressions, or rather, -to render them illegible, by writing above them the -maxims of that wisdom which is foolishness with -God. Effingham was perhaps the more irritated -against his wife, because he had sufficient conscience -left to have a secret persuasion that she had only -done what was right—returned that to its lawful -possessors which never ought to have been hers. -The difficulty, rather the shame, which he felt in -expressing his feelings on the subject, had prevented -him from writing at all.</p> - -<p class='c015'>It was while still enduring this mental conflict—now -accusing Clemence of romantic folly, now condemning -himself on more serious grounds—that -Effingham, on his return from France, had a meeting -with Lady Selina. A visit to Beaumont Street, -under existing circumstances, was little likely to -soothe the proud man’s irritated feelings. Lady -Selina neglected nothing that could make him more -painfully aware of the change in the circumstances -of his family. She artfully sought to revenge herself -upon Clemence, by bringing that change before -the eyes of her husband, not as the result of his -own wild speculations, but as caused by the obstinate -folly of one who presumed to be more scrupulous -than her lord, and who followed her own -romantic fancies rather than the advice of experienced -friends. Arabella followed in the track of -her aunt; while Louisa’s drooping looks and tearful -eyes did more, perhaps, than the words of either, to -increase Effingham’s displeasure towards his wife. -He set out on his long journey to Cornwall full of -bitterness of spirit, attempting to turn the turbid -tide of emotion into any channel rather than that -of self-condemnation.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Effingham remained, therefore, moody and abstracted, -while his companions chatted freely together -on subjects of common interest, till the entrance of -the train into a tunnel caused that pause in conversation -which a change from light to sudden darkness -usually produces.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“What was that sound!” exclaimed Effingham.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“The whistle,” shortly replied his next neighbour, -immediately resuming his discourse with the -gentleman opposite, while Effingham relapsed into -silence.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“We must be nearly an hour behind time!” -observed the lawyer, looking at his watch by the -light of the lamp.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Impossible to keep to it—state of the roads—never -knew such a season!” was the director’s -reply. “You saw the signal as we passed; the -rest of the trains will be stopped; no more travelling -till the lines are cleared.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I hear that a stage-coach in the north had -actually to be dug out of the snow,” said the other.</p> - -<p class='c015'>As the observation was uttered, the train burst -again into the open daylight, and in a few minutes -more the black, hissing engine was letting out its -steam at the station of M——.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Effingham sprang out of the carriage, and proceeded -immediately to make inquiries as to the -direction of Willow Cottage. Hearing that the -distance was not great, and judging that it would -be less difficult to make his way over the snow on -foot than in any conveyance, he left his portmanteau, -with directions that it should be forwarded -after him, and set out at once for the cottage.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The snow-shower had ceased, and the wind was -on his back, therefore, though sinking deep at every -step, the strong man made his way through the -obstacles which had proved insurmountable to Clemence. -His thoughts were so painfully engaged, -that those obstacles were scarcely heeded. On he -pressed with gloomy resolution, making, however, -extremely slow progress, till, on passing a bend of -the road, he came in sight of the little lone cottage.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“It is impossible that Clemence can be living in -that miserable hovel; and yet, by the description, -the cottage can be none other than this!” exclaimed -Effingham, surveying the tenement with mingled -surprise and displeasure.</p> - -<p class='c015'>At this point the snow lay so thick on the path, -that Effingham found it very difficult to proceed; -but the goal was near, and by main strength he -forced his way over and through the drifted heaps. -Suddenly an object on the road before him arrested -his attention. Almost close to Clemence’s little -gate, a horse, which had fallen floundering amongst -the heavy masses, was struggling to his feet; and -his rider, whose shaggy great-coat, almost covered -with snow gave him the appearance of a Siberian -bear, was encouraging the efforts of the animal both -by voice and rein. Effingham redoubled his exertions, -in order to give aid to the stranger; but -before he could reach the spot, horse and horseman -had risen from the snow.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Thank you, sir; no harm done!” said the rider -to Effingham, patting the neck of his panting steed. -“No danger of broken bones with such a soft bed to -receive us. But I don’t see how I’m ever to get back -to M——. It’s unlucky, for I’ve plenty of patients -there anxious enough to see me. I was sent for -in great haste this morning by an old gentleman -who lives some way off. I expected to find him in -extremity, and it turned out to be nothing worse -than a fit of the gout! I wish that I’d prescribed -him a three miles’ ride through the snow!” The -doctor shook his broad shoulders and laughed.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“What will you do now?” said Effingham.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Do! I can neither get backward nor forward, -so I suppose I must stay where I am. Lucky -there’s that cottage so near; for though there’s no -sign up that I can see, doubtless I shall find in my -extremity ‘good entertainment for man and beast.’”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“The cottage, sir, is mine,” said Effingham stiffly; -then added, with his natural graceful politeness, “I -am sure that whatever accommodation it may afford -will be very much at your service.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Before the doctor had time to reply to one whose -appearance and demeanour so little corresponded -with that of his dwelling, Martha came running -breathlessly to the gate. “O sir, I’m so thankful -to see you!” she exclaimed; “but haven’t you -brought back my mistress with you?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Here’s a riddle to read!” cried the doctor gaily, -turning with a smile to Effingham; but the husband -had caught alarm from the anxious, excited face of -the servant.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“What’s the matter?” he sternly exclaimed.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Master Vincent is bad with the fever, and -mistress—surely, sir, she sent you here?” added -Martha, turning anxiously towards the doctor.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“No, my good girl, I’ve seen no lady.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Oh! mercy! mercy!” cried Martha, wringing -her hands; “then maybe she never got through -the tunnel!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“The tunnel!” exclaimed Effingham, with a -start of horror; “for mercy’s sake, girl, explain -yourself!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Master Vincent is ill, and mistress went herself -for the doctor,” replied the trembling Martha, terrified -both by his tone and his eye. “She could not -get on through the snow; I saw her slide down -the bank there; I saw her go into the tunnel.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>The words seemed to sear Effingham’s brain. -Without waiting to hear more, with the gesture -of a madman he rushed forward, as if impelled by -irresistible impulse, to fly to the succour of his -wife. Then he suddenly stopped, and called loudly -for a torch.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“There’s no torch, but,—but a lantern.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Bring it, for the love of Heaven!” cried the -miserable husband. The girl flew to obey, while -he stood almost stamping with fierce impatience, -as if every moment of delay were spent on the -rack.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“My dear sir,” began the compassionate doctor,—</p> - -<p class='c015'>He was interrupted by Effingham, who said, in a -hoarse, excited tone, “My boy, she says, is ill. -Providence has brought you here; see to him—save -him! I—I have a more terrible mission to -perform! O God! preserve my brain from distraction!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Martha brought the lantern after a brief absence, -which seemed to the husband interminable. He -snatched it from her hand, with the question, which -his bloodless lips had hardly the power to articulate, -“Did any train pass after she left this place?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Yes; <i>one</i>!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Without uttering another word Effingham sprang -forward on his fearful quest.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The snow displaced on the top of the bank and -down its side, and the scattered flakes on the cutting -below, served but as too sure guides. To -plunge down the steep descent was the work of -a moment. Effingham was now upon the line -where not two hours previously Clemence had stood -and trembled. The blackness of the opening before -him recalled to him, with a sense of unutterable -horror, the cry which had pierced his ear in the -tunnel. Effingham loved his young wife—fondly, -passionately loved. If any emotion of displeasure -towards her were remembered in that awful hour, -it was but to intensify the anguish of remorse. He -felt himself to be a wretch marked by the justice -of Heaven for the keenest torment that mortal -can bear and live. Loss of fortune, friends, fame—what -was all that to the misery which he might -now be doomed to endure! He might find her—his -loved, his beautiful Clemence, the pride of -his life, the treasure of his heart—oh, how he -might find her he dared not think. On he -pressed, the dim light from his lantern gleaming -on the cold iron below, the stony walls, the damp, -dripping roof; but there was yet no sign of a -human form.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Effingham called aloud. The dreary arches resounded -with the much-loved name; their hollow -echoes were the only reply. There! surely there -is some object dimly seen through the gloom,—a -dark mass lying straight before him! With one -bound Effingham is beside it, on his knees, trembling -like an aspen, then sobbing like a child! That -is no crushed and mangled form that he clasps; -cold, indeed, and still, it lies in his arms, but there -is breath on the lip and pulsation in the heart. -“She lives! God be praised, she lives!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Yes, she lives; but the miseries and terrors of -the past have shattered the health of Clemence -Effingham. Borne by her husband back to the -cottage, for weeks she remains helpless, unconscious, -hovering on the brink of eternity—while the lesson -of penitence, submission, humility, is branded as -by fire on the heart of her lord. It is now that -the world appears to Effingham, even as it may -appear to us all in the light of the last great day:—its -treasures, dross; its distinctions, bubbles; its -pleasures, a vanishing dream. Now, by the side -of his suffering wife, Effingham prays as he prayed -when a boy over the grave of a cherished parent; -he bows at the foot of the Cross, even as the publican -bent in the Temple, feeling himself unworthy so -much as to lift up his eyes unto heaven. Dare he -ask that a wife so precious may be spared,—that -his guardian angel may delay her upward flight, to -linger yet in a vale of tears, that she may trace -with him, through that dark vale, the strait path -to a promised heaven? The heart of the once -proud Effingham is broken and contrite now; like -the lost coin in the parable, that which was once -hidden in the defiling dust of earth is raised again -to the light, and the image and superscription of a -heavenly King is found to be stamped upon it still.</p> - -<p class='c015'>When Clemence awoke from her state of lethargic -unconsciousness, the soft breath of spring came wooingly -through the casement, sweet with the perfume -of violets, and musical with the song of birds. -Young Vincent, pale from recent illness, sat at the -foot of her bed, watching, with a face radiant with -delight, the first sign of recognition. And whose -was the countenance that bent over her with joy -more still, but even more intense? whose hand so -tenderly clasped hers? whose voice breathed her -name in tones of the deepest love? That was a -moment whose exquisite bliss repaid the anguish of -the past. The darkness of night had indeed rolled -away,—the dreary winter was ended; Clemence was -beginning, even upon earth, to reap the harvest of -light and gladness sown for the upright in heart, -who have not chosen their portion here.</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch26' class='c008'>CHAPTER XXVI<br /> <br /><span class='small'>A CONTRAST.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/s.jpg' width='100' height='217' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_0'> -Seven years have flowed on their silent -course since the events recorded in the last -chapter took place, and we will again -glance at Clemence Effingham in the same -humble abode. Its aspect, however, is so -greatly altered, that at first we shall scarcely recognize -it. Its size has been enlarged, though not considerably, -and the rich blossoming creepers have -mantled it even to the roof, reversing the image of -the poet, by “making the <i>red</i> one <i>green</i>,” and -rendering the dwelling an object of beauty to the -eye of every passing traveller. The little garden is -one bed of flowers, radiant with the fairest productions -of the spring. If we enter the fairy abode, we -find ourselves in a sitting-room which, though small, -is the picture of neatness and comfort. A refined -taste is everywhere apparent; and there are so many -little elegant tokens of affection—framed pictures, -worked cushions, and vases filled with bright and -beautiful flowers—that we could rather fancy that -one of earth’s great ones, weary of state, had chosen -this for a rural retreat, than that stern misfortune -had driven hither a bankrupt and his ruined family.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence, looking scarcely older than when she -left her first, splendid abode—for peace and joy -seem sometimes to have power to arrest the changing -touch of Time—is seated at the open door. -Perhaps she sits there to enjoy the soft evening -breeze which so gently plays amongst her silky -tresses, or she is watching for the return of her husband -and Vincent from their daily visit to M——. -Effingham, through the exertions of Mr. Gray, has -procured a small office in the town—one which, -some years ago, he would have rejected with contempt, -but the duties of which he now steadily performs, -thankful to be able, by honest effort, to earn -an independence, however humble. Vincent still -pursues his studies at the academy, paying his own -expenses by private tuition, and is regarded as the -most gifted scholar that M—— has ever been able -to boast of.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence is not alone—a lovely little golden-haired -girl is beside her, helping, or seeming to help -her mother to fasten white satin bows upon a delicate -piece of work, so light and fragile in fabric that -it might have appeared woven by fairies. It is a -wedding gift for Louisa, and will be dearly valued -by the bride.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And, mamma dear,” said the child, looking up -into the smiling face of Clemence, “is there not -something that I could send to sister too?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“The wild-flowers which you gathered this morning, -my darling, in the meadow.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Oh, but won’t they all die on the way?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“We will press them in a book first, to dry them, -and then they will look lovely for years.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Poor flowers—all crushed down!” sighed little -Grace.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Only preserved,” said Clemence; and her words -carried a deeper meaning to herself than that which -reached the mind of the child.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I wish I were rich—very rich!” cried little -Grace, after a silent pause.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“And what would my May-blossom do with her -riches?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I would send a cake—such a cake—to sister!” -replied Grace, opening her little arms wide to give -an idea of its size; “and it should be sugared all -over!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Anything else?” inquired Clemence.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I’d make dear Vincy happy—quite happy. He -wants so much to go to college and be a clergyman, -like Mr. Gray, and teach all the people to be good; -but he says that he has not the money. Mamma, -don’t you wish you had plenty of money?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“No, my love,” replied Clemence, more gravely, -parting the golden locks on the brow of her little -daughter.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Martha told me,” said Grace, with the air of -one in possession of an important secret—“Martha -told me that once you had a grand house, and a -carriage, and horses, and servants, and dresses—oh, -such fine dresses to wear!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Long, long ago,” replied Clemence.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Was it when you lived with your dear old -uncle, who gave you the pretty little locket which -always hangs round your neck?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“No; I lived very happily with him in a cottage -not much larger than this.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Little Grace remained for some moments twirling -the white ribbon round her tiny fingers, with a look -of thought on her innocent face; then she said reverently,—</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Mamma, did God take away your money?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Yes, dearest; in wisdom and love.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“But if you asked Him—if you prayed very -hard—would He not give it all back to you -again?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I should not dare to pray for it, my Grace; I -should not dare even to <i>wish</i> for it again. I have -been given blessings so much dearer, so much -sweeter”—and she stooped to press a kiss on the -soft, fair brow of her child. “God has taught me -that what makes His people happy is not wealth, -but religion and peace and love. I have had more -real joy in this little cottage than I ever knew in -my large and beautiful home. But, see! there are -your father and brother! Quick, quick—run forward -to meet them, or the first kiss will not be -yours!”</p> - -<hr class='c022' /> - -<p class='c015'>We turn from the sunshine of Willow Cottage to -the shady side of the narrow street in which Lady -Selina and her nieces for years have made their -abode. How have those years sped with the woman -of the world?</p> - -<p class='c015'>They have sped in the constant pursuit of pleasure, -grasping at shadows, seeking satisfying joys -where such are never to be found; in straining to -“keep up appearances,” efforts to dress as well, entertain -as well as those whose fortunes greatly exceeded -her own; in paying by the self-denial of a -month for the ostentatious display of a night; in -exchanging rounds of formal visits with acquaintance -who would not shed a tear, or forego an hour’s -mirth, were she to-morrow laid in her grave. Lady -Selina feels her strength decaying, but by artificial -aids she attempts to hide the change from others—by -wilful delusion from herself. She would ignore -sickness, ignore trial, ignore death! And yet, in -hours of solitude and weakness, truth, however unwelcome, -will sometimes force its way; and those -whose <i>all</i> is contained within the hour-glass of Time -are constrained to watch the sands ever flowing, to -see below the accumulating heap of infirmities, -troubles, and cares, and mark above the hollow, inverted -cone of ever-lessening pleasures. How miserable, -then, is the reflection, that no mortal hand can -restore a single grain, and that, when the last runs -out, nothing will remain but the grave, and the -dark, awful future beyond it.</p> - -<p class='c015'>But Lady Selina spares no effort to banish such -reflections. It is but recently that she has even -mustered courage sufficient for the performance of -the necessary duty of making her will, leaving her -small property to her nephew, Vincent; perhaps as -a salve to her conscience for utterly neglecting him -during her lifetime. Lady Selina is less willing -than she ever was before to fix her meditations on -death or the grave. She will struggle on to the -last, laden with the vanity which distracts, the prejudice -which distorts, the malice which corrodes the -mind. Her temper has become very irritable, for -which her infirmities may offer some excuse; but her -peevish nervousness serves to imbitter the lives of -the two sisters who have chosen her dwelling as -their own.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The haughty Arabella has suffered not less acutely, -though more silently than her aunt, from the change -in their outward circumstances; but she wraps herself -up in selfishness and pride, and though she often -finds her present life painful and mortifying, deems -it more tolerable than one spent in a cottage, with -Clemence Effingham for a companion.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The case is somewhat different with her sister. -There have been times when, wearied with a round -of amusements, longing for gentle sympathy and -affection, wounded by the peevishness of her aunt, -or the selfish indifference of Arabella, Louisa has -felt almost disposed to accept reiterated invitations -to Willow Cottage, and has half resolved to cast in -her lot with those nearest and dearest to her heart. -But she is like some fluttering insect, caught in the -double web of her own habitual love of pleasure and -the influence of worldly relatives. Lady Selina -ever represents Cornwall as an English Siberia, a -desolate wild, in which existence would be perfect -stagnation. She paints the gloom which must surround -the dwelling of a ruined, disappointed man, -till Louisa actually regards her indulgent father with -feelings approaching to fear. Arabella is indignant -if her sister even alludes to the subject of any change -in her arrangements; so, enchained by indolence, -folly, and fear, Louisa quietly resigns herself to a -position which is often painful as well as unnatural. -Her father’s kindness permits her a choice; her choice -is to remain where pleasure may be found. Her -longing for happiness is unsatisfied still, but it is -at the world’s broken cisterns that she seeks to -quench the thirst of an immortal soul.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Lady Selina’s ambition is now concentrating itself -on one object. Her nieces must form brilliant alliances—they -must be united to men of fortune and -rank, and in their homes she must find once more -the luxury, grandeur, and importance which she once -enjoyed in that of their father. The wish so long -indulged, and scarcely concealed, appears now to be -on the point of partial fulfilment. Sir Mordaunt -Strange has offered his hand to Louisa; it has been, -after some hesitation, accepted, and every letter to -the cottage from Lady Selina is full of encomiums on -the character, manner, and appearance of the “Intended,” -and of felicitations on the happy prospects -opening before the young bride elect.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Mr. Effingham and his son are to be present at -the wedding. Clemence would fain accompany them -to London, for her heart yearns over Louisa, and the -very praise so lavishly bestowed upon Sir Mordaunt -by Lady Selina excites misgivings in the step-mother’s -breast. Prudential motives and other obstacles, -however, prevent Clemence from accomplishing her -wish.</p> - -<p class='c015'>We shall glance for a moment at Louisa, as she -stands before a pier-glass in the drawing-room of her -aunt, trying on her bridal veil and wreath of white -orange-blossoms. A milliner is adjusting the spray -which is to fall on the fair girl’s graceful neck.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Stay for a moment,” says Lady Selina, walking -towards the bride with a feeble step (for she is -infirm, though she will not own it, and was more -fit for her couch last night than for the gay assembly -at which she appeared); “Sir Mordaunt’s beautiful -diamond spray will make the <i>coiffure</i> complete,” -and she draws from its case a sparkling ornament, -which she places upon the brow of her niece. -“Look, Arabella, could anything be more charming? -The dear child is <i>mise à peindre</i>!”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Louisa glances into the mirror with a smile and -a blush. It is chiefly by working upon her vanity -that her aunt has obtained such influence over her -weak and ill-regulated mind. It is an hour of pride -to the maiden. About to change her name for a -title—her present small abode for a luxurious house -of her own—receiving congratulations from every -quarter—her table covered with splendid gifts—rich -jewels glittering on her fair brow—her childish -heart is elated, and for the instant she believes herself -happy. But why, while the blush heightens on -her cheek, has the smile entirely disappeared? Why -is the feeling of momentary elation succeeded by -misgiving and gloom? The door has opened, and -the bride elect sees reflected in the mirror beside her -own image that of another. She sees a face, not -plain, but unpleasing—not coarse in its outlines, but -hard in its expression; she sees him whom she is -about to pledge herself to love, honour, and obey -yet whom she regards with indifference—happy if -indifference be not one day exchanged for fear, mistrust, -and aversion! Louisa Effingham has for the -second time made the world her deliberate choice. -House, carriage, title, jewels, estate,—for such -baubles as these will she, a few days hence, in the -presence of God and man, bind herself to one whom -she loves not, whom she never can learn to love! -Slave to a proud and capricious tyrant, her home -will be but a luxurious prison, and the unhappy -wife will bitterly rue the day when she sold herself -to a bondage more intolerable than that under which -the poor African groans!</p> - -<p class='c015'>This is the crowning sacrifice to which the world -dooms its willing slaves. The poor victim goes -crowned to the altar; friends smile, relations congratulate, -and admiring spectators applaud. Who -would then whisper of a galling yoke, a wounded -spirit, a breaking heart; who would whisper that -the gold circlet on the finger may be but the first -link in a heavy chain? Moloch’s shrieking victims -were soon destroyed in the flames;—more wretched -the fate of those whose slow-consuming pangs make -life itself one long sacrifice of woe!</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch27' class='c008'>CHAPTER XXVII<br /> <br /><span class='small'>PASSING AWAY.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/l.jpg' width='100' height='205' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_1'> -Lady Selina had succeeded in making “a -most eligible marriage” for one of her -nieces, but she speedily discovered that -she had by no means effected her chief -object, that of securing a home for herself. -“I am married to Louisa, and not to her family,” -said Sir Mordaunt, not long after the wedding, and -his conduct to his wife’s relations accorded with the -spirit of his words.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Lady Selina was bitterly disappointed and deeply -wounded. The failure of her most cherished project -preyed on her spirits, and probably shortened her -life. The base ingratitude of mankind, the emptiness -of all earthly hopes, became the constant topic -of her conversation. But though she could rail -against the world in her hours of depression, it was -still her most cherished idol. Dagon might be -broken, its fair proportion and beauty all destroyed, -but the mutilated stump was enthroned on its -pedestal of pride, to be honoured and worshipped -still!</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Arabella, my dear,” said Lady Selina, as one -morning she appeared in the breakfast-room at a -late hour, wrapped in her dressing-gown, and shivering -as if with cold—“Arabella, my dear, I feel so -ill, that I wish that you would write and ask the -doctor to call.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Arabella was seated at her desk. She had not -risen on the entrance of her aunt, nor did she think -it in the least necessary to bear her company at her -lonely meal. Lady Selina, with a shaking hand, -helped herself to some tea, but left the cup unemptied, -its contents were so bitter and cold.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I suppose,” said Arabella carelessly, without -looking up from her writing, “that you’ll not go to -the countess’s to-night?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I fear I am not equal to the effort, though I -was very anxious to be there.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Then, when the note goes to the doctor, William -can take one at the same time to Lady Praed, to -ask her to chaperon me to the concert.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“If you wish it,” replied the lady faintly. -“Would you be so good, my dear, as to close that -window? the cold seems to pierce through my -frame.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Cold! nonsense, aunt! How can you talk of -cold on such a grilling morning as this? If I were -to keep the window shut we should be stifled, -there’s not a breath of air in this hot, narrow -street.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Lady Selina was too weak and languid to dispute -the point with her niece; she only sighed, -shivered, and drew her wrapper closer around her.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The day was a long, weary one to Lady Selina; -she spent it chiefly in peevish complainings, to -which the only listeners were her medical man and -her maid. Towards evening, however, she rallied; -and Arabella was surprised on descending to the -drawing-room, to await the arrival of Lady Praed, to -find Lady Selina there, also ready attired for the -concert. What mocking brilliancy appeared in the -diamonds which gleamed beside those ghastly and -withered features! How ill the robe of amber satin -beseemed the shrunken form that wore it! The -painful incongruity, however, did not attract the -attention of Arabella.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“I wish, aunt, that you knew your own mind,” -she said impatiently to Lady Selina; “if you were -determined to go yourself, there was no need to ask -a favour of Lady Praed. I really don’t see now -how we are to manage; we have not ordered our -own carriage, and there will not be room in hers -for three. My new dress will be crushed to a -mummy!” and the young lady shook out the -rustling folds with a very dissatisfied air.</p> - -<p class='c015'>Whether in consideration to Arabella’s <i>moire -antique</i>, or (as is more probable) from feeling herself, -when the moment for decision arrived, quite unable -to go to the party, Lady Selina, on Lady Praed’s -calling for her niece, finally determined on remaining -behind. Arabella did not conceal her satisfaction, -and passed her evening gaily amongst a fashionable -throng, without giving even a thought to the poor -invalid, except when inquiries concerning her health -were made as a necessary form, and answered with -careless unconcern.</p> - -<p class='c015'>It was midnight when Arabella returned. The -servant, as she entered the house of her aunt, addressed -her with the words, “Her ladyship has not -yet gone to her room.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Not gone to rest yet! that’s strange!” cried -Arabella; and with rather a quickened step she proceeded -at once to the room in which she had left -Lady Selina.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The candles had burned down to their sockets; -the light of one had died out, and only a curling -line of dark smoke issued from the fallen wick; -the other cast around its dull, yellow light, revealing -to the eye of Arabella a scene which even her proud, -cold spirit could not contemplate without a sensation -of horror.</p> - -<p class='c015'>A form still sat upright in its high-backed, cushioned -chair,—a form attired in amber satin, and -adorned with magnificent gems; but the ghastly hue -of death was on the brow, the glaze of death on the -dull, fixed eye, the hand hung down motionless and -stiff. Arabella uttered a faint cry, for the first -glance was sufficient to reveal to her the terrible -truth—she was gazing on the corpse of Lady Selina!</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='ch28' class='c008'>CHAPTER XXVIII<br /> <br /><span class='small'>CONCLUSION.</span></h2> -</div> -<div class='c014'> - <img class='drop-capi' src='images/o.jpg' width='100' height='181' alt='' /> -</div><p class='drop-capi1_1'> -Once again we will pass over seven years—their -lights and shades, their joys and their -sorrows—and join on their path over the -fresh green-sward, bright with dew-drops -that glitter in the sunshine, a party on their -way to an ivy-mantled church. We recognize at a -glance the tall, manly form of Effingham, though -there are now deeper lines on his features, and -broader streaks of silver in his hair. Perhaps we -may also trace in his countenance an expression of -thought more subdued and earnest,—the expression -of one who has known much of the trials of life, but -who has had the strength to rise above them,—an -expression brightening into cheerfulness whenever -his gaze is bent on the gentle partner who rests on -his arm.</p> - -<p class='c015'>The face of Clemence can never lose its charm, -for it wears <i>the beauty of holiness</i>,—that beauty -which time has no power to wither, and eternity itself -can but perfect. Grace is at her mother’s side, -a bright and blooming girl, whose type may be -found in the fragrant blush-rose which she has -culled in passing from the spray.</p> - -<p class='c015'>But whose is the drooping form, clad in widow’s -attire, which Mr. Effingham supports with the gentle -tenderness of compassion? It is a bruised reed, a -withered blossom,—one over which the harrow has -passed—one which the rude foot has trodden down. -Louisa, broken-spirited and weary of the world, has -come to seek rest in her father’s home, as a wandering -bird, pierced by the shaft of the fowler, with -quivering wing and ruffled down flies back to the -shelter of its nest.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Mother!” exclaimed Grace, “you once told me -that you had but one great earthly wish unfulfilled, -and that was to see our dear Vincent in the pulpit, -preaching the gospel of peace. That last wish will -be gratified to-day, mother; are you now quite -happy?”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“As happy, I believe, as a mortal can be on this -side heaven,” replied Clemence; and the beaming -sunshine in her blue eyes, as she raised them for a -moment towards the calm sky, expressed more even -than her words.</p> - -<p class='c015'>“That Vincent should ever have devoted himself -to the ministry, giving his whole heart to its duties, -is mainly owing, I believe,” said Mr. Effingham, -“to the influence of your mother.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>“Oh! Vincent always says,” exclaimed Grace, -“that he was the most wayward and wilful of boys, -and that any good that he may ever do in this world -is owing to her prayers and example.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Effingham bent down his head, so that his voice -should reach the ear of his wife alone,—“Vincent’s -father has yet more cause,” he murmured, “to bless -those prayers and that example.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Clemence entered the church with a heart so full -of gratitude, peace, and love, that there seemed left -in it no room for a worldly care or an earthly regret. -Through infirmity, weakness, and sorrow, she had -humbly endeavoured to follow her Lord, and He had -led her from darkness to light,—He had turned -even her trials into blessings. Had she resigned -wealth in obedience to His will? He had made -poverty itself the channel by which the riches of -His grace had been freely poured into her bosom. -In poverty her husband’s affection had deepened,—that -affection which, for the sake of conscience, she -had hazarded to weaken or to lose; in poverty her -son, removed from evil influence, had learned lessons -of self-denial, faith, and love, which would make -him her <i>joy and crown</i> through the ages of a blissful -eternity; in poverty her own character had been -strengthened,—she had learned more fully, more -submissively to trust the love of her heavenly -Father: and now her cup overflowed with blessings,—blessings -which she need not fear freely to enjoy; -for it was the smile of her Lord that had changed -the waters of bitterness to the wine of gladness; it -was from His hand that she had received her treasures—and -those treasures were <i>not</i> her idols.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c005'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Whatever comes between the soul and Christ, the Fount of Light</div> - <div class='line in2'>Must cast a shadow on the soul, how fair soe’er it seem.</div> - <div class='line'>Yet need we not resign earth’s choicest blessings,—all is bright</div> - <div class='line in2'>When what we love <i>obstructs not</i> but <i>reflects</i> the heavenly beam.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='figcenter id006'> -<img src='images/cover-back.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<p class='c015'> </p> - -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<hr /> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> - -<div class='tnbox'> - - <ul class='ul_1 c003'> - <li>Transcriber’s Notes: - <ul class='ul_2'> - <li>Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected. - </li> - <li>Typographical errors were silently corrected. - </li> - <li>Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only when a predominant - form was found in this book. - </li> - </ul> - </li> - </ul> - -</div> -<p class='c015'> </p> - -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IDOLS IN THE HEART***</p> -<p>******* This file should be named 60486-h.htm or 60486-h.zip *******</p> -<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> -<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/6/0/4/8/60486">http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/4/8/60486</a></p> -<p> -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed.</p> - -<p>Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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