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diff --git a/old/64252-0.txt b/old/64252-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0017ad8..0000000 --- a/old/64252-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7766 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Only an Ensign, Volume 1 (of 3), by James -Grant - -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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Only an Ensign, Volume 1 (of 3) - A Tale of the Retreat from Cabul - -Author: James Grant - -Release Date: January 10, 2021 [eBook #64252] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Al Haines - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ONLY AN ENSIGN, VOLUME 1 (OF -3) *** - - - - - ONLY AN ENSIGN - - A Tale of the Retreat from Cabul. - - - BY JAMES GRANT, - - AUTHOR OF "THE ROMANCE OF WAR," "FIRST LOVE AND LAST LOVE," - "LADY WEDDERBURN'S WISH," ETC. - - - - IN THREE VOLUMES. - - VOL. I. - - - - "Come what come may, - Time and the Hour runs through the roughest day."--_Macbeth._ - - - - LONDON: - TINSLEY BROTHERS, 18, CATHERINE ST., STRAND. - 1871. - [_All Rights Reserved._] - - - - - LONDON: - BRADBURY, EVANS, AND CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. - - - - -PKEFACE. - -To have entered, more fully than I have done, into the events and -fighting prior to the Retreat from Cabul, would have proved -unsuitable for the purpose of my story, and for these events I must -refer the reader to history or the newspapers of the time. - -An officer of the Queen's 44th Regiment escaped death in the Khyber -Pass in the mode narrated in its place, by wrapping the regimental -colour round him; and strange and varied as the adventures of Captain -Waller may appear, after the last fatal stand was made by our troops, -some such incidents actually occurred to a Havildar of the Shah's -Ghoorka Regiment, after its complete destruction in Afghanistan, so -there is much that is real woven up with my story. - -Fiction, according to Sir Francis Bacon, infuses in literature that -which history denies, and in some measure satisfies the mind with -shadows, when it cannot enjoy the substance--the shadows of an ideal -world. "Art is long and life is short, so we do wisely to live in as -many worlds as we can." - - 25, TAVISTOCK ROAD, WESTBOURNE PARK, - _August_, 1871. - - - - - - CONTENTS. - - CHAP. - - I.--THE TIME WILL COME - II.--RHOSCADZHEL - III.--THE ALARM BELL - IV.--POWDERED WITH TEARS - V.--PORTHELLICK VILLA - VI.--RICHARD'S MYSTERY - VII.--LADY LAMORNA - VIII.--THE BROKEN CIRCLE - IX.--FOREBODINGS - X.--THE LONELY TARN - XI.--CONCERNING FLIRTATION - XII.--THE PIXIES' HOLE - XIII.--THE TIDE IN! - XIV.--LOST - XV.--THE SEARCH - XVI.--INTELLIGENCE AT LAST - XVII.--THE TRECARRELS - XVIII.--HE LOVES ME TRULY - XIX.--THE GREATER SORROW - XX.--A FAMILY GROUP - XXI.--HUMILIATION - XXII.--"MRS. GRUNDY" - XXIII.--A LEGAL "FRIEND" - XXIV.--THE DOCTRINE OF CHANCES - XXV.--MISCONCEPTION - XXVI.--REVERSES - XXVII.--ALONE! - - - - -ONLY AN ENSIGN. - - - -CHAPTER I. - -THE TIME WILL COME. - -"_Le jour viendra_--it is the motto of our family--given to us by -Henry VI. 'The day will come,'" said old Lord Lamorna, proudly, as -he lay back in his easy chair, with his elbows resting on the arms -thereof, and the tips of his upraised fingers placed together, as if -he was about to pray; "and most applicable is that motto to you, -nephew Richard, for I am sure that when you are my age you will -regret not having taken my advice." - -Richard Trevelyan smiled, but looked somewhat uneasily at his younger -brother Downie. - -"You are too rich to throw yourself away, and too well-born even for -the most highly accomplished daughter of a cotton-lord, or knighted -mill-owner," resumed his stately old uncle, sententiously; "a fellow -knighted too probably for dirty ministerial work; but assume a virtue -if you have it not, and let us see you----" - -"Excuse me, my lord--excuse me, my dear uncle. I have no desire -to--to marry; why you--yourself----" - -"Don't cite me, Richard. You are only forty-three, if so much" (and -here, for the information of our young lady readers, we may mention -that Richard is not the hero of these pages). "I am past seventy, -yet I may marry yet, and do you all out of the title," added Lamorna, -with a laugh like a cackle. - -"My brother Dick is certainly the most listless of men," said Downie, -as he selected some grapes with the embossed scissors, and filled his -glass with chateau d'Yquem. - -"I don't think that I am so," retorted Richard. - -"Downie is right," said Lord Lamorna. "Why do you not go into -Parliament?--I have two snug pocket boroughs here in Cornwall--and on -one hand attack routine and red-tapeism like a Radical; on the other -hand, denounce retrenchment and cowardly peace-at-any-price, like a -Tory of the old school. You would certainly be popular with both -parties by that _rôle_, and do good to the country at large." - -"I have no turn for politics, uncle." - -"Diplomacy then--many of our family have figured as diplomats; I was -ambassador to Russia, after Waterloo, and in the olden time more than -one of our family have been so to the Courts of Scotland, France, and -Brandenburg; and I trust we all refuted the axiom of Sir Henry -Wotton, 'that an ambassador was an honest man sent abroad to lie for -the good of his country.'" - -"I have no taste for diplomacy." - -"What the devil _have_ you a taste for?" asked his uncle, testily; -"not domestic life, as I can't get you to marry, like Downie here; -and you soon left the army, or tired of Her Majesty's service." - -Richard flushed for a moment, and held his full wine glass between -him and the light, as if to test the colour and purity of its -contents. - -"I know what bachelor London life is--another style of thing, of -course, from yours, Downie--that which someone calls the hard-working -life, which begins at two P.M. one day, and ends at four A.M. next -morning. There are the parks; the club, with its bow-window; -flirtations at balls and assemblies; the opera, and parties to -Greenwich; and then there is the darker picture of doing business -with old Messrs. Bill Stamp and Cent.-per-Cent., in some dingy little -den off the Strand. A bad style of thing it is to meddle with the -long-nosed fellows in the discounting line; just as bad as--and often -the sequence to--running after actresses or opera-singers. You may -love them if you like; but, great Heavens! never stoop to the madness -of committing matrimony with any of them, or for a moment forget the -family to which you belong, and the ancient title that is your -inheritance." - -All this was said with undisguised point and pomposity; the cold grey -eyes of Downie Trevelyan had a strange, sour smile in them; and -Richard's face grew more flushed than ever now. - -Dinner was over in the stately dining-room of Rhoscadzhel; Mr. Jasper -Funnel, the portly, florid, and white-haired butler, had placed the -glittering crystal decanters before his master, who, with two -nephews, Richard and Downie Trevelyan, were lingering over their -wine; while in the western light of a September evening, through the -tall plate-glass windows that reached from the richly-carpeted floor -to the painted and gilded ceiling, the Isles of Scilly--the -Casserites of the Greeks, the rocks consecrated by the pagan Cornavi -to the Sun--could be seen at the far horizon, literally cradled in -the golden blaze of his setting in the sea; for the house of -Rhoscadzhel, in which our story opens, stands near the Land's End, in -the brave old Duchy of Cornwall. - -Audley Trevelyan, tenth Lord Lamorna, took his title from that little -bay or cove which was one of the most romantic spots on the bluff -Cornish coast, until it was unfortunately selected by certain -utilitarian speculators as a site for granite works; and near it is a -place called the Trewoofe, a triple entrenchment having a -subterranean passage, wherein Launcelot Lord Lamorna, with some other -Cornish cavaliers, hid themselves in time of defeat from the troopers -of Fairfax, as the tourist may find duly recorded in his "John -Murray." - -He was in his seventieth year; pale in face and thin in figure, and -with his accurate evening costume, for his valet always dressed him -for dinner even when alone, the old peer in every gesture and tone -displayed the easy bearing of a polished man of the world, and of the -highest bearing--keen but cold, calm and unimpressionable. - -He had yet much of the wasted beau about his appearance; he wore -rosettes on his shoes and still adhered to a frilled shirt front and -black watered silk ribbon for his gold eye-glass, with a coat having -something of the high collar and cut peculiar to the days when George -IV. was king. His features were fine and delicately modelled; his -nose a perfect aquiline, with nostrils arched and thin, his -snow-white hair was all brushed back to conceal the bald places and -to display more fully a forehead of which he had been vain in youth -from a fancied resemblance to that of Lord Byron. In short the -Apollo of many a ball-room was now indeed a lean and slippered -pantaloon, but still careful to a degree in costume and all the -niceties of cuffs and studs and rings. - -Calm and self-possessed as he appeared, when now lying back in his -down easy-chair, sipping his iced wine and playing with the diamond -that glittered on his wasted hand, and which had been a farewell gift -from the Empress of Russia, he had been much of a _roué_ in his -youth, and consequently was not disposed to enquire too closely into -the affairs of his nephew. - -Downie Trevelyan was already married, nearly to his uncle's -satisfaction, his wife being the daughter of a poor but noble family; -and as for Richard, he might run away with as many humble girls as he -chose, provided he did not marry any of them, or make that which his -haughty uncle and monetary patron would never forgive--a -_mésalliance_; for Lord Lamorna was a man full of strong aristocratic -prejudices, and a master in all the tactics of society, and of his -somewhat exclusive, and occasionally selfish class. - -His lordship's false teeth--a magnificent Parisian set that had cost -him some fifty guineas--would have chattered at the idea of any -member of his family making a mistake in matrimony. He had heard -ugly whispers about Richard, but never could discover aught that was -tangible. If it existed, Heavens! how were Burke, Debrett and Co. to -record it when the time came that it could no longer be concealed? - -Should any _mésalliance_ be the case, he had vowed often that the -barren title should go without one acre of land to his eldest nephew; -and he would have willed that past him too had it been in his power -to do so; but though a sordid Scottish Earl of Caithness once sold -his title to a Highland Chieftain, and caused one of the last -clan-battles to be fought in Scotland, such things cannot be done now. - -The old man had one ever present, ever prevailing idea--the honour -and dignity of the family--the Cornish Trevelyans of Rhoscadzhel and -Lamorna. - -His two nephews were men in the prime of life, but Downie was three -years younger than his brother. - -Richard Pencarrow Trevelyan, the elder and prime favourite with their -uncle, was a remarkably handsome man, with fine regular features that -closely resembled those of the old peer; but Richard had been reared -at Sandhurst, been in the army and seen much of a rougher life than -his uncle. He had a free bold bearing, an ample chest, an athletic -form and muscular limbs, which riding, shooting and handling the bat -and the oar had all developed to the full, and which his simple -costume,--for he was fresh with his gun and his game-bag, from the -bleak Cornish moors and mountain sides--advantageously displayed. - -His dark blue eyes that were almost black, and seemed so by night, -had a keen but open expression, his mouth suggested good humour, his -white and regular teeth, perfect health, and his voice had in it a -chord that rendered it most pleasant to the ear. Dark eyebrows and a -heavy moustache imparted much of character to his face. - -His brother, Downie Trevelyan, had never been an idler like Richard. -Educated at Rugby and Corpus Christi, Oxford, he had been duly called -to the bar by the Honourable Society of Lincoln's Inn, and was now in -good practice as a Barrister in London. He had all the air and -bearing of a gentleman of good style; but he was less handsome than -Richard; had less candour of expression in eye and manner; indeed, -his eyes were like cold grey steel, and were quick, restless, and at -times furtive in their glances; and they never smiled, even when his -mouth seemed to do so. - -Unlike Richard, he was closely shaven, all save a pair of very short -and legal looking whiskers. To please his uncle was one of the -unwearying tasks of his life; and even now, with this view, he was in -the most accurate evening dress, thus affording a complete contrast -to the rough and unceremonious tweed-suit worn by his brother--his -coat broadly lapelled with black silk _moiré_, his vest with three -buttons, _en suite_ with his shirt studs, which were encrusted with -brilliants. His cold formality of manner rendered his periodical -visits to Rhoscadzhel somewhat dull to Lord Lamorna, for somehow few -people cared much for Mr. Downie Trevelyan. He had married -judiciously and early in life, and had now several children; and -thus, while joining his uncle in reprehending or rallying Richard on -his supposed anti-matrimonial views, his cold, pale eyes, were -wandering over the appurtenances, the comforts and splendour of that -magnificent apartment, in which he was mentally appraising -everything, from the steel fire-irons, to the gold and silver plate -that glittered on the carved walnut wood side-board, whereon were -displayed many beautiful cups, groups and statuettes (race-trophies -of Ascot, Epsom and other courses) which had been won in Lamorna's -younger days, when his stud was second to none in England, and -certainly equal to that of Lord Eglinton in Scotland; yet he had -never been a gambler, or a "horsey man," being too highly principled -in one instance, and too highly bred in the other; and so we say, -while the legal eyes of Downie appraised all, he thought of his -eldest son, Audley Trevelyan, then a subaltern in a dashing Hussar -Regiment, and marvelled in his heart, if he should ever reign as Lord -of Rhoscadzhel, manor and chace, with all its moors and tin-mines. - -"You were right to marry young, Downie," said the old lord, resuming -the theme of their conversation after a pause, adding, as if he -almost divined the thoughts of his younger nephew, "your boy Audley -is, I hear from General Trecarrel, a handsome fellow." - -"He is a perfect Trevelyan, my lord," replied Downie, who was -studious in always according the title to his relative, "and then my -daughter, Gartha, bids fair to equal her mother, who was one of the -handsomest women in London." - -"To see your family rising about you thus, must afford you intense -pleasure, Downie; but I cannot understand our friend Dick here at -all. My years may not be many now, and I do not wish my hereditary -estate to change hands often, or my lands to be scattered even after -I am done with them." - -"I do not comprehend your fears, my dear uncle," said Richard, -smiling; "your estates can never lack heirs while God spares me--and -then there is Downie----" - -"And his son Audley the Hussar--you would say?" - -"Exactly," replied Richard, but in a strange faint voice, and as he -spoke he felt that the keen grey eyes of Downie were regarding him -attentively by the waxen lights of the chandelier, which Mr. Jasper -Funnel and two tall footmen had just illuminated, at the same time -drawing the heavy curtains of crimson damask over the last flash of -the setting sun, and the ruddy sea whose waves were rolling in blue -and gold, between the bluffs of Land's End and the rocky Isles of -Scilly. - -"You cannot be a woman-hater, Dick?" - -"No--far from it," replied Richard, as a soft expression stole over -his manly face; "there can be no such thing in nature." - -"The truth is--but take your wine--I strongly fear, that during your -military peregrinations, you have got yourself entangled now--and -unworthily perhaps." - -"My lord--you are mistaken," replied Richard firmly--almost sternly; -"but what causes you to think so?" - -"Your so decidedly declining an introduction to General Trecarrel and -his two daughters--the most beautiful girls in the duchy of Cornwall. -They come of a good family too; and as the couplet has it:-- - - "'By Tre, Pol, and Pen, - Ye may know the Cornish men.'" - - -"The General resides somewhere near Porthellick, does he not?" asked -Downie, who saw that his brother was changing colour, or rather -losing it fast. - -"Some one told me, Dick, that it was rumoured you got into a scrape -in Edinburgh, 'that village somewhere in the North,' as one of our -humourists calls it; it was to the effect that your landlady had -fallen over head and ears in love with her handsome lodger, who was -ditto ditto in her debt, and had to soothe her ruffled feelings and -settle her bill, by matrimony at sight." - -"An utter scandal!" said Richard, now laughing. "Your allowance to -me, ever since I left the Cornish Light Infantry, has been too -generous for such a catastrophe ever to occur." - -"And next came a story, that when you were at Montreal with the -regiment, you made a precious mess of it with some pretty girl, -and--to use Downie's phraseology--parted as heart-broken lovers, to -figure as plaintiff and defendant at the bar." - -"Worse still and as false, my lord!" exclaimed Richard, now pale with -suppressed passion. - -"Don't look so darkly, Richard," said Lord Lamorna, who saw the flash -in his nephew's dark blue eyes; "I have had a pretty little box at -Chertsey, and a villa at St. John's Wood in my day, when my friends, -raven-tressed, or golden-haired as the case might be, were amiable -and tenderly attached--but deuced expensive; so I must not be severe -upon you," added the old man, with his dry cackling laugh. "It is -not these kind of little arrangements I fear, but a _mésalliance_; -and there are scandals even in London--yes, even in the mighty world -of London, though there they soon die; they don't live and take root, -as in the so-called purer air of the country." - -"I cannot understand all those vague hints, tales and rumours, or who -sets them afloat," replied Richard, making an effort to preserve his -calmness. - -Downie saw the veins rise in his brother's forehead while their uncle -had been speaking; and he smiled a quiet smile, as he bent curiously -over his glass. - - "Full many a shaft at random sent, - Finds mark the archer never meant;" - -and he could see that some of the random remarks in the present -conversation, rankled deeply in Richard's breast; and that this -conversation had verged, more than once, on somewhat dangerous ground. - -"Well, it is a marvel to me, Richard, how a handsome fellow like you -can have escaped so long, known as you are to be the heir to my title -and estates," continued the old lord, still harping on the same -topic: "for the girls now go in for winning in matrimony, as we used -to do at Ascot and Epsom." - -"How, my lord?" asked Downie, as if he had never heard the joke -before. - -"By a neck--a bare neck and bosom added; witness the beautiful and -aristocratic demi-mondes at the Opera! Elizabeth was the first -English-woman who, to excite admiration, exposed her person thus. -The virgin queen wore a huge ruff certainly; but it stuck up _behind_ -her, she was _décolletée_ enough in front." - -"I prefer her Scottish rival--collared to her pretty neck, and -sleeved to the slender wrist," said Richard Trevelyan; "by Jove, I -should not have cared for flirting with a woman who carried a fan in -one hand and a hatchet in the other." - -"Our ancestor, Henry Lord Lamorna, was governor of Rougemont Castle, -in Devonshire, under Queen Elizabeth," said the peer pompously; "but -having married the daughter of a simple knight in Surrey, he lost Her -Majesty's favour at Court, and had to live in retirement here at -Rhoscadzhel. Let that mistake be a warning to you, Richard." - -"It happened pretty long ago," replied Richard, laughing; "and at -forty years of age I am surely unlikely to commit an act of folly----" - -"If it be not committed already?" - ---"And lose your favour, even by marrying, 'the daughter of a simple -knight.'" - -"With my favour you would lose this fine estate. But give me your -hand, Dick, I know you will never do aught unworthy of our good old -Cornish name of Trevelyan!" - -With a grand old-fashioned air--yet one full of kindness--the proud -old man presented his thin white hand to his nephew, who pressed it -affectionately, and then rose to withdraw. - -"Whither go you, Dick, so soon?" - -"Oh--anywhere, uncle," replied the other, wearily. - -"How, sir?" - -"Merely into the lawn to enjoy a post-prandial cigar," replied -Richard, whose face wore an evident expression of annoyance, as he -bowed and quitted the room. - -"We have worried him, I fear," said Downie, with a self-satisfied -smile. - -"Don't use slang--it is bad in tone," replied his uncle; "but I -cannot make your brother out--I hope he is not deceiving us all. -Gad, if I thought so--if that Montreal story should prove true----" -the peer paused, and his keen blue eyes flashed with anger at the -vague thoughts that occurred to him. - -"Oh, do not fear, my lord," said Downie Trevelyan, in a suave and -soothing manner; "though sham diamonds often do duty for real ones." - -"What do you mean?" asked his uncle, haughtily. - -Downie only smiled, and bent over his glass of Burgundy again. - -"_Neb na gare y gwayn call restona,_" said Lord Lamorna, -significantly; "I hate proverbs: but this is a good old Cornish one; -'he that heeds not gain, must expect _loss_.' When do you expect -your oldest boy home from India?" - -"He may arrive next week, perhaps, my lord, and he will at once -dutifully hasten to present himself to you." - -"He must be well up among the Lieutenants of the Hussars now?" - -"Yet he means to exchange into the Infantry." - -"Why?" - -"It is a matter of expedience and expense, my lord; even with forage, -batta, tentage, and so forth, he finds his regiment a very -extravagant one." - -"I shall give him a cheque on Coutts and Co., for I must not forget -that you did me the honour to name him after me." - -"But you did us the greater honour in being his sponsor--and in -bestowing upon him a gold sponsorial mug." - -"With the _Koithgath_ of the Trevelyans for a handle, and another -perched on the lid; well, well--he may be my successor here--who -knows, who knows," mumbled the old man, as he prepared to take -his-after dinner nap, by spreading a cambric handkerchief over his -face, and Downie glided noiselessly away to the library, with a -strange and unfathomable smile on his colourless face, and he -muttered,-- - -"I too may say--'the time will come!'" - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -RHOSCADZHEL. - -On the smooth lawn his brother was walking to and fro, with a cigar -between his firm white teeth, with his heart a prey to bitter and -exciting thoughts; and though Richard Trevelyan is not, as we have -said, the hero of these pages, to the lawn we shall accompany him. - -"What the deuce can be the secret spring of all this intrusive -solicitude upon my uncle's part about having me married, as if I were -a young girl in her third season?" he muttered; "I have often feared -that Downie suspected me--as a lawyer, it is natural he should -suspect every one of something more than he sees or knows; and yet--I -have been so wary, so careful! My poor Constance--still -concealment--still dissimulation for the present, and doubts of our -future! No hope for us, save in the death of that old man, ever so -good and kind to me. Did he really but know Constance, how sweet and -gentle she is! A curse be on this silly pride of birth and -fortuitous position which is our bane--this boasting of pedigree old -as the days of Bran ap Llyr, the ancestor of King Arthur. By Jove, -it is too absurd!" and he laughed angrily as he tossed away his cigar -and then sighed, as he surveyed the façade of the stately mansion, -and cast his eyes round the spacious lawn that stretched far away in -starlight and obscurity. "And yet must I stoop to this senile -folly," he added, half aloud; "for 'twere hard to see all these broad -acres go to Downie's boy, the Hussar, past me and mine!" - -The seats of the Cornish aristocracy have usually little to boast of -in architecture; but the mansion of Rhoscadzhel* was an exception, -being a rare specimen of a fine old Tudor dwelling, which had -suffered more from the rude hand of civil war, than from "time's -effacing fingers," and was built, tradition avers, from the famous -quarry of Pencarrow, and of good Cornish freestone. - - -* Cadzhel, Cornish for castle. - - -A massive iron gate, between carved pillars, each surmounted by a -koithgath, or wild cat, rampant--a crest of which Lord Lamorna was as -vain as ever was old Bradwardine of his heraldic bears--gave access -to the avenue, a long and leafy tunnel that lay between the house and -the highway leading to the Land's End. The branches of the stately -old elms were interlaced overhead, like the groined arches of a -Gothic cathedral and a delightful promenade their shade afforded in -the hot days of summer, when only a patch of blue sky, or the golden -rays falling aslant, could be seen at times through their foliage. - -Engrafted in the later Tudor times upon the ruins of Rhoscadzhel, of -which there is still remaining the fragment of a loopholed tower and -ponderous granite arch shrouded in ivy, with its modern -_porte-cochère_ and vestibule floored with marble, its mullioned -windows filled in with plate glass in lieu of little lozenge-panes, -its dining hall and drawing rooms lighted with gas when such was the -wish of its proprietor, the mansion, though retaining all the -characteristics of the days when Queen Bess held her court at -Greenwich and danced before the Scottish ambassador, had nevertheless -all the comforts, appliances and splendour, with which the taste and -wealth of the present age could invest it. - -The great dining-hall had remained almost unchanged since the days of -the first Charles. Its vast chimney-piece, which rose nearly to the -ceiling, was covered with marvellous scrolls and legends, and -innumerable wild cats' heads among them, over all being the arms of -Trevelyan of Lamorna; _gules_, a demi-horse _argent_ issuing from the -sea, adapted from the circumstance of one of the family swimming on -horseback from the Seven Stones to the Land's End, when they were -suddenly separated from the continent by a terrible inundation of the -ocean, and as this dangerous reef is no less than nine miles from -Scilly, where a light-ship points it out to the mariner, the feat was -well worthy of being recorded, at least in heraldry. - -The furniture here was quaint and old, massive and richly carved, and -though the vast stone-flagged chamber, where many a Cornish cavalier -has whilom drunk "confusion to Cromwell and the Rump," and where -still stands the great dining table with its daïs, where of old "the -carles of low degree" had sat below the salt, is sombre and gloomy, -somewhat of lightness is imparted by the splendid modern conservatory -that opens off it, with marble floor and shelves of iron fret-work -laden with rare and exotic plants. - -It boasts of a chamber known as "the Queen's," wherein Henrietta -Maria had slept one night before she fled to France, and since then -no one has ever occupied the ancient bed that, like a huge -catafalque, stands upon three steps in the centre of the wainscoted -room which like several others in Rhoscadzhel, has hangings of faded -green tapestry, that are lifted to give entrance; and where the -hearths, intended for wood alone, have grotesque andirons in the form -of the inevitable koithgath on its hind legs. And on the walls of -these old chambers hung many a trophy of the past, and many a weapon -of the present day, from the great two-handed sword wielded by Henry -Lord Lamorna at the Battle of Pinkey down to the yeomanry sabre worn -by the present peer at the coronation of George IV., a peer of whose -effeminacy the said Lord Henry would have been sorely ashamed. - -And many a Vandyke, Kneller, and Lely were there, with portraits of -the Trevelyans of past times, who now lay under their marble tombs in -yonder little church upon the hill, where among dust and cobwebs hung -their helmets, spurs, and gauntlets, and the iron mace of one -Launcelot Trevelyan, who was a man of vast stature; and it is as -great a source of wonder to the village children as the rickety ruin -of a gilded coach which at certain times is drawn forth to the lawn -and aired carefully, being that in which the grandfather of the -present peer brought home his bride in patches and powder, and it is -supposed to be the first vehicle of the kind ever seen in the duchy -of Cornwall. Thus, as Richard Pencarrow Trevelyan thought over all -these possessions with their traditional and family interests, of -which, by one ill-natured stroke of the pen, his proud uncle might -deprive him and his heirs for ever, a bitter sigh escaped him. - -Beyond the quaint façade of the ancient house, from the mullioned -windows of which, half hidden by ivy and wild roses, there streamed -out many a light into the darkness, his eyes wandered to the fertile -fields, all bare stubble now, to the wide open moor overlooked by -many a wooded tor, and to the beautiful lawn, in the centre of which -stands one of those wonderful _logan-stones_, so peculiar to Cornwall -and Brittany, a ponderous, spheroidal mass of granite, so exquisitely -balanced that it may be oscillated by the touch even of a woman's -hand; and as he turned away to indulge in deeper reverie by the shore -of the adjacent sea, he raised his right hand and his glistening eyes -to the stars, as if some vow, as yet unuttered, was quivering on his -tongue. - -"Yes?" he exclaimed, "please God and pray God, the time will come; -but not as my good uncle, and not, as the careful Downie, anticipate. -Marriage! how little do they know how, in the great lottery of life, -my kismet--as we used to say in India--has been fixed--irrevocably -fixed!" - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -THE ALARM BELL. - -The season was autumn now, and on the succeeding day--the last he -meant to spend at Rhoscadzhel for some time at least--Richard -Trevelyan appeared in the breakfast parlour again in shooting -costume, with a scarlet shirt having an open collar, and with a brown -leather shot-belt over his shoulder; while his uncle, who, even when -at his slender morning repast, in his elaborately flowered -dressing-gown, wore accurately fitting pale kid gloves on his -shrivelled hands, for such things were a necessity of the old lord's -existence; thus he glanced again with an air of annoyance at the -dress worn by his eldest nephew, as he considered it a solecism, -decidedly in bad taste, and that something more was due to his own -presence. - -Downie's costume, a fashionable morning coat came more near his -lordship's ideas of propriety. - -Mr. Jasper Funnel, in accurate black, was at the side-table, to slice -down the cold meat, pour out the coffee from its silver urn into the -beautiful Wedgewood cups, and to carve the grouse and other pies; for -Cornwall is peculiarly the land of that species of viand, as there -the denizens make pies of everything eatable, squab-pies, -pilchard-pies, muggetty-pies, and so forth. - -"I heard last evening the new chime of bells you have put up in -Lamorna Church," said Richard, as he seated himself and attacked a -plate of grouse, the recent spoil of his own gun; "how pleasantly -they sound. Who rings them?" - -"I cannot say--never inquired," replied the old peer, testily; "I can -only tell you one thing, Richard." - -"And that is----" - -"They were wrung out of my pocket by the vestry." - -At this little quip, Downie obsequiously and applaudingly laughed as -loudly as he was ever known to do, and just as if he had never heard -it before. - -"However, I need not grudge the poor people their chime of bells; I -am rich enough to afford them more than that, and occupying as we do -a good slice of this _Land of Tin_, for so the Phoenicians named this -Cornish peninsula of ours as early as the days of Solomon, we have -its credit to maintain; but bring us home a well-born and handsome -bird, Dick, and I shall have the bells rung till they fly to -pieces--by Jove I will! Only, as I hinted last night, let her be -worthy to represent those who lie under their marble tombs in that -old church of Lamorna; for there are bones there that would shrink in -their leaden coffins if aught plebeian were laid beside them." - -Richard shrugged his shoulders, and glanced round him with impatience. - -"Let us look forward, my dear uncle," said he; "in this age of -progress all men do; and of what account or avail can a dead ancestry -be?" - -Downie smiled faintly, and Lord Lamorna frowned in the act of -decapitating an egg, for to his ears this sounded as rank heresy or -treason against the state. - -"By heavens! nephew Richard, you talk like a Red Republican. With -these socialistic views of equality, and so forth, I fear you will -never shine in the Upper House." - -"I have no desire to do so; you see how simple my tastes are----" - -"In dress decidedly too much so." - -"And how happy and content I am to lead the life of a quiet country -gentleman; and have done so ever since I left the Cornish Light -Infantry." - -"Your demands upon my pocket are certainly so moderate, that I cannot -think you are playing me false, Dick," said the peer, with a pleasant -smile; "egad, if I thought you were doing so, I'd have you before the -Mayor of Halgaver, as our Cornish folks say!" - -"Trust me, my good uncle," replied Richard Trevelyan, with a -glistening eye, and laying a hand caressingly on the old man's -shoulder, as he rose and adjusted his shot-belt; "and now I go to -have a farewell shot on the moors." - -"Why a farewell shot? you have been here barely a fortnight." - -"Nevertheless, I must leave Rhoscadzhel tomorrow." - -"Positively?" - -"Yes, uncle." - -"Pardon me," continued Lamorna, drily; "but may we inquire for where?" - -"Oxford--and then town after, perhaps." - -"Oxford--and town too," replied his uncle, testily; "the last time -you left this for London, if General Trecarrel was right, you were -seen for a month after in his neighbourhood; and, if his story were -true--and I dare not doubt it--you did not get beyond the border of -Cornwall--and were certainly not so far as Devonshire." - -"Trecarrel was, I hope, mistaken," urged Richard. - -"I hope so, too." - -Richard's face was pale, and to conceal his emotion, he stooped and -caressed his favourite pointer, which had bounded in when the butler -opened the door; and soon recovering from his little -agitation--whatever its secret source might be--he politely and -affectionately bade his uncle "good-bye for the present," nodded to -the silent and observant Downie, took a double-barrelled -breech-loader from the gun-room and sallied forth, unattended by -game-keepers, desiring quite as much to indulge in reverie and enjoy -a solitary ramble, as to have a shot at a passing bird. - -To Richard it seemed that he had read a strangely keen, weird and -unfathomable expression in his uncle's eyes, as they followed his -departing steps on this particular morning--an expression which, -somehow, haunted him. - -The season, we have said, was now autumn, and a tender, mellow tone -rested over all the landscape; Richard Trevelyan was fond of the -strange, wild district--the land of old tradition, of bold and varied -scenery--amid which his youth and so much of his manhood had been -passed, and he looked around him from time to time with admiring eyes -and an enthusiastic heart. - -A soft warm shower had fallen that morning early, refreshing the -fading September leaves in the belts of coppice that girt the upland -slopes, and in the orchards, where the ripe golden apples were -dropping amid the thick sward below. Above the purple, and often -desolate moors which are so characteristic of Cornish scenery, and -where the small breed of horses, the little black cattle and -sharp-nosed sheep of the province were grazing, the wooded _tors_ or -hills stood boldly up in the distance, their foliage in most -instances presenting many varied tints. There were the brown madder, -the crisped chesnut, and the fading beech, the more faded green of -the old Cornish elm, and the russet fern below, from amid which at -every step he took the birds whirred up in coveys; while Richard, -lost in reverie--the result of his uncle's remarks of late--never -emptied a barrel at them, but walked slowly on looking round him from -time to time, and filled with thoughts that were all his own as yet. - -The place where he loitered was very lonely: here and there a gray -lichen-spotted druidical monolith stood grimly up amid the silent -waste; in the distance might be seen the gray expanse of the ocean, -or some bleak looking houses slated with blue, as they usually are in -Devon and Cornwall, or perhaps some of those poorer huts, which, like -wigwams, have cob-walls; _i.e._ are built of earth, mud, and straw, -beaten and pounded together, just as they might have been in the days -of Bran the son of Llyr, or when Arthur dwelt in Tintagel. - -Richard Trevelyan threw himself upon a grassy bank, and his pointer, -doubtless surprised by his neglect of all sport, lay beside him with -eyes of wonder and tongue out-lolled. In the distance, about a mile -or so away, Trevelyan could see Rhoscadzhel House shining in the -morning sunlight; and again, as on the preceding evening, he looked -around with a bitter smile upon tor and moorland, and on the wondrous -druid monoliths that stand up here and there on the bleak hill sides, -each and all of them having their own quaint name and grim old legend. - -How came each to be there? "Without patent rollers; nay, without the -simplest mechanical contrivances of modern times, how was so huge a -mass transported to yonder desolate and wind-swept height? How many -yoke of oxen, how many straining scores of men must it have taken to -erect the least of them! What submission to authority, what servile -or superstitious fear must have animated the workers! No drover's -whip would have urged to such a task; no richest guerdon could have -repaid the toil; yet there the wonder stands!" - -And some such thoughts as these floated through the mind of Richard, -as his eyes wandered from a cromlech or slab that rested on three -great stones, to a vast _maen_ or rock-pillar, that might be coeval -with the days when Jacob set up such a stone to witness his covenant -with Laban. - -"Shall I ever wander here with Constance--and if so, when," thought -he; "assuredly not while my uncle lives; but his death--how can I -contemplate it, when he is so good, so kind, so tender, and so true -to me? Oh, let me not anticipate that." - -How often in autumn, in the gloomy mornings of November, had he -pursued the fox over these desolate moors, often breakfasting by -candle-light in his red coat on a hunting morning, to the great -boredom of old Jasper Funnel? - -What joy it would be to gallop over that breezy wind-swept moor, with -Constance by his side! To walk with her through yonder dense old -thicket, and tell her that every tree and twig therein were her own; -to drive by yonder cliff, Tol Pedn Penwith, the western boundary of a -beautiful bay, and where in the summer evening, the forty Isles of -Scilly seemed to be cradled in the glory of the western sun; to show -her all these places with which he was so familiar, and perhaps to -tell their children in the years to come--for all Richard's habits -and tastes were alike gentle and domestic--the old Cornish legends of -Arthur's castle at Tintagel, of the magic well of St. Keyne, and of -Tregeagle the giant--the bugbear of all Cornish little people; the -melancholy monster or fiend, who according to traditions still -believed in, haunts the Dozmare Pool, from whence he hurled the vast -granite blocks, known as his "quoits," upon the coast westward of -Penzance Head; the deep dark Pool, his dwelling place, is said to be -unfathomable and the resort of other evil spirits. - -Desolate and begirt by arid and dreary hills, it presents an aspect -of gloomy horror; and then when the winter storms sweep the moorland -wastes, and the miners at the Land's End, deep, deep down in mines -below the sea, hear the enormous boulders dashed by it on the flinty -shore overhead, above all can be heard the howling of Tregeagle! For -ages he has been condemned to the task of emptying the Dozrnare Pool -by a tiny limpet-shell, and his cries are uttered in despair of the -hopelessness of the drudgery assigned him by the devil, who in -moments of impatience, hunts him round the tarn, till he flies to the -Roche Rocks fifteen miles distant, and finds respite by placing his -hideous head through the painted window of a ruined chapel, as a -bumpkin might through a horse-collar; for these, and a thousand such -stories as these, are believed in Cornwall, nor can even the whistle -of the railway from Plymouth to Penzance scare them away. - -Richard Trevelyan was smiling when he remembered how often he and -Downie, when loving little brothers and playfellows, had been scared -in their cribs at night by stories of Tregeagle; and of that other -mighty giant who lies buried beneath Carn Brea, where his clenched -skeleton hand, now converted into a block of granite (having five -distinct parts, like a thumb and fingers) protrudes through the turf. - -He could recall the dark hours, when as fair-haired children, they -had cowered together in one of the tapestried rooms of Rhoscadzhel, -and clasped each other's hands and necks in fear of those -hob-goblins, which people the very rock and cavern, and even the very -air of Cornwall. Downie was a man now, legal in bearing, and -cold-blooded in heart. Richard had painful doubts of him, and -remembered, that, strangely enough his hand _alone_, had always -failed to rock the logan-stone in the lawn before Rhoscadzhel, and -such monuments of antiquity, have, according to Mason, the properties -of an ordeal--the test of truth and probity: - - "Behold yon huge - And unhewn sphere of living adamant, - Which, poised by magic, rests its central weight - On yonder pointed rock: firm as it seems, - Such is its strange and virtuous property, - It moves obsequious to the gentlest touch - Of him whose heart is pure; but to a traitor, - Tho' e'en a giant's prowess nerv'd his arm, - It stands as fixed as Snowdon!" - -Even the childish hands of his little daughter Gartha, could rock the -logan-stone, when Downie's failed to do so. Why was this? Was there -indeed any truth in the ancient test of integrity and purity of -heart; or was it but an engine of religious imposition? And now amid -these unpleasant speculations, there came to the loiterer's ear, the -tolling of a distant bell. - -He started up, and listened. - -It was, beyond a doubt, the house-bell of Rhoscadzhel, and was being -rung violently and continuously, for the breeze brought the notes -distinctly over the furzy waste. - -What could have happened? Fire--or was he wanted in haste? Was his -uncle indisposed; were his fears, his hopes and wishes, though -blended with sorrow, to be realised at last? - -His breath came thick and painfully, and he remembered with something -of foreboding--for his Cornish breeding rendered him superstitious -and impressionable--that as he had passed Larnorna church that -morning, he had seen, on the rough lichstones at the entrance to the -sequestered church-yard, a coffin rested prior to interment, while -the soft sad psalmody of those who had borne it thither--a band of -hardy miners--floated through the still and ambient air; for the -custom of bearing the dead to their last resting place with holy -songs--a usage in the East, as old as the fourth century--is still -observed in Cornwall, that land of quaint traditions and picturesque -old memories. - -Springing to his feet, Richard Trevelyan discharged both barrels of -his gun into the air, and hurried in the direction of the manor house. - -As he drew nearer, the sonorous clangour of the great bell, which was -now rung at intervals, but with great vigour, continued to increase, -adding to the surprise and tumult of his heart, and the perturbation -of his spirit. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -POWDERED WITH TEARS. - -A mounted footman, who approached him at full speed, pulled up for a -moment and respectfully touched his hat, for he was one of the -Lamorna household. - -"What is the matter?" asked Richard. - -"Oh, sir--oh, Mr. Richard--my lord is taken very ill." - -"Ill--my uncle?" - -"He is quite senseless, and Mr. Downie Trevelyan has sent me for the -doctor." - -"Then ride on and lose no time," replied Richard, as he hastened to -the house, where he found confusion and dismay predominant, the -servants hovering in the vestibule, conversing in whispers and -listening at the library door, while Jasper Funnel and Mrs. -Duntreath, the old housekeeper (a lineal descendant of the Dolly -Duntreath, so well-known in Cornwall), were mingling their sighs and -regrets for the loss of so good a master. - -"Where is my uncle?" asked Richard, impetuously. - -"In the lib--lib--library," sobbed the housekeeper, with her black -silk apron at her eyes, and as Richard advanced, Jasper Funnel softly -opened the door. The favourite nephew entered the long spacious and -splendid apartment, which occupied nearly the entire length of one of -the wings of Rhoscadzhel, its shelves of dark wainscot filled by -books in rare and magnificent bindings, with white marble busts of -the great and learned men of classical antiquity looking calmly down -on what was passing below. - -The fire-place wras deep and old; but a seacoal fire was burning -cheerily in the bright steel modern grate; and as if he was in a -dream, seeing the far stretching lawn, with its tufts of waving fern -and stately lines of elm and oak, as he passed the tall windows -noiselessly on the soft Turkey carpet, Richard drew hastily near the -great arm-chair, in which his uncle was seated, dead--stone-dead, -with Downie, somewhat pale and disordered in aspect, bending over him! - -The old man had suddenly passed away--disease of the heart, as it -proved eventually, had assailed him while seated at his writing-table. - -On Richard's entrance and approach, Downie hurriedly took from the -table and thrust into his pocket, a document which looked most -legally and suspiciously like a "last will and testament;" but quick -though the action, Richard could perceive that the document, whatever -it was, had no signatures of any kind. - -Richard knelt by his uncle's side; he felt his pulses; they had -ceased to beat; his heart was cold and still, and there came no sign -of breath upon the polished surface of the mirror he held before the -fallen jaw; with something of remorse Richard thought,-- - -"No later than this morning I deceived him--and he loved me so--was -ever my friend and second father!--I thought," he added aloud, to -Downie, "that his eyes wore an unusual expression this morning--a -weird, keen, farseeing kind of look, such as I never read in them -before." - -"I fancied that I perceived some such expression myself, and -consequently, at his years, was the less alarmed, or shall I say -shocked, when in the very act of speaking to me, a sudden spasm came -over his features--a deep sigh, almost a faint cry escaped him, and -he sank back in his chair, when just about to write. See, there is -the pen on the floor, exactly where it fell from his relaxed fingers." - -Richard's honest eyes were filled with tears, and mechanically he -picked up the pen and laid it on the desk. - -"Writing, say you, Downie; and what was he writing?" - -"Oh, I cannot say--a letter to his steward, I believe." - -"But--I see no letter." - -"He was just about to commence it," replied Downie, whose usually -pale face coloured a little. - -"And that paper you pocketed in such haste, Downie, what was it?" - -"Nothing, Richard, that can concern you (by-the-by, you are Lord -Lamorna now!) or that fair one whose portrait you exhibit so -ostentatiously just now." - -Richard started, alike at the title so suddenly accorded to him by -his brother, and at the reference to the portrait, for in the -confusion or haste, as he bent over his dead uncle, a little -miniature, which he wore at a ribbon round his neck, depicting a very -beautiful dark-eyed woman, had slipped from his vest, and with an -exclamation of annoyance, he hastened to conceal it. - -"_Who_ is the lady, Richard?" asked Downie. - -"As yet, that must remain my secret," replied Richard; "a little -time, my dear fellow, and we shall have no mysteries among us." - -Downie, secretly, was not ill-pleased by this diversion, in which -Richard forgot the subject of the paper. - -The doctor soon came--a village practitioner--fussy and full of -importance; but nevertheless skilful; and he decided that disease of -the heart--a malady under which, though ignorant of its existence, -the deceased had long laboured--had proved the immediate cause of -death. The poor shrivelled remains of the proud old lord were -conveyed to the principal bed-room of the mansion, and there laid in -a species of state, upon a four-posted bed, that rose from a daïs, -and was all draped with black. His coronet and Order of the Bath, -together with that of St. Anne, which he received when ambassador in -Russia, were deposited at his feet upon a crimson velvet cushion, -that was tasseled with gold; while two tall footmen in complete -livery with long canes draped with crape, mounted guard beside the -coffin day and night, to their own great disgust and annoyance, till -the time of the funeral, of which Richard took the entire charge; and -which, in a spirit of affection and good taste, he resolved should be -in all respects exactly what the deceased peer would have wished it -to be. - -The features of the latter became, for a time, young and beautiful in -their manliness and perfect regularity, while all the lines engraven -there by Time were smoothed out, if not completely effaced. - -"How like our father, as I can remember him, he looks!" whispered -Downie, more softened than usual, by the hallowing presence of death. - -But Richard was thinking of another face whom the dead man -resembled--a young and beloved face to him. - -"Denzil did you say?" he stammered. - -"I said our father," replied Downie, sharply. - -"True, he died young," was the confused reply. - -"Your mind wanders, surely?" said Downie, with a dark and -inexplicable expression in his now averted face; but Richard saw it -not, he was simply taking a farewell glance of one who had loved him -so well; his manly heart was soft, and his dark-blue eyes were full -with the tears of honest affection and gratitude. - -So Audley Lord Lamorna was dead, and all now turned to Richard as -their new and future master; all the blinds in Rhoscadzhel were drawn -down by order of Mrs. Duntreath, and all went about on tiptoe or -spoke in subdued voices, especially Downie, who in his heart thought -that Richard was spending "far too much in ostrich feathers, crimson -coffins, and other mummery," among undertakers, and heraldic -painters, too; but he was more politic than to say so--even to his -wife, who, with her daughter Gartha, a pretty girl in her teens, had -been on a visit to General Trecarrel, and now duly arrived to act as -mistress of the mansion, _pro tem._, during the solemnities of which -it was to be the scene. - -She was warmly welcomed by Richard Trevelyan; she was his only -brother's wife, and he had none of his own to take her place -there--as yet. - -A peevish and foolish woman of fashion, who had once possessed -undoubted beauty, Mrs. Downie Trevelyan was generally treated as a -kind of cypher now by her husband; but nevertheless he consulted her -at times, on certain matters of common interest. She still clung -tenaciously to the tradition of her former beauty, and sought to -retain it by the aid of pearl powder, the faintest indication of -rouge perhaps, and by the prettiest of matronly headdresses made of -the costliest lace. She was always languid, somewhat dreary, and -spent most of her time with a novel in one hand, and a magnificent -little bottle of ether, or some strong perfume, in the other. To -Richard her society was decidedly a bore; but at this crisis he was -full of business, and occupied by a depth of thought that was -apparent to all. - -Six tall servants in mourning scarfs, and in the livery of the -Trevelyans, bore upon their shoulders the crimson velvet coffin -containing the remains of the late lord, to the vault where his -forefathers lay, and where many of them had been interred by -torchlight, in times long past. - -There was something feudal, stately, and solemn in the aspect of the -procession, when between two lines of all the tenantry, standing -bare-headed, it wound down the old avenue, where the leaves were -almost as thick, the sun as bright, and the birds singing as merrily -as they might have been when Lord Launcelot rode there by the Queen's -bridle, or when he and his cavaliers fled from Fairfax to seek -shelter in Trewoofe; and so his descendant Audley was laid at last, -where so many of his predecessors lie side by side, "ranged in -mournful order and in a kind of silent pomp," each coffin bearing the -names, titles and arms of its mouldering occupant. - -Pondering on who might stand here when his turn came to be lowered -down there, Richard, the new lord, stood at the head of the tomb, -pale, and with more emotion than met the eye; Downie stood on his -right hand, and the heir of the latter, well bronzed by the sun of -India, on his left, three of his younger brothers, held with a -ribbon. Their old friend, General Trecarrel, stood grimly and erect -at the foot. The vault was closed, and the body of Audley, tenth -Lord Lamorna, that frail tenement, which he had petted and pampered, -of which he had been so careful and so vain, for some seventy years, -was left to the worms at last! - -The assemblage dispersed, and the world went on as usual. - -The bell of the village church, which had all morning tolled minute -strokes, ceased; and after a time the new chimes rang out a merry -peal in honour of his successor. It was in Cornwall as at St. Cloud; -_le Roi est mort--vive le Roi!_ - -The old general, who had no fancy for a mansion of gloom, departed, -and took back with him Downie's son Audley, a jolly young subaltern, -whom we shall soon meet elsewhere. - -But prior to this departure, there had been the reading of the will, -an affair of great solemnity, in the library, the same apartment -where the late lord died; and his solicitors, Messrs. Gorbelly and -Culverhole, a fat and a lean pair of lawyers, felt all their vulgar -importance on the occasion. - -There were a few handsome presents to old and faithful servants, -including Jasper Funnel and Mrs. Duntreath (whose sobs became -somewhat intrusive), and Richard found himself Lord of Rhoscadzhel -and Lamorna, with an unfettered fortune of thirty thousand per annum; -while Downie had a bequest of less than the third of that sum, -together with some jewelry, including the Russian diamond ring for -his wife and daughter Gartha. - -So whatever had been the object or the tenor of that document which -the astute barrister had so evidently prepared, and which he had -thrust into his pocket so hastily and awkwardly on that eventful -morning, Richard was as safely installed in the estates as in his -hereditary title; and the moment he found himself alone, he became -immersed in letter-writing. - -Opening the crimson morocco blotting pad which his uncle had last -used, and which had his coronet and crest, the wild-cat, stamped in -gold thereon, he saw some words written in his brother's hand, and -these, on investigation proved to be, "This is the last will and -testament of me, L----" (doubtless Lord Lamorna); further on, as if -at the bottom of the page, he could detect the name of "Porthellick," -and a dark flush of passion crimsoned the face of Richard. He -thought again of the document he had seen in Downie's hand; their -uncle could certainly never have signed it, but some painful -doubts--added to intense sorrow for their existence--grew strong in -Richard's heart, which was a true and generous one. - -"My dear Constance--my long suffering darling!" he muttered, almost -aloud; "the day is now near when all your doubts and my dissimulation -to the world shall end. Thank God, the time has almost come." - -And he rode forth, to post with his own hand a letter he had written. - -He was barely gone ere Downie, who had been quietly observing his -motions, also made an investigation of the blotting pad which Richard -had just closed, and therein he saw what seemed to be the address of -a recent letter. He held the pink sheet between his eyes and the -light, and read clearly enough, "Mrs. Devereaux, Porthellick Cottage." - -And the lawyer smiled sourly, but with great uneasiness, -nevertheless, and he muttered aloud, - -"I had but vague suspicions before--and now all my knowledge has come -too late--too late!" - -"I am so sorry to hear you say so, dear," said his graceful little -wife, the rustle of whose fashionable mourning suit he had been too -much preoccupied to hear, as she glided into the library, in search -of one of the many uncut novels that now littered the tables; "sorry -chiefly for the sake of our dear Audley, and Gartha, and the other -little ones." - -"Your know to what I refer--the succession; it may not be so hopeless -or irreparable as we think." - -"But your uncle died with his will unchanged." - -"True; I pressed upon him lately my belief that Richard had formed -that--of which he had a horror so great--a _mésalliance_--in fact, a -low or improper attachment for one beneath us in rank and name. My -uncle's fury became great, and to take advantage of the time, I -placed before him a will, leaving all his estates, as he had a -hundred times threatened to do, to me and mine. I had the document -ready written, and placed it before him; but as fate would have it, -in his pride, fury, and resentment, a spasm seized the old man, and -he fell back dying, actually with the pen in his hand, after I had -dipped it in that silver inkstand and placed it between his fingers." - -"How extremely unfortunate!" said Mrs. Downie Trevelyan, placing her -scent-bottle languidly to her little pink nostrils. - -"Unfortunate? It was a narrow chance by which to lose thirty -thousand a year!" said Downie, grinding his teeth, while his eyes -gleamed like two bits of grey glass in moonlight. "There is some -mystery about Richard's life; moreover, he wears a woman's miniature -at his neck." - -"Young--is she?" - -"Well--yes--she seems so." - -"And pretty?" added Mrs. Downie, glancing at herself in a mirror. - -"Very." - -"His intended, perhaps?" - -"I hope she is not more than that; but time must soon show now." - -And over the porte-cochère of Rhoscadzhel there now hung a vast -lozenge-shaped hatchment or funeral escutcheon, the sight of which -would have delighted him, whose memory it was meant to honour, being -the achievement of a bachelor peer, representing the arms of Lamorna -in a shield complete--the demi-horse _argent_ of the Trevelyans -rising from the sea; over all, the baron's coronet, crest, motto, and -mantling, collared by the Orders of the Bath and St. Anne; and after -some old fashion, retained still only in Germany, Scotland, and -France, the herald-painter had depicted at each corner a death-head, -while all the black interstices were _powdered with tears_. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -PORTHELLICK VILLA. - -More than forty miles distant from Rhoscadzhel, on that part of the -Cornish coast which is washed by the waves of the Bristol Channel, at -a place named Porthellick, or the Cove of Willows, was a beautiful -white-walled villa, built in the Greek style of architecture, with an -Ionic portico of six carved and painted wooden pillars. Its windows -opened in the French fashion, and descended to the floor; luxuriant -creepers, jasmines, and sweet brier, were trained on green -trellis-work around it, and rare plants of gorgeous colours grew in -stone vases, which were placed in a double row along the smooth -gravelled terrace, from which the basement of the cottage rose--for -the villa was a cottage in character, being but a one storeyed -dwelling, though spacious and handsome, and having a noble -conservatory and coach-house and stabling, and an approach of half a -mile in length, bordered by a double line of those magnificent -willows from which the place took its name, and affording, from the -principal windows in front, an ample view of the sea, with ever and -anon, a white sail lingering in the dim blue distance, or a passing -steamer, with its pennant of smoke, streaming astern, as it sped -towards Ireland or the Isle of Man. - -On the evening of that day when Lord Lamorna died so suddenly, a lady -was standing under the portico of this house, looking anxiously, not -seaward, but inland, towards the willow avenue, by which her -residence was approached from the road that leads by Stratton, among -the hills, towards Camelford and Wadebridge, near the rocky valley of -Hanter-Gantick. - -The lady looked repeatedly at her watch, consulted a railway -time-table, and entered the house, only to return to her post, and -bend her eyes in anxious gaze along the avenue. - -Mrs. Devereaux, for it was she, was young-looking--marvellously so -for her years; she seemed to be quite a girl still; yet she was fully -four-and-thirty, and the mother of two children. This youthful -appearance doubtless arose from her very petite and slender figure; -her strictly fashionable style of dress, and the piquante beauty that -shone in the minute features of her charming little face. Her eyes -were dark, yet full of light and sparkle, though their long lashes -imparted a great softness of expression. Her eyebrows were very dark -and well-defined--some might have deemed them too much so; but they -imparted great character to her face. Her mouth and chin were -perfect; her teeth like those of a child; and over all, her face, -figure, and bearing, even to every motion of her hands and feet, Mrs. -Devereaux was exquisitely lady-like. - -"At last--at last they come!" she exclaimed; "and yonder is my dear, -dear Denzil, whom I have not seen for so many, many months," she -added, as her eyes filled with tears, and her soft cheek flushed with -all a mother's joy. - -As she uttered her thoughts aloud, a little basket-phaeton, drawn by -two lovely cream-coloured Shetland ponies, was seen bowling down the -avenue of pale green willows; a young lady was handling the ribbons -of these Lilliputian steeds in a very masterly style; and beside her -sat a young man, attired in fashionable travelling costume, who was -alternately waving his cap and a newspaper, which he flourished so -vigorously, that the sleek, brindled cattle grazing in the clover -meadows close by, lifted their great brown eyes as if inquiringly, -while the little drag, with its varnished wheels flashing, dashed -along towards the villa, the walls of which shone white as snow in -the evening sunlight. - -The phaeton was reined up before the portico, when a handsome lad of -eighteen, with fine regular features, dark blue--almost black--eyes, -and short fair curly hair, sprang out, and was instantly clasped to -his mother's breast. - -"Oh, mamma--we have such news for you!" exclaimed the young lady, who -seemed an exact reproduction of Mrs. Devereaux in height and face, -though barely seventeen, with dark eyes and hair; "oh, such news!" -she added, in high, girlish excitement, as she tossed her whip and -reins to a groom who came promptly from the stable-yard, Derrick -Braddon, once a soldier in Richard's regiment-- - -"Surely mamma knows all," said the youth; "have you not seen the -_Gazette_?" - -"_Gazette_?" repeated Mrs. Devereaux, growing very pale, as she led -her son caressingly into the little morning-room, where a hasty -repast had been prepared for him and his sister, and which opened off -a handsome little vestibule, hung with fox-brushes crossed, the -trophies of many a hunting day, brought home by his father, "Captain -Devereaux." - -"Denzil is now an officer, mamma," said the young girl, throwing off -her hat and looking admiringly at her brother; "I was just in time to -meet him at the train." - -"Yes, mamma--I was yesterday gazetted to an ensigncy in the Cornish -Light Infantry,--got leave from Sandhurst, and at once came right -slick down here. Oh, how proud papa will be--is he not here?" - -"No," replied Mrs. Devereaux, faintly; "and how does your name appear -in the _Gazette_?" - -"Here it is, mamma, dear," replied the youth, pointing to the paper -he had been flourishing, and feeling proud to see his name, for the -first time, in print. "'Cornish Light Infantry; Lieutenant Audley -Trevelyan, from the 14th Hussars, to be lieutenant, vice Gascoigne, -killed in action. Denzil Devereaux, gentleman cadet, from the Royal -Military College, Sandhurst, to be ensign, vice Foster, deceased.' -And now, mamma, I am done at last with all the boredom of Euclid and -fortification, Trigonometry, and all the rest of it." - -"And you will soon be done with poor mamma, too!" - -"Nay, mamma, dear; that can never, never be!" replied the lad, as he -threw his arms round her neck and kissed away the tears that were -already oozing from her long and beautiful eyelashes; "but I do so -wish papa were at home--I have so much to tell, and so much to ask -him!" - -"Denzil--Devereaux?" said the mother, ponderingly, and as if to -herself. - -"Yes, mamma; and few fellows at Sandhurst had more marks opposite -their names than Denzil Devereaux, for I worked hard that I might -choose my own regiment; so I chose the 32nd because I am a kind of -Cornish man, and because it was papa's old corps. Oh, how pleased he -will be!" - -"And where is the regiment stationed now?" asked Mrs. Devereaux, in a -low voice. - -"In India." - -"India?" she repeated, mechanically, as if that separation, which is -but as a living death, had already begun. - -"I wonder who the Audley Trevelyan figuring along with me in the -_Gazette_, may be. It is a pure Cornish name." - -His mother was weeping now, and Sybil, who had hitherto been silent, -began to do so from sympathy; for already, so we have said, the pang -of the coming parting was felt, and the maternal heart was wrung at -the thought of a long and doubtful separation from her only son--her -Denzil--whom she deemed beautiful as Apollo, and clever as the -admirable Crichton; for the Overland Route had not been opened, there -was no electric cable to India, and its nearest point was distant a -six months' journey by sea round the Cape; and so, full of aching -thoughts that her children could not share--thoughts that must be all -her own till her husband returned--poor Mrs. Devereaux could only -fold her son to her breast and weep, till the young man's military -and boyish enthusiasm became dulled, and his naturally warm and -affectionate heart grew full with a perplexity that was akin to -remorse, for seeking to leave her side and push his way in the world -as a soldier. Yet that was the only career his father had ever -indicated to him. - -"A letter from papa--our dear papa!" exclaimed Sybil, glad to cause -some diversion from the gathering gloom, as she caught the missive -from the hand of the village postman, who appeared outside the open -window. - -"I wonder if he has heard of my appointment," surmised Denzil, his -thoughts reverting to their old channel. - -"It is sealed and edged with black!" exclaimed Sybil; "and--how -singular--it bears the Penzance postmark!" - -"How is this, mamma--I thought papa was in London?" asked Denzil. - -Mrs. Devereaux trembled violently, as she tore open the letter, and -muttering an excuse hastily left the room with it. - -"What's up," said the ex-cadet, as he applied himself to the sherry -decanter; "by Jove, Sybil, this is a strange way of receiving papa's -letter. Who is dead, I wonder--I hope there is nothing wrong with -him, anyway!" - -"Oh, can he have met with an accident?" - -"Scarcely, as the letter is written by himself; but to be at Penzance -when we all thought he was in town--very odd, isn't it?" - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -RICHARD'S MYSTERY. - -To explain much that the reader may have begun to suspect or -misjudge, we must now go back a few years, into the private life of -Richard Trevelyan. - -When stationed with his regiment in Montreal he had made, at some -public assembly, the acquaintance of Constance Devereaux, then a girl -fresh from school. He was fascinated by her rare beauty, and a -certain _espieglerie_ of manner, which the thoughts and cares of -future years eventually crushed out of her; and she, on her part, was -dazzled by the attentions of a handsome and wealthy young officer; -for Richard being his uncle's favourite nephew and heir, received -from him a handsome yearly allowance, in addition to that which he -inherited from his father. - -Unfortunately Constance Devereaux, with all her beauty and -accomplishments, was the daughter of one who would have been deemed -of very humble caste indeed, if judged by the standard applied to -such matters at Rhoscadzhel. The girl loved him passionately and -blindly, and little foreseeing all such a step would cost her in the -end, she consented to a private marriage; so they were united in -secret by Père Latour, the catholic curé of the chapel of St. Mary, -near Montreal; an acolyte of the chapel and Richard's servant, a -soldier named Derrick Braddon, being the only witnesses. - -The marriage was duly registered in the books of the little church, -and an attested copy was lodged with the curé who performed the -ceremony; but as the regiment was ordered soon after to another -colony, it was left in his hands for the time. - -Richard obtained leave of absence, and soon after, much to his -uncle's surprise, left the army by selling out, and led a kind of -wandering life on the Continent, taking his wife's name of Devereaux, -the better to conceal from the proud, and as yet unsuspecting old -lord, the _mésalliance_ he had formed--a union, however; of which he -had never cause to repent, for his wife was gentle and tender, and -possessed many brilliant mental qualities; but well did Richard know -that if that union were discovered, the immense fortune, which was at -Lord Lamorna's entire disposal, would be left, if not altogether to -Downie, to others, and past himself and the heirs of his line; and -that such a calamity should not occur he became more anxious and more -solicitous after the birth of two children, a son whom he named -Denzil, after his own father, and a daughter, Sybil, born to them -since their wanderings in Italy. - -Many difficulties attended the course of this secret matrimonial -life! Even in their continental travels, when seeking the most -secluded places, stray English tourists would come suddenly upon them -if they ventured near a table d'hôte; once or twice an old brother -officer, or other people who knew or recognised in the so-called -Captain Devereaux, Richard Trevelyan; and then mysterious nods or -knowing smiles were exchanged, and odd whispers went abroad in the -clubs of London and elsewhere--innuendoes that would have withered up -the heart of Constance had she heard them. - -She knew all that might be suspected, and felt that the positions of -herself and her children, were alike false and liable to -misconstruction; that malignant scandal might be busy with the names -of them all. But the die was cast now, and she had but to suffer and -endure; to pray and to wait the death of the poor old man who was so -kind to her husband, and who loved him so well--yet not well enough -to forgive--had he ever discovered it--the deception which had been -practised upon him and upon society. - -Repining in secret, sorrowing for the falsehood of her position, -knowing that her husband, the father of her children, passed in the -world as an eligible bachelor, the object of many a designing mother, -open to the attentions, the coquetries and captivations of their -daughters, aware that he resided with her only by stealth and under -another name than his own, Constance had indeed much to endure, -though rewarded in some degree therefor, to see her children growing -up in health and beauty, each a reproduction of their parents, for -Denzil had all the personal attributes of his father, with much -higher mental qualities, while the soft-eyed Sybil possessed all the -dark beauty, the petite figure and lady-like grace of Constance -herself. - -The latter, we have said, was but the daughter of a Canadian trader; -yet amid all the ease and luxury with which her husband's ample means -and tender love supplied her, there were times, when she could not -but murmur in her heart at the anomaly of her situation, so different -from the honest security of her father's humble home, and her native -pride revolted against it; and with this pride there grew a species -of shame, which she felt to be totally unmerited, and then she felt -an utter loathing for the very name of Lord Lamorna, (though it -should one day be borne by her own husband) as being the cause of all -her secret suffering, her dread of the present and doubt of the -future. - -On the education of their children, Richard, who doted on them, had -spared nothing. Both were highly accomplished, and wherever they had -wandered they had the most talented masters that wealth could -procure. Now Denzil had taken the highest prizes at Sandhurst and -was gazetted to a Regiment of the Line, and was going forth into the -world under the false name of Devereaux! - -How was this to be altered--how explained and rectified? - -A necessity for being much about Rhoscadzhel, as being the heir to -the estates and as his uncle's years increased, had compelled Richard -Trevelyan to be more often present in his native county than he had -hitherto been; hence, he had settled his secret ties in the pretty -little villa of Porthellick, at what he conceived to be a safe -distance of some forty miles or so from the residence of Lord Lamorna. - -In and about that villa he was simply known as "Captain Devereaux," -and as he had almost entirely relinquished hunting and field -sports--save an occasional shot at a bird--and when there lived a -retired and secluded life; and as his wife and children seemed to -live for themselves and him only, making friends with few save the -poor and ailing, time glided by, and the mystery of Richard's career -was never fully laid bare. - -For those there are in this world (and his uncle was one) who would -have pardoned Richard making Constance Devereaux his mistress, and -yet would mockingly have resented his making her a wedded wife! - -Lamorna's friend General Trecarrel--the representative of one of the -oldest families in Cornwall--who lived near Porthellick, had met -Richard on horseback more than once in the vicinity of that place, -when he was supposed to be in London, Paris, or elsewhere, and the -mention of these circumstances caused Mr. Downie Trevelyan, who, as -we have shown, had a keen personal interest in the matter, to -prosecute certain inquiries in that part of the duchy, and the result -led him to believe that the Captain Devereaux who occasionally -resided at the Grecian Villa in the Willow Cove, and his -irreproachable brother Richard, were one and the same person! - -If it were so, the character of the lady must be--he -supposed--somewhat questionable; and Downie knew right well that -their uncle might forgive a liaison, but never a marriage with one of -an inferior grade. The conduct and bearing of the lady at the villa -seemed unimpeachable; so Downie had long felt doubtful how to act, -and only indulged in vague hints to his brother's prejudice. - -The pride and anger even these had kindled in the heart of the old -lord, who was now gone, and the threats in which he had indulged, -afforded Richard Trevelyan a fair specimen of what would assuredly be -the result were his marriage ever known at Rhoscadzhel; and when -pressed on the subject pretty pointedly, he had assured his -uncle--while his cheek flushed and his heart burned with shame--that -he was still unwedded and free; and even as he made the false avowal, -the soft pleading eyes of Constance, his own true wife, and the -voices of their children, came vividly and upbraidingly to memory! - -Now the foolish old man had passed away, the barrier was removed, and -all should be made light that had hitherto been darkness, as her -husband's hastily written letter informed her. - -Yet she thought, with honest indignation, how hard it was that she -had been for all these eighteen years and more kept out of her proper -sphere as the wedded wife of Richard Trevelyan, often taking almost -flight from _this_ town and _that_ hotel, lest he should be -recognised; consigned hence to a life of secresy and seclusion; a -life that might yet cast doubts upon the very name and birth of her -children, through the whim, the old-fashioned pride and folly of an -absurd and antiquated peer, whose ideas went back, even far beyond -the days of his youth, when people travelled in stage-coaches, used -sand and sealing-wax for letters; when steam and telegraphy were -unknown, when papers were published weekly at sixpence; and was one -who deemed that railways, electricity, penny-dailies, and what is -generally known as progress, are sending all the world to ruin. - -Her husband's letter filled her with joy. He playfully added, "I -fear I have drunk of the well of St. Keyne before you," alluding to -the well-known spring near Liskeard, a draught from which the Cornish -folks suppose will ensure ascendancy in domestic affairs, and the -letter was signed for the first time "Your loving husband, LAMORNA." - -How strange to her eye the new signature looked. She felt somehow -that she preferred his old one of "Richard." But they were one and -the same now, and a little time should see her in her place, as -mistress of that stately dwelling, Rhoscadzhel, which she had only -seen once from a distance, and felt then, with an emotion of -unmerited humiliation, that she could not, and dared not, enter. - -Like all its predecessors, this letter, that contained so much in a -few lines, was addressed to her as "Mrs. Devereaux," and she felt a -momentary pang, but remembered that to have addressed her by the -title, which was now so justly hers, might have sorely perplexed the -rural postman of her neighbourhood. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -LADY LAMORNA. - -It was a difficult task for Constance Devereaux to conceal her -undeniable joy from her affectionate and observant son and daughter; -and her heart would sometimes upbraid her that she should feel thus -happy on an occasion which must cause them all to wear mourning, the -external livery of at least conventional woe. - -Denzil and his sister attributed her alternate fits of radiance and -silence to pleasure at the anticipated return of their father, who on -this occasion had necessarily been longer absent than usual from the -Villa at Porthellick. - -The equivocation and anxiety of years--years the happiness of which -had in it so much of alloy--were about to be removed now! She was at -last Constance Lady Lamorna of Rhoscadzhel--the wife of him who -represented one of the oldest, and perhaps, most noble families in -the duchy; but one passage in her husband's letter troubled and -perplexed her, though it caused neither fear nor doubt--of one kind -at least--in her loving and trusting heart. - -"Our marriage must still be kept a secret for a _little time_; when -we meet, I shall tell you _why_." - -After so much had been endured, and now when the barrier had been -swept away by death, why should there be more secresy still--at a -time so critical for their Denzil, too? - -For a week she tortured herself with endless surmises which might -have grown into actual fears but for the arrival of her husband, -looking so well and so handsome, and though grave (for he had loved -his generous old uncle--his second father, as he termed him), so -evidently pleased and happy; and Constance thought it fortunate that -their son and daughter were both absent, she had so much to say and -to hear. - -Denzil had taken his rod and gone forth to fish in some lonely tarn -amid the moors, while Sybil had driven away in the pony phaeton to -visit some friend at a distance. - -"Here's his lord---- the master himself, ma'am!" said Derrick -Braddon, who was the only human being in England that shared their -mystery, and who was now "dying," as the phrase is, for permission to -share with others the great secret the faithful fellow had kept so -long and so well; and now Dick's weather-beaten visage was radiant -with pride and pleasure as he ushered Richard into the pretty little -drawing-room, when, with a girlish bound, Constance sprang into his -open arms. - -"Well, dearest Materfamilias," said he, kissing her tenderly on the -proffered lips and radiant eyes; "you are looking as young and as -charming as ever--ay, even as on that eventful morning in St. Mary's, -at Montreal, a morning we may remember now without fear, my own one!" - -"So the poor old man is gone at last, and our days of dissimulation -are over," she replied, sobbing amid the smiles that beamed on her -up-turned face. - -"And you have acted wisely in not adopting deep mourning yet." - -"Why--wisely?" she asked, while perceiving that her husband must have -doffed his black costume somewhere on the way to Porthellick, for he -was as usual attired in a shooting-suit and brown-leather gaiters; -and she felt an unpleasant emotion by this circumstance, for whence -this continued caution, she thought; this care, this hateful -continuation of an alias, as it seemed, this playing of a double -character, if all were right and clear? and now the passage in his -letter flashed upon her memory. - -"I said 'wisely,' dearest Constance; because we have still a part to -play." - -"Still?" she queried, mournfully, and her eyelids drooped. - -"Tell me--the children know nothing of this change in our fortunes, I -hope?" - -"No--and dear Denzil, you are aware, has been--gazetted." - -"To my old corps--so I saw; God bless the boy?" exclaimed Richard -Trevelyan; "yes, but what I mean is, that I must bring you all before -the world--you as the wife, and them as the children, of Lord -Lamorna, with judicious care and a strength of _conviction_ that none -can doubt or challenge." - -"Oh, Richard," said she, trembling, "I do not understand you." - -"Here, I am still known as Captain Devereaux; but the world, which -deems me a bachelor, must be convinced that we were married to each -other in _faciæ ecclesiæ_, as those lawyer-fellows have it; and the -proofs of that circumstance must be forthcoming." - -"Proofs?" she repeated, faintly, as she seated herself, and grew -very, very pale, for it seemed to her over-sensitive mind, as if his -manner had become hard and sententious, even while he stooped over, -and tenderly and caressingly held in his, her little hand whereon was -the wedding ring that Père Latour had consecrated; and now there -ensued a brief pause, for in his knowledge of her extreme -sensibility, and the amount of his own loving nature, he feared the -explanation of all he meant might wound. - -Though some might have deemed the secresy to which he had condemned -her for years (lest they might lose the large fortune now theirs) -selfish; Richard Trevelyan had ever been nervously jealous of her -honour, and the honour of their innocent children; and at times, he -had accused himself of moral cowardice in his submission to the -caprice of his uncle. In his heart he had always cursed the -duplicity to which they had been compelled to resort, and the false -position in which that duplicity had placed them all for such a -length of time. All this was to be atoned for now; but he felt that -it must be done wisely, warily and surely, or, as he had said, with -_strength_, lest the world in which he had hitherto moved as a -bachelor--that selfish and suspicious bugbear called "Society" might -shrug its shoulders, and ask, "Can all this story be true?" - -He had some difficulty in explaining all this to Constance, but, -fortunately, what he lacked in tact, he made up for in tenderness; -yet, after a minute of silence and tears, she exclaimed with -uncontrollable bitterness, - -"I alone am to blame! I ought to have foreseen the difficulties with -which I should encumber you; but I was a simple, a trusting and a -heedless girl!----" - -"Nor has the trust of your girlhood been misplaced, Constance," he -urged. - -"What Eden is without its serpent--what house without its skeleton? -and I am yours!" - -"My darling Constance, do not speak thus, and do not weep; think if -Denzil or Sybil were to return and see you thus agitated--see what -they never saw before, tears in your eyes; at least, tears so bitter -as these," urged her husband, as he caressed her tenderly. "You -know, my own love, that solid proofs of our marriage, beyond mere -assertion, _must_ be forthcoming; and until these proofs are in our -hands, we must appear to the world as Captain and Mrs. Devereaux; we -must act wisely and warily, I repeat, for the sake of our dear -children." - -The face of Constance became ghastly, and a dangerous gleam, such as -Richard had never seen before, was in her dark eyes, while she said, -huskily, - -"Honest Derrick Braddon witnessed our marriage, Richard." - -"True; but I am now a peer of the realm, and I wish the full proof of -it all. You know that during the past year I have thrice written to -the Père Latour for the certificate of our marriage, but wrote in -vain, he has left my letters unanswered. I might employ those -lawyers, Gorbelly and Culverhole to sift the matter, but to use their -aid, might set abroad a scandal at once; hence I now propose to start -by the first steamer for America to get the necessary documents in -person, and Derrick Braddon shall accompany me." - -"And may not I?" she pleaded, softly. - -"No, darling Constance, I shall be gone for more than a month--for -two, perhaps, and you have to get Denzil fitted out for his -regiment--my poor Denzil, I shall grudge those two months' loss of -his society fearfully, as you may suppose." - -"Pardon my momentary bitterness, dearest Richard, but after so much -endurance, after such long concealment--" her voice failed her, and -wreathing her soft arms round his neck, she nestled her little head -on his breast, and whispered with a sigh, as if her heart would -burst, "is it irrevocable--and must I too, be separated from my boy?" - -"It is but for a time, Conny--no young fellow should be idle; and a -year or so in the army----" - -"And he will return, Richard----" - -"As the son and heir of Lord Lamorna!" - -"But oh, how I shall miss him!" - -"You will have Sybil and me!" - -"But you, too, I am about to lose." - -"For a time only; and do not speak so forbodingly, dear Constance." - -"I felt such disappointment that Denzil should appear at Sandhurst, -and even in the Gazette, not as a Trevelyan, but as a Devereaux!" - -"And a Devereaux he deems himself, and must continue to do so, till I -return from Montreal. Old Trecarrel is going in command to India, -and when matters are all squared here, I'll get Denzil on his Staff -with ease. We have been the victims of circumstances; have I not a -thousand times said, that if my uncle had discovered our marriage, we -should have lost all? He is gone at last; but you know, Conny -darling, that his ideas were simply absurd--in some respects suited -only to the middle-ages--the middle ages do I say? By Jove, to those -when the Anglo-Saxons wore coats of paint, and dyed their yellow hair -blue. But are things arranged in this world wisely, think you, -Constance?' - -"I dare not impugn the plans of a beneficent Providence." - -"But Providence never meant the conditions of life to turn out as -they too often do." - -"How, Richard," she, asked gently; "I don't quite understand you?" - -"That the greatest number of the rich, the powerful and the most -successful--by flukes, perhaps--are fools or knaves." - -"Ah, but if riches brought talent--the wealthy and powerful would be -too happy, and Fate or Providence do not make them so." - -"I cannot express to you how my heart was wrung with jealous envy, -and even with shame, when I saw Downie's family stand around my -uncle's grave, and enjoying all the freedom and hospitality of -Rhoscadzhel--even his cold-blooded, fashionable wife, too--and -thought how my own three tender loves were debarred----" - -"And unknown--" - -"Yes----d--m it, unknown, and must be for a few weeks still, but time -cures all evils, and it will cure this. Yet is not the gazetting of -the two cousins, Denzil and the oldest of Downie's four boys, in one -paragraph, and to my old corps, too a remarkable coincidence--all the -more so, that they are ignorant of each other's existence?" - -"My poor Denzil--he is so bright and clever!" - -"Ay, more clever than ever I was. In my time, when I met you so -happily in pleasant Montreal, one could be a fair average soldier -without all the polyglot accomplishments so necessary now, when he -who quits Sandhurst as a candidate for a commission direct, with five -shillings and threepence per diem to further his extravagance, might -quite as well come out for the Church or Bar, with the chance of a -safer and better paid berth in either." - -"And he joins his regiment as a Devereaux--my poor boy!" - -"Still harping on that string!" said Richard, a little impatiently. -"On my return when matters are all sorted and made clear by the legal -documents, Denzil and Sybil must be simply told, that my succession -to estates and a title have necessitated a change of name." - -"But our Denzil is no longer a boy--and I shall almost blush for my -past duplicity, before my own girl!" - -"Come, come, Conny, this is foolish; what is done cannot be undone, -and it is useless to cry over spilt milk." - -"And how to explain this absence, for perhaps two months, you say, -when they have been longing every hour for your return from London, -where they believed you to be?" - -"I know not yet, Constance; but a little time will make all things -clear. We had no marriage contract--a love-sick subaltern and a -schoolgirl were not likely to think of such a thing--we had only the -brief certificate deposited with Père Latour; but a will executed by -me, in favour of you and the children shall make all right and -secure; and now my little wife, for a biscuit and glass of dry -sherry, as I have ridden this morning all the way from beyond -Launceston." - -Constance retired for a minute to bathe her eyes, to smooth her hair, -and came back to look composed and smiling; for she had still to act -a part. - -The hour for which she had so pined and yearned--especially since her -son Denzil first saw the light in a lonely village among the -Apennines--the time when she should take her place as the wife of -Richard Trevelyan, (not that she cared for the wealth that place -might bring her) had come; and yet there were fresh delays to be -endured by her, and now it might be dangers dared by him she loved so -well; but he strove in his honest, manly, and affectionate way to -cheer her; and as he filled his glass with the sparkling golden -sherry, he kissed her once more as if they were lovers still and said -merrily, - -"I drink to your speedy welcome home, my dear little Lady Lamorna!" - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -THE BROKEN CIRCLE. - -Sybil who was clever with her pencil, made up quite a collection of -sketches from her portfolio, a pleasant labour of love, for Denzil to -take with him, as a souvenir of herself and their beloved Cornwall, -and skilfully the girl's able hand and artistic eye had reproduced -the wondrous stone avenues of Dartmoor and Merivale, the Stone Pillar -of St. Colomb, the Cliff Castles of Treryn, Tintagel and elsewhere, -with many a pretty and peaceful cottage scene. - -Preparations for her husband's journey, and more than all, the Indian -outfit of Denzil, luckily occupied the attention of Constance for a -time; thus her hands and those of Sybil were fully employed, and the -minds of both had no leisure to brood over the coming separation. - -Weary of the monotony of life at the villa, great was the delight of -old weather-beaten Dick Braddon, to "be off" as he said, "to see the -world once more with the master," whom he loved only second perhaps -to Denzil, whose free frank bearing charmed the veteran, who averred -that he was exactly like what his father was, when he joined the -Cornish Light Infantry, a cherry-cheeked ensign, long ago in America. - -But the hour of separation drew near, when both father and son were -to leave Porthellick, and depart each upon their long watery -journey;--the former to America, and the latter to what seemed the -other end of the world--India; and the heart of Constance began to -sink in spite of herself. - -"Oh, Richard," she whispered once, with her soft face nestling in her -husband's neck, while his protecting arm went kindly round her; "the -greatest joy on earth is to possess a child--the greatest woe to lose -it! The loss of our parents we may, and must, in the course of time -anticipate; but the loss of our children--never!" - -"But Denzil will return, Conny--you would not have the boy tied to -your apron-strings, like Sybil?" urged Richard, laughing to cheer and -rouse her; but, nevertheless, the rank, title and fair fortune now -before them all, the mother's anxious heart foreboded sorrow in the -future; and now came the last night her boy was to sleep under his -father's roof, ere he was to go forth into the world--forth like a -branch torn from its parent stem. - -When all were in slumber that night, poor Constance stole in to watch -her Denzil as he slept. The feeble rays of the night-lamp played on -the features of her boy, and on the glitter of a laced scarlet-coat -and gold epaulettes that hung on the pier glass. With the vanity -natural to youth, he had been contemplating himself in his Regimental -finery ere he went to repose, and his bullock-trunk and overland, -lettered for "India," were among the first things that caught her -eye, bringing more home to her heart the fact of his departure. - -He was still hers! - -To-morrow he should be far away from her, out on the great and -stirring highway of life--her petted boy no longer; and smiles, like -ripples upon shining water, seemed to spread over the smooth face of -the sleeping lad, even as the tears gathered in the eyes, and prayer -in the heart of the mother who watched him for a time, with her hands -clasped, and stole away with many a backward glance, thinking how -lonely she should be when that hour on the morrow came. - -And this tall and handsome lad--this young soldier going forth to -carry the Queen's colours in the distant East, was once her "baby -boy," the child she had borne, nursed and nurtured. She had a sweet -and sad, yet proud and joyous consciousness in this. Had he been -weakly, deformed or crippled, she should have loved him all the same; -but then, thank God! her Denzil was so handsome. - -Often in far-away lands, on weary marches, in comfortless tents and -rickety bungalows, on the banks of the Sutlej, or amid hostile Sikhs -and Afghans, would he dream of the soft and loving face that had been -bent in silence over his--the face he never more might see, save in -those kind visions that God sends in sleep, to soothe--it may be, to -sadden and to warn us. - -"No child can ever know how dearly its parents love it--how they -suffer in its illness, loss or departure," whispered Constance to -herself; "still," she thought upbraidingly, "I left my poor father to -sorrow in his humble home at Montreal--but then it was with a -husband, so dear and true!" - -The child that is ill or absent, is always valued the most; so poor -Sybil was almost forgotten by her mother for the time. A few hours -more, and both husband and son had left her in tears, to separate in -London, each to pursue his own journey. - -Of Richard's ultimate intentions, Denzil and Sybil were to be left in -ignorance, and also of the object and purport of his absence. So -Constance was left with her daughter only by her side. - -The poor mother's heart felt as if thrust back upon herself now, for -she was the mistress of a great family secret, which, as yet, she -could not share even with Sybil. - -So the long dreaded "to-morrow," had come, and other morrows -followed, and Constance began to feel herself most sadly alone. -Often she stole into the well-known room to kiss the pillow on which -her Denzil's cheek had rested; to weep over the bed as if a death had -been there, and not the departure of a gallant boy full of hope and -life; and on each occasion as she lingered there, she strove to -pourtray in fancy his face, as she last saw him, sleeping all -unconscious that she hovered near; and with a wild but loving -presentiment and hope that he would again occupy it some day, she -kept his room intact, exactly as he had left it; his books, his -fencing foils on those particular shelves, his old hat stuck round -with fishing flies, on that particular peg where he was wont to hang -it; his rods and guns, in yonder corner; though every detail, such as -these, reminded her of him more vividly, fed her grief and roused the -intense longing for his presence and return to her arms again. - -"India--India?" she would say half aloud when communing with herself; -"it may be ten years of separation. Ten years! Oh--no, never, -surely! With my Richard's great influence as a peer of the realm, -that must never be permitted. In ten years what changes must -inevitably happen; who may be alive then, and who dead? Sybil should -then be seven-and-twenty--married perhaps--and to whom?--with -children it may be--my poor innocent Sybil! Oh no; three years at -the utmost, and Denzil shall be again by his mamma's side!" - -So the lonely Constance pondered, hoped and lovingly spun out like a -web, her desires or mental view of the future, striving to gather -happiness therefrom; while Sybil sought in vain to cheer her with -music, to lure her out for a walk in the willowed dell, or a drive -along the coast road, in their pretty pony phaeton. - -The month was October now. With a sullen wail the autumnal blasts -swept from the wooded hollows of Moorwinstow to the cavernous -headland of Tintagel, cresting before their breath the waves of the -Bristol Channel. There came gusts of rain too, that beat dolefully -on the window panes, with an angry and impatient patter, adding to -the dreariness of heart experienced by those in the Villa of -Porthellick. The season was bleak, and nowhere could it seem more so -than among the barren moors, the sea-beat bluffs, and resounding -caverns, the wind swept pasture lands and promontories of Cornwall. - -The woods were almost bare; the few remaining leaves, fluttered brown -and crisp on the bared twigs; the stackyards were full, and the -produce of the potato fields was consigned to long brown pits of -fresh earth and straw, for the coming winter; the uplands were -covered with decaying stubble, or being ploughed, while, gorged with -worms, the great crows sat sleepily in the shining furrows. Thick as -gnats in summer, the dingy coloured sparrows twittered in the -hedgerows, which were being lopped and trimmed; and the axes of the -woodmen were heard in thicket and copse; while the smoke of the -steam-engine that worked and drained the adjacent copper-mine, hung -low in the frowsy air, adding at times to the gloom of the landscape. - -Richard Trevelyan had sailed, and Denzil too; and Constance was aware -that each of them had to traverse a wintry sea, the former before he -returned and the latter before he reached his destination. - -The public prints had duly announced that "the Right Hon. Lord -Lamorna and suite (_i.e._ old Derrick Braddon) had gone for a tour in -America;" and Denzil if his eyes ever saw the announcement--which is -doubtful--could little have dreamed how nearly it concerned him, and -the mother on whom he doted, and whom he still knew only as "Mrs. -Devereaux." - -The latter had to make many an excuse, even to Sybil, to account for -her husband's protracted absence from the villa; and Downie -Trevelyan, when he read the above announcement in the "Morning Post," -wiped his gold eye-glass and read it again with much perplexity and -secret annoyance, while surmising "what the deuce could take Richard -so suddenly to America at this season of the year!" - -The new task and anxiety of watching the shipping intelligence next -occupied the attention of Constance. The steamer in which Richard -sailed, had been seen, signalled and spoken with in sundry Atlantic -latitudes and longitudes; and some seventeen days or so saw her -safely at the end of her voyage; but the transport, a great Indiaman -with Denzil on board, was seldom heard of, some at long dates; and at -longer dates too, came his hastily written letters from St. Helena, -and from Ascension, or by homeward-bound ships; few men, even of the -most wealthy, thought then of proceeding to India by the scarcely -developed overland route; and how fondly those letters were read over -and over again, the last thing at night, and the first in the -morning, the mother, situated as Constance was then, may imagine; for -the loving little family circle was broken now. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -FOREBODINGS. - -If ever Constance left the villa, she sought the direction of the -coast, and when there never wearied of watching the wide expanse of -the Bristol Channel with its passing ships and steamers; for the -changing ocean was the path by which her loved ones were to return to -her; Richard, within a month perhaps, now; but their son Denzil--oh, -years must elapse, her heart foreboded and knew, ere she should see -him again. - -And now as the season advanced, and storms and wrecks among the -Scilly Isles and about the Land's End were not unfrequent, her soul -became a prey to nervous fears, that were fed and fostered in spite -of herself by Derrick's sister, Winny Braddon, a superstitious old -Cornish woman, who had been Sybil's nurse. - -Winny, a devout believer in dreams, visions, the virtues of -miraculous wells and so forth, was wont to declare that when all -specifics failed she had been cured of rheumatism by crawling through -the famous Men-an-tol, or Holed Stone near Lanyon; and now she shook -her grey head ominously when the wind blew a gale and rolled a heavy -surf upon the shore, and averred that she could hear the wreck-bells -booming under the sea at Boscastle. - -So Constance, though naturally free from all idle fancies save that -which we may term the affectionate superstition of the heart, could -not listen to the croaking of this old woman without vague and -growing fear; for though Winny knew nothing of the interest that -"Mrs. Devereaux" had in the family of Lamorna, or her connection -therewith (Derrick having kept his secret well) those sounds amid the -deep at Boscastle were supposed by Cornish tradition to bode evil to -the line of Trevelyan. - -For it would appear, as Winny Braddon related, that long ago the -villagers of Boscastle were very envious of the melodious and musical -bells that were rung in the church of Tintagel, to which they were a -gift from its superior the Abbot of Fontevrault in Normandy. So De -Bottreaux who was lord of the manor, and the site of whose castle is -now marked by a green mound only, to gratify those villagers who were -his vassals, ordered from London a merry peal for the spire of -Boscastle church; and those bells were duly shipped on board a vessel -named the _Koithgath_ caravel, for her captain, Launcelot Trevelyan, -was a younger son of the family of Lamorna. He had been a wild -fellow, of whose future career evil had been predicted by a _Pyrdrak -Brâz_ (old Cornish for a great-witch) who dwelt in the Zawn Reeth, a -granite cavern at Nans Isal, on the western side of the bay so -named--a wild and savage place surrounded by masses of scattered rock. - -So Master Launcelot ran off to sea, and served under Drake and -Hawkins in many a dark and desperate day's work among the Spaniards -in Brazil, Madeira, and the Cape de Verde; and had once been round -the Cape of Storms as far as the realms of that mysterious personage -then known as Prester John. - -Thus in due time, steered by Paul Poindester, a famous pilot from the -Scilly Isles, the _Koithgath_, with the bells on board, arrived in -the offing and in sight of Boscastle, with all its furzy hollows, -above which rose the castle of Bottreaux, with the standard of its -owner flying--a great banner, bearing three toads and a griffin. - -As the ship drew in shore, the bells of Tintagel church, that towers -still on a bleak, exposed, and lofty cliff to the westward of King -Arthur's castle, rang out a taunting and a joyous peal that mingled -with the booming of the ocean as it rolled on the bluffs below, or -far up the sandy bay of Trebarreth Strand. - -Then, according to the story, Launcelot Trevelyan swore an exulting -oath as he surveyed the stupendous scenery of his native shore, -adding, - -"I am here again--thank my good ship and her canvas!" - -"Nay," said the old pilot Poindester, as he reverently lifted his -hat, "rather thank God and St. Michael of Cornwall." - -"By Heaven," rejoined Trevelyan, "I thank myself and the fair wind -only." - -Poindester though fearless, for he was a native of those dangerous -Isles where for one who dies a natural death nine are drowned, -rebuked this irreverence, on which the wild Trevelyan stormed and -blasphemed, and forgetting to heed his compass or steerage, permitted -his caravel to be dashed ashore, just as a sudden storm came on, and -the waves of the Bristol Channel hurled her on the cliffs of the -Black Pit, where every soul on board perished, save old Paul -Poindester. From the high gilded poop of his caravel, Launcelot -Trevelyan, with a fierce malediction, cast into the sea, before it -swallowed him up, the silver whistle and chain, his badge of naval -authority, the gift of Sir Francis Drake, lest it should become some -wrecker's prey; and as the timbers parted, and the ship went down -into the angry sea, the clangour of the bells resounded in her hold; -and there to this day they are heard by people loitering on the -shore, when storms are nigh--or when aught is about to happen to the -family of Lamorna, add the superstitious folks of Cornwall. - -"Oh, why did this absurd old woman relate such a boding story to me?" -thought Constance, for situated as she was, she had become somewhat -of a prey to gloomy and grotesque fancies; hence, often in the night -she would dream of wrecks, and seem to hear the sound of alarm-bells -in her ear, and starting from bed, would draw up the window-blind and -look forth to see if a storm was raving without, forgetting then, -even though it were so, all might be calm and peaceful elsewhere. - -Then when she saw the autumnal moon in all its unclouded glory -flooding her chamber and her white night-dress with silver lustre; -that all was calm and still, the diamond-like stars sparkling above -the dark willows in the glen, or the darker woodland in the distance; -and that no noises came to her listening ear, but perhaps the bark of -a house-dog, or such as may be aptly termed the sounds of night and -silence, she would go back to her lonely pillow with a prayer on her -lips for those who were absent, and for all who were on the sea. - -A letter from Richard, made her supremely happy! - -He had reached Montreal in safety. The poor old curé of the secluded -little chapel of St. Mary--the good Père Latour--was dead, and had -been so for some time; hence the reason that her husband's letters -had remained unanswered. Even the little acolyte, the other witness -of their marriage, had gone to his last home; and now in memory, -Constance could recall the thin, spare figure of the old clergyman, -with his white hair brushed behind his ears, his peculiar shovel hat, -long black soutane, cape and gaiters to the knee--for he had been a -man of the old school of French colonial priests. - -"His little chapel and vestry, both built of wood, as you will -remember, Conny, were burned down three years after our regiment left -the city," continued Richard's letter; "and all the Records there -perished in the flames; among other things, the volume of the -Register in which our marriage was entered. But, most -providentially, the successor of Latour in the poor incumbency, found -among some of his papers, the signed copy--or rather I should say, -the original of our marriage lines or certificate--which we had never -received. _It is now in my possession_, and I have folded it inside -a will which I prepared on the voyage out--a will, dearest Conny, in -which, to make all certain for the future--as there are those at -home, whom I doubt--I leave all I have in the world to you for life, -and to Denzil and Sybil after you, absolutely. Your poor father and -mother are interred not far from the grave of Père Latour, and I have -ordered white marble crosses to be erected to the memory of the -three. I shall sail for England a fortnight hence, in the steamer -_Admiral_, and till then, shall renew in sweet fancy the days of our -loverhood, by many a ramble about Montreal; by Hochlega, the -picturesque site of the old Indian village, now its eastern suburb; -the nine aisles of the great Cathedral; the gardens of the Convent of -Notre Dame, and among the mountains close by--in many a shady walk -and lane; and Heaven and myself alone can know how I miss you and our -dearest Sybil, and how I am longing to return." It was signed -"_Lamorna_." - -"My dear, dear Richard!" sobbed the wife, while her tears of joy fell -fast. - -"All the places I mention, you must remember well," he added in a -postscript; "and you may imagine how sad it is for me to wander alone -where once we were so happy together." - -"He was to sail in a fortnight from the date of his letter," thought -Constance, with a glow of pleasure in her heart; "he must now be on -the sea! and in a fortnight from this, I shall see him again--my -dear, dear husband--so kind, so good, so true and thoughtful, even to -mark, unasked by me, the last resting-place of poor mamma and -papa--and even of the good Père Latour. The latter act, is in -itself, a compliment to me." - -Then an emotion of terror seized her, as she perused the letter again. - -What if the attested copy of those important "lines," their -certificate of marriage, _had perished_ in the same fire which -consumed the wooden chapel, the vestry, and its registers! What then -would have been her fate, and more than all, by sequence, the fate -and position of the children she idolised--her proud boy Denzil, and -the beautiful Sybil, now budding on the verge of womanhood? - -A stigma--a stain--she could never remove, might have been on them, -to the end of their lives; and her soul seemed to die within her as -she thought of the peril--the narrow escape, they had all made! - -She thanked Heaven with fervour in her heart, and again and again, it -swelled with gratitude to her husband, and with love for him and -confidence in him; with joy, too, that he would so soon hear all this -from her own loving lips--for in a few days now, the _Admiral_ would -be due in the Thames! - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -THE LONELY TARN. - -While Constance Trevelyan--or Lady Lamorna, for so we ought to name -her, though still known only as Mrs. Devereaux--was counting the -hours of her husband's absence, and looking forward fondly to his -return, Sybil, unnoticed, was absent from home more often and for -longer periods than had been her wont; and the mother, preoccupied by -her own secret thoughts, and anxiety for those who were far distant, -failed to remark the circumstance till it was incidentally mentioned -by Winny Braddon. - -When questioned, Constance remarked with concern, that Sybil blushed -deeply, and hastened to show her sketch-book, now nearly full, as an -evidence of her artistic industry, and the progress she had made; she -did not add with whom, or that she had a lover. She who never before -had a secret from her mamma, was beginning to have one now; and had -the latter looked more closely at the sketch-book, she might have -found traces and touches of a bolder and more masterly pencil than -Sybil's; and it all came to pass thus. - -A mile or two from the Villa of Porthellick, there lies a lake, which -had been a favourite resort of her brother Denzil when fishing for -pike; and of this place, and a great old Druidical stone that stands -thereby, Sybil wished to make a sketch, and on a suitable day -proceeded thither with all her apparatus, as she was anxious to have -her production finished before her papa's return. - -It was a lonely tarn, deep and dark, yet there the bright green -leaves and snowy flowers of the water lilies floated, and the -voracious pike which rose at times to snap a fly or so, went plunging -to the oozy bottom at the sight of aught so unusual as a human being -invading the solitude. - -There were within its circuit, three tiny willow-tufted isles, where -the water-ducks built their nests amid the osiers, and near which an -occasional wild swan flapped defiance with its wings among the -floating lilies that impeded its stately progress. - -On the hill slopes the varied tints of autumn were in all their -beauty; the ripened apples and pears were dropping among the long -grass of many an orchard; green yet lingered amid the foliage of the -old Cornish elms; but the beeches were almost blood red, and the oaks -were crisped and brown. In the calm depth of the tarn was reflected -the shadow of the giant stone pillar, around which the storms, the -winds and rain of perhaps three thousand years had swept; yet there -it stood, solid, silent, grim and monstrous. Could that stone have -spoken, what a tale it might have told of savage rites and human -sacrifice; what a history unfolded of races long since passed away or -merged in others--the men of days before even the galleys of the -Phoenicians cast anchor in Bude Bay, when their crews came to barter -for tin with the wild aborigines of Cornwall. - -Sybil, seated on a little camp-stool, was so intent upon her work, -that some time elapsed before she perceived that another -artist--whether professional or, like herself an amateur, she could -not determine--was similarly occupied not far from her; and -insensibly her eye wandered, from time to time, in the direction of -this stranger. - -He was decidedly a handsome young man, whose grey tweed suit and -round hat of grey felt, encircled by a narrow crape band, failed to -conceal a very distinguished air. His features were good and well -bronzed by a foreign sun, apparently. He was without whiskers, or -was closely shaven; but a smart mustache and dark eyebrows gave -character to his face. He was seated on a fragment of rock, and in -intervals between the progress of his work and the whiffs of a cigar, -spoke caressingly to a large dog that lay near him on the grass. - -The latter, a magnificent Thibet mastiff, with heavy jowl and pendant -flap-like ears, suddenly rose and came slowly, leisurely and steadily -forward to Sybil, and after a glance of survey, eyed her with what -was almost a smile--if a _dog_ can be said to smile. He then sniffed -her skirts, and pawed them with his enormous paw. Sybil evinced no -fear; she patted the clog's huge rough head; but was somewhat -surprised, when he lay down on her skirts with the utmost composure, -and showed no disposition to release her. - -The young man, whose eyes had followed, with some interest, the -motions of his dog, now whistled to him; but the mastiff did not stir. - -"Rajah--Rajah--you impudent rascal, come here!" he cried. - -But Rajah made no other response, than by whipping the turf with his -long tail. - -Upon this his master came round the margin of the tarn, and -approaching Sybil, threw aside his cigar, lifted his hat and -apologized, adding,-- - -"I trust that my dog has not alarmed you?" - -"Oh no--not in the least," replied Sybil, who began to feel somewhat -embarrassed now. - -"I assure you that he is very gentle; but he is permitting himself to -be too free, and very few young ladies would, like you, have seen -such an animal approach them without betraying signs of alarm, and -all that sort of thing. Get up sir!" - -"Oh, please don't," said Sybil holding out an ungloved and very -pretty hand, deprecatingly, between the dog and the young man's -uplifted cane; "all dogs, and even cats, like me." - -"Thereby acknowledging your power--eh?" responded the stranger, -looking down admiringly into the soft, bright, earnest face, and -clear dark eyes that were turned upward to his own. - -"I don't know what you mean by my power," said Sybil, with -simplicity; "but, as most people like me, why should not -dogs--and--and this is such a splendid fellow!' - -"I have brought him from a very distant country--he was the farewell -gift of a friend who died, otherwise," he added, gallantly, "I should -beg your acceptance of him." - -Sybil now coloured more deeply, and became uneasy; but the stranger -resumed in his most suave tone,-- - -"And you have been sketching this pretty little lake--like me? Our -tastes and occupation are quite similar!" - -Sybil had closed her book of sketches. - -"Will you not do me the favour to----" - -"Show you my poor production--do you mean, sir?" - -"Yes." - -"But you may be an artist, and a well-skilled one." - -"And what then?" - -"I should blush for my work." - -"Nay. Well, then, I am not an artist, but merely an amateur--an -officer on leave; yet I am fond of using my pencil, and have the -regimental reputation of doing so with pretty good success." - -Sybil thought of her brother Denzil--he too was an officer; poor -Denzil, now so far, far away--and she gave her new acquaintance a -half shy and half doubtful glance, that served to charm him very -much, and then showed her sketch, which he praised warmly, as by good -breeding and in duty bound. - -It was doubtless cleverly done, but his eye wandered to the rare and -delicate beauty of the little hand that had achieved it. Her sketch, -however, was inferior to his own, which he now produced, with Sybil's -own figure seated on the camp-stool introduced in the middle -distance, so as to give the exact proportion of the great rock-pillar. - -"Oh, sir," she exclaimed, "you have me in your sketch, as well as the -big stone." - -"Could I omit the most pleasing feature in my little landscape?" - -Sybil coloured again, for her education, and the peculiar mode in -which she had been reared, made her, at times, shy and reserved; she -knew not why, for to be so was not her natural character, which was -rather candid, frank, and free; so, to change the subject from -herself, she hastened to turn over the leaves of the stranger's -sketch-book, wherein were many drawings full of spirit and interest. - -"That wooden cross," said he, "marks the grave of poor Jack Delamere, -who gave me Rajah, through whom I have had the pleasure of making -your acquaintance to-day. He died when we were on the march up -country to Allahabad, and I buried him in a grove of date palms." - -"And he lies there alone?" said Sybil, her eyes involuntarily -wandering to the great dog which lay near them on the grass. - -"Quite alone--poor Jack! he was the soul of the mess-bungalow." - -"And what is this Hall with the wonderful pillars?" - -"Oh! that is a Buddhist Temple--all hewn out of the living rock. I -sketched it at Ellora. Those caves are masses of carving, and are -among the most wonderful things in India, as they often consist of -many apartments or halls of vast height, decorated, as you see, with -elaborate columns and monstrous statues. My next sketch is a Hindoo -water-girl. I gave her a rupee to stand for me at Arcot; but, as her -clothing is somewhat scanty, we shall skip to the next. Ah--that is -a mango tree, and here are the palace of Mysore and the town and fort -of Agra." - -"How much you have seen of the world!" said Sybil, her dark eyes -dilating as she glanced for a moment at the stranger's young and -handsome face; "I wonder if Denzil will ever look upon those places. -Heavens, how poor and mean do my Cornish sketches of ruins, rocks, -and engines look, after yours!" - -"Nay, do not say so," replied the other, smiling, as he surveyed with -growing interest the soft bright face of the speaker, under its -piquant little hat and veil; "hideous as the edifices are in reality, -some of our mining engine-houses, with all their chains and pulleys, -wheels and timber, blocks and gearing, their heaps of rubbish and -debris, they make somewhat picturesque sketches." - -"True; but I prefer those great solemn stones of unknown antiquity, -and I never tire of drawing them." - -"But they are so deucedly alike," replied the young officer; "and now -for your book--ah, do permit me," he added, turning the leaves. - -"That is the Lake of Como, where we passed several months," said -Sybil, tremulous with hesitation, for what she deemed alike the -boldness of the attempt and the poverty of her execution. "I now -wonder how I dared to think of depicting such a scene, with all its -white villas and green groves of orange and flowering arbutas; its -cliffs and crags, and, over all, the snow-clad peaks of the Alps, and -the mountains of the Brianza covered with pine-forests!" - -"Perhaps each sketch is the souvenir of some past or tender -happiness? And this stately palace, with the terrace before it?" - -"Is one where papa and mamma resided when I was very young." - -"You are not very old yet," was the laughing rejoinder. - -"It is on the Arno. But how often have I wished for power to depict -the lovely Lake of Como, as we could see it by night from the windows -of our villa--the shore all dark, or dotted only by the lights in -many a palace and dwelling, the snowy summits of the Splugen Alps -rising against the starlit sky, and the oars of the gondoliers -flashing as their little vessels shot across the sheet of silent -water." - -"You are quite an enthusiast!" said the officer, smiling; and at that -moment, with her sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks, the usually pale -girl looked radiantly beautiful; but her dark eyes drooped, and she -replied-- - -"I did so love Como and our pleasant picnics to Bellaggio and other -places, where the orange-trees overhang the water so closely that the -golden fruit dipped in it from time to time, when the laden branches -were stirred by the passing wind." - -"Now you will surely agree with me, that when contrasted with such -scenery as you describe, our Cornish rock-pillars and mines are but -stupid affairs?" - -"Ah, no--I cannot assent to that; there is Bottalick Mine, for -example, where the gloomy precipices of slate are hewn into such -fantastic shapes, and the great engine, perched on the ledge of a -terrible cliff, enables the miner to work below the sea. Oh, think -of that, to be quarrying for copper and tin in damp grottoes and -cells four hundred and eighty feet below the ocean, and to hear its -waves--the same waves that dash against Cape Cornwall--rolling the -mighty boulders in thunder on the bluffs overhead!" - -"Have _you_ been down and heard all that?" - -"No," replied Sybil, blushing for her own energy and enthusiasm. - -"How then----" - -"Denzil has been down often." - -"Denzil again," said the stranger with a smile, and perhaps the -faintest tone of pique; "you are surely very fond of this Denzil." - -"Fond--I love him dearly!" - -"A candid admission." - -"He is my only brother." - -"I am so glad to hear that he is a brother, and not--not----" - -"What?" - -"A cousin or--friend." - -Sybil felt that the conversation was wandering from the picturesque, -and now said, a little hastily, - -"I must bid you good morning--my way lies there," she added, pointing -westward. - -"And mine also; so far, at least, as the high road--allow me to have -the pleasure of carrying your camp-stool." - -"Many thanks." - -"Do you reside in this neighbourhood?" he asked, after a pause. - -"Yes--a little way from this," she replied, evasively. - -"_I_ am on a visit to an old Indian friend--General Trecarrel," said -the stranger, in a tone and manner calculated to invite confidence; -but Sybil instantly became reserved. Her absent parent, she knew not -why, had ever most sedulously avoided the General and all his family, -and her mamma had apparently acquiesced in this, for they knew that -the General would at once, in the spurious "Captain Devereaux," -recognise Richard Trevelyan. "You, perhaps, know the Trecarrels?" -added her companion. - -"I have not the pleasure--though I have heard of them, of course," -replied Sybil, adjusting her veil tightly over her face, with an air -of annoyance. - -The gentleman said no more; but in silence carried her sketch-book -and camp-stool until they reached the high road, where, aware that to -remain longer with her might appear intrusive, he lifted his hat, and -with studious politeness bade her adieu. - -Sybil hastened homeward, nor dared to look back, though perfectly -conscious that the eyes of the stranger, whose voice seemed to linger -in her ear, would be looking after her more than once. She had all a -young girl's perfect conviction of this. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -CONCERNING FLIRTATION. - -The next noon proved a lovely autumnal one, and Sybil repaired once -more to the tarn for the purpose of giving a few finishing touches to -her sketch. She would have blushed with annoyance, and indignantly -repudiated the idea that a chance of the stranger being there, -perhaps, for the same purpose, led her to go at precisely the same -hour as on the preceding day. And yet, though a disappointment, it -was somewhat of a relief to her, that neither he nor his great dog -were in sight; the floating swans and the huge rock-pillar alone met -her eye in the solitude; and seating herself, she spread out her -skirts, threw up her veil, and assumed her pencil; but in the midst -of her work, her tiny white hand grew tremulous, every pulse -quickened, and a thrill passed through her when she heard steps among -the long rank grass; the great nose of the Thibet mastiff was placed -upon her knee, and she perceived her new friend again approaching, -but on horseback. - -_He_ had not made even the pretence of coming to sketch as on the -preceding morning; he was without the materials for doing so, and -hence must have come deliberately in search of her, for he dismounted. - -"I am indeed fortunate in meeting you here again," said he, "but I -shall not intrude, as I fear I did yesterday; I am merely rambling -towards the sea-shore, to enjoy the breeze and a cigar till some -friends join me." - -Sybil, who felt that she was painfully pale, bowed to her new -acquaintance, who manifested no haste to prosecute his "ramble," but -seemed perfectly confident and disposed to be politely familiar. -Still Sybil had no emotion of alarm at this; she had never in her -life been insulted, and felt that there was no real cause to repulse -him, save that he was a visitor of the Trecarrels. - -He, on the other hand, while gazing from time to time into her -upturned face, was struck more by the calm, honest, and innocent -expression of her radiant features than by their beauty, which was -less that of form than of character, for though small and exquisitely -feminine, her face, like that of her mother, was strongly marked, by -the darkness of her eyes, their brows and long lashes. Her mouth -certainly was beautifully formed, with a soft smile ever playing -about it, for she was naturally of an arch and highly impressionable -nature. - -He did not permit the conversation to flag, but hovered near her, -venturing to look over her shoulder from time to time, and giving -little suggestions concerning her drawing, while in reality he was -admiring the ladylike contour of her head, the delicacy of her -slender neck, and the gloss of a single thick dark ringlet that -strayed so captivatingly behind. - -The first flush of emotion passed away in Sybil's breast, and -insensibly she found herself lured into an easy interchange of -opinion on various subjects; for in the topics of foreign travel, the -galleries, habits, tastes, and amusements of other lands, they had -ample matter for conversation, and found themselves sliding into the -position of friends, and talking of things and themes that seldom -occupy the thoughts of a young girl. - -Now, as each knew not the name of the other, and could not ask it, -there was a decided awkwardness in this; and as they continued to -talk with animation, the huge Thibet mastiff, who had been their -_introducteur_, rolled his great dark eyes from one to the other, and -lashed the grass with his tail, as if quite satisfied with the result. - -"After the colourless Indo-Britons and yellow Bengallees, how lovely -seems the complexion of this fresh young English girl!" was the -ever-recurring thought of the young officer, as he surveyed her -critically, from her smart hat and feather to her foot that peeped -from under her dress; and a lovely little foot it was--tiny enough to -have entered the famous slipper of Cinderella. - -That the solitary girl was a lady was evident to him; her carriage -and bearing were full of graceful ease, and she had an attraction of -manner and gesture peculiarly her own; but _who_ was she, that she, -at her early years, had seen so much of the world, and could speak of -Spain and Rome, of Athens and Sicily, and seemed to know every second -village among the wilds of the Apennines and the Abruzzi? - -The sketching of this day was somewhat protracted, and Sybil became -aware that their eyes sought each other with an interest she had -never felt before in those of a stranger, and that each time they so -met, her pulses quickened and her cheek flushed or grew pale. Whence -was this emotion? she whispered in her heart. - -"I shall often think of this moorland tarn, when I am far away," said -the officer. - -"You leave this soon, then?" she remarked. - -"Yes; I am, ere long, going back to India." - -"My brother Denzil has gone there to join his regiment." - -Had the stranger asked the almost inevitable military question, "What -regiment?" a little discovery might have been made; but he was full -of the girl's beauty, and thought of that only. Something of -admiration or of ardour in his eyes inspired her with confusion, and -abruptly closing her book as on the preceding day, she rose from the -bank on which she had been seated, and said, with a little -trepidation, - -"I am going now, and--and here our sketching and meetings must end." - -"Ah! why?" - -"I fear," she stammered as she spoke, aware that her speech was full -of awkwardness--"I fear that I have done wrong in--in----" - -"What?" - -"Engaging in quite a flirtation with a total stranger." - -"You cannot flirt--you are too sensible and artless; neither could -I--with you, at least." - -"Have you never flirted?" asked Sybil, laughing to cover what she -felt to be a second mistake. - -"Often." - -"Then why not with me?" she asked naïvely and archly. - -"First, tell me what is flirtation?" - -"I know what it is; but cannot define or describe it." - -"Shall I make the attempt?" - -"Do, please," said Sybil, now laughing outright. - -"It is neither coquetry nor exactly playing at courtship. It is one -of those things most difficult indeed of description and of -definition. It depends so much upon the time and place, the tone and -tenor of those who attempt it, and on the mood of the moment, whether -it be sad or gay. It is perilous work among the young and beautiful, -as it is often so much mere nonsense, and yet is so much more -dangerous to one's peace of mind than any nonsense could ever be. It -is not so earnest or solemn as deliberate love-making, and yet it is -not quite a mockery of it. It is a sharp weapon in the hands of the -wary; but a dangerous pastime for those who have had no experience in -_affaires du coeur_. It is a kind of lovemaking that commits one to -no promise, and yet may raise the proudest and wildest anticipations -in the breast, and elicit the most unwary confidence. Thus it is -difficult to find where flirtation exactly begins, and still more to -say where it may end--perhaps in real love and marriage. I fear I -have read you quite a dissertation on the subject, a most hazardous -one while looking into your bright eyes; and now tell me," added the -officer, his tone and manner becoming more soft and earnest, "have -you not done injustice to yourself and to me, for in all we have -talked over so pleasantly both yesterday and to-day has anything of -this vague kind been attempted?" - -"Most certainly not," replied Sybil, laughing again. - -"With you it would indeed be perilous for me," said the officer, -taking her hand caressingly between his own; "for I could not feign, -where I would rather feel." - -His eyes were dark and deep, their colour a kind of blue, difficult -to define, but unfathomable in expression, though very soft just -then; and now Sybil grew pale, for if the speaker was not flirting, -he had suddenly slid into downright love-making; so she said, with an -effort-- - -"We have been here more than an hour; am I not detaining you from -your friends?" - -"Perhaps," said he, with an air of pique; "pardon me for looking at -my watch. Two o'clock, by Jove! and I promised to meet the Trecarrel -girls on the Camelford road half-an-hour ago. I shall catch it from -little Rose for this! And now good morning--pardon me again if I -have seemed intrusive, but I do not despair of our meeting again." - -He had mounted while speaking, and, lifting his hat with studious -politeness, cantered off, while Rajah went bounding and barking -before him. - -"What a bright little fairy it is--and so clever with her pencil! who -the deuce can she be?" he was thinking, while Sybil, with a vague -sense of disappointment and doubt, looked after him, half fearing -that she had been too pointed in her hint that he should leave her; -and yet how were they to continue such meetings as strangers. - -In her lonely life, at least latterly, since they had settled at -Porthellick, she had met but few persons, and with none so pleasing -as this young officer. - -She hoped to meet him again on a more recognisable footing, for she -felt that though stolen interviews might be very sweet, they could -not be without some peril; and to the young girl's mind, it seemed -that the formation of the acquaintance--the whole adventure--was -quite like some of the episodes to be read of in novels; for a box -from "Mudie's," came regularly to Porthellick Villa, and perhaps, by -the laws of such literature, her strange friend might prove a peer of -the realm--a prince it might be, incog.; who could say? - -Sybil lingered long by the lonely tarn, watching the white swans -floating among the broad-leaved water-lilies, thinking over all the -stranger had said, recalling the pleasantly modulated tones of his -voice and the expression of his dark blue eyes (if blue they were), -till the sound of hoofs on the distant highway drew her attention in -that direction, and with something perhaps of jealousy and pique, she -saw him gallop past with two ladies, both well mounted on bright bay -horses. They were the Trecarrels, dashing and handsome girls, and -the sound of their merry voices and ringing laughter came clearly -over the moor as they rode at a scamper towards Lanteglos, on the -roof of the old parish church of which the arms of the Trelawneys and -Trecarrels have been carved for centuries. - -"And these girls have him with them always," thought she, as she -turned homeward. "What matter is it to me--the acquaintance of a -couple of days? why should the idea of him affect me so?" - -After this day she sought the vicinity of the rock-pillar and the -tarn no more. - -She was too open and candid in all her actions, and loved her mamma -too well to conceal ultimately from her the pleasant interviews she -had by the moorland tarn "with such a delightful young man;" but -there her confidence ended; she did not give the additional -information that on three successive Sundays, when mamma was too ill -to attend church, he had lingered or walked by the side of her -basket-phaeton, to the manifest annoyance of the Misses Trecarrel, or -that she had faintly promised, _some_ day, to make with him a joint -sketch of certain rocks upon the sea-shore; still less did she -whisper, that in her secret heart she liked him well, or trusted to -time or chance for the establishment of an interchange of thought as -yet concealed, "as though the bridge between them was yet too frail -to cross;" and Constance, occupied solely by solicitude concerning -the now-protracted absence of her husband, did not at first make any -inquiries. - -Sybil found the stranger's image, his tones and words recurring -perpetually to her mind in spite of herself, and she blushed at the -conviction. She had few male friends--beyond the burly rector and -old village doctor, perhaps none--and certainly none that she had met -elsewhere proved so graceful and winning as this unknown admirer. To -her partial eyes, he seemed the beau-ideal of manly beauty, while to -those of others--even the Trecarrel girls--he was simply a passably -handsome fellow. - -"Why do I think of him at all?" she would ask of herself: "though so -young, he may be married--or engaged--engaged perhaps to that Rose -Trecarrel of whom he seemed so much afraid the other day. Yet he may -surmise the same of me--I, Sybil Devereaux, married!" and then she -laughed at her own conceit. - -"There is a depth in the human heart which, once stirred, is long, -long, ere its waters again subside," and this depth he had contrived -to stir in the heart of Sybil. She who had seemed as bright as the -day, and happy as the blackbird that sang on the adjacent rose-trees, -became silent and thoughtful and apt to indulge in dreamy moods. - -Old Winny Braddon was the first to detect this; and so she set -herself to watch, and hence the hints she gave to Constance--hints -which caused the production of the sketch-book, with some confusion -on Sybil's part, as recorded in our tenth chapter, and she took her -young favourite to task in the usual mode of old nurses, by -commenting upon the enormity of thinking of love or marriage at her -years. - -Now Sybil, like every young girl of her age, had her day-dreams of a -lover, just such a lover as this, but she had not, as yet, thought of -marriage. Such a catastrophe--such a separation from "dearest -mamma"--had not quite entered her mind; but now, by Winny Braddon's -remarks, it seemed to be thrust upon her consideration. She blushed -and felt abashed, as if the modesty of her nature had been assailed, -and her girlish mind was filled with a vague sense of dread and awe, -she knew not of what or of whom. - -However, it chanced that on the last day he had lingered by the side -of her pony-phaeton for a few minutes, resting his arms on the side -thereof in such a way that she could not, without positive rudeness, -have driven off, she had been resolving, but not without a struggle -in her heart, that she would place herself in his way no more. - -"This must end," had been her thought; "it is most unfair to poor -mamma, and is unwise for my own peace of mind;" and it was while she -thus determined, he came to her smiling, and leaning on the side of -the little phaeton, when the Trecarrels were conversing with the -rector's family, said in his pleasant voice, - -"Shall we ever resume the little discussion we had so merrily on that -delightful day beside the old rock-pillar?" - -"Discussion--on what?" asked Sybil, timidly. - -"Flirtation--Miss Devereaux." - -"What! you know my name?" - -"Yes; I am happy to say I do now, Sybil Devereaux." - -"How came this to pass?" - -"Simply enough: the Trecarrel girls told me." - -"But I do not know them," said Sybil, with a tone of pique. - -"May I have the pleasure of introducing----" - -"Excuse me, please, but not just now," said she, hastily, remembering -how her father had ever avoided the family of the General. - -"And now I must tell you my name--Audley Trevelyan, late of the 14th -Hussars." - -"I have surely heard it before," said Sybil, pondering, "but where I -know not now." - -It was in the _Gazette_ together with that of Denzil, but she had -forgotten the circumstance, and he said, smiling still, - -"You may easily have heard it--the name is peculiar to Cornwall, and -my uncle is Lord Lamorna." - -"Indeed! all Cornwall has heard that the late lord was a very, very -proud man. - -"Absurdly so; but I must bid you adieu. Rose Trecarrel is impatient." - -"We are going, Mr. Trevelyan," said that young lady, with some -asperity of tone, from the window of the carriage in which she and -her sister were seated; and lifting his hat, Audley hastened to join -them. The footman threw up the carriage-steps, fussily closed the -door, and they departed. So, as doubtless the reader has foreseen, -Sybil's admirer was her own cousin; yet neither knew of the -relationship. - -She drove off in a somewhat dubious state of mind, amid which, as she -permitted the reins to drop listlessly on the backs of her two little -ponies and allowed them to go at their own pace, she gave way to the -current of thought, and ended in a quiet shower of tears, which, -however, calmed and soothed her. She had an undefined emotion of -pique alike at this stranger, Mr. Trevelyan, and Rose Trecarrel; and -as she had been learning to love the former, she resented his extreme -intimacy with the latter, and she knew all the perils of propinquity -with a girl so lovely as Rose undoubtedly was. - -Hence, more than ever did she resolve to avoid him, and even sought -to nurse herself into emotions of anger by fancying there was -something that savoured of forwardness in the mode in which he had -recently addressed her. The moment she reached home and tossed the -reins to the groom, she hastened to the side of Constance. - -"Oh, mamma," she exclaimed, in a tumult of excitement, "I have -discovered the name of the gentleman about whom you spoke to me -lately!" - -"The hero of the sketch-book, and it is--what?" - -"Mr. Audley Trevelyan; don't you think it so pretty?" - -Constance was silent for nearly a minute. Then foreseeing much -trouble and danger if this intimacy were permitted to ripen before -her husband's return, and the full recognition of herself, her son -and daughter, in their proper place, and in society in -general--society, "that Star Chamber of the well-bred world,"--she -said, with grave energy, while taking Sybil's flushed face between -her soft white hands,-- - -"Promise to me, darling, that you will meet him no more--at least -until advised by your papa." - -"I give you my promise, dearest mamma." - -"Remember that he is the friend, the guest, of those Trecarrels whom -your papa has ever avoided for reasons best known to himself, though -they seem people of the best style; and you owe this obedience to him -in his absence." - -"Have no fear for me, mamma; I shall ever obey you," replied Sybil, -as she threw her arms round her mother's neck and kissed her to -conceal the tears that were welling up in her fine dark eyes. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -THE PIXIES' HOLE. - -On the following evening Sybil had set forth on an errand of charity -to one of the many poor who blessed the bounteous hand of her -mother--the widow of a fisherman who had perished during the pilchard -season in the past summer--and she meant to return, as she stated, by -the sea-shore. - -Sybil had much cause for thought, and was somewhat disposed to linger -on the way. The ample means enjoyed by her parents on the one hand, -with the general seclusion of their lives on the other, and their -studied avoidance of society when in England, had now given the girl -much reason for reflection. - -Her papa's mysterious absence too, and her mamma's nervous anxiety -about American letters, were not without singularity; and why had -both so sedulously abstained from all introduction to the family of -the Trecarrels, who were greatly esteemed in the neighbourhood, and -who were undoubtedly people of the best style? By the system of -which this seemed merely a portion, she was even now debarred from -having properly presented to her this Mr. Audley Trevelyan, who -seemed so well disposed to admire--perhaps, to love her. - -"We have made but few acquaintances and, of course, still fewer -friends at Porthellick," said Sybil, half aloud; "now why is it -thus--to have means in plenty and so few to love us? What can be the -reason? Mamma has some _secret_; but what can that secret be? Poor -mamma--she looks so sweet always, and yet so sad at times!" - -She would write to Denzil, she thought, on the subject of these -mysteries; but Denzil was yet at sea, and it would be long, long, -before she might receive his answer; and, then, there would be an -awkwardness in their parents' reading, as they would certainly wish -to do, his letters and perceiving the doubts she had suggested--the -secrets she wished to probe. Perhaps when her papa, whose especial -pet she wras, returned, she might venture to give some hints, to make -some inquiries; and as she saw the white sails of the shipping and -the smoke of many a passing steamer, she lifted her eyes to heaven -with an unuttered prayer in her heart, that she might soon again hear -his voice and cast herself into his arms. - -By one of those lanes peculiar to Cornwall, where the old road is -sunk so deep in the ground and the bordering walls are so high that -the surrounding scenery is sometimes hidden, lanes where in summer -the elms cast their leafy shadows, and the fragrant wild rose and -honeysuckle mingle with the long tangles of the bramble, Sybil -reached the shore and descended to the very margin of the sea. - -It was one of those evenings which, even in the last days of autumn, -come to the rocky and rugged duchy, when the atmosphere is so mild -and balmy that one might think it was in the early weeks of spring, -when the grey cliffs and purple moorland glisten in the yellow rays -as the sunlight falls softly between the flying clouds, on land and -sea; and the sparkling stream, that rolls from rock to rock on its -passage to the shore, makes music in its plash as it falls from the -cascade into the pool below, where the brown trout lurks in safety -and unseen; and Sybil, as she wandered on, felt, she knew not why, an -emotion of calm and contentment growing in her heart. - -But in its serenity and beauty the evening was deceptive, and old -fishermen on the heights, and other weather-beaten salts who -lingered, telescope in hand, on many a rude pier that jutted into the -Bristol Channel, when looking seaward detected that which the -landsman saw not--the tokens of a coming storm; for seamen have -strange instincts peculiarly their own, and can read the sky like the -pages of a mighty book. - -Across the sea the sun, now setting, poured a steady stream of golden -radiance, like a broad and glittering pathway from the far horizon to -the very shore, by the margin of which Sybil was now lingering; and -it tinted with warm light the flinty brow of many a storm-beaten -headland, and those fantastic piles of grey granite which cap the -hills in Cornwall, and are there called _carns_. - -Seated on a fragment of rock, lulled by the regular and monotonous -rolling of the surge, Sybil was immersed in thoughts of her absent -father and brother, each now traversing the same sea, and yet so far -apart upon its waters; she thought of Audley Trevelyan. Should she -ever meet him in society as she wished to do? A little time and it -might be too late, for Rose Trecarrel was so lovely, and already -seemed to consider him as her own property; for it was by her side he -sat in church, where they used the same books, and it was she that he -usually shawled or cloaked first for the carriage; so if they were -not already engaged, they might very soon be so. - -Amid this reverie she was startled by a distant voice holloing, and -apparently to her. She looked up, and on the summit of a cliff that -overhung the shore, some two hundred feet or so above where she was -seated, a man was gesticulating violently and beckoning to her. - -Was he mad or tipsy? was her mamma ill; or what did this person mean? -She listened intently and thought she heard her own name; he was -evidently addressing her, and pointing to the sea. At last his voice -distinctly reached her ear. - -"Look out, Miss Devereaux,--the tide is coming in!" - -She glanced hastily round her, and a chill struck upon her heart, for -the fragment of granite on which she sat was almost environed by the -encroaching sea, and the stripe of yellow sand, by which she had been -walking at the base of the cliffs, was nearly covered by the surf, -which was already chafing white and angrily about the rocky headlands -which formed the horns of a little bay. - -Heedless of wetting her feet, Sybil gathered her skirts in her hand -and rushed shoreward, when a greater terror smote her heart as she -looked around her. The man on the cliff had disappeared; no aid -seemed nigh, and no living thing was visible save a solitary chough -or red-legged crow, which was perched on a fragment of rock, from -whence he eyed her in quiet security. - -She was at a part of the coast where the land receded and the sea -advanced between two headlands of granite, precipitous and sheer, but -crowned by groves of ancient trees. The water, as yet, was smooth as -a mill-pond within the bay, and reflected in its glassy depths the -coast that towered above it; while no sound came along the vast -expanse of shore, save the hollow gurgle of the flowing tide, as it -sought the recesses of the many caverns and fissures in the lower -rocks. In the offing, however, the rising waves were edged with -white, and this sign, together with the lowering sky and gathering -clouds, showed that the coming night would be a rough one. - -From the stripe of sandy beach, now nearly covered by the incoming -sea, the only path lay round a little moss-grown slope at the base of -an enormous rock, from whence it wound upward to the verge of a steep -precipice and led to the deep old lane, already described. Over this -mossy and angular ledge the angry tide had already rolled its spray, -consequently it was too slippery for the footsteps of the affrighted -girl, who, after thrice approaching it, finally shrunk back, and ran, -with wetted feet, towards the centre of the bay, keeping close to the -sheer cliffs, against which the flowing sea was rising fast, and -beginning to surge and boom, throwing masses of foam and froth over -her whole person, while the scared seagulls and puffins whirled in -flights around her. - -Once or twice a wild shriek escaped Sybil; then her voice began to -fail her, and she could only utter prayers that were earnest, deep, -and piteous. - -Wildly and despairingly she looked upward to the summits of the -cliffs; they were impending and inaccessible, by their gloomy outline -fully illustrating the influence and fury of what is called "the -Atlantic drift," which is especially turned into the Bristol Channel, -where the rocks, by the waves for ever heaving and rolling in mighty -undulations, are worn into concave fronts, and form thus a hopeless -barrier to the shipwrecked, and to all who might seek to ascend them. - -She turned seaward with haggard eyes and wrung her poor little hands; -not a boat was near, and nothing now was visible between the horns of -the bay save the smoke of some distant steamer, hull-down below the -horizon line, as she sped on her way to the coast of Ireland. The -flowing tide was above Sybil's ankles now; she knew that at high -water it would mount to several feet, and that ere long her drowned -corse should be dashed and battered, at the sport of the waves, -against those very rocks at which she glanced so despairingly! - -The man who had seen from their summit and warned her--where was he -now, and who was he? He knew her name, and yet had he abandoned her -to her fate in that terrible place, with the sea and the darkness -closing fast around her; for the sun had set and dun clouds were -piled in stormy masses now, where so lately all was golden sheen. - -Suddenly she bethought her of a cavern in the rocks known as the -Pixies' Hole, which her brother Denzil had often explored--a gloomy -place, the haunt at times of the seal and of the _zart_, as old -Cornish folks called the sea-urchin. It was one of those great -caverns in which, in the barbarous times of old, the Cornish men took -shelter from the Romans and Saxons, just as the children of Israel -did from the Midianites in the dens of the mountains; and there, by -local superstition, still abode, unscared by the whistle of the -adjacent railway, certain little beings known as the Pixies, who came -hither from Devonshire on dark nights, mounted on the farmers' -horses, and were heard to sing in its recesses while pounding their -cider. - -Gathering her skirts again, the poor girl dashed through the water, -and ere long reaching the mouth of the cavern, clambered in -breathlessly, falling, the while, more than once on her tender hands, -when her feet slipped, on the glassy surface of the sea-weedy rocks -and stones, which covered all the ascent to this gaunt and gloomy -place of refuge. - -She knew that it penetrated far inland, and hoped that there for a -time she should be safe; but there would be hours of darkness, cold, -and captivity to endure, ere the ebb of the tide would permit her to -escape, and by that time what must be the terror of her poor mamma! - -When fairly within this place her courage rose a little, for she saw -that it closely resembled a grotto she had frequently visited and -sketched--the Cave of Porthmellin. The floor of this great fissure -in the rocks ascended at an angle from the shore, mid as the tide -advanced, Sybil found herself compelled to retire further and further -still, inward and upward amid its dreary uncertainties, while the -rising tide, now rolling into the bay with the full force of a west -wind, began to surge with a sound as of thunder, about the mouth by -which she had entered, and that orifice seemed to lessen rapidly as -the water rose within it. - -The roar of the sea woke a hundred weird echoes amid the impenetrable -gloom beyond her; while the view outward from the point now attained -by the breathless and affrighted girl, for a time proved strange and, -to her artistic eye, full of wonderful effects. The walls of rock -were dark, and yet so polished by time and the seas of ages as to -emit reflected light, and to reveal little pools of crystal water -lying still and motionless in fissures and crevices, where star-fish, -shells, and hermit-crabs had been left by the last ebb-tide. - -With growing terror Sybil could perceive that by each successive wave -the mouth of her refuge grew smaller, and it was evident that ere -long it would be covered by the sea, while she should be shut within! - -A cry escaped her with this awful conviction; but she uttered no -more, for the echoes of her voice came back to her strangely and with -melancholy variations, as if from vast distances. If the cavern -mouth were totally submerged, should she be suffocated; or if not, -might she otherwise too surely die of cold, and lie there till some -holiday explorer, or some boy in search of puffins' nests, found her -remains? A cold current of air that swept past her from within the -cavern warned her that it had an outlet somewhere; but it filled her -soul with greater terror, for she remembered to have heard Denzil, -old Derrick Braddon, and others say, that the Pixies' Hole terminated -in the shaft of an old and long unused mine, down which she might -fall and be dashed to a very pulp, if she ventured one foot further; -for all was gloomy horror round her now; and as her knees yielded -under her, and she sank upon them to pray, she felt the still rising -tide flow over them as it had rolled completely above the rocky arch -of the cave and submerged it! - -Feeling the ground with her hands outspread, the unhappy girl -continued to creep a few yards further in, and then she paused, for -all that she knew to the contrary, on the very verge of the fatal -mine! - -One little while she was full of pious resignation to die, for she -had lived an innocent and guiltless life. She drew from her bosom a -locket and fervently kissed it, as it contained the hair of her -parents and Denzil--all she loved on earth. She knelt with her bowed -head between her hands to shut out the horrid booming and sucking -sounds of the sea in the lower part of the cave, and closing her -eyes, as if the more to concentrate her thoughts, burst into -passionate and vehement prayer. - -Then anon the horror of death--and especially of such a death, amid -gloom and darkness, unseen, unpitied, and unknown, would draw from -her a piteous wail, that was lost amid the bellowing of the sea, for -a storm of wind had now risen in the channel. - -Of that newly-found admirer whom she had been learning to love, -Audley Trevelyan, she had totally ceased to think; her heart was -wholly occupied by thoughts of her papa, her mamma, her brother -Denzil--all of whom she might never, never see more! - -Dread of falling headlong down the shaft of the ancient mine, more -than a thousand feet, perhaps, made her, we have said, pause -breathlessly, and lie on the sloping floor of rock, listening to her -watery death coming nearer and nearer with a gurgling sound, that, to -her nervous and excited imagination, seemed like the chuckle of a -destroying fiend! The dark unspeakable himself was alleged by the -peasantry to frequent the oozy recess of the Pixies' Hole, and the -bottom of the old shaft was said, by the same veracious authorities, -to be haunted by the unquiet spirits of ancient miners, who had -perished there in the time of old. - -Rapidly, yet terribly, through the mind of Sybil, then, as she fully -believed herself to be, hovering on the verge of death, came back the -eighteen years of her past life; at Como, in the old palace by the -Arno; among the Apennines and the wild Abruzzi; Rome, Athens, and -elsewhere, all passed before her like a rapid phantasmagoria--days -and hours of happiness and pleasure. The faces and voices of her -parents and her brother so beloved, came vividly amid those memories -of their strange and aimless wandering in foreign lands. The secret -of her mother--whatever it was--she should never learn now; but -gleams of hope and the desire to live, mingled with the blackness of -her despair, for existence seemed sweet, and she felt so young to -die, when a long life should be before her. - -At Porthellick she must long since have been missed, and her fancy -pictured the agony of her lonely and tender mother; the wild, noisy -grief of Winny Braddon, and the honest anxiety of those who might be -fruitlessly seeking for her along the cliffs or through the bay by -boats; seeking for her alive or dead. - -All their search would be vain, for the tide was still rising, and -now where she stood, not daring to go further, the water flowed above -her knees. A little time, a very little time more, and she should be -lying drowned, the sport of the waves within the Pixies' Hole, or -borne by them in their reflux, into the mighty waste of sea that -washes the rugged shore of Cornwall. - -A shrill cry escaped her as the water flowed to her waist; and -gaspingly she felt with her hands for a little ledge of rock, up -which she clambered, being in her terror endued by unnatural -strength; and then, dripping and despairing, she felt a numbness come -over all her faculties, which prevented her responding to certain -strange sounds, somewhat like those of human voices mingled with the -barking of a dog, now coming out of the inner gloom, while again a -superstitious dread, the result of Winny Braddon's teaching, began to -mingle with her more solid fears and sufferings. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -THE TIDE IN! - -For a little space we shall return to the pretty villa of -Porthellick, and to the anxious life of her who dwelt there; her -thoughts ever with her absent son and husband. In this instance we -put Denzil before his father, for the return of Richard Lord Lamorna, -was looked for daily, but that of his son might be the event of years -to come; so Denzil's last fond glance ere he left her, and his calm -aspect as he lay asleep and all unconscious that she hovered near his -pillow, were deeply impressed on his poor mother's heart; and now an -eternity of waters rolled between them, for his ship, she knew, must -be ploughing the wide Indian Ocean. - -To the wayfarer along the coast-road towards the quaint village of -Endellion (with its weather-beaten church, and the ivied ruins of -Rhoscarrock), that white-walled villa with its rose covered peristyle -buried among the pale-green drooping willows from which the locality -takes its Cornish name, no better example of peace, content and quiet -could be given. - -Yet the place was fated to be one of anxiety and sorrow. - -Seated at a little buhl escritoire in her drawing-room, Constance was -lingering over the last letter from her husband, after the removal of -the tea equipage, and long after Sybil had set out on her charitable -mission to the fisherman's widow. - -"Richard is very long of returning, surely!" was her prevailing -thought, as she sat with her graceful head resting on a white and -dimpled hand, quite unconscious that the sun had set beyond the sea, -and that the shades of evening were deepening around her. - -No upbraiding thought of that absent husband entered the gentle heart -of Constance; yet with all that heart's gentleness, she could not but -think somewhat bitterly of the late Lord Lamorna, whose unreasonable -prejudices and pride of birth and station, though only the result, -the growth and maturity of centuries of time, and many generations of -Trevelyans, had cost her years of anxiety, of unmerited seclusion and -wandering in foreign lands under a name which was not that of her -children's father, and thus keeping them in ignorance of their real -family, its claims and rank--for the mystery had been continued, even -to the gazetting of Denzil, under the name of Devereaux! - -The rising wind as a sudden gust swept through the grove of willows, -roused her from these thoughts, and she found old Winny Braddon, -hard-featured and keen-eyed, lingering near, with anxiety depicted in -her face. - -"The winter is setting in early, surely," said Constance; "we are not -out of autumn yet, Winny, and see how dark the evening has become!" - -"_En hâv perkou gwâv_, my mother used to say, old Cornish for 'in -summer, remember winter,'" replied Winny. "A sad night it will be -for the poor fellows on board ship, ma'am, I fear." - -"Do not say so, Winny!" - -"The waves are rolling in fast, and breaking white as snow upon -Tintagel Head, and all along Trebarreth Strand." - -"And where is Miss Devereaux?" - -"I know not, ma'am--only she has not returned." - -"And she was to come by the shore!" exclaimed Constance, starting -from her seat. - -"The shore! do you mean the bit of sand that lies near the Pixies' -Hole?" - -"Yes--yes." - -"The tide has long since been in--my God! oh mistress, our poor -_chealveen_ may be lost!" exclaimed Winny, using the old endearing -local word for 'child.' - -Constance closed her escritoire with trembling hands, and went, in -alarm, to the windows which faced the sea. The sun, we have said, -had long since set, and athwart the dim and black and stormy clouds -that now hid the point of his departure, a torrent of rain was -falling aslant upon the dark and foam-flecked sea, and would ere long -be drenching all the rocky shore. A little time and all should be -darkness, and where was the absent Sybil? - -Close-hauled, and running fast before the blast for shelter in -Portquin Bay, a large boat, the last, perhaps, of the autumn pilchard -fishers, careening wildly over amid the foam, was seen to vanish -round a promontory. - -A sudden access of terror now seized the heart of Constance. -Instantly a mounted servant was dispatched to the hut of the widow, -and the man soon came galloping back, with a scared visage and the -tidings that Miss Devereaux had left her more than three hours ago, -and had certainly descended to the beach, as she had been seen to do -so. By this time, darkness had fairly set in; rain was falling fast -upon the bleak coast, and "sowing wide the pathless main," while a -heavy gale from thence was dashing a flood tide upon the shore, and -the soul of Constance grew sick with apprehension. - -"The tide in! oh my God--in what can I have offended Thee to be -punished thus? My Sybil--my Sybil--is the cup of my bitterness to be -filled to overflowing!" she exclaimed, in a low voice as she sank -upon a sofa, while Winny Braddon wrung her hands, and in the noisy -grief peculiar to her class, lamented, as already said, "the darling -_chealveen_" she had nursed in her bosom. - -Constance would have gone forth in person to search, bleak and rainy -though the night; but she was too feeble and delicate to face the -storm, nor would Nurse Braddon permit her. She sent all her -servants, male and female, in search of the tidings she was terrified -to hear; and ever and anon she rushed to the front portico and looked -out upon the gloomy night, to where away beyond the willow groves -that grew around the villa, the bleak high road wound seaward over a -bare Cornish moor, towards those clumps of old trees that crowned the -rocks which overlooked the fatal Pixies' Hole. - -Slowly, as if each were an eternity of time, hour after hour passed -now--periods filled up by agony and the pulsations of her heart; and -ere long her watch told her that midnight was nigh. - -Midnight, and her child still absent--her Sybil, the mistress of a -thousand pretty, winning and affectionate ways! - -Higher and more high rose the blustering wind, sweeping before its -angry breath the last brown leaves of autumn; wildly the willows -seemed to lash the stormy air, as their supple branches were tossed -on the stormy blast; and from a distance up the valley came the -roaring of the sea, whose waves at the horizon were brightened -occasionally by a ghastly glare of lightning. Between the scudding -clouds, the moon's pale crescent was visible for a time, above the -ruins of King Arthur's castle on steep Tintagel Head, a tremendous -bluff (which is cleft by a chasm from the mainland) adding thus to -the weird and wild aspect of the night; and what served to increase -the distraction of the wretched mother, was the strange circumstance -that of the several messengers she sent forth, not one had yet -returned with tidings of any kind. Suspense thus became as it were, -a bodily agony; she was led to anticipate the worst; and Winny -Braddon though her heart was a prey to the keenest alarm and anxiety, -had to use almost affectionate force to prevent her mistress, a weak -and delicate little woman as she was, from sallying forth in her -despair to prosecute the search in person. - -Winny had but slender hope, she knew every foot of her native shore, -and was old enough to remember many a dark and terrible story of the -Cornish wreckers, and when many a keg of French brandy, and many a -bale of good tobacco were brought from the Scilly Isles, and without -the knowledge of the Coast Guard, landed slyly in some quiet nook and -cavern, where those to whom they were consigned knew well when to -find them; she knew many who had perished in those secret places, -when seeking for the hidden wares; and it was for being engaged in -some of these little affairs, that her brother Derrick, had to -"levant" from the duchy, and become a soldier in "the master's -regiment"--the Cornish Light Infantry. - -Alternately Constance lay in a species of stupor on a sofa, or -started to the front door, where she listened with eager ears, the -rain falling on her pale face, and the wind blowing about her hair, -while she could see the lanterns of the searchers, glimmering like -distant _ignes fatui_, as they proceeded to and fro along the heights -that overhung the sea. - -Denzil, she thought, was gone on life's highway, and might never -return; their daughter drowned--their only child now it would seem, -reft from them suddenly and cruelly! What would Richard say on his -return, and how was she to meet his eye? What account was she to -give of her maternal solicitude and of her stewardship? Yet in what -way was she to blame? - -Yes! she did accuse herself. The warnings and hints of Winny Braddon -came to memory. She had been remiss; she had permitted Sybil to -wander too much abroad with her sketch-book, and this was the end of -it; yet who, without some divine prescience, could have foreseen a -catastrophe so terrible? How often had Denzil filled her mind with -fear and anxiety by his exploits among those very rocks, and by his -explorations of that horrible Pixies Hole, where, too probably, his -sister had perished miserably; yet her bold and handsome Denzil, -always came back in safety to kiss and laugh away her fears and -upbraidings. - -"Oh why is this terrible calamity put upon me?" she moaned, as she -lay with her face covered by her hands, and her damp dishevelled -hair; "is it but the forerunner of a greater--if a _greater_ there -can be? Can I have loved my husband and our children so much that I -have forgotten to love my God!" - -And for a moment or two, she actually turned over in her mind this -strange idea--the first proposition of the Mystics, which was, that -the love of the Supreme Being must be pure and disinterested; that -is, exempt from all views of interest, all care of those we love on -earth, and all hope of reward--tenets defended by Madame de Guyon, -and advocated by the eloquent Fénélon. - -A sudden knocking at the front door, and a violent pealing of the -house-bell, caused her to start as if with an electric shock. - -Tidings had come at last--tidings that might fill her soul with joy, -or cause it to die within her. - -"General Trecarrel, would speak with you ma'am," said Winny Braddon, -hurrying in with fresh excitement in her tone and manner. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -LOST. - -The stranger who had called to Sybil by name, and who had recognised -her from the summit of the cliff, was no other than General -Trecarrel, the same whom her parents had so studiously avoided; but -who nevertheless knew her well by sight, having seen her on many -occasions when riding abroad, and on Sundays at church, whither she -always drove in her little pony phaeton, and he had always admired -her beauty greatly. - -The General was not a very old man; he was still looking for another -command in India, and though in affluent circumstances was yet an -enthusiastic soldier, who believed that military rank and stars and -ribbons, were the only things in this world worth living for. He was -nearly six feet in height--erect as a pike, and well built; his -features were handsome, his eyes dark and keen; his complexion was -well bronzed and dark, his short shorn hair was becoming grey and -grizzled, and his manner, by force of habit, and the air to command, -was brief and authoritative. - -He knew in a moment the great peril of the girl on the beach below -him; he saw that already the tide was chafing in white surf at each -horn of the bay, round either of which she could alone escape from -the watery trap that enclosed her, unless taken off the shore by a -boat. The General was on foot; that part of the coast was very -lonely and no house or hut was, near; but intent upon her rescue, he -hurried away as fast as a limp in a wounded leg (he had received a -ball at Ghuznee) would permit him, from place to place, in search of -a boat; but neither boat nor fisherman could be found in time to take -her off that perilous beach, ere the tide covered it. - -The evening darkened quickly, and the stormy wind brought faster in -the stormy sea. Near the gate-lodge of his own residence, he met -Audley Trevelyan strolling leisurely in the avenue with his hands in -his pockets, accompanied by his huge dog, and enjoying a cigar before -the bell should ring to dress for dinner; but the havannah fairly -dropped from his lips in his surprise on beholding the excited state -of the usually calm and collected General Trecarrel. - -"What's the row, General--what the deuce is the matter?" he asked. - -"A dreadful thing will occur--if it has not already occurred--a poor -girl on a solitary part of the beach yonder, has been cut off by the -tide, and unless we can save her in ten minutes at farthest, all will -be over--yes, in ten minutes!" added Trecarrel, looking at his gold -watch--the gift of Sir John Keane, with whom he had served in the -conquest of Cabul. - -"Good Heavens, let us get a boat at once!" - -"There is not one to be had--the pilchard fishers hereabout are all -at sea!" - -"Lower someone over the cliffs by a rope; I have gone myself, thus, -for a chough's egg, more than once." - -"The rocks are nearly two hundred feet in height in some places, and -the poor girl----" - -"Is she a lady, General?" - -"Yes, and a handsome one, too." - -"You know her then--she is not a stranger?" - -"To me only--a Miss Devereaux, who resides at Porthellick." - -"_Who_ do you say?" shouted Audley; "Sybil Devereaux?" - -"The same." - -"Merciful Heavens, let us do something at once!" - -"True, but without a boat what can be done?" - -"She cannot, she must not, she _shall not_ be left to perish thus, if -I can save her!" exclaimed Audley Trevelyan, with all the impetuosity -of youth, and with sudden emotions of terror, pity, and tenderness -combined. He, usually so calm, quiet, and apparently -unimpressionable, to the surprise of the General, now rushed to the -stable-yard, and loudly, even fiercely summoned grooms, gardeners, -and lodge-keepers, and with these carrying poles and stable-lanterns, -hurried towards the seashore, while two messengers were despatched to -the hut of a fisherman, who lived about a mile distant, to get his -boat, or at least a coil of stout ropes, and they succeeded in -securing the latter; but his boat was at sea, and was the same which -Constance had seen running round the headland for shelter at Portquin. - -The alarm spread rapidly, and soon a dozen of men at least were -searching along the verge of the cliffs in the dusk. The sea was -seen rolling its waves round all the little bay now, and the base of -the cliffs was marked by a curling line of snow-white foam alone. -Every vestige of sandy beach had disappeared, and so had all trace of -the poor loiterer whom the General had last seen there! - -Many a "halloo" was uttered, but vainly, for no response came upwards -from below. - -Audley Trevelyan was very pale, and very silent, though deeply -excited. He was not wont to indulge in self-examination, and -consequently he never knew until now how dear this girl was to -him--in fact, how much he had begun to love her. - -The dusk deepened into darkness, and a weird effect was given to the -wild rock scenery by the fitful gleams of the lanterns carried along -the edges of those perilous cliffs by the searchers, who felt that -they were literally doing nothing, yet in the spirit of humanity were -loth to relinquish their task, in which they were now joined by the -terrified and excited servants from the villa. The wind was rising -fast, and its mournful voice, as it swept through the bare branches -of the old groves above the bay, mingled with the booming of the -waves upon the rocks below. - -Audley felt almost thankful for the gloom, as it hid the workings of -his features, and like a thorough Englishman, he detested alike a -scene and to be a subject for speculation; but now the deep baying of -his Thibet dog among a clump of bushes and gorse, attracted the -marked attention of the searchers. - -"The dog has found some track or trace; he never barks thus, save for -some cogent reason!" exclaimed Audley, as he hastened to the spot. - -"Plaise sur, the dog do hear or see summat," added Michael Treherne, -an old and decrepit miner, who in his earlier years had been an -"underground captain" in Botallack mine, and one of the best -wrestlers in the duchy, and who had hobbled forth, staff in hand, to -assist in the search; "if the dog be on the right road, we be on the -wrang. But take 'ee care, surs; there's the shaft of a main old mine -hereabouts; and out of it, in its time, there have come many a keenly -lode o' tin and goodly bunch of copper." - -"I know the place, Michael," cried Audley; "Heavens above! she must -be in the Pixies' Hole, which, as you are all likely aware, opens -into the shaft." - -"Just so, Mr. Trevelyan; through that same hole, the water was pumped -into the sea in my grandfeyther's time--and that warn't yesterday, -sur." - -"How old are you, Michael?" asked the General, lending the old man -his hand. - -"Seventy past; few miners live to my time, and 'tis ten years since I -was underground," replied Treherne with a sigh; "I can mind o' 'ee a -small booy, General, robbin' my garden o' apples." - -Proceeding cautiously about a hundred yards back from the verge of -the cliffs to the place where the dog was baying, they found amid the -tangled gorse bushes, the mound of slag and other debris, now covered -with rank grass and weeds, in the centre of which yawned the round -mouth of the ancient mine; and as they drew near the dog continued to -bay the louder, with its forefeet outstretched, and its nose in the -air. Then it began to fawn and leap upon its master, with such -ponderous gambols, that more than once he was nearly thrown to the -ground. - -"Down, Rajah--down, sir! keep quiet, dog," he exclaimed, and while he -spoke, something like the cry of a female came to his ear; "oh, -General, I see it all now! She has been driven by the tide into the -Pixies' hole, and is even now on the verge of this shaft; should she -be ignorant of its existence, she may fall into the mine and be dead -ere she reaches the bottom!" - -"It must all be over with the poor lass, Mr. Trevelyan," said the old -miner, shaking his head; "hear ye _that_." - -And, as they listened, they could hear above the moaning of the wind -and the surging of the sea, the sound of water pouring within the -shaft of the mine, and falling apparently to a vast depth below. A -sense of the deep profundity that yawned before them, made all save -Audley and the old miner, Treherne, shrink, with faces that seemed -pale in the fitful gleams of the lanterns, and now the latter spoke -again. - -"Aw dear, aw dear! dost hear, sur? The tide has risen to upper mouth -o' the Pixies' Hole, and is now pouring down into the lower level o' -the mine, so if the poor lady beant drowned in one place, she will be -at the bottom o' tother." - -There seemed to be some probability of such being the case; and -though Audley was horror-struck with the suggestion, he said with -apparent calmness, the result of a great effort,-- - -"The upper mouth you speak of, Michael, is about fifty feet below -where we stand; surely, the tide could never reach it, even at full -flood?" - -"But who will venture down to see?" asked Treherne, almost with a -grin on his hard old visage. - -"I shall!" - -"You, Mr. Trevelyan--you, sur?" - -"Yes." - -"Dare you go down, Trevelyan, with that terrible sound in your ears?" -asked the General, and all present murmured the same thing, save -Sybil's servants, who moaned and wrung their hands. - -"Dare I go down?" repeated Audley, "when a woman is in the case--a -lady--Sybil Devereaux! To whom are you talking, General? Have I not -for a joke taken a letter to the Devil's Post Office, and will I -shrink for this?" he asked, referring to the deep and dangerous chasm -at Kinance Cove, where the sea bellows for ever with a thundering -sound, and from time to time hurls a column of water furiously -through an aperture, when those who are adventurous enough to descend -in the dark and deliver a letter, as if to the presiding Genius of -the place, will find it rudely torn from their fingers by an inward -current of air, accompanying the reflux of the sea. "We have blocks -and tackle with us," continued Audley; "rig them to poles laid across -the shaft, and by Jove, I'll go down with a lantern; quick, my lads, -for God's sake lose no time!" - -"Are you not afraid of gas--or foul air, Trevelyan?" asked the -General. - -"I don't mean to go to the bottom." - -"Of course not; but if the rope should break?" - -"In that case, it won't matter what I meet with," was the grimly -significant reply; "but be careful, my good fellows, for I trust my -life to you in this instance." - -"If the tackle did break, thee'd soon be in jowds" (_i.e._, pieces), -said Treherne, with a saturnine smile. - -An oar and a stout pole, which two of the party carried, were laid -across the mouth of the shaft. - -A double-sheaved block was securely lashed to them; a strong rope was -rove through the sheaves, and a species of cradle was formed for the -adventurous Audley Trevelyan. - -Long familiar with his native rocks, the latter when a bold boy, had -clambered by Bodrigan's Leap at Portmellin,* when seeking for -puffins' nests, and could look without shrinking from the steeps of -Gurnard's Head, Tol Pedn Penwith, and the fantastic cliffs of -Tintagel. He had been doted on by the miners, with whom he had often -descended the deepest shafts, clad like themselves in flannel shirt -and trousers. Thus attired, he had explored the vast levels and -silent galleries by the dim light of a feeble candle, while, as Sybil -told of Denzil, he could hear the roar of the Atlantic over his head, -and the boulders dashed by its force on the bluffs of the Land's End; -and thence beyond, in levels half a mile out at sea, where the -passing ships glided like silent phantoms many a fathom far above -where he wandered. - - -* So called from Sir Henry Bodrigan, who in the reign of Henry VII. -sprang down the cliff, when flying from his neighbours Trevannion and -Edgecumbe, who sought to capture or slay him. He was so little -injured by the fall, that he reached a vessel sailing near the shore, -and escaped to France. A mound, called the Castle Hill, and a -farm-house, once part of a splendid mansion, are all that now remain -of the abode of this fine old Cornish family. - - -Fearlessly he tied himself to the cradle which old Michael Treherne -prepared for him; a lantern was hung at his neck, leaving his arms -free, and now a dozen of strong and careful hands were laid on the -ropes. - -"Lower away, my lads," cried he, almost gaily; and with something -like a gasp of anxiety in his throat, the General saw his young -friend's face disappear as they lowered him into that awful orifice, -the mouth of a shaft that went down a thousand feet and more. - -"Steady, my booys!" cried old Treherne, in a species of glee. - -Those who witnessed this descent were none of them, perhaps, very -impressionable men; yet even to them, there was a gloomy horror in -the idea of the vast profundity of the deserted mine, over which -Trevelyan swung; and the wildness of the night, the storm at sea, the -whistling and howling of the wind as it swept the rocky promontories, -and rolled the waves in foam against them, were not without their due -effects upon the mind. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -THE SEARCH. - -"He's a braave booy, sartainly!" said old Michael Treherne, -admiringly, in his queer Cornish accent, "it is like him and like his -family--the Trevelyans of Rhoscadzhel. - - By Tre, Pol and Pen, - We know the Cornish men. - -He'd face Tregeagle himself--lower away gently, lads. His ancestors -existed hundreds of years ago; and for the matter o' that, I spose so -did mine; we be all old Cornish _keth_."* - - -* People. - - -Audley Trevelyan would freely have risked his life to save anyone--of -course a woman more than all; but how glorious was this! The peril -he risked--for no ordinary amount of nerve was requisite for him who -swung thus over the profundity of the ancient mine--was for his -lovely little friend of the sketch-book; the Naiad of the moorland -tarn--she who seemed not indisposed to love him, and whose heart he -might yet make his own. - -"But Heaven!" thought he; "that impulsive little heart may -be--alas--still enough by this time!" - -And even as this disastrous fear occurred to him, the roar of the -falling water was heard on the lower level of the empty mine, more -than a thousand feet below him, while the lantern he carried cast -strange gleams on the damp, slimy, and discoloured masonry of the -shaft, after he left behind, or rather above him, the fringe of weeds -and gorse, that grew about the mouth; yet in less than a minute he -was assured that the water he heard falling, proceeded, not from the -flow of the tide, as he and his companions foreboded, but from some -subterranean spring falling into the shaft, far below the upper -entrance of the Pixies' Hole; and anything more weird, dreary, and -ghastly than that cavernous fissure which now opened off it on one -side, and which he was preparing cautiously to explore, it would be -difficult to conceive. - -From its rocky and ragged mouth, which was covered with white and -pendant stalactites and hideous fungi, on which the light of his -lantern fell with fitful rays, its interior receded away into dark -and gloomy blackness and uncertainty. - -"Good Heaven!" muttered Audley, "the poor girl cannot be here. -Should she have fallen down the shaft!"--was his next terrible -thought. - -"Are ee saafe, sur?" cried Treherne, peering down from above. - -"All right, old fellow--stop lowering and make fast the rope; I am -just at the place, and a horrid one it is." - -Ere he entered it, and cast off the cradle by which he had descended, -he could hear in the obscurity beyond the surging or gurgling sound -of the tide, at the lower end; and a nervous chill that he might find -Sybil drowned, came over his heart. - -"Well, by Jove!" he muttered; "of all the places in this world, to -search for a young lady, who would think of this--down the shaft of a -devilish old copper mine! I have seen some queer things in India, -but this out-herods them all!" - -Carrying the lantern so that its light should precede and guide his -steps, he had barely gone twenty paces, when he discerned something -white amid the dense gloom. Within but a few feet of the still -encroaching water, a female figure was lying on a shelf of rock, from -which she started into a half sitting posture, and gazed upward at -him, with a wild and startled expression, in which hope and fear, joy -and wonder, were singularly mingled. - -She was that Sybil Devereaux of whom he was in search; her dress, a -white pique, all soiled, bedrabbled and wet, her fine dark hair -dishevelled and sodden, her hat and veil gone, and her whole aspect -forlorn and pitiable. - -"I am saved!" she exclaimed in a wailing and excited voice; "I thank -Heaven--I thank kind God that you are come to me; but how--and who -are you that have had the courage----" - -"Audley--Audley Trevelyan--don't you know me, Miss Devereaux?" said -he, as he placed the lantern on a rock, and raised her tenderly in -his arms. - -"Oh Audley!" she exclaimed, and her head fell upon his shoulder, for -she was weak as a child and past all exertion. She had never called -him by his Christian name before, and while he felt his heart swell -with a new emotion of pleasure, he ventured tenderly to kiss her -cheek, and then he became aware how cold and chill it was. She -seemed scarcely conscious of the act, though she said in a broken -voice, - -"Mamma--my poor mamma shall thank you, sir--I cannot speak my own -thoughts--they are too terrible and my gratitude is too deep for -words." - -"From my soul, I thank Heaven, that I came in time to save you! A -little longer here, my dearest girl, and you must have perished of -cold!" said he as he perceived with genuine anxiety how pale she was -and how the whole of her delicate frame shivered, but his words or -manner seemed to recall her energies, for she tried to smile and said, - -"I shall have a strange story to write of to Denzil, and tell my papa -when he returns." - -"Have ee found her zur--is the young lady saafe?" cried a voice there -was no mistaking, down the shaft. - -"Safe and sound, Treherne," replied Trevelyan, whose voice made -strange echoes in the cavernous recesses of the place; "we shall come -up together, so take care my friends, for there will be a heavier -strain on the rope--a double weight now. Permit me to lead you, Miss -Devereaux--or, may I not call you Sybil?" he added, as his voice -trembled a little. - -"You may call me what you please," replied Sybil with something of -her usual frankness, "I owe my life to you," she added feebly, while -clinging to his arm. - -"To me, after Rajah who guided us here, no doubt on hearing you cry -for aid--so with the permission you accord, I shall call you -Sybil--yes dearest Sybil, permit me to blindfold you." - -"Why?" - -"You may become giddy--terrified." - -"I submit myself to you," she answered, and he tied his handkerchief -over her eyes, and while doing so, to resist touching her lovely -little lips with his own, was impossible. - -"Pardon me for this, Sybil," said he, as the action brought a little -colour to her pale cheek, "but I love you, love you dearly. -Elsewhere, we shall talk of this--come, allow me to be your guide." - -"Shall we not wait till the tide ebbs, and escape by the sands?" she -asked, and shrinking as his arm encircled her. - -"Dearest girl, you would die of cold ere that took place." - -Thus from terror and despair on Sybil's part, and from a proud and -joyous sense of exultation, on that of Trevelyan, there came about -abruptly, a _dénouement_ which might have been long of developing -itself, even with those who were so young and enthusiastic, a -declaration of love upon one hand, and a tacit acceptance of it on -the other, for gratitude mastered the regard already formed in the -heart of the girl. - -Audley was now in that delightful state of the tender passion, when -to see even the skirt, to hear the voice or to breathe the same -atmosphere, with its object, had a charm; then how much greater was -the joy of having her all to himself, and to feel that too probably, -she owed her life to him! - -"You do not--do not--love--" she faltered and paused. - -"Whom?" - -"Rose Trecarrel?" - -"I love but you, and I bless God for the opportunity given me for -testifying that love, by serving and saving you--Sybil--dear Sybil -for so let me call you now and for ever." - -"What the deuce _are_ you about, Trevelyan? Do you mean to stay down -there all night--or is the lady ill? That dreary hole can be neither -romantic nor pleasant, I should fancy." - -It was the voice of the General hailing him now. - -"Here we come, sir," replied Audley, as he fastened the rope cradle -securely round his body and courageously took Sybil in his arms. It -was no doubt delightful to hold her in an embrace so close, and to -feel her clinging to him, but a thrill of intense anxiety passed over -all his nerves, and it seemed as if the hair of his head bristled up, -when he found himself swinging at the end of a rope over that -dreadful abyss, down which the lantern, as it chanced to fall from -his hand, vanished as if into the bowels of the earth, for the lower -level of that old mine, was far below the sea. As for poor Sybil, -she felt only a terror that amounted to a species of torpor--a -numbness of all sense. - -"Now pull together, my booys!" cried the cheerful voice of Michael -Treherne, "one, two--one, two--_ho_ and here they come out of the -_knacked bal_!" for so the Cornish miners designate an abandoned -mine, as it is among his class, and in the mines, that words of the -old language linger. - -And in less than a minute, Audley and Sybil were at the surface and -in the grasp of strong hands that placed them safely on terra firma, -when, overcome by all she had endured, the former immediately fainted. - -"The poor child is as wet as a _quilquin_" (a frog), said Treherne -with commiseration. - -"She requires instant attention," said the General kindly; "let her -own servants take her at once to your cottage, Treherne, as it is the -nearest place in this stormy night. See to this, Audley, while I -hurry down to Porthellick and relieve the anxiety of her mother. -Give orders to have the carriage sent there for her. By the way, -Audley, is not this the girl that Rose chaffs you about?" - -"The same, sir," replied Trevelyan, whose heightened colour was -unseen in the dark. - -"How strange! Rose is such a quiz, you will never hear the end of -this." - -"She is the daughter of an officer--a Captain Devereaux." - -"I have never met him--of what corps?" - -"I don't know." - -"To Mike's cottage with her, and lose no time. Here my lads, all of -you go to Trevanion's Tavern, and score to me what you drink. The -night is rough and wet." - -"Thank'ee sir," replied Treherne, while the others all bowed and -scraped and pulled their forelocks; "my old woman 'll keep the young -lady safe, till her pony-kittereen or your carriage comes for her; -and we'll drink your health, and Mr. Trevelyan's too--aye, and the -old Cornish toast of 'Fish, tin, and copper,' in summat better than -Devonshire cider." - -So, while Sybil in Audley's care was taken to the cottage of the old -miner, and the latter with those who had joined in the search -departed to enjoy the bounty of the General, the latter limped off to -visit Constance and relate the story of her daughter's escape and -safety. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -INTELLIGENCE AT LAST. - -On seeing Constance without her bonnet, and with her dark hair -somewhat in disorder, the first impression of the General was, how -extremely like her daughter she proved, and how very youthful too; -for her figure, as we have elsewhere said, was petite; her features -were minute, beautiful and full of animation at all times, but never -more so than now, when she started forward on the entrance of the -visitor, with her delicate hands uplifted, her fine eyes sparkling -through their tears, full of hope and inquiry, and her lips parted, -showing the whiteness and faultless regularity of her teeth. - -"You have news for me, General?" she faltered. - -"Happily, good news, madam," said he, bowing low; "your daughter is -safe and well." - -"Oh, sir--oh, General Trecarrel, how can I thank you?" - -"By composing yourself, my dear madam," he replied, leading her to a -chair; but Constance became almost hysterical; she clasped his hand -in hers, and almost sought to kiss it, in expression of her deep -gratitude, greatly to the confusion of the old soldier, who was -Englishman enough to dislike a "scene." - -"Under the circumstances, no apology is necessary for the abruptness -of my visit," said he; "we are pretty near neighbours, and I hope -shall ultimately be friends, though, singular to say, I have never -had the pleasure of meeting Captain Devereaux." - -These words recalled Constance to a sense--the ever-bitter sense--of -the awkwardness of her position, and she faltered out-- - -"Captain Devereaux is absent at present--abroad indeed--but I hope he -shall soon be home now. And our dear daughter--she escaped the -rising tide----" - -"By fortunately being able to find shelter in the Pixies' Hole, from -which she was promptly rescued by a young friend--a brother-officer -of mine." - -"Oh, how I shall bless him and ever treasure his name." - -"He is Mr. Audley Trevelyan, and has conveyed her, in the first -place, to old Mike Treherne's cottage. She was drenched by rain and -spray, suffering from chill, and overcome with terror." - -"My poor little Sybil!" - -The General did not add to the mother's alarm by adding that he had -left Sybil insensible, but only said-- - -"She should not return till to-morrow, when perhaps the rain may -cease, and the storm abate; but I have ordered my carriage, and she -shall have the use of it with pleasure. It must be here in a few -minutes now." - -Constance could only murmur her heartfelt thanks; but now, more than -ever, she felt the peculiarity of her position--its extreme -awkwardness, and its doubtful aspect. It was but a few weeks since -her husband, now known as Lord Lamorna, had stood by the General's -side at the late lord's grave, amid a crowd of bareheaded tenantry, -and here they were talking of him as "Captain Devereaux!" - -Sybil's cousin-german had saved and protected her, thus cementing the -acquaintance begun by chance at the little lake upon the moor, and -was with her now too, probably; he was her husband's nephew, and -while that husband was absent, with her own rank, name, and his -concealed, she dared not avow the relationship that existed among -them all! Poor Constance felt her cheek grow paler, with the sickly -thoughts that oppressed her heart, as she muttered under her breath-- - -"Patience yet a while, and, with God's help, dear Richard shall see -me through all this!" - -In a few words the General, with military brevity, related the whole -affair of the evening; the providential discovery of her daughter in -the chasm, by her voice, as it was rightly conjectured, having -reached the ears of Audley's Thibet mastiff; but for which -circumstance she must have perished of cold and exhaustion, or -perhaps fallen down the shaft of the old mine and never been heard of -again, her fate remaining a mystery to all--contingencies, the -contemplation of which appalled the heart of the poor mother, who -said in a very faint voice-- - -"My daughter is long in returning to me. Oh, sir, can it be that you -are kindly concealing something from me?" - -"Nay, madam, the tempestuous state of the weather and the feeble -condition of the young lady herself require----" - -"Ah, that is it! my daughter is ill--dying perhaps, while I am idly -talking here. Winny--Winny Braddon, my bonnet and cloak; I shall set -forth this instant for Treherne's cottage!" - -"I assure you, madame, that my carriage was at her disposal, and it -shall bring your daughter home." - -"Oh, General, the gratitude of my heart----" - -"There--there, please don't thank me for a little common humanity," -continued the kind old soldier, "but give my compliments--General -Trecarrel's compliments--to Captain Devereaux when he returns, and -say that I think he ought, in etiquette, to have waited upon me as -his senior officer; for such was the fashion in my young days, when -two brethren of the sword took up their quarters in a district so -secluded as this; and I should like my girls to know your daughter." - -"I have a son, too, General--my dear Denzil--who left us but lately -to join his Regiment." - -"Ah--indeed--you quite interest me. Where is it stationed?" - -"In India--far, far from me." - -"Of course, you could not have him always at your apron-strings. -What, or which, is his corps?" - -"The Cornish Light Infantry." - -"My own Regiment! I am the full colonel of it: why did he not leave -a card with me on appointment?--he must have known of my whereabouts." - -A cloud came over the fair open countenance of Trecarrel, and -Constance felt that, in the further prosecution of their systematic -incognito, a breach of military etiquette and punctilio had taken -place. - -"My young friend Trevelyan is in the same corps," said the General, -after a pause. - -Constance knew that too, and that it had been the Regiment of her -husband during their happiest days at Montreal; but when with it he -had borne his family surname, and _not_ that of Devereaux. - - "Oh, what a tangled web we weave, - "When first we practise to deceive!" - -So thought Constance, and who could not quite foresee the end of the -web. Her present perplexities were increasing, and her usually pale -cheeks began to blush scarlet. - -But now, to her intense relief, the sound of wheels and hoofs at the -door, followed by quick steps in the entrance, announced an arrival, -and in a moment more mother and daughter were weeping joyfully in -each other's arms. - -"Dearest mamma--darling mamma! Oh the joy of being safe with you -again! An age seems to have elapsed since I left you this evening!" - -And old Winny Braddon came in for her share of caresses, while the -General and Trevelyan, though they now began to feel themselves -rather _de trop_, looked on with smiles of pleasure. So full of joy -was Constance at the restoration of Sybil, that she never noticed the -quaint and coarse (though comfortably dry) costume which the careful -wife of Treherne had substituted for her wet and sodden habiliments. - -Audley's quick and practised eye saw that Constance was a woman -possessing more than an ordinary share of beauty and refinement. He -took in the whole details of the drawing-room, and perceived by a -glance that the occupants of this secluded villa "in the -willow-glen--those peculiar Devereaux," as the Trecarrel girls called -them, were evidently people of the best and most cultivated taste, -for the buhl or marquetterie tables, consoles, and cabinets exhibited -selections from the most chaste productions of Dresden and Sèvres; -delicate Venetian bronzes, quaint Majolica vases and groups, some -relics from Herculaneum; and other objects (more familiar to him) -from India and Burmah were there--four-armed gods and other idols in -silver or ivory. - -Pausing for a moment in her caresses, Constance turned towards Audley -Trevelyan with a pleading glance of irresolution, yet one of -wonderful sweetness. - -"My young friend, Mr. Trevelyan," said the General; "allow me to -introduce him, Mrs. Devereaux." - -"Oh, sir, to you I owe the gratitude of a lifetime?" she exclaimed in -an accent of touching tenderness. - -He seemed so like her absent Denzil, that all her heart yearned to -him, and in a genuine transport of gratitude she embraced him with -such _empressement_, that in a woman so young apparently for her -maternal character, and so very handsome too, rather perplexed -Trevelyan, who said, - -"You owe me no thanks--indeed, indeed, you do not. I did but my -duty--I obeyed only the dictates of humanity; and I assure you that -you are quite as much indebted to Rajah as to me, Mrs. Devereaux." - -The name he used recalled her to herself, and the peculiarity of her -position as regarded him--the secret she could not yet reveal; and -turning away as an expression of confusion come over her face, she -stooped, and casting her arms round the great Thibet mastiff, -caressed it with a grace and playfulness that partook of girlish glee. - -By this time Sybil was reclining wearily, and with an air of utter -exhaustion and languor, on a sofa. Her face was very pale, save when -a kind of hectic flush passed over it, and her eyes seemed -unnaturally bright. Even to the unpractised observation of the two -gentlemen it was evident that they had better retire, and, after -exchanging a glance suggestive of this, they both rose, hat in hand. - -"You will, I hope, permit me to call to-morrow and make inquiries?" -said Audley Trevelyan. - -Constance bowed, and her tongue trembled: what she said she scarcely -knew, but it was a muttered wish of some kind, with many thanks and -reference to her husband's return, all oddly combined. That she -laboured under some species of hidden restraint was quite apparent to -the perception of him she addressed, and also to the General; and so, -after the usual well-bred wishes that both ladies should soon recover -from the effects of their recent terror, they withdrew together; and -as the sound of their carriage wheels died away in the willow avenue, -all other sounds, and the light too, seemed to pass away from Sybil, -as she sank gradually back, became insensible, and was conveyed to -bed by Winny Braddon and her startled mother, who summoned medical -aid without delay. - -The next day found her in a species of nervous fever. She had -undergone too much of mental fear and bodily suffering for a nature -so delicate as hers, and remained for a time unconscious of all -around her. Slowly and gradually, like water filtering through a -rock--as some one describes the struggles of returning -sensibility--she became aware that she was in her own bed, with her -mother on one side and Winny Braddon on the other in watchful -attendance; then, with a shudder, she would recall the horrors she -had escaped, and clasp her hands as she had done ten years before, -when a little child in prayer. - -Then exhaustion would bring sleep, but a sleep haunted by dreams, -and, at times, visions wild as those of an opium-eater; thus, for -many a night, long after this period, the episodes of that eventful -evening would come back to memory with all their harrowing details: -the advancing tide rolling against the impending cliffs and -thundering in the Pixies' Hole, after it had swallowed the drenched -sand; her retreating step by step fearfully and breathlessly before -it, in terror of being drowned on one hand and of falling down the -mine on the other! - -Anon, she would imagine herself swung up that terrible shaft through -darkness and space, and that the rope was just on the eve of -_parting_, when she would wake with a half-stifled scream to find -that she was in the arms of her mamma, who was soothing and caressing -her. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -THE TRECARRELS. - -Duly next day, at a proper visiting-hour, the handsome and -well-appointed carriage of General Trecarrel, occupied only by his -two daughters and Audley Trevelyan, was seen bowling down the avenue -of the villa at Porthellick, with Rajah bounding before it in as much -glee as if at home in Thibet, "the northern land of snow," where many -a time he had scoured along the slopes of the Himalaya range and the -Dwalaghiri in pursuit of the Cashmere goat and the Tartarian yak; -but, as the event proved, the visit was in vain: the two ladies could -only leave their cards, as they were informed that both Mrs. and Miss -Devereaux were too much indisposed after the events of yesterday to -receive visitors. - -"It will be a case which warm drinks and cosseting will soon cure, I -hope," said Rose, shrugging her pretty shoulders. - -"Where to, Miss Trecarrel?" asked the footman, touching his hat ere -he sprang to his place behind. - -"To Bodmin," replied the elder sister: "we have shopping to do, Mr. -Trevelyan;" and after a pause she added, "I have told you that they -were odd people, those Devereaux; we were fools to come--don't you -think so, Rose?" - -"Perhaps, Mab." - -"Do not judge so harshly," urged Audley. "What may be more probable -than that both should feel excited after the last night's terror -and--and----" - -"Chivalry," suggested Rose Trecarrel, a little malice glittering in -her fine eyes; but Audley remained silent. - -Mabel and Rose Trecarrel were both eminently handsome girls. The -elder was tall and showy, having dark grey eyes that filled, at -times, with unusual lustre and had a wonderful variety of expression, -but her chief beauties were perhaps her purity of complexion and the -quantity and magnificence of her rich brown hair. - -Rose was somewhat her counterpart--a large but very graceful girl, -with clear, sparkling, hazel eyes, and hair much of the same hue, -though her lashes and eyebrows were dark and well defined. Without -attempting to describe her nose, we shall simply say it was a very -pretty one, that seemed exactly to suit the expression of her eyes -and the full-lipped yet little and alluring mouth below. Both girls -were always dressed rather in the extreme of the mode, and were sure -to be prime favourites at all balls, races, or meets to see the -hounds throw off; and no entertainment in that part of the duchy was -deemed complete without "the Trecarrels." No friend had ever accused -them of being flirts, though fair enemies had frequently done so. - -The General was very proud of his two daughters, and felt certain -that both would make most eligible and wealthy marriages, when he -took them to India, where he was in expectation daily of obtaining an -important command. - -For the time Audley Trevelyan was, what others had been, and others -yet might be, a kind of privileged dangler in attendance on both -sisters, and seemed to share their smiles and return attention to -both in a pretty equal manner; thus both were somewhat disposed to -resent the new and sudden interest he manifested in Sybil Devereaux. - -Both were eminently dashing girls. Mabel, the elder, was perhaps the -statelier of the two, but the beauty and manner of Rose were more -sparkling and dazzling. Both sisters were highly accomplished, and -both had that affected indifference to their own attractions, which -is perhaps an indication of the strongest and most ineradicable -vanity--for of those attractions they knew the full power and value. - -"But who are those Devereaux?" asked Mabel, as a turn of the road hid -the villa, during a pause filled up only by the subdued noise of the -carriage wheels in their patent axle-boxes. - -"You should know by this time, Trevelyan," added Rose, looking at him -from under the long fringes of her eyes and her parasol, as she lay -well back indolently yet gracefully among the soft cushions of the -carriage. - -"Nay; how should I, when you, who are neighbours, know nothing? Her -father was a captain in some Line Regiment." - -"_Her_ father--of whom were we speaking?" asked Rose. - -Trevelyan coloured perceptibly, and Mabel laughed. - -"Oh, she occupies his thoughts already, Mab! He was of some Line -Regiment, that is pretty vague, and scarcely suits our Cornish -standard of such things as family and so forth--least of all the -standard formed by your uncle, the late Lord Lamorna." - -"Oh, he was an absurd old goose--mad with pride, in fact." - -"And barely remembered you in his will?" - -"Precisely so," replied Audley, half amused and half provoked. - -"They visit no one, and they make no acquaintances," said Rose, -resuming the theme. - -"They settled here without an introduction, I have heard, and gave it -to be understood that they declined all acquaintance save with the -Rector and Doctor." - -"Neither of whom, Mab, are particular to a shade. I should not -wonder, Audley, if your 'captain' were some returned convict or -retired housebreaker in easy circumstances." - -"Rose, you are too severe," urged Trevelyan; "Mrs. Devereaux is a -kind of idol among the poor people here." - -"We must all admit that she excels in chicken broth, is knowing in -coals and tea, and great in corduroys, tobacco, and blankets; but -fasten my bracelet, please," and she held forth coquettishly a -slender wrist and a well-shaped hand, tightly cased in the finest of -straw-coloured kid; and every movement of Rose Trecarrel, however -quick and unstudied, was full of the poetry of action. "Thanks. If -you will not admit that the mother of your fair friend is odd, you -must that her father is so--or at least is ignorant of military -etiquette, if he is a military man." - -"How?" - -"He has never left his card upon papa, which, in a solitary place -like this, papa thinks he ought to have done, as it is the fashion in -the service--going out I am aware--for the junior officer to wait -upon the senior, though uninvited." - -"Though a bore at times, it was a good old custom, I admit, but like -many other fashions is as much gone out as square letter-paper, -sand-boxes and sealing wax, stage coaches and queues." - -"Then his son," she continued in an aggrieved tone, "on being -appointed to papa's own Regiment, never had the politeness to leave a -card upon us either!" - -"Rose, you are quite a _Code Militaire_," said Trevelyan, laughing -again. "Those Devereaux are thought handsome--I mean the mother and -daughter." - -"I have no wish to disparage the taste of the Cornish gentlemen----" - -"None could afford to treat their taste with more indifference than -you and Miss Trecarrel, who are both----" - -"Both what?" asked Mabel, quickly. - -"Above all comparison." - -"Oh, we did not leave all our gallantry in the old coal-mine!" - -"Excuse me, Rose," said Trevelyan, "it was originally a tin-mine." - -"Pity it was not brass--eh, Audley?" replied Rose, laughing with a -voice like a silver bell. - -"Come, come, Rose," said Mabel, "you and Trevelyan are usually such -good friends that I shall not have you to spar thus." - -"We don't spar, it is only 'barrack-room chaff,' in which, as you may -perceive, Mr. Trevelyan excels," retorted the piqued belle. - -The truth was rather apparent to Audley, that the pretty--nay, the -beautiful and hazel-eyed Rose was nettled, and seriously so. -Hitherto she had considered the handsome ex-Lieutenant of Hussars, -and now of the Cornish Light Infantry, as her own peculiar -property--even more than her sister. He was to be her papa's -Aide-de-camp in India--she had settled this, _nem. con._; and while -on leave at home, he was to be her dangler, secret slave, and open -adorer--husband in the end perhaps, if nothing better "turned up;" -for Audley's expectations from his father, the barrister, as one of a -family of five, were slender enough; and here he was too probably -smitten with a little chit-faced interloper whom no one knew anything -about! - -There was a pause in the conversation, during which the carriage had -passed St. Teath and St. Kew, with their quaint churches, and that of -Egloshayle, on the right bank of the Camel, where it peeped up among -the trees, when Rose returned to the charge. - -"And you actually swung together at the end of a rope." - -"At the end of a rope, as you say." - -"How romantic!--how charming!" - -"At least in one sense; yet I was glad enough when it was all over in -safety." - -"What! though doubtless, as Byron says, - - 'The situation had its charm.'" - - -"Fie, Rose--you quote _Don Juan_!" exclaimed Mabel. - -"And why should not I, Mab, if the passage seems so familiar to you?" - -"Rose, you are incorrigible!" - -"Well, Audley, your fellow-soldiers must be proud of you when they -hear of this feat of arms." - -"We say _brother_-soldiers in the service," replied Trevelyan. - -"I submit to the correction; it is like one from papa, who deems all -civilians stupid fellows. And so you think she is a paragon of -loveliness?" continued Rose Trecarrel, so bent on the game of -tormenting him, that she cared little for showing her hand. - -"I did not say so--do you, Rose?" - -"Call me _Miss_ Rose, if you please," said she, with a charming air -of pique on her lovely little lip. - -"Well--where were we?" - -"About the beauty of the girl you rescued--were slung in a rope with. -How funny!" said Mabel. - -"Of her beauty you can judge for yourselves; I have nothing to do -with it," replied he wearily. - -"Fortunate for you," laughed Rose, "as the girl's position in society -seems so dubious, Audley." - -"Call me Mr. Trevelyan, please, as we are to be on distant terms." - -"Let us only have you in India, where we shall be ere long," said -she, shaking her parasol threateningly, "and I shall have papa to put -you under arrest." - -"For what?" - -"Conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman." - -"As how, my fair friend?' - -"Behaving rudely, petulantly, and insolently." - -"To a pretty girl?" - -"Yes--moreover, a daughter of the general on whose staff he is -serving." - -"And the sentence of the court will be, dismissal from her presence -for ever." - -"Have some mercy on him," said Mabel. - -"You seem to know the duties of an aide-de-camp," said Audley, not -ill-pleased to find himself an object of interest to two such -handsome girls. - -"Of papa's at least," said Rose: "to revise the dinner and visiting -lists; to see Mab and me to and from all balls, kettle-drums, -reviews, durbars, and so forth; to arrange picnics; to do all the -squiring and shawling business, and to dance with us whenever we feel -bored by some slow griff who can't keep time; to make bets of gloves, -fans, and bouquets, and to lose them so nicely and so opportunely, -that the payment thereof appears a veritable glory; to see us through -the crush of the supper, and procure ices, creams, chicken, -champagne, and crackers, no matter how the thermometer may stand, or -how weary the punkahwallah may be--all of which are among the duties -of an accomplished staff-officer." - -"Oh, Rose, how your tongue runs on!" said Mabel. - -"Poor fellow, I must spare him, for his heart seems divided between -the mother and daughter; so I hope that this Captain Devereaux may -soon be home, lest evil happen. But here we are at Bodmin!" she -added, as the carriage, after quitting the highlands of granite and -dreary moorland which extend to within four miles of the ancient -assize town, rolled through its centre street. - -"And now, if you choose," said Mabel, "Trevelyan, you may enjoy the -indispensable cigar while we investigate the industrial treasures of -a country draper's shop. We have but one hour to spare, and then -homeward." - -"Or we shall have papa consulting that remarkable watch, which he got -from Sir John Keane after the storming of Ghuznee," added Rose, as -disdaining Audley's proffered hand, she sprang lightly from the -carriage steps. - -So, for a time he was left to "do" the lions of Bodmin, the handsome -old Norman church, the few pointed arches and dilapidated walls of -the Leper Hospital, and so forth; and to his own reflections and -thoughts, which, heedless of the sharp banter he had undergone, were -all of Sybil--at that very moment struggling back into perfect -consciousness from feverish delirium, and stealing from Winny Braddon -the visiting-card he had recently left, that she might conceal it -under her pillow. - -To her, he was fast becoming the realisation of all her -day-dreams--"the one moving spirit that animated the whole world of -her united romances." He was, - - "her first and passionate love, that all - Which Eve hath left her daughters since her fall." - - -To Rose and to Mabel Trecarrel, he was simply one among the many -"nice fellows" they had met with in society, and should meet again in -plenty. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -HE LOVES ME, TRULY! - -To Audley's mind there was a freshness and innocence about Sybil, -that made her image dwell in his heart prominently, and more vividly -than the dashing and showy Mabel and Rose Trecarrel could have -conceived to be possible. Moreover, there was, to him, something -glorious in the conviction that for the sake of this lovely young -girl he had confronted a manifest peril; that by doing so he had -saved her and established--as he hoped--a tie of no ordinary strength -and peculiarity between them, linking, in the future, their histories -if not their lives together; for to him she owned now, most probably, -the fact that she existed at all. - -Such were the kind of thoughts to which Trevelyan, hitherto a -heedless and pleasure-loving young subaltern of Hussars, indulged in -many a dreamy hour, even when half flirting or "chaffing" with the -Trecarrels, riding or driving abroad with them, turning the leaves at -the piano while Rose displayed the perfection of her white shoulders -and taper arms after dinner, and dawdled languidly over the airs of -Verdi and Balfe; and to which he fully abandoned himself, when he -strolled forth alone, to enjoy a cigar in the lawn or in some -secluded lane. - -Sybil on her part deemed it equally delightful, to think that she -owed her life to him; for had not Audley and others said (and she -felt the truth of it) that, ere the ebb of the tide should have left -the lower end of the cavern open and free, she must have perished of -cold or terror, or both. - -She had read the contents of many a box from "Mudie's," but no -episode in any of the three volumes octavo therein seemed exactly to -resemble hers in the Pixies' Hole. It was very romantic and strange, -no doubt; but to Constance it appeared that the still concealed part -of their relationship was the most strange and romantic feature in -the affair. - -Like most, if not all, young girls, she had read all about love in -novels and romances; she had talked about love to school-companions, -some of them enthusiastic Italian girls at Como, by the Arno, and -elsewhere; and now a lover had actually come, one who on three -successive days had left cards, with earnest inquiries concerning her -health and that of her mamma. - -She remembered the endearment of his manner when he saved her, but -feared, at times, that such might only have been caused by the -peculiarity of their situation; and then she would blush with -annoyance at herself, as she recalled the somewhat too pointed way in -which she questioned him about Rose Trecarrel, to whom she was still -a stranger, and of whom she had thus evinced a jealousy--actually a -jealousy, as if thereby assuming a right to question his actions! - -But had he not called her Sybil, and said that he loved her, and her -only? - -The afternoon of the fourth day saw Audley Trevelyan--always careful -of his costume, on this occasion unusually so--passing slowly down -the willow avenue towards the villa; and as he approached the latter, -the beating of his heart quickened on perceiving the light figure of -Sybil pass from the pillared portico into a conservatory that -adjoined the house. So she was convalescent--had recovered at last; -and now he would speak with her alone, and might resume perhaps the -thread of that hurried but delightful topic, which was so suddenly -cut short on the evening he saved her, by the voice of the impatient -General. - -He approached the glass door of the conservatory, which she had left -invitingly open, his footsteps being completely muffled by the soft -and close-clipped turf of the little lawn. - -The conservatory was handsome, lofty, and spacious, floored with -brilliantly coloured encaustic tiles, and constructed of iron, like a -kiosk; its shelves were laden with delicate ferns, with cacti and -gorgeous exotics in full bloom, though the season was in the last -days of autumn, and over all drooped, almost from the roof to the -ground, the far-stretching and slender green sprays of a graceful -acacia. Under this stood Sybil, clad in a simple white dress, -decorated by trimmings of rose-coloured satin ribbon, and having a -dainty little lace collar round her slender neck; and Trevelyan -watched her in silence and with admiration for half a minute ere he -entered. - -It was the freshness and girlish purity of Sybil that charmed him -quite as much as the delicacy of her beauty. During his few years of -military life, in London, at Bath, Brighton, and Canterbury, even at -Calcutta, he had met many such girls as the Trecarrels--brilliant in -flirtation and knowing in all manner of arts and graces; but none -that resembled Sybil. - -She had plucked a dwarf rose, and was about to place it in the breast -of her dress. Suddenly she seemed to pause and change her intention; -for a bright and fond smile spread over her soft little face, and -while speaking to herself, leaf by leaf, she began to pluck the -flower slowly to pieces. - -She spoke aloud, but her voice was so low that it failed to reach the -ears of Trevelyan, till after a time, when, as the leaves lessened in -number, she began to raise her tones, and her occupation became plain -to him. She was acting to herself--repeating the little part of -Goethe's Marguerite in the garden, but in a fashion of her own. - -"He loves me a little--tenderly--truly--he loves me not!" - -With each pause in this floral formula, the old German mode of -divination in love affairs, a pink leaf floated away or fell on her -white dress; and when but seven remained round the calyx, she paused -for a moment; her face brightened as the charm seemed to work -satisfactorily; she resumed her plucking, and as the seventh or last -leaf was twitched from the stem, she clasped her hands and exclaimed -with joy-- - -"Truly--Audley loves me _truly_!" - -Her colour deepened, and there was almost a divine expression about -her eyes and lips; but she became covered with intense confusion when -Trevelyan approached her suddenly, and said with a tender and -pleasantly modulated voice-- - -"Your floral spell has worked to admiration, for Audley does love you -truly and fondly, dearest Sybil!" - -"Oh, Mr. Trevelyan--and you have overheard my folly!" was all she -could falter out, as he captured her hands in his own, and she -stooped her face aside. - -"_Mr._ Trevelyan? Why, a moment ago you called me plain Audley, and -it did sound so delightful! Pray do not let us go back in our -relations. And you have quite recovered, I hope, from the effects of -that frightful affair?" he added, while smiling with fondness into -the clear bright eyes that drooped beneath his gaze. - -"It seems as nothing, now--save when I dream; you make too much of -it--indeed you do," blundered Sybil. - -"Can I do so of aught in which you have a part?" - -"Poor mamma is still in a weak and nervous state; so, I am sorry to -say, she will be unable to see you." - -As it was not "mamma" he had come exactly to visit, Audley could only -murmur some well-bred expression of regret. - -"How very remarkable that you should have been there to save me!" -said Sybil, after a pause. - -"The coldly treated stranger by the moorland tarn, eh?" - -"You forget that we had not been introduced, or how came it all to -pass?" she asked, with growing confusion. - -"As all things in this life do, dearest Sybil." - -"But how?" - -"It was fate--destiny." - -"What--are you a fatalist?" - -"I hope not; and yet it were sweet to think that--that----" - -"What?" murmured Sybil, her long lashes drooping beneath the ardour -of his glance, while his clasp seemed to tighten on her slender -fingers. - -Much more passed that has been said, over and over again, under the -same circumstances, by every pair of lovers since roses grew in Eden -(and, unluckily, apples too); and there were long pauses, that were -only pauses of the tongue, and which beatings of the heart filled up, -with many a sigh "the deeper for suppression." There grew between -these two a sudden sense of great trust which increased the -tenderness of their sentiments, while deep gratitude was mingled now -with Sybil's former budding love. It did seem to her, as if Fate had -deliberately cast each in the path of the other; and doubtless it was -so, for "out of these chance-affinities grow sometimes the passion of -a life, and sometimes the disappointments that embitter existence." - -"Oh, Audley, without mamma's consent, dare I accept so lovely a -ring?" said Sybil, in a low voice, as she lingered at the -conservatory door and contemplated a jewel which Trevelyan had just -slipped upon her engaged finger. - -"You will surely wear it for my sake, till--till--" he paused, and -scarcely knew what to say, for he now began to reflect that he was -only a subaltern, and had been "going the pace," in his love-making, -with a vengeance! To fall in love and engage oneself were easy -enough; but, as yet, he did not quite see the end of the affair. -Sybil was, moreover, the daughter of an officer whose temper, -perhaps, might not brook trifling. - -"Oh, it is an exquisite diamond!" resumed the girl, the pause -unnoticed, and its cause, to her, unknown. - -"It formed one of the eyes of Vishnu, a Hindoo idol, in a temple near -Agra. One of the Cornish Light Infantry--old Mike Treherne, the -miner's son--poked out both with his bayonet. Jack Delamere bought -one; I the other, and had it set thus in a ring by a Parsee jeweller -in the Chandney Choke, at a time when I little thought of having in -mine so dear a hand to place it on. Has not our acquaintance ripened -with wonderful rapidity, darling?? - -"Under such terrible circumstances, I don't wonder at it," said she, -smiling tenderly as she toyed with the ring, which was now enhanced -in value--priceless in her eyes, for it was a love-token. - -A love-token! and what might be its future history, and what their -fate? "Customs alter, and fashions change," says a writer; "but -love-gifts never grow old-fashioned or out of date,--they are always -fresh from the golden age. Old people die, and desks and drawers are -ransacked by their heirs. Oh, take up tenderly the withered petals, -the lock of hair, the quaint ring hidden away in some secret recess; -for hearts have once thrilled and eyes moistened at their touch. -Precious gems and rare objects there may be in casket and cabinet; -but none preserved with such jealous care as _these_, for they were -the gifts of love." - -Sybil was a thoughtful girl, and even in that happy hour a sadness -stole through her heart, as some such ideas occurred to her; but the -young officer thought only of the present time, of its joy and of her -beauty. - -He pressed her to name a day when she and her mamma, as by courtesy -bound, would return the visit of the Trecarrels; but, ere that could -be accomplished, there came to pass that "greater sorrow" which the -heart of Constance had foreboded, and which must be duly recorded in -its place; so the hoped-for visit was never paid. - -On this evening, Audley lingered long with Sybil. Each had so much -to say to the other, and so many questions to ask, and so many fond -plans for the future, that parting was a difficult task, even with -the knowledge that they were to meet again on the morrow. - -It came; and noon saw him again at the villa, where he was received -in the drawing-room by Constance alone; and to her he began to speak -of Sybil after a time, and to express his admiration and regard for -her. - -This Constance had fully foreseen and expected; but she was -outwardly, to all appearance, collected and calm, till the secret -that oppressed her became too much for her nervous system. Thus, the -tenor of her bearing, which before had been all kindness and -gratitude, suddenly changed. She became cold and constrained, -perplexed and even awkward; so that a chill fell upon the heart of -Audley, whose nature, all unlike that of his father, was frank and -generous to a fault. She curtly but gently told him, that until the -return of her husband she could afford no permission for her daughter -to receive addresses; and soon after, full of deep mortification, and -dreading he knew not what, Audley Trevelyan took his leave; and -Constance, as she watched his figure pass out of the avenue, burst -into tears. - -Sybil, as her youngest-born, she had ever looked upon as a species of -child--called "_the_ baby," when long past babyhood; and now Sybil -had a lover! Awakened to the reality of this, the poor lonely mother -regarded this new phase of her daughter's existence with a species of -alarm that bordered on terror. - -"Would that Richard were home!" was her first thought; "even Denzil's -advice would be something to me now, poor boy!" - -Audley had barely entered the Trecarrels' drawing-room, when Rose, -who was reclining on a fauteuil, with her rich brown hair beautifully -dressed by the hands of her Ayah, and who fancied herself immersed in -a novel, tossed it aside, for her clear hazel eyes speedily detected -the disturbed expression of his face, and proceeded forthwith to quiz -him as usual about "the Devereaux girl," and his intentions in that -quarter; while Mabel, who was seated at the piano, sang laughingly a -verse of "Wanted, a Wife," then a popular song, altering certain -words "to suit the occasion," as Rose said-- - - "As to fortune--of course, I have but my pay, - A sub with seven-and-sixpence a day, - And a pension beside--rather small, 'tis confest, - For a leg shot away in the action 'off Brest;' - For the loss of three fingers in fighting a chase, - And a terrible cut from a sword in my face. - But with all these defects, my nerves I must string, - To propose for Miss Devereaux--delicate thing!" - - -Audley felt almost inclined to quarrel with his fair friends. - -"Don't tease a fellow so, Rose," said he, wearily; "I have no -money--at least, little beyond my pay; and have as much idea of -marrying as--as----" - -"I have, perhaps." - -"I cannot say that." - -"You could ask this Sybil Devereaux?" - -"Of course--it would be easy as cribbage." - -"And what would she say, think you?" - -"As a sensible girl such as she seems to be--'wait.'" - -"Which means, that she would take you in time to come?" - -"Perhaps." - -"Unless something better turned up." - -"Don't judge of her by yourself, Rose," he retorted, laughing, to -conceal his annoyance, which was greatly increased when the General's -butler, just as Audley was ascending to his own room to dress for -dinner, handed him a letter on a silver salver. - -It was from his father; written in his usual clear and precise hand. -Audley for a time left it on the toilette table; then he tore it -open, with an air of irritation, as these paternal missives were -rarely pleasant ones, being always filled with advice, varied by -reprehension. - -"Fathers have flinty hearts--and, by Jove, here is one!" muttered -Audley, while his brows contracted. - -"I have seen in the public prints," ran the letter, "all about your -adventure with the daughter of those strange people who live at -Porthellick. The woman Devereaux is, as her name imports, too -probably some designing French adventuress. Mabel Trecarrel has -written to your sister Gartha, that you are quite smitten with the -daughter; but I give you my distinct advice and notice to take heed -of what you are about, and to join us in London without delay. You -left the Hussars, even in India, because of the expense of the corps, -neither tentage nor loot" (loot! the governor means batta) "being -sufficient to maintain you. Disobey me in the matter of this girl -Devereaux, and _I shall cut off_ even the slender allowance I -promised you, for the Cornish Light Infantry." - -Audley crushed up the letter in his hand, for it came, at that -particular moment, like a sentence of death. - -And Downie Trevelyan could write thus of the loving and amiable -little family circle at the villa, knowing all he did, and suspecting -more! - -To fear, or to find that his brother Richard, so long deemed an -eccentric bachelor, had a family ready made and at hand to succeed -him in the honours of Rhoscadzhel and Lamorna was bad enough. These -interlopers who came between his own family and the line of Trevelyan -might (perhaps) be set aside; but to find that his eldest son had -become entangled with one of those so-called Devereaux, proved too -much for the equanimity of the far-seeing lawyer. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -THE GREATER SORROW. - -At the very time when Mabel Trecarrel was singing to tease Audley, -Sybil was beginning a song of a very different character and calibre -to soothe or amuse her mamma. It was a grand old Hungarian ballad, -with an accompaniment like a crash of trumpets at times; and was one -she had picked up during their wanderings on the banks of the Danube; -but she had only got the length of the first two verses, when her -mother's tears arrested her. - - "Was it the vine with clusters bright - That clung round Buda's stateliest tower? - No, 'twas a lady fair and white, - Who hung around an armed knight; - It was their sad, their parting hour. - - "They had been wedded in their youth, - Together they had spent life's bloom; - That hearts so long entwined by truth - Asunder should be torn in ruth-- - It was a cruel and boding doom!" - - -"Oh cease, Sybil," said Constance; "cease; it was your papa's -favourite." - -"Then why cease, mamma?" - -"He is not here, and I feel I know not what--a foreboding--a -superstition of the heart." - -So Sybil closed her piano, and it was long, long ere she opened it -again. - -Three weeks had now elapsed since the Montreal steamer _Admiral_ (his -anticipated departure by which Richard Trevelyan fully notified to -Constance) had been due at Blackwall, and yet there were no tidings -of her, so insurances went up, and underwriters looked grave. No -Atlantic cables had been laid as yet between Britain and America, -though such things were talked of as being barely possible. The next -steamer announced that the _Admiral_ had duly sailed at her stated -time; so, save the letter which contained the pleasant odds and ends -concerning Montreal and their early lover days, poor Constance saw -her husband's writing no more. - -Her surmises were endless, and the worthy rector lent his inventive -aid to add to them. Might not the ship have met with some accident -to her engines, and put back slowly under canvas to Montreal, the -Azores, or elsewhere? - -Lost--was the word that hovered on her lips and trembled in her -heart--LOST! Oh, that was not to be thought of. Yet if it were so, -some must have survived to tell the terrible story; some might have -been picked up, famished and weary, by a passing ship, and taken -perhaps to a distant region, Heaven alone knew where. Such events -happened every day on the mighty world of waters; so as week -succeeded week, the familiarity with suspense, sorrow and horror -seemed to become greater; till ideas began to confirm themselves, and -probabilities to be steadily faced, that she would have shrunk from -in utter woe but a month before! - -Then came those cruel and shadowy rumours, by which the public are -usually tantalised, and the relatives of the missing are -tortured--stories of wrecks passed, steamers abandoned--the masts -gone, funnel standing, and so forth, in this, that or the other -latitude; but all vague and never verified. How many stately ships -have perished at sea, of which such stories have been told! In those -days, it was the _President_, the great, "the lost Atlantic steamer," -on the fate of which at least one novel and several dramas and songs -have been written; and but lately it was the turret ship _Captain_, -with her five hundred picked British seamen, that went down into the -deep, a few loose spars alone remaining to tell of their sorrowful -fate. - -Constance and her daughter were inspired by successive hope that he -might have survived, and fear that he had perished--too surely -perished; and these alternations were agony, for "the promises of -Hope are sweeter than roses in the bud, and far more flattering to -expectation; but the threatenings of Fear are a terror to the heart." - -At last there came a fatal day, when a passage cut from a London -newspaper was enclosed to Constance by Audley Trevelyan, who had been -constrained to visit and remain in town with his family. - -It contained distinct details of the total wreck of the _Admiral_, -which had foundered in a gale. She had been heavily pooped by -successive seas, and had gone down with all on board, save the watch -on deck, who had effected their escape in one of the quarter-boats, -and been picked up in a most exhausted state, by one of Her Majesty's -ships. All the passengers had been drowned in their cabins, and to -this account a list of their names was appended. - -"It is very remarkable, my dear madam," wrote the unconscious Audley, -"that I do not find the name of Captain Devereaux borne in this list; -though we have all the sorrow to see that of my uncle Richard, Lord -Lamorna, whose American trip has been to us all a source of mystery." - -Constance read the printed list with staring stony eyes, and a heart -that stood still! - -Mr. Downie Trevelyan had perused it carefully too, with the aid of -his gold double-eye-glass, and an unfathomable smile had spread over -his sleek legal visage while he did so. - -"Oh, my husband--my Richard--so innocent and true! Gone--gone, and -your children and I are left--doomed to shame and -sorrow--doomed--doomed!" wailed Constance in a piercing voice, as -with her fingers interlaced across her face she cast herself upon a -sofa in despair. - -"Mamma," urged the terrified Sybil, "what _do_ you mean? Does not -dear Audley write that papa's name is _not_ in the list; so he cannot -have sailed in that unhappy ship." - -"My poor child, you know not what you say," moaned Constance, without -looking or altering her position, for dark and bitter was the -desolation of the heart which fell on her. - -In vain did poor Sybil caress and hang over her in utter -bewilderment, and read and re-read Audley's letter without being able -to comprehend the agitation of her mother, who answered nothing. For -the time she was overwhelmed by the immensity of their calamity--by -gloom and speechless sorrow. - -But one thought was ever present--there was a face she should never -more behold--a voice she never more should hear; the great ship going -down in the dark; "the passengers drowned in their cabins," by the -furious midnight sea; and he who loved her so well, who had crossed -the Atlantic to bring back the full and legal proofs of their -nuptials, was now in the shadowy land--the Promised Land--where there -are neither marriages nor giving in marriage; and where there can be -no graves either in the soil or in the sea. - -With this calamity must many others come! - -Richard's means died with him; the proofs of her marriage and of her -children's position had perished with him too. Even the newspapers -in their notices of the event, were careful to record that "as Lord -Lamorna (who had so lately succeeded to that ancient title) died a -bachelor, he would be heired by his brother, the eminent barrister, -Mr. Downie Trevelyan, now twelfth Lord Lamorna of Rhoscadzhel, in the -duchy of Cornwall." - -There was the usual obituary notice in a popular illustrated paper, -with a wood-cut of the late lord's arms, the demi-horse _argent_ -issuing from the sea, the coronet, the wild cat, and the motto _Le -jour viendra_. - -Even Derrick Braddon's name was recorded as among the list of the -drowned; so the sole surviving witness of the hasty and secret -marriage had perished with his master. - -Sybil had answered Audley's letter--Constance was quite incapable of -doing so--urging him piteously, for the love he bore her, to make -what other inquiries he could at Lloyd's, the shipping offices and -elsewhere, as her mamma seemed to be distracted; and promptly a reply -came, but not in Audley's handwriting, though it bore the London -post-mark. It was addressed to her mamma, who in a weak and -breathless voice desired her to read it; and great were the terror -and perplexity of the girl, when she perused the following -sentence--for one contained the whole matter. - - -"CHAMBERS, TEMPLE. - -"MADAM, - -"A letter written by your daughter and bearing the Porthellick -postmark, has just fallen into my hands; so I hereby beg to intimate -to you that my eldest son and heir, the Hon. Mr. Audley Trevelyan, -can hold no such intercourse as that document would seem to import, -or be on such terms of intimacy with a young woman who is destitute -of position, who has not a shilling in the world, and whose -parentage, family, and so forth--you cannot fail to understand -me--are matters of such extreme uncertainty, not to say worse; thus -you must endeavour to control her actions, as I shall those of my -son, who goes at once to join his regiment in India. - - "I am yours, &c. - "LAMORNA. - -"A copy kept." - - -"How dare this Lord Lamorna write to you thus, mamma?" asked Sybil, -her dark eyes flashing with unusual light; but the pale mother -answered only with her tears, and recalling now certain broken -sentences which had escaped her--sentences that seemed somewhat to -correspond painfully with the insulting tenor of the letter. Sybil, -after the first hours of excessive grief were past, said in a -composed voice, yet with tremulous lips, - -"What does Lord Lamorna mean? Who are we, mamma? and what are we?" - -Constance was silent, though each pulsation of her heart was a -veritable pang. - -"Are we not Devereaux?" - -"No." - -"Who then?" urged Sybil, her pallor increasing while the silence or -pause that ensued was painful to both; to none more than the innocent -mother, the guarded secret of whose blameless life was now about to -be laid bare before her own child--a secret that seemed now to assume -the magnitude of a crime! All the care, doubt, anxiety, and mystery -of the past years had gone for nothing, and the sacrifice she had -made of herself, was now likely to recoil fearfully upon her, and -more than all upon her children. - -In broken accents, with her aching head reclined on Sybil's breast, -she told all that the reader already knows; the insane pride of birth -and family which inspired the old lord, his suspicions and threats, -the long necessity for consequent secrecy; and Sybil heard all this -strange story with intense bewilderment. - -Could she realise it--take it all into her comprehension? Her mother -was a lady of title--her brother Denzil was the real Lord Lamorna, -she herself was not a Devereaux, but a Trevelyan like Audley--and he, -Audley, who loved her so, was her own cousin! - -This revelation then explained all to Sybil; all of their wanderings -in strange places, and sudden departures from them, when unwelcome -tourists who might have recognised Richard Trevelyan came, their -secluded life at Porthellick, their marked avoidance of the -Trecarrels and others, and on the whole poor Sybil felt cut to the -heart, and inspired by not an atom of pride; yet she tenderly and -fondly embraced her mother with greater fervour than ever, for more -than ever did she feel that she must love her now. - -"My poor papa drowned--drowned, unburied in the sea--passing away -from us without even the name by which we have known and loved him!" -exclaimed Sybil. "Oh why is God so cruel to us?" - -"Alas, Sybil, we can but adore the decrees of Heaven, without seeking -to know more of them. This stroke is hard to bear, child--all the -harder that I have reason to fear--to dread, oh, my God, that more -than your papa's life has perished with him." - -"More mamma; what can be more?" - -"That which was dearer to him than life; the succession of -Denzil--the honour of us all!" - -After a long pause, with a vague expression in her eyes, as if her -thoughts were travelling back into the years of the past, Sybil said, - -"I had begun to suspect there was some unpleasant mystery about us." - -"But affection and delicacy----" - -"Both, dearest mamma sealed my lips and I was silent; but oh, to what -good end or purpose has it all been? By this, too surely is Audley -also lost to me." - -"My poor child, he was your lover, and through me you think you lose -him. Oh pardon me, Sybil, darling, for I, your hapless mother, am -the cause of all this! Had your papa never seen, or known, or loved -me----" - -"Do not say so, mamma dear," whispered Sybil as her mother's -tremulous lips were pressed on her throbbing brow. - -"It was a plan your papa formed to save his inheritance for you and -Denzil, and already his brother claims all." - -"It was a false plan, and see how it may fail us--nay already, to all -appearance has failed us." - -"He is in his grave--if indeed the ocean can be called a grave." - -"True, my darling papa--and I must not upbraid him, even in thought." - -"If it is the will of God that I should suffer, His will be done! -But my children--my children!" cried the widow wildly, and she raised -her hands and her dark and beautiful but bloodshot eyes to Heaven; -"my brave and handsome Denzil, and my soft sweet Sybil, of what have -they been guilty, that shame and ruin, should fall on them?" - -"Mamma," whispered Sybil, embracing her closely, "we must learn to -bear with resignation the woes we cannot help. But oh," added the -girl in her heart, "how am I to write to Denzil of all this sorrow, -and probably worse than sorrow and poverty?" - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -A FAMILY GROUP. - -And so he was gone--this tender husband, who had loved her so dearly, -and whose secret she had shared so unavailingly for years; and apart -from the horror of the doubt that hung over the future of her -children, whose means and honour, like her own, had too probably -perished with him, a despair grew in the heart of Constance when she -surveyed the familiar objects, the little household gods of their -once happy home, and thought upon the days that could never, never -come again. - -There were times when she could not believe that she had lost him; -that her sorrow was a painful dream from which she must awake. She -perpetually found herself softly whispering his name, especially in -the waking hours of the night. Thus too, from overtension of the -nervous system, she would start at the fancied sound of her own name, -uttered as if by his voice at a vast distance. - -In the delicacy and tenderness of Constance, there was an amount of -keenness and intensity possessed by few, and thus her heart bled for -her daughter, rather than for her own dubious position, the fact of -which had been so coarsely thrust upon her by the insolent letter of -Downie Trevelyan, who was now formally spoken of and everywhere -announced and received as "Lord Lamorna." - -That Sybil had given all the wealth of her young heart to this man's -son, was but too evident to her anxious mother's observation; but how -would matters tend now, and could that misplaced love have a -successful termination? - -Days were passing in sorrow now; no letters from Audley came to -either. Sybil looked delicate and grew pale and thin, for a double -grief was consuming her, and Constance began to marvel in her heart, -was she meant to live in suffering and penury, perhaps to die early, -this child--her dead father's idol, so loved and petted by him. - -Sybil felt secretly pleased with the idea that there existed between -her and Audley a tie--the tie of blood--which even the antagonism of -his crafty father could not break. "The idea of cousinly intimacy to -girls is undoubtedly pleasant," says Anthony Trollope; "and I do not -know whether it is not the fact, that the better and the purer the -girl, the sweeter and the pleasanter is the idea." - -How often had Constance asked of herself--but never of him who was -gone--"How long is this deception to be carried on? How long am I to -wait before I take my place in the world as the wife of Richard -Trevelyan, and cease to figure as a sham Devereaux, and how long are -our children to be thus under a cloud?" All obstacles were removed -now, but the sham was becoming a reality, and the cloud was growing -darker than ever. - -And was her poor Denzil, then so far away from her, to be tamely -robbed of his noble inheritance after all? - -The necessity for action in some way, even before acquainting him -with his father's death and real rank, compelled Constance to bestir -herself. She knew no one whom she felt tempted to consult with -confidence, and was totally ignorant of the line of action to adopt, -but on hearing, before a week had passed, that the whole family of -the Trevelyans had come from town and taken up their residence at -Rhoscadzhel, she resolved to lose no time in confronting the usurper -personalty, attended only by her daughter. She could--she feared -not--fully prove the identity of "Captain Devereaux" with Captain -Trevelyan the late lord, and her husband's miniature, which she wore, -and his letters, especially the last from Montreal, would prove still -further the fact of her marriage, and his intentions as regarded his -will, though they were all addressed to her as Mrs. Devereaux, and -simply bore his signature as "Richard," save one already mentioned, -to which he appended his title. - -So she thought and flattered herself while, clad in the deepest -mourning, she and Sybil traversed, by the Cornwall Railway, the forty -odd miles that lay between Porthellick and Rhoscadzhel, followed by -the prayers and blessings of old Winny Braddon. - -"That which we fancy must break our hearts, we can bear patiently, -and what is more, so learn to conform to, that after a few years of -life, we can wonder that we thought them hardships," says a writer -with much truth. So did Constance think her heart would break, when -all the reality of her desolate condition was brought home to her, by -her mirror reflecting her face--the face that Richard loved so -well--encircled by a widow's cap--that odious ruche of tulle; but she -already felt the conviction strongly, that whatever happened now, she -would not have many years of life before her. - -Mother and daughter sat silent and sad while the train swept on, -Lostwithiel with its antique octagon spire and the ruins of -Restormal, with their moat full of sweet-briars; St. Blazey, to whose -shrine the woolcombers made their pilgrimages in the days of old (the -saint having been tortured or curried to death with wool-combs, by -the Cornish men who declined to be converted from Druidism), with -many a spacious lawn and bare autumnal wood and many a purple moor, -were speedily left behind; and now it was past Grampound with its -market-house and ancient granite cross, the train went screaming and -clanking. Redruth next, in a dreary and barren district whose wealth -lies far below the soil, which is literally honeycombed by the shafts -and levels of mines; and then came Hayle, the houses of which are all -built of scoria or slag, the debris of ancient mines; and then the -travellers hired at the "White Hart," a carriage for Rhoscadzhel. - -To Constance, the scenery there had its chief interest in the -circumstance that in youth and manhood her husband must have been -familiar with every feature of it, and must have shot and hunted over -it all. Noon was past now; but the sun shed a rich golden light upon -a calm sea, of which they had lovely glimpses at times between the -grey granite _carns_ and clumps of oak and elm. Sometimes the -carriage rolled past wildernesses of rock and morass, where wild -tarns reflected in their glassy depths the blue sky above, and where -valleys opened westward to the Bristol Channel, whose waves were -buttressed out by precipices of bold and striking outline, and the -heart of Constance began to beat painfully as each revolution of the -wheels drew her nearer and nearer to the house, that long ere this -should have been her home. - -She felt, or thought, that now she was about to face, confront, and -grapple with her fate, and to know the best or worst! The secret -burden so long intolerable, would now be cast aside, and the adoption -of any line of action, in lieu of the existence she had led since her -loss was confirmed--the dumb mechanical life of one too paralysed -even to think--was a relief. Yet moments there were when she half -repented of her journey. - -Her husband, her sole protector, was gone, and the proofs of their -marriage, and of his intentions by will, too, were gone also! If her -arguments were repelled, her assertions denied, what must be her -fate, and how terribly should she and those he loved so well be -exposed to the sneers and heartlessness of a world that knew nothing -of their good qualities, or of the cause for that concealment which -might now prove the cause of their destruction. - -What if even now, at the eleventh hour, as it were, she turned -prudently back, and concealed the fact that she was the true Lady -Lamorna--that her son was a peer of the realm--and let him and Sybil -pass through life as humble Devereaux, content to earn their bread as -best they could? But to see Downie Trevelyan, the author of that -harsh and most insulting letter, occupying the place of her -Denzil--no--no! a thousand times no! - -Some such fears had been occurring to Sybil, who now said, in a low -voice, as they drew near the stately gate of Rhoscadzhel, - -"I doubt, dearest mamma, whether this is a wise proceeding on our -part; if we have the legal right to call ourselves Trevelyans, that -right should be placed for proof in legal hands." - -"If we have--" began Constance, impetuously, and then became silent, -for she felt that the views of her daughter were, perhaps, the most -correct. - -The elaborate iron gate, and its tall granite pillars, each -supporting a grotesque _Koithgath_, surmounted by a coronet, were -left behind, and they proceeded along the stately avenue by which we -have so lately seen Richard passing as chief mourner at the funeral -of the old lord; and now, as the porte-cochère (which bore a double -hatchment) was approached, came a new perplexity to the mind of -Constance. How was she to announce herself? - -As "Lady Lamorna," where there was already one who called herself so; -simply as "Mrs. Devereaux," or as "a lady wishing an interview with -Lord Lamorna"? But from the utterance of his name in this instance -she shrunk. - -The pampered servants, on seeing that the approaching vehicle was -only a carriage hired from the neighbouring inn, and not an equipage -having coats of arms and showy liveries, were somewhat slow in -answering the summons at the bell; but as the hall door stood open, -and, luckily for the perplexed Constance, Mr. Jasper Funnel, the -solemn, portly, and intensely respectable-looking butler, was -lingering there, she asked if she could "see his master." - -Now this was a mode to which Mr. Jasper Funnel was all unused, and he -might have been disposed to summon "Jeames" or "Chawles" to attend to -her; but there was now a hauteur in the bearing of Constance that -thoroughly bewildered, if it failed to awe him. - -"Master, mum?" he stammered; "his lordship is at home, but engaged -with General Trecarrel--I can take in your card, however." - -"I have not my card-case with me." - -"What name, then?" - -"It matters not--just say----" - -"Perhaps, mum, relations of the family?" suggested Funnel, perceiving -the depth of mourning worn by the two ladies. - -"Yes--near relations, indeed," replied Constance, restraining her -tears with difficulty. - -The man of bins and vintages, who thought he knew the branches of the -Trevelyan family through all their ramifications, looked still more -perplexed; however, he said, with a still lower bow, - -"This way, mum--please to follow me," and desiring their driver to -await them, Constance and Sybil entered the mansion of Rhoscadzhel. - -As if to tantalise them by a display of all they were perhaps to -lose, or had already lost for ever, a valet, to whose care Mr. Funnel -now consigned them, conducted them by a somewhat circuitous route, as -all the suites of rooms were not in order, the family having arrived -unexpectedly from town. - -Passing through the marble vestibule, an arch on one side of which -opened to a gay aviary, and one on the other to the beautiful -conservatory, they entered a long and lofty corridor, where the soft -carpet muffled every foot-fall, and where were the objects of -_vertu_, accumulated by several generations of Trevelyans; a -veritable museum it seemed, of glass cases filled with quaintly -illuminated vellum MSS., in fine old Roman bindings, red-edged and -clasped; old laces of Malines and Bruges; Chinese ivory carvings, -delicate as gossamer webs; Burmese idols; Japanese cabinets, covered -with flaming dragons; Majolica vases, where rosy cupids, grotesque -tritons, nude nymphs, and shining dolphins, were all grouped -together; Delft hardware of odd designs; Etruscan cups, -cream-coloured or crimson, with slender black demoniac figures -thereon; mediæval suits of armour; family portraits of dames in ruffs -and farthingales, and of past Trevelyans, all well-wigged, cuirassed, -and armed: some with Bardolph noses and paunches of comely curve, -suggestive of sack and venison; the chiefs of these being Lord Henry, -who was Governor of Rougemont Castle for Queen Elizabeth, and -Launcelot, the cavalier-lord, who sought shelter in Trewoofe from the -victorious Roundheads. - -The refined and cultivated taste of Constance could well appreciate -all these objects; but now, as one in a dream, her eyes wandered over -those walls where many a gem of art was hanging; the soft-eyed and -white-skinned girls of Greuze; the bearded and doubleted nobles of -Vandyke; cattle, fat and lazy-looking, by Cuyp; hazy sea-pieces by -Turner, and more than one lovely Raphael; but then her every thought -was turned inward; and as if to support herself, she retained Sybil's -tremulous little hand, on which her clasp tightened, as the servant, -who was clad in mourning livery, with a black cord aiguilette on each -shoulder, opened noiselessly the half of a folding-door, and ushered -them into that splendid library where her husband had found his proud -old uncle dead at the writing-table, and Downie (with the unsigned -deed) hanging over him, with confusion and disappointment on his -usually stolid visage. - -"Visitors, my lord," said the servant. - -And to add to the perplexity of Constance, she found herself face to -face with the whole family group--the whole, at least, save one, her -nephew Audley. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - -HUMILIATION. - -The statements made to Audley Trevelyan by his father as to the -dubious position of the two ladies at Porthellick--artful statements -which seemed, without collusion, to corroborate so much that Mabel -and Rose Trecarrel hinted or openly advanced--had seriously grieved -and perplexed him. Thus, while loving Sybil and longing for her -society on one hand, with the selfishness or vacillation peculiar to -many young men, on the other, he began to wish that he had not gone -quite so far--that he had been less precipitate in his love-making; -but his perplexity increased to utter bewilderment, not unmixed with -indignation, when his usually languid mother, with considerable scorn -and irritation of manner, informed him that "the person calling -herself Mrs. Devereaux" was but an _intriguante_, who had sought to -lure his foolish uncle Richard into marriage; and his father admitted -that he and others had long suspected his brother of having some low -and illicit entanglement. - -Now Audley knew that this "_intriguante_" had a son, whose existence -might endanger his own succession to a title. - -Was this fair, slender and delicate girl, whose gentle image had -wound itself about the heart of Audley, and on whose "engagement -finger" he had so recently slipped a ring, actually a cousin; but one -whom he could not acknowledge--a person whom he dared not marry, in -dread of that trumpet-tongued bugbear called "Society"? - -He had ceased for some days to write to her. In this he accused -himself of gross selfishness; but his father's open threats of -withdrawing every shilling of his allowance, of turning his back upon -him for ever, and so forth, if he dared to countenance the Devereaux -in any way; and his total inability to live anywhere on his -subaltern's pay alone, together with the dread of compromising his -cold, proud, and intensely aristocratic mother and sister--in fact, -it would seem, his whole family too--made him strive to crush in his -heart the young love it was so sweet to brood upon; but Audley strove -in vain, and began to think that the sooner he was back to India the -better for all. - -He had been nervous, irritable, and "out of sorts" since he had -returned to Rhoscadzhel, and obtaining a passing glimpse of the -little white villa as the train passed it, en route, had made him -worse. He had procured Champagne and various other vintages too -freely from Jasper Funnel; he had broken the knees of a favourite -horse; ripped up the green cloth of the new billiard table when -practising alone, and more than once had angrily laid his whip across -the back of unoffending Rajah. - -On the afternoon of the visit which closes the preceding chapter, his -mother who was seated languidly in a deep easy chair near the library -fire, playing with a feather fan, while her daintily slippered little -feet rested on a velvet tabourette, said in her soft and monotonous -voice,-- - -"I do wish, Audley, that odious dog of yours was dead--shot or lost." - -"Why, mother, it was poor Jack Delamere's dying legacy." - -"It is such a shaggy, self-willed, huge and savage animal--always -about one's skirts or in one's way." - -"You are unusually energetic in your adjectives this evening, my lady -mother," replied Audley; "poor Rajah is as gentle as a lamb, and I -might have found a kind owner for him ere this, however," he added, -as he thought sadly of the winning Sybil on whose skirts his splendid -pet had been permitted to nestle unrebuked. - -"Visitors, mamma!" exclaimed Gartha Trevelyan, a fair-haired and -languid edition of her mother, and already, in her sixteenth year, -the imitator of all her tones and ways; "who can they be--in a hired -carriage, too?" - -"Ladies in deep mourning," said General Trecarrel, glancing uneasily -at Audley. - -"By Jove!" muttered the latter, growing quite pale, as he recognised -them from a bay window, and at once quitting the library, descended -by a private staircase to where his horse and groom happened to be -awaiting him. - -"My cousin--he is my own cousin; this was the secret sympathy--the -tie of blood that drew us to each other," Sybil was thinking softly, -in her timid heart, to keep her courage up, at the very time when he -who, without flinching, would have faced a Sikh gun-battery, or a -horde of Afghans, was avoiding her, and galloping ingloriously away -from what he deemed "a scene--a deuced family row," with a blush on -his cheek, shame, pity, and anger mingling in his soul, with the -half-formed wish that he had never met and never known her! - -Advancing into the room, the mother and daughter bowed, and then -stood irresolute. The former had expected to have seen Downie alone; -but finding him thus, amid his family, and the General present too, -all her pre-arranged and carefully considered explanations and -remarks completely fled her memory, and her mind became blank as a -sheet of unwritten paper, as Downie, after a rapid whisper to his -wife, over whose colourless face there flashed a look of angry scorn, -took the initiative. - -His wife, with her everlasting smelling-bottle or vinaigrette and -lace handkerchief; her newly-cut novel close by; her pale, dull eyes -and unmeaning smile; her "company manners;" her soft white hands, -smooth and unwrinkled as her forehead, yet cold and puerile as her -heart, was always a kind of bore; but now her _tout-ensemble_ had all -the impress of insipidity, animated by insolence; for weak though the -lawyer's wife was in character, she felt that she was mistress of the -situation; and at least _pro tem._, if not for life, Lady Lamorna. - -She regarded the widow with a cold and supercilious stare, to which -the former replied by a steady gaze, and each seemed to draw her -conclusions of the other in an instant, for "to women alone pertains -that marvellous freemasonry, which sees the character at a glance, -and investigates the sincerity of a disposition or the value of a -lace flounce with the same practised facility." - -Downie, too, had his own peculiar acuteness and instincts, sharp and -keen, wherever he went; he saw everything in a moment; whoever he -met, he read their faces like a book, he marked all their features, -deduced their personal characters, just as if he had been intimate -with them for a life-time; and a very useful power this had proved to -him, in the course of his legal career; and now, in his mourning -suit, he looked like "one of those great crows that are to be seen, -apparently asleep, in a meadow in autumn; but which, nevertheless, -see everything that is going on around them." The gentle aspect, the -forlorn bearing, and uncommon beauty of Constance and her daughter, -would have softened any other heart than Downie's; but his was like -Cornish granite--the oldest and stoniest of all stones. - -General Trecarrel--somewhat nervously it must be owned--shook hands -with the intruders, for as such they felt themselves viewed; but the -dog, Rajah, alone gave them a welcome by fawning round Sybil, who -trembled excessively, and could scarcely restrain her tears, while -the dog's recognition of her did not escape the wife of Downie, who -drew certain conclusions therefrom. - -"Mrs. Devereaux, I believe?" said Downie Trevelyan, calmly, and with -his professional smile, as he looked up from the table, which was -literally heaped up with letters, many of them being unopened; "to -what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" - -"You owe it to my sorrow, sir," replied Constance, gathering courage, -as her eye caught a portrait of Richard Trevelyan, in his uniform, -painted years ago, ere he went to America, and looking just as she -had seen him in the early days of their happy loverhood; and now the -pictured face seemed to smile upon her out of the past; "to the death -of my husband--your brother, as you know, by drowning," she added. - -He gave her a stare of cold enquiry, over, and finally, through his -double gold eye-glass, which he specially wiped for the occasion, and -then turning to his wife, said,-- - -"Gartha, my dear, take your namesake and the boys with you--retire, -please, for we may have much to say that must not be said before you." - -"Perhaps I--I too, am _de trop_?" said General Trecarrel, a little -nervously, assuming his hat and malacca cane. - -"Not at all--pray be seated," replied Downie. - -"If--Mrs.--Mrs.----" - -"Oh, yes; Mrs. Devereaux will excuse you, General, I am sure," -answered Downie, as his wife, with her four younger children, sailed -haughtily from the room, drawing in her skirts as she passed -Constance, whose pretty lip only quivered a little with disdain. - -To do him justice, the barrister looked on the widow with something -of interest, mingling, momentarily, with his fear and anger--but -momentarily only. She was slenderly and so beautifully formed, small -featured, and dark haired, with much that was intense and -unfathomable in her pleading eyes--pleading for her children's honour -and her own: and there was Sybil, too, clad in the deepest mourning, -her high black dress, with its pretty cuffs, and a small white collar -round her delicate neck, made her fair skin seem fairer still, and -appeared to become the darkness of her hair and eyes better than any -other style of dress would have done; but, then, Sybil looked -charming in everything! - -The little interest died, and Downie regarded them with intense -hostility, for he had all "that sublime philosophy which teaches us -to bear with tranquillity the woes of others." - -"Oh--ah--yes," he said, after a most harassing pause; "you are the -lady who lives--in fact, who has lived for some time past, in a villa -near Porthellick?" - -"The same, sir." - -Downie knit his brows, for she accorded him no title, and he was -somewhat jealous on the point. - -"It was a bold act of my brother to bring you here to Cornwall--a -secluded place--almost under the eyes of his own family too!" - -"Circumstanced as we were by the eccentricity of his late uncle, it -was, perhaps, unwise," she replied, gently. - -"I am glad that you admit so much: a little villa near St. John's -Wood, or some such place, had been more appropriate for persons so -situated." - -The eyes of Constance began to flash dangerously. - -"My son is Lord Lamorna!" she exclaimed; "and even on his -cold-blooded uncle may punish this cruel insult to his mother!" - -The General, to whom all this revelation was new and startling, began -to feel uncomfortable, and to look quite perplexed; but Downie only -smiled a crafty smile, as he said-- - -"Pooh, my good woman, you are out of your senses; what can be the -object of this visit? I am busy--does your carriage wait?" - -"Before scandals go forth in our name, I beseech you to consider -well, and to read this letter, which will show you who I am and what -I am, and why for years we have all borne the name of Devereaux," -said Constance, making a prodigious effort to control her great grief -and just indignation, as she held the document before Downie; "it is -the last my dear, dear husband wrote me." - -"Husband--absurd! This is the wildest of wild assertions," said -Downie Trevelyan, as he took the letter from her hand, nevertheless; -and as he did so, the words of her dead husband came back to her -memory, when he said "that proofs of their marriage, beyond mere -assertion, must be forthcoming;" and now those proofs were buried in -the sea. - -"You must recognise the handwriting," said Constance, in a tremulous -tone; "and oh, sir," she added, as she eyed him doubtfully and -wistfully, "you will restore it to me, and not destroy it?" - -"Destroy!" said he, sternly; "what are you talking about? I hope I -am too much of a lawyer to destroy any document." - -"Before witnesses, at least," was the awkward addendum of the General. - -Downie's legal eye quickly took in the situation, as detailed by his -brother Richard in that letter, which stated that the little chapel -of St. Mary, at Montreal, had been burned down three years after the -regiment had left the city; that the Père Latour and the acolyte were -both dead; that though the Registers had all perished in the flames, -the signed copy of the marriage certificate was preserved by Latour's -successor, and "is now in my possession," added the letter, the -signature to which, "Lamorna," made the reader's eyes to gleam with -secret rage; but he merely said, - -"Suppose this letter were written by my brother--a supposition of -which I do not admit the truth,--who are 'those at home' whom he -doubts?" - -"You, most probably," said the General, with soldierly candour. - -"Absurd, my dear sir," replied Downie, tossing the letter -contemptuously to Constance. "This is a fabrication, written to suit -the occasion: the church burned; the Register destroyed; the -witnesses dead, too! It is a strange story, and strange chapter of -accidents. You lived with him long enough, I doubt not, madam, to -learn how to feign my brother's handwriting. This document has not -even an envelope--so where are the postal marks?" - -"I lost it----" - -"Bah! I thought so." - -There was a peculiar basilisk flicker in the pale eyes of Downie -Trevelyan, and he surveyed the shrinking widow of his brother -pitilessly, with a glance of hate--a glance beyond all the eloquence -of fury or wrath, for he felt in his heart--or what passed for -such--that she spoke truth in all this matter, but a truth she would -have difficulty in proving. - -"Oh mamma--mamma, let us go," implored Sybil. - -"And this Dick Braddon who accompanied my brother--the other -witness--a worthless old Chelsea pensioner, and so he too is gone?" - -"Gone with my husband," replied Constance, clasping her hands and -looking upward. - -"As my poor brother never yet, to my knowledge at least, prior to his -luckless American tour, appended his name to any document as -_Lamorna_, we have no means of testing or comparing the signature to -your production, were such test necessary--which it is not." - -Gathering courage, Constance was about to make some proud response, -when Downie, in his (external) character pure and unspotted as his -shirt front, said while turning to the General-- - -"My brother Richard picked up, of course, some of those dissipated -habits which are peculiar to the army, and----" - -"Oh, pardon me, my lord," began the General, in a deprecatory tone, -while inserting his right hand in the breast of his closely buttoned -surtout. - -"It is true, Trecarrel; you redcoats are a sad set, and here we see -the result of an unlucky liaison." - -"Richard--Richard," wailed Constance, "how hard is all this to bear!" - -"Yes, madam," said Downie; "but the way of transgressors is always -hard." - -"Transgressors, sir?" - -"Against the laws of morality and society, madam. Do not -misunderstand me, madam." - -"Oh no--oh no," replied Constance, in a choking voice; "I quite -understand you." - -The General was deeply moved; he advanced a pace or two towards her, -and lifted his hand with an air of entreaty; but Downie was pitiless, -and added-- - -"Yes, madam, and not content with seeking to entrap my brother, there -has actually been an attempt made, too, to entrap and delude my son!" - -"Sir," said Constance, moving towards the door of the library, "I -came in hope--I must own, half-desperate hope--of having an -explanation from, or a compromise with you--perhaps a recognition of -our just claims. Assertion, even backed by such a letter as this, -is, I must own, but slender evidence; so a court of law shall prove -the rest." - -"As you please, madam," replied Downie, rising and ringing a -hand-bell deliberately. "Show this--_lady_ out. So much for Mrs. -Devereaux!" he added furiously, for he was greatly disturbed and -ruffled. - -A mist seemed before the eyes of both mother and daughter, as they -quitted the stately room mechanically, to seek their vehicle at the -porte-cochère. Constance kept her proud little head erect, however, -so long as she was under observation; for though her heart was wrung -with agony as she thought of her children, there was something of a -Spartan matron in the outward bearing she affected, and in her -perfect power of self-mastery then. - -Stared at in the corridor by the wondering and mocking eyes of all -the younger children of Downie, who had taken their cue from the -manner in which their mamma had gathered her skirts in the library, -as if to avoid pollution; stared at too in the vestibule and portal -by Mr. Funnel the solemn Butler, by Boxer the rubicund coachman, and -by a group of whiskered valets, who all saw that something, they knew -not what, "was hup," they reached the hired carriage that was to take -them back to Hayle; and Jeames in powder, wearing "the uniform" of -the noble family, remarked to Chawles, a brother of the plush and -shoulder-knot, quite audibly, that "they both seemed the lady, quite; -but he feared they was only a couple of guv'nesses or companions out -of place--a lot as miserable as curates and tutors, and all that sort -o' thing." - -Constance shivered as if with ague when she drew up the glasses of -the carriage, and they took their departure from Rhoscadzhel. - -Open war alone could save or sink them now! - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - -"MRS. GRUNDY." - -General Trecarrel, who was an amiable and well-disposed man, felt the -utmost regret in having been present at an interview so painful, -unseemly, and perplexing. Notwithstanding the calmness, dignity, and -confidence with which Constance asserted her claims to wifehood and -nobility, he had his secret doubts--which Downie had not--as to the -legality of the ties that had subsisted between her and his late -friend, Richard Trevelyan. Yet he could not but think of her kindly, -humanely, and with interest; she seemed so perfectly ladylike, was so -gentle and so beautiful. - -In short, the old soldier, little given to study character or matters -not military, felt sorely bewildered by the strange story so suddenly -unfolded by his fair neighbour, and withdrew to think over it and to -dress for dinner. - -"So that odious woman and the cunning minx, her daughter, are gone at -last?" said Mrs. Downie--the acknowledged Lady Lamorna--entering the -carpeted library, softly and noiselessly, in her usual languid and -wearied way. - -"Yes, Gartha--at last," replied her husband, who was still seated at -the writing-table with his head resting on his left hand, for he was -full of thoughts that oppressed him. - -"You look disturbed, Downie dear?" she lisped, as she sank into her -easy chair and resumed the feather fan or hand screen. - -"That idiot Audley has complicated matters by forming an attachment -for the woman's daughter; but Trecarrel, who goes soon to India now, -shall take him off there at once." - -"And what was the object of her visit, pray?" - -"Oh, she came here to try the favourite Whig scheme--conciliation at -any price, no matter how humiliating; and exhibited a letter she had -manufactured, as from my brother; but it won't pass with me--no, no!" - -"You are right to repel such attempts as this; and I agree with you -that Audley had better relinquish what remains of his leave and quit -England," she replied, yet not without a sigh, for her son had been -but a short time at home, and India was so far away. But anything -was better than that he should entangle himself with a girl like -this--her son Audley, when she had almost registered a vow "never to -syllable a name unchronicled by Debrett;" the idea was absurd, -horrible in the extreme! - -"Perhaps, Downie dear," said she, after a little consideration, "we -are too fearful. I have read somewhere that 'boy and girl cousins -never fraternise.'" - -"Don't they, by Jove!" growled Downie; "especially when they come to -the age of puberty, without having known each other previously. Then -the Scots have a proverb about 'blood being thicker than water,' -though I can't see it in that way myself. The girl is remarkably -handsome, and Audley's affair with her must have made considerable -progress ere her letter came into my possession in London." - -"Handsome? dear, dear! do you really think so? I thought her very -saucy in expression, and a positive dowdy, in a dress made, no doubt, -by some Penzance milliner," replied the lady, while contemplating -complacently her own magnificent black _moire_, for she did not -entertain more charitable opinions respecting the daughter than the -mother. - -Though more advanced in life than Constance (for she had been married -some years before her), the wife of Downie had still considerable -remains of beauty, and, despite time and dimples turning fast to -wrinkles, she was bent upon being gay, young, and beautiful still. -She had an air that decidedly denoted high breeding, with much of -languor and indifference to all that passed around her. She had -completely attained that bearing of placidity, utter vacuity or -unimpressionability, so sedulously affected or adopted by many among -the upper class of English society, and even by their middle-class -imitators. However, all the little spirit or energy she ever -possessed fired up now, in the conviction that she was the Right -Honourable Lady Lamorna, that Audley was one of "England's Honourable -Misters," and that Gartha should find a husband among the tufts and -strawberry leaves at least. - -Downie had not her ambition even in these matters, but had naturally -avarice; and his profession had, of course, taught him trickery. -"Despair of no man," it has been said: "there are touches of kindness -in natures the very roughest, that redeem whole lives of harshness;" -but to have sought for charity or kindness at the hands of Downie -were a task as easy as taking a bone from a famished tiger. - -That day, at the dinner-table, after the ladies had withdrawn, and -Downie, the General, and Audley were lingering over their wine (or -wines rather), the conversation naturally turned to the recent visit -of Constance and her daughter; and a painful theme it proved to the -young officer. - -From General Trecarrel he had previously obtained a narrative of all -that had passed, and though he thanked Heaven that he had been -absent, his heart was preyed upon by many keen and conflicting -emotions. He loved Sybil tenderly, he acknowledged to himself; but -could he think of marriage with her, when she was the daughter of a -woman in a position as dubious as that of Constance was now openly -declared to be--one, moreover, whose claims were so startling, and -whose allegations were, as his father called them, so daring as to -merit criminal prosecution,--for so had the lawyer said in his wrath -and the strength of his own position! - -Intense pity for the girl mingled with his passion for her, and added -to his great perplexity; and thus, while his cheek alternately -flushed and grew pale, he sat with half-averted face, and the fingers -of one hand buried among his thick brown hair, irritated by the -conviction that his father's cold, keen, and scrutinising eyes were -bent loweringly upon him, while in silence he heard the General -bluntly urging him "if he had any tender views in that quarter, to -get rid of them as soon as possible, and be off to join his -regiment;" for to Trecarrel military service seemed a cure for every -human ill. - -"But the letter she showed you?" pled Audley. - -"That letter, sir, I have already denounced as a most daring -forgery!" replied Downie, with as much energy as his usually quiet -manner permitted. - -"Could she--one so eminently like a lady--be guilty of such a crime?" - -"Your uncle's mistress would be, of course, familiar with his -handwriting." - -Audley felt his heart vibrate painfully at this injurious but, as the -circumstances seemed to stand, not inapplicable term. Compassion and -tenderness pleaded for the dove-eyed Sybil; but policy, society, or -the promptings of "Mrs. Grundy" urged that he should, nay must, -relinquish all thought of her for ever; so while sitting there, -sipping his golden-tinted château yquem, and playing with the -embossed grape scissors, to all appearance very calm and quiet, a -storm of doubt and shame was struggling in his heart with love; "for -this passion," says Lord Bacon, "hath its floods in the very times of -weakness, which are great prosperity and great adversity, both which -times kindle love and make it more fervent." And now Sybil was in an -adversity of which he knew not the actual depth. - -"To me it seems that you are somewhat severe in this whole affair, -General," said he, after a pause. - -"God forgive me if I am so!" replied Trecarrel, earnestly. - -"Suppose this girl's position to be all you advance, if we love -because we like and admire each other, are we to be censured?" - -"Then who the devil should be censured?" said his father, with -asperity. - -"Destiny." - -"Pshaw!" said Downie; "this is mere romance--mooning!" - -"And deuced unlike one of the 14th Hussars," added Trecarrel. - -"The very rubbish of which dramas are made." - -"You are right, Downie; but, till now, I always thought this young -fellow of yours was rather fond of my girl Rose." - -Audley coloured deeply, and assisted himself to wine, as he said-- - -"I greatly admire both Miss Trecarrel and her sister Miss Rose; but I -have not the honour to stand higher in their favour than that of -others." - -"But this girl Devereaux----" his father was beginning passionately. - -"Excuse me, dear sir," interrupted Audley, "if I beg that you will -cease to taunt me on this painful subject. The tenor of the letter -she wrote to me--the letter which you found on my desk, and which in -all fairness you should not have read--a Lieutenant of the Line not -being exactly a schoolboy--sufficiently evinced that we were on terms -of affection and intimacy. I knew not then who she was, or who her -people were. I had saved her life, as the General knows, at -considerable peril, and so there grew a tender tie between us; but -all shall be ended now," he continued in a tone of emotion. "I see -that it must be so, sir. I see also the necessity for not -compromising your just title to the rank and place you hold by -attaching myself in any way to the fortunes of the Devereaux. So I -implore you to let the matter cease, or I shall quit the room--yes, -even the house itself, so surely as I shall ere long quit England, -perhaps never to return!" - -"I thank you for this promise, Audley," said Downie emphatically; -"and when once with your regiment, you shall find your allowance most -amply increased." - -"For that I thank you, sir," said Audley, sighing. - -"I am richer now than when you were in the Hussars." - -"And out of that wealth, Downie--I beg pardon, I mean my Lord -Lamorna--I trust you will do something handsome now for poor Dick's -widow and orphan?" blundered the General. - -"Widow and orphan!" repeated Downie, with growing anger. - -"Well, widow in one sense." - -"In what sense?" - -"A widow of the heart," persisted Trecarrel, reddening to the roots -of his grizzled hair. "She and her pretty daughter have suffered a -fearful stroke of fortune--and even poverty may not be the most -severe trial before them." - -"I shall settle a small sum on the mother, perhaps," said Downie, -reluctantly; "and get the girl, if you wish it, a situation as -companion at a distance from this." - -"Companion? That is a kind of upper servant who must wash the -spaniel, and feed the parrot," said the General, testily; "supervise -the maid that dresses her mistress's hair, read novels aloud, and -sermons on Sunday; write invitations, and answer them; pay all bills, -and stand all manner of vapours and ill-humours, for thirty pounds -per annum and a _quiet home_! Come, come, Downie, d--n it," added -Trecarrel, "you might do something more handsome than that for a -daughter of Richard Trevelyan." - -"Sir," replied the other, becoming slightly ruffled by the old -officer's perfect bluntness, "when certain people in this world -cannot get white bread and wine, they should content them with brown -bread and water; they must also work, if they would not beg. I think -that I shall have done enough if I do what I propose for the -daughter; and as for the mother, through my humble endeavours, a -housekeeper's place or the matronage of a lunatic asylum may be -procured for her, if she is in poverty, and if her want of previous -character could be tided over with the Board of Guardians. By her -daring claim, she has certainly striven to injure me and all my -innocent family," added Downie loftily; "yet I do not wish evil to -happen to her." - -"Whether we wish it or wish it not, neither will come according to -our mere human desire," retorted the General; "so pass the Madeira, -please, Audley, for here comes Funnel with the coffee--a hint that we -are to join the ladies in the drawing-room." - -Downie Trevelyan had always had his secret fears of the family in the -villa at Porthellick, and he knew not exactly how strong their claims -upon his dead brother might be. However, he had lost no time in -having himself fully served heir to the late lord, on the loss of the -steamer "Admiral" becoming an ascertained fact; and, though a lawyer -by profession, he now literally loathed the sight of the circulars -and letters that poured in upon him on his accession to rank and -fortune. There were legal details to be filled up, dry formalities -to be gone through with perplexing repetitions and minuteness; there -were entreaties from tradesmen that "his Lordship would not change -the family custom," and applications of a similar nature from town -and country agents to retain their agencies, &c., &c. Then there was -"the suit of those Devereaux," as he called a bulky and menacing -document which a shabby-looking fellow deposited at Rhoscadzhel one -morning, with lists of the vexatious papers required for the -defence--all the preparation of "some hedge-lawyer--some low legal -desperado," as Downie styled him; for he now himself felt, in the -tone and tenour of these legal letters and documents, the pointed -stings he had for years past so pitilessly planted in others. - -The legal document had the effect of completing all the silent -arguments of Mrs. Grundy in the mind of Audley. But a few days ago, -he was so happy in the conviction that he loved Sybil and was beloved -again; and now he saw the necessity for action and resolution, and -alike quitting her and England. - -He seated himself at his desk one evening for the purpose of writing -an explanatory or, if he could achieve it, an exculpatory and -farewell letter to Sybil; but, after various attempts, he had got no -further than the date, when Mr. Jasper Funnel entered the room, with -a little sealed packet on a silver salver. - -It had just come in the household despatch-box from Hayle, and bore -the Porthellick postmark, so he tore it open with trembling hands. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - -A LEGAL "FRIEND." - -Constance never smiled again; yet in the presence of Sybil she never -gave way to the paroxysms of passionate grief that came over her when -she was alone or in the seclusion of her own chamber. Wealth and -title, so long looked forward to in the years that were gone, seemed -alike most worthless now, save that with the loss of these her -children lost their position in life, and herself her name and -honour! Ever present was the idea, Oh that her husband could look up -from his grave, and see the impending ruin and desolation of their -once-happy home! for, as we have already said, their means of -subsistence died with him. - -And now, how were they to live? The present time was agony; the -future dark and gloomy. - -Paragraphs, the tenour of which proved intensely annoying to Downie -Trevelyan and all his family, and which were painful and degrading to -Constance and Sybil (for such they felt them to be), began to find -their way into the local and even the London papers, under exciting -titles or headings, such as "Singular Case of Presumption," or -"Insanity," "The Cornish Widow again," "The Lamorna Peerage," and so -forth; and Messrs. Gorbelly and Culverhole, as "his Lordship's -solicitors," in writing answers or contradictions to some of these -effusions, were but too happy, by such legal advertisements, to mix -their somewhat obscure and vulgar names with the affair. - -Audley read those insulting notices, assertions, and contradictions -with infinite sorrow and pain, for then Sybil's pleading and -upbraiding eyes would come before him. Through such uncourted -publicity, however, the mother and daughter began to find themselves -coldly viewed by neighbours now. The rector ceased to come near the -villa; the village doctor whipped up his horse as he passed the end -of the willow avenue; and even the usually friendly Trecarrels left -for town--rumour said correctly, for India--without paying another -visit, though perhaps, as theirs had never been returned, they could -not do otherwise. - -All the charity and good they had performed, in all the necessities -relieved, all the ailments alleviated, all the countless little -kindnesses done, went for nothing now; for the world is a malevolent -and censorious one; and that devilish maxim of Rochefoucauld, that -people feel a strange satisfaction in the misfortunes of their best -friends, was fully exemplified. Constance's new and startling -assertion of rank and position, however meekly done, formed excellent -food for the tongues of the malicious and vulgar, who exist -everywhere. She had to bear unjustly the contempt of many, the -ridicule of all; so that her pretty villa became daily less and less -a home. - -From the tenour of that horrible interview at Rhoscadzhel, where -every word that passed seemed as if burned into her heart with -letters of fire, Sybil felt a sure conviction that all must and -should be at an end between herself and Audley Trevelyan. The -treatment of her mother, of her absent brother's claims, of her own, -and of her dead father's memory, his will and wishes, all required -this sacrifice at her hands; so resolutely and calmly--though a few -tears rolled silently down her cheek the while--she drew his diamond -ring from her "engaged" finger--an engaged one now no longer--and -making it up in a packet, together with a few letters he had written -to her, she despatched it, addressed by her own trembling hand, and -without a word of comment, to Rhoscadzhel; and this packet it was -which we have just seen Jasper Funnel place in the hands of his -excited young master. - -Her mother's embraces, tenderness, and kisses were her sole but best -reward for acting thus; yet poor Sybil seemed the very impersonation -of beauty, grief, and girlhood bordering on womanhood. The buoyancy -of the former was gone; a change had come over her soft and once -bright face, which wore a sad and settled expression now. It was -that white woe which someone styles "the deepest mourning features -can put on." - -Her pencil and her piano, each so much the solace of her lonely -hours, were, of course, relinquished now; and it seemed as if she -should never take to them again. She looked ill, and appeared to be -pining: but, sooth to say, it was less the loss of Audley than her -mother's grief that affected her. The doctor, when summoned, -pocketed his guinea, but did nothing more; so Winny Braddon urged -Constance, but in vain, that "their poor chealveen" should be taken -to the nearest _Mean-tol_ (or Holed Stone) so that she might try the -sovereign old Cornish cure for all mysterious ailments, by creeping -through the orifice thereof; for in the ancient duchy, as in some -parts of Ireland and the remote Scottish Isles, where such natural or -artificial perforations were used of old by the Druids to initiate -and dedicate their children to the offices of rock-worship, they are -still regarded with superstition, as possessing the gift of effecting -miraculous cures. - -Constance, too, was ill, and in the excess of her grief and lowness -of heart, she fancied herself worse than she really was; and ever -present was the thought, how perilous the lonely path of life would -be to a girl so beautiful as Sybil, if she--her mother--were taken -away by the hand of death before another and fitting protector were -provided. Morbid at times by sorrow, this reflection made the breast -of Constance a prey to the most craving and clamorous anxiety. - -But a short time before, and their worldly prospects had all been so -different--so brilliant and happy. Now all was dark indeed! When -she thought over all the baronial splendours of Rhoscadzhel, and the -many mementoes of her husband which must be there, something of -hatred for the invaders of her children's patrimony and her own -marital rights began to mingle with her dull despair of ever proving -that she had the latter; and with all her constitutional gentleness, -when she recalled the glance bestowed upon her by Mr. Trevelyan on -quitting the library, and the insinuations uttered by Downie against -her, in presence of General Trecarrel, too, her blood boiled up -within her. - -"Oh, Sybil!" she exclaimed one day, after sitting long buried in -thought, "some author says, 'there are wild beasts in the human -race;' and truly your uncle Downie is one of these. Can it be -possible that they had the same parents--he and your frank, generous, -and open-hearted papa?--that they share the same blood, were nursed -at the same breast, and nestled together, as I have heard, in the -same little cot?" - -Sybil was silent; she had, in this view of the matter, but one secret -and reclaiming thought. Downie was Audley's father, and she would be -merciful. - -But it was when inspired by one of those gusts of indignation that -Constance received, perhaps unfortunately, a visitor--an attorney -from a neighbouring town--who stated that he had heard her strange -and painful story, and had come to make a "friendly" offer of his -legal services. - -Now Mr. Sharkley--for such was his name--was exactly, in many -respects, what Downie, in his rage, called him, and was an excellent -specimen of perhaps the most dangerous character in society--a needy -and unscrupulous lawyer. He was attired in rusty black garments, -that seemed to have been made for a much taller man. The collar of -his swallow-tailed coat rose above the nape of his neck, while the -cuffs nearly reached to the points of his fingers, and the legs of -his trousers flapped loosely over his instep. He had a low -projecting forehead and keen eyes, the expression of which varied -only between intense cunning and the lowest suspicion. His ears were -enormous, set high upon his head; and the right one, from being long -used as a pen-holder, projected from his skull more than the left. -His features would have shocked Lavater, while Gall and Spurzheim -would have augured the worst of his character by the development of -his head. - -His legal practice--though Constance was in blessed ignorance of the -circumstance--was of the lowest kind, and had seldom proved -beneficial in a monetary or any other sense to those for whom he -unluckily acted as agent; but the fellow could be, when it suited -him, suave, artful, and plausible when he had a purpose to serve, and -a relentless bully when it was achieved; thus, seeing that though -little or nothing could be made of the present case with the hope of -success, much might be made of it in the way of money, perhaps, of -notoriety certainly, and that in the end he might betray all he knew -to Downie Trevelyan for a consideration--with these amiable views, he -sought to worm himself as a friend and legal volunteer into the -confidence of the otherwise friendless Constance. - -Mr. Sharkley heard her story attentively, and committed it all to -writing. That her marriage had been duly celebrated in a chapel at -Montreal he doubted not, nor the reason for keeping it so secret--the -absurd pride of old Lord Lamorna, whose aristocratic prejudices were -a local proverb and hence her having, so unfortunately for her own -honour, passed so long under her maiden name of Devereaux with her -son and daughter. - -But how was all this to be proved? - -Père Latour was dead; the records of his chapel had been burned in -one of the many conflagrations incident to the city; the certified -extract from them had perished in the sea with her husband. Dick -Braddon too had been drowned, and the acolyte, the other witness in -the little French chapel, had been long since laid under a wooden -cross in the little burial-ground that adjoined it. A few letters -alone were not sufficient proof to upset in England--whatever they -might have done in Scotland--the title and succession of a wealthy -peer already in possession; yet nevertheless Mr. Sharkley talked -about the instant institution of legal proceedings, having the matter -brought before a select committee of privileges in the House of -Lords, and so forth, quite as confidently and as pompously as if he -was a Q.C. and high-class parliamentary lawyer; and poor Constance -felt a glow of hope for her children's future rising in her heart, -while he compiled a narrative, took away the letters of her husband, -and, receiving in advance a handsome sum for certain imaginary fees -and expenses, departed with nearly all the ready money she possessed. - -He really attempted, however, to get up a case against "Lord -Lamorna," and hence the bulky and presumptuous document which -exasperated Downie; but from the weakness of her cause and the -character of her legal adviser it speedily fell to the ground, only -to fix a deeper stigma on the hapless and innocent Constance. - -Rumours of misfortune and mystery brought all their creditors, now -pretty numerous (for during her husband's lifetime they had lived in -good style at the villa), down upon her in a pitiless horde. - -Denzil, she knew, would now lose the liberal allowance his father had -promised him after leaving Sandhurst on appointment; but with -tentage, batta, and other allowance, a subaltern can live on his pay -in India, when he might starve elsewhere. In her misery Constance -gathered some comfort from this knowledge, though ruin and penury--or -work for which they were both unfitted--were all that remained to her -and Sybil now. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - -THE DOCTRINE OF CHANCES. - -And what of Audley, the lover, all this time? - -He had written from Rhoscadzhel to Constance, imploring her -permission in moving terms to see Sybil once again, and have some -farewell explanation with her, ere he departed to India, too probably -for years; for, with the usual inconsistency of the human heart, no -sooner did he find himself repelled, than he felt the attraction -towards her redoubled. This letter had been addressed to Constance -as "Mrs. Devereaux;" and, without reflecting that he could not bestow -upon her a title already borne by his own mother, she felt fresh -anger at the circumstance. Without showing the missive to Sybil, who -conceived it might be on some legal business, she cast it in the -fire, and replied by an emphatic refusal, adding that if he came near -the villa, which they were soon about to leave, her servant, Winny -Braddon (she had but one domestic now) had received orders not to -admit him. - -Undeterred, he next wrote to Sybil, but this effort proved equally -unavailing. Resolved not to add to her mother's distress by any -disobedience or duplicity on her part, she showed her the letter -unopened; and it was at once re-addressed to Rhoscadzhel, with the -envelope unbroken, and Audley flushed to the temples when it was -placed in his hand. - -He felt himself to be still solemnly engaged to Sybil, yet hopelessly -separated from her, through no fault of his own--separated without -even a lovers' quarrel. He wondered now at the selfish thoughts -which more than once had occurred to him, particularly on that day -when he quitted the library, and even the house, in such haste to -avoid her, and times there were when he blushed at the memory of it. -Relations they were unquestionably by blood, whether there had been a -marriage or no marriage; and this made Audley reflect all the more -deeply and tenderly on the subject of his severed ties with Sybil. - -He wished to restore the ring to her in person, to replace it on her -finger as a memento of himself; for the repossession of it made him -restless and uneasy, as the crazed Halfheller with his bottle-imp; -and if he was to do this, there was no time to be lost, as he had but -one day to spend in Cornwall now. - -The wild longing or craving to see her once again, to have an -explanation of some kind--he knew not what--but beyond anything a -letter could contain (even were she permitted to receive it), still -inspired him, though prudence might have suggested the utter -inexpediency of further interviews between them, circumstanced as -they were. Audley, however, was not of an age, neither was he of the -temperament, of one to play the part of casuist. - -"Why may I not baffle them all--this strange mother, who can be so -winning and yet is so repellant, my cold and calculating father -too--and carry off the dear girl in defiance of all and everything? -This very night I might do it," he pondered: "the train in an hour or -so would set me down close by her; and if we make allowance for human -frailty and the 'doctrine of chances,' why the deuce should I not -succeed, for I know that she loves me?" - -He started from a deep and easy library-chair, in which he had been -seated, enjoying a pipe of cavendish, as this idea, or chain of -ideas, occurred to him; but then calmer reflection suggested a view -of the future--his father's rage, his proud mother's disgust, his -allowance cut off, and no home for his bride in India, but barrack -accommodation or a subaltern's bungalow. - -"No--no--by Jove, _that_ would never do!" he muttered, and reseated -himself. Yet he was resolved to see her, if he could. Perhaps old -Winny Braddon might not have a heart so flinty as her mistress; and -even if she had, it might not be inaccessible to temptation; so that -night, when dusk was closing over land and sea, saw Audley Trevelyan -speeding along the Cornwall Railway, with no very defined idea, save -a desire to see, to speak with Sybil, and to hold once again her -little hand in his, ere he left the country, it might be for ever. - -The train had been unaccountably delayed; so the hour was late, -almost close on ten, when he passed down the avenue, and found -himself near the villa. To hope to see Sybil at that unwonted hour -was absurd; but, after having come so far, he could not deny himself -the pleasure of hovering near the place which, from its association -with her presence, had for him so great a charm. - -Thus it was with much of tender interest he surveyed the façade of -the little villa, the walls and rose-bound portico of which glimmered -white in the light of the stars; for, as yet, the moon had not risen, -but he could not fail to observe with genuine concern that the -stables, as he passed them, and the coach-house too, seemed empty and -deserted; for the little phaeton and its pretty ponies, so long the -pets of Sybil, had been sold, with many other things, to furnish fees -for the grasping Mr. Sharkley: moreover, the villa was ticketed to -let. - -There might be company, guests, or visitors at the villa; if so, even -at that hour, he might perhaps see at least her figure. But no; as -he drew nearer, all seemed dark and silent,--on the entrance floor at -least; and now the barking of a watch-dog from its kennel near the -house made him pause and consider how strange it was that he should -be prowling thus, like a housebreaker in the night, when he might, -under happier auspices, have been an honoured and welcome guest. - -Constance and her daughter had evidently retired for the night, -lights being visible in their bedrooms only. That of Sybil, he had -chanced to know, was in the north wing of the house, and faced the -garden, through the iron gate of which he could see a ray of light -from her window falling on the trees, parterres, and shrubbery. - -The iron gate was locked; could he but reach her window, he might -leave a message for her pencilled on a calling-card,--for to write by -post was hopeless; yet he should like her to know in the morning that -he had been lingering so near her. Through the iron bars he looked -most wistfully at the lighted window, where once or twice the candles -cast a flitting shadow on the blind. Could he but attract her -attention, make her aware of his presence, and exchange a word or -two; perhaps he might have an interview with her, though that would -be unseemly, and what she would not probably consent to; and yet, -after relinquishing the handful of gravel he was about to toss -against the window, he suddenly resorted to a plan, which, if -discovered, would prove more awkward still. - -The locked gate barred all entrance to the garden; but he perceived -that a great espalier had its branches trained over all the wall, -forming a solid and veritable ladder from the ground to its summit. -The place was sequestered; the hour lonely, and every moment of delay -might be perilous, for if she had begun to disrobe, he would be -compelled to retire, so Audley proceeded at once to scale the -barrier, that he might descend on the other side. - -This proceeding was bold, rash, and rude, perhaps; but he had no -other resource if he would see her ere he left Cornwall, which he -must certainly do, by an early train on the morrow. With the speed -of lightning, his thoughts reverted to their brief but pleasant past, -and to every passage of their acquaintance; their first meeting -beside the moorland tarn; her rescue from the Pixies' Hole; their -solitary walks, and that one delightful hour in yonder conservatory, -and he felt assured that she, at least, would forgive his present -temerity. - -Other ideas flashed through his mind, as he clambered from branch to -branch, feeling them yielding the while under his feet as he tore or -wrenched them from the masonry. He felt that his real object might -be doubted; that his position was anomalous and improper, and might -compromise the girl he loved. What would the mess of the Hussar -regiment he had left, or that of the Light Infantry corps he was -about to join, think if they saw him now? What would his -cold-hearted, legal "papa"--his proud, aristocratic, and -unimpressible mamma have thought of such an adventure; and in fancy -he saw the stern grimace of the former, and the latter using her -vinaigrette and fan with unwonted vigour, at the idea of her son -visiting any lady thus--more than all, the daughter of "Mrs. -Devereaux!" - -Then fears occurred to him that some change might have taken place in -the internal arrangements at the villa, and that the window before -which he found himself, after dropping noiselessly into the garden, -might open to the room, not of Sybil, but her mother, or old Winny -Braddon! - -Trusting to his doctrine of chances, he hoped this might prove a -lucky one. - -The blind of the window (which opened in the French fashion down to a -flight of steps) was not completely closed; thus he could see the -whole interior of a spacious and handsome bedroom, nearly in the -centre of which stood a dressing-table and mirror festooned -gracefully with white lace, and before it was seated Sybil in her -dark mourning dress, with her chin resting in the hollow of one hand, -the elbow being placed upon the table. Her other arm hung by her -side, and she seemed lost in thought, for her eyes instead of gazing -into the large oval mirror, wherein, by the light of two tall wax -candles in ormolu holders, her own loveliness was reflected, were -bent upon vacancy, or the floor. - -Sybil's usually pale and always pure complexion, was paler now; thus -her eyes, their brows and lashes, and the masses of her hair seemed -by contrast to be very dark indeed; and the latter in rich profusion -fell over her shoulders and back below her waist. In the background -of this pretty picture, stood forth the white and elegant draperies -of her bed, the festooned muslin of which hung in vapour-like folds, -over curtains of rose-coloured silk, looped up by white cords and -tassels of the same material. - -A glance enabled Audley to take in all these details, and his -breathing became a series of sighs as he regarded Sybil, who sat -quite motionless and sunk in reverie. He flattered himself that she -was thinking of him; but it was not so; she had just concluded a -sorrowful letter to Denzil, her only brother, and her thoughts were -far away with him, or with her mamma and all their coming troubles; -for all those luxuries by which the wealth and taste, and more than -all, the love of her dead father had surrounded them, were about to -be relinquished now, and ere long grim poverty would be staring them -gauntly in the face. - -At times her nether lip quivered; the tears began to roll over her -cheeks, and as a sigh escaped her, the heaving movement of her neck -and shoulders made more apparent their graceful character and -undulating curve. Then suddenly, as with her quick white fingers she -was proceeding to coil up the tresses of her hair for the night, a -sound seemed to startle her, she paused, and her eyes flashed and -dilated with surprise. - -"There it is again--good heavens--what can it be?" she exclaimed half -aloud, and rising from her seat, as Audley tapped very audibly on the -window panes for a second time. - -"The deuce!" thought he, "I hope she won't scream--for that would -spoil all." - -With a candle in her hand, she paused midway between the window and -her dressing-table, when he said distinctly,-- - -"It is I, dearest Sybil--Audley Trevelyan--open the window, and speak -with me--but for a moment." - -"Audley--you--you--here at this hour!" replied Sybil, with intense -astonishment, bordering on fear. - -She replaced the candle on the table, clasped her hands, and shrunk -back irresolutely, for though she fully recognised the voice that -thrilled her heart's core, it was somewhat bewildering to hear it -there and at such a time; but summoning courage she drew up the -blind, and beheld Audley's whole figure on the upper step, which -formed the sill of her window. - -"Oh, Audley--Audley--what has happened--what brings you here again?" -she asked imploringly. - -"The love I bear you," said he, humbly. - -"You cannot think of entering here!" - -"Far from it, dearest Sybil--I have no such thought; but pardon me -for alarming you--pardon me for intruding on you thus." - -"I do pardon you, but require you to explain--" - -"The object of such a visit at such a time," said he, lowering his -voice lest he should be overheard in the stillness of the night. - -"Most certainly," said she, weeping. - -"Have you indeed discarded me--withdrawn your heart from me, and for -ever, Sybil?" - -"What would you have me to do, Audley?" - -"There is an arbour in the garden--throw a shawl over you, and grant -me but a minute to say a few farewell words." - -"The moment you first asked for has become a minute--so would the -minute soon become an hour." - -"In pity to me, Sybil," urged Audley, with clasped hands. - -After a little indecision, seeming to listen and perceive that all -was still, she threw a shawl over her head, unbolted the French sash, -and stepped forth into the garden, where now the light of an uprisen -moon fell in a bright flood upon the grass plots, the shining -evergreens, and tipped all the leafless trees with liquid silver. -There seemed a divine peace over all the earth and sky; but the -hearts of these two young people were sad and aching, while Audley -pressed a long and silent kiss upon her upturned face, as he led her -towards the bower in question. - -"I leave this to-morrow, Sybil," said he, as he seated himself by her -side, and took her hands caressingly in his own, "and I could not -resist the craving, the desire to see you once again, and explain -much that my returned letters were meant to elucidate to you and your -mamma--that I have no share in the spirit of -animosity--hostility--how shall I term it?--cherished by my family -against you and yours. With this family quarrel, for so shall I -style it, I have nothing to do, and you, dear Sybil, have nothing to -do. The employment of a legal wretch like Sharkley was, of course, a -fatal mistake, making much public that need never have been so, and -tending greatly to complicate and embitter our affairs." - -"My poor mamma had none to advise her," urged Sybil, not heeding a -slight tone of reprehension in what Audley said. - -"How fortunate has been the chance that led me to you to-night!" he -whispered in her ear. - -"But to what end or purpose do we meet at all?" - -"Fettered as I am--most true!" - -Audley could only sigh deeply and press her to his breast. - -"Then you--you love me still?" said Sybil, as her slender fingers -strayed among his hair, the action in itself a mute caress. - -"My darling--I have never ceased to love you!" he exclaimed, gazing -tenderly on the pure pale face whose features he could see -distinctly, even amid the obscurity of the bower. Her head drooped -on his shoulder, and they sat for some minutes quite silent, and full -of thoughts that were beyond utterance; yet Audley's delight was not -without alloy. He felt that he loved her dearly, and yet, with all -the joy of the time, there mingled a selfish regret that he had won -her so completely, as their love could never be a successful one. - -"And you leave this to-morrow?" - -"To-morrow." - -Her voice was broken and tremulous. Audley became deeply moved as he -heard her weep; and he began to think, as better impulses inspired -him, was it possible that he could relinquish or sacrifice a girl so -soft and tender, so loving and true, for "Mrs. Grundy and Society?" -and had he actually at one time--young-officer-like--felt a little -glow of satisfaction when she returned the eye of Vishnu, and he felt -himself once more _free_! - -In his vacillation there was every prospect of the proposal to elope -being made, but prudence made him pause, and an observation of -Sybil's changed the current of his ideas. - -"Your father has acted most cruelly to poor mamma," said Sybil; "and -most unjustly to his own brother's memory." - -"My father is a--" - -"Oh hush, Audley," said Sybil. - -What epithet or adjective he was about to use in irritation at the -chances of his allowance being cut off, we are unable to record, for -Sybil's quick little hand intercepted it on his lips. - -"And now we must separate--you will find the key inside the garden -gate, so no more escalading; oh, leave me," she urged, "for if you -were discovered--" - -"One kiss more--one promise to remember me when I am gone." - -"Oh, Audley, could I ever forget you?" - -They were lingering now midway between the bower and the house, and -the full splendour of the moonlight fell around them. - -"And you will take back your ring," he whispered; and once more the -eye of Vishnu glittered on the hand of Sybil. "Keep it as the -memento of a poor fellow who loves you well--and you must do -something more for me." - -"In what way, Audley?" asked Sybil, pausing on the upper step, and -near the still open window of her room. - -"Keep poor Rajah for me; my lady mother won't abide the dog, and I -can't take him back all the way to India, as I am perhaps going -overland by the desert; and now my beloved girl--dear, dear Sybil--I -must leave you, perhaps never to see you again." - -A desperate calm seemed to come over Sybil, as she replied,-- - -"Situated as we are; related as we are, and enemies as my mamma and -your parents must ever be, it is indeed better that we should meet no -more--yet part as friends." - -"As friends--oh, Sybil--as friends!" murmured Audley, becoming more -excited as she grew calm. - -"Yes--this meeting and parting will form a pleasant memory to look -back upon, in years to come, when we are far apart." - -Often in after times did these words come back to the heart of Audley -Trevelyan. - -"And you will always wear my ring?" - -"For life--dear cousin Audley--farewell." - -She was about to close the casement, her hands trembling and her -cheeks ghastly pale, when he urged,-- - -"I must write to you--under cover to some one--permit me--oh, permit -me?" - -"I cannot--I cannot," she replied, with a torrent of tears. - -"I must--pardon my importunity, darling." - -"Go--go, I entreat you--good-bye--farewell." - -She was about to shut the French sash, when a voice startled her, by -exclaiming,-- - -"Oh, my God--what is this I see?" and as Sybil started back, Audley -found himself confronted by Constance, in her dressing-gown, for she -had entered the room, candle in hand, having been roused by the sound -of their voices at the open window. - -This _dénouement_, so unexpected, was very awkward, and liable to the -most serious misconstruction; so Audley's doctrine of chances proved -a failure here. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - -MISCONCEPTION. - -Little could Sybil or Audley have foreseen how fatal was to be the -ultimate termination of this night's adventure. - -The usually sweet and placid little face of Constance was now -inflamed with rage and distorted by grief. Her colour came and went, -like her breath, rapidly; and through their tears, her dark eyes were -sparkling with fire. - -A painful silence was maintained by the three for a few moments. - -Sybil scarcely understood the cause of her mother's terrible -excitement, while Audley, who knew more of life and the world's ways, -was filled with genuine shame and mortification on finding that his -presence there was misunderstood, and the perfect purity of his -intentions misconceived or entirely doubted. - -Constance, on the other hand, was full of indignation against him for -taking what she not unnaturally believed to be a most unwarrantable -and unfair advantage of their now false position, their growing -monetary troubles and disgrace, to insult her helpless daughter; she -was furious, therefore, as a tigress about to be robbed of her young, -and though fiery in her wrath, yet stately and proud in her bearing -as a little tragedy queen. - -"How, sir, have you dared to come hither after being forbidden my -house?" she exclaimed, in the full belief that Audley, when -entreating only that he might write to Sybil, had been forcing a -passage into her chamber; "and why at such an untimeous hour as this? -Oh shame, sir! shame! Have you neither honour nor compassion? Could -you forget that the poor girl you pretended to love was your own -cousin?" Then changing suddenly from upbraiding to scorn, she added, -"Truly the legal snake Downie Trevelyan is well represented by his -son, who would break into my daughter's room like a thief in the -night, and seek perhaps to steal her honour, after having stolen her -patrimony! Begone, sir, instantly, ere I summon aid and have you -exposed--it may be, arrested." - -"Oh, madam, do permit me to explain all this," urged Audley almost -piteously; but Constance, in the full tide of her indignation would -listen to nothing. She showered upon him reproaches, and, summoning -Winny Braddon, ordered her to ring the long disused house-bell, cast -loose the watch-dog, and bring assistance. Never had the terrified -Sybil seen her constitutionally gentle, placid, and ladylike mother -in so wild a gust of passion; and with clasped hands and colourless -face, she turned her weeping eyes alternately, with imploring -glances, from her to Audley, who seemed to feel acutely that his -position was absurd, dangerous, and pitiful; so he was filled by an -emotion of shame till it took the phase of irritation. - -"Leave us, Audley, I entreat you--see, mamma is seriously ill!" said -Sybil, on perceiving Constance press her hands upon her temples, -displaying, as she did so, the snowy whiteness of her taper arms, -while tottering into a chair. Audley gave the scared girl a glance -full of agony in expression, and said:-- - -"I shall write and explain all, and she will do me justice when -calmer; to-night, any attempts at elucidation were utterly vain. I -am to blame for my rashness and selfishness in compromising you thus; -but not so much to blame as she thinks, however. Your heart at least -will excuse and plead for me; and now, dearest Sybil, a long, -long--farewell!" - -He was gone! - -Sybil stayed not to listen to his departing steps, but sprang to the -side of her mother, who, weakened by past sorrow and emotion, had -felt this episode in all its real and imaginary details, too much for -the nervous system. She had fainted, and now lay back in her chair -whiter than a lily. - -Full of humiliation and anger, Audley retired, not as he had come, by -scaling the wall, but by the garden-gate, which he unlocked, and then -quitted the place, resolving to write to Constance fully on the -morrow. Irresolute and infirm of purpose, he continued to linger -near the villa, as the chill hours of the morning succeeded each -other, and it was far advanced ere he thought of seeking the vicinity -of the train that was to take him home. He saw the day-dawn spread -over the sea, and the shadows of the land, with its rocks and -precipices cast, by the level sunlight, far across its brightening -waters. He saw the gray mist rising from the valleys and rolling up -the brown mountain sides, as it did so revealing new ravines and -hollows it had hitherto concealed. He saw the red rays light up the -mighty headland known as Willapark Point; all the barren ridge of -Resparvell Down, and all the rocks and foam, and broken shore about -Tintagel and Trevana tinted with marvellous beauty, and varied light -and shadow, by the morning sun; and inland, Little Minster church, -secluded in its nook among the hills; and from an eminence which he -ascended, he could see amid the dun-coloured moorland, the lonely -tarn and huge rock pillar where he had first met Sybil Devereaux; and -with these all her presence, and the nameless magnetic charm she -possessed in her own person, came vividly home to his heart. When -the hedgerows that intersected the landscape would be green and those -enclosures of stone coped with turf in the Cornish fashion, would be -covered with wild violets, daisies, and kingcups; and when yonder -groves of sycamore, ash, and elm, and the cherry orchards should be -covered with the bloom of summer, half the world would be lying -between him and Sybil! - -He stifled the emotions that were rising within him, hurried to the -railway, and throwing himself into a well-cushioned first-class -carriage (after "tipping" the guard, that he might be free from -intrusion), overcome and weary with the excitement and events of the -past night, he sank into a profound slumber, and reached home in time -to have a refresher of iced brandy and soda from Jasper Funnel before -that stolid functionary rung the breakfast-bell, and before his -somewhat unusual absence had been discovered by any one save his -valet. - -From Rhoscadzhel he wrote immediately to Constance, explaining that -the sole object of his visit to Sybil was to bid her farewell, and -entreating her pardon for the misconception and annoyance he had -caused. To enable her to reply, he delayed his departure two days, -but in vain. However, the circumstance of his humble and contrite -letter being returned, not to himself, but under cover and unopened -to his father (whom she addressed as "D. Trevelyan, Esq., -Barrister-at-Law"), thereby causing a fresh family explosion, -completed the full measure of his chagrin; and the young officer felt -deeply stung by the contemptuous manner in which it was tossed to him -across the breakfast-table. - -"There, sir," said Downie, bitterly; "there is your precious -production; and remember that a fool should never post his letters -till twenty-four hours after they are written. I suppose we shall -next have notice of an action filed against you, for breach of -promise by that scoundrel Sharkley--Devereaux versus Trevelyan!" - -That evening saw Audley depart from Rhoscadzhel. - -He repaired at once to the depôt of his regiment, then lying in -Tilbury Barracks, that quaint old tumble-down fort, whose handsome -gateway, like a stately Temple Bar, has faced the river for nearly -three centuries; and there he strove to forget Cornwall and all the -trouble he had encountered, amid the dissipation and amusements -afforded by English garrison life to every wealthy young man. - -Thus, when off duty, his days were consumed in tandem-driving, -pigeon, cricket, or rowing matches; _déjeûners_, an occasional -steeple-chase in Essex or Kent (or a day's leave in London to see the -Trecarrels); while his nights were devoted to dining out, dancing, -and drinking, billiards, and garrison balls, private theatricals, -and, consequently, a fierce flirtation with an occasional pretty -actress, despite rouge and pearl-powder. - -It has been said that "at no time is a man so prone to fall in love -as immediately after his being jilted;" but many a fair one tried her -blandishments on Audley in vain; for he had been separated by adverse -fortune from, and not jilted by, the object of his attachment. A -long journey was before him, and he doubted not that he would get -over the memory of Sybil in time. - -So passed the weeks till he would have to go to India in the spring -of the year; and thus he strove to forget her, who was yet to -exercise a wondrous influence on his future life; with the -recollection of those kisses that had thrilled his heart to the core, -and those soft dark eyes whose beauty made even silence eloquent. - -And did he achieve this complete forgetfulness? - -Time and our story will show. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - -REVERSES. - -Meanwhile how fared it with poor Sybil, who knew not whether he was -at home or abroad, or had already forgotten her, and married perhaps -the more sparkling and showy Rose Trecarrel? - -Re-addressing Audley's letter was fated to be the last action the -right hand of Constance was to perform in this world. - -For the two days subsequent to the episode just related she remained -in bed, exhausted apparently, sadder and lower in spirit than usual; -and on the morning of the third, Sybil, when drawing back the -curtains to see if she were asleep or awake, to receive her daily -kiss and join in prayer, was inexpressibly shocked and terrified to -perceive a peculiar fixity in one eye, and that a corner of her still -beautiful mouth was strangely drawn down on one side. - -Paralysis had supervened, and poor Constance had totally lost the use -of one half of her body! - -Summoned in hot haste, the village doctor came, with his stereotyped -professional expression of sympathy. He felt her pulse, repeater in -hand, and ominously shook his head. - -"Oh, sir, do you think there is danger?" asked Sybil, in intense -agitation. - -"Hush, child--come this way," said he, and led her from the room. - -"God help me, sir--you have something terrible to tell me?" - -"I have, indeed; but nerve yourself, for she has none to depend upon -now but you." - -"None, indeed, save One who is in Heaven." - -Her disease, he said, was embalism; it came from the region of the -heart, and had been gradually but rapidly forming in her system for -some time past; anxiety and sorrow had doubtless induced it. and -some recent excitement--that night affair, of which the doctor knew -not--had brought it to a head. A second shock, he added, must -inevitably prove fatal! - -With dilated eyes and clasped hands, the unhappy girl listened to -this sentence of death, for such it sounded in her overstrained ear -and to her aching heart, as the doctor spoke it in an impressive and -never-to-be-forgotten whisper, in a room adjoining that in which the -sufferer lay. He then paused, and gazed with much of genuine -sympathy into the pale face of the startled listener; perhaps he was -mentally speculating upon the probable future of this lovely girl, -with whose sad family history he was quite familiar now. - -And what was embalism, she asked, in a low and intensely agitated -voice. - -A species of weed, or little fungus, that grew in the upper region of -the heart, from whence it passed, by minute fibres, fine as a -gossamer thread, through the blood-vessels, till, by choking the -passage of one of them, there ensued the dire effect they had seen. -And was it curable? No; yet the patient might linger for months; -and, he added, that Sybil must control her grief, nor let the -sufferer see by it that danger was apprehended. - -The doctor was gone; but he was to come again, and for some minutes -Sybil sat like one transformed to stone, unable even to weep, or -reply to the excited questions, showered upon her by Winny Braddon, -so stunning was the sense of this sudden and unrealisable calamity. -She was, perhaps, on the very eve of losing her mamma--her sole -relative and friend--that beautiful, and gentle, and loving mamma, to -whom she had been quite as much like a sister and companion as a -daughter; for, though a parent, Constance was still so young in -appearance and manner, and, till their late calamities had come to -pass, naturally so gay, happy, and buoyant in spirit, despite the -secret of her wedded life. - -She rushed to the bedroom, and clasped the sufferer in her arms, -pillowing her head upon her bosom, and so for hours she hung about -her, that she might have the melancholy joy of her society while yet -spared to her; and for a time she almost forgot the grave warning -given so recently, to control her emotions, nor excite the now -passive and helpless Constance, who, ignorant alike of her own -condition and danger, and propped up by cushions, could but gaze at -her wistfully, and make efforts to speak that were intensely painful -to the hearer. - -The doctor had assured her, that "to expect an ultimate recovery was -vain; that her mother's life was but a thing of time now--as it is -with us all," he added; yet, hoping against hope and these sad words, -Sybil was unremitting in her attentions to her parent. Days there -were when she rallied a little, and could even move her right hand, -but only to become worse subsequently, and to find her breathing more -laborious and painful. - -The doctor was an honest though not brilliant man, and did his best -for the patient, without thinking of fee or reward. Sybil, in her -intense anxiety, doubted his skill: but how was she to procure that -of others? There were, she knew, great physicians in London and -elsewhere, but she was destitute of the means for employing them. -Times there were, when, in her desperation, she thought of writing to -Audley; but she knew that her mother would never have approved of -such a proceeding; and their parting had been so strange, that she -shrunk from the idea as suddenly as it had been conceived, and she -thought, as she whispered in her heart the words of a once familiar -song, that hers was-- - - "A love that took an early root, - And had an early doom, - Like trees that never come to fruit, - And early shed their bloom-- - Of vanished hopes and sunny smiles, - All lost for evermore; - Like ships that sailed for sunny isles - But never saw their shore." - - -She thought, too of the fatherly old soldier, General Trecarrel, and -then as quickly remembered that he had been present during that -humiliating interview at Rhoscadzhel; but any idea of writing to him -for advice was crushed finally, when a stray newspaper announced one -day, that the General "and his family" had sailed in the _Netley_ -transport for India, his extra aide-de-camp, the Honourable Mr. -Audley Trevelyan, having proceeded overland, to serve on his staff in -the new campaign against the Afghans. - -Something of secret satisfaction mingled with the sorrow and fear of -the lonely girl, as she read this paragraph--which she did a great -many times--satisfaction that Audley had not gone in the same vessel -with these gay Trecarrels, which he could easily have done, if so -disposed; sorrow, that they were so completely and hopelessly -separated now, and fear for the events of the coming campaign in -which he was to serve, and more than probably her brother Denzil, -too. Sybil could little suppose that it was purposely to avoid being -quizzed by the Trecarrels about herself, and to avoid the imputation, -or too probable danger, consequent to a long voyage with two such -handsome and enterprising flirts as Mabel and Rose were known to be, -that he had, with a few brother officers, started for the East -overland, a less easy and luxurious journey then than it is now. - -But Sybil was soon compelled by the exigencies of their situation to -exert herself beyond her years and experience, for creditors, we have -said, had become clamorous. Everything that could be spared was to -be turned into money, and they were to seek another and more humble -home. All the beautiful art-treasures collected by the taste of her -parents in their continental wanderings, the oak and marqueterie -cabinets, the chaste china of Dresden and Sèvres, the quaint Majolica -vases, and alabaster groups, with all the most valued household gods, -were despatched to the nearest market town in charge of the useful -Mr. Sharkly, and disposed of with a ruinous commission to that -somewhat "seedy" personage! and a little time after saw the pretty -villa, so long the abode of so much peaceful and sequestered -happiness, in the possession of strangers, while Sybil and her mamma -were content to locate them in a small cottage which they rented from -old Michael Treherne, the miner, and furnished in the plainest -manner; but all their debts were cleared, and even Denzil's Indian -outfit paid. - -To Constance all places were pretty much alike now, for she had -become listless and indifferent to external objects; but times there -were when much of exasperation mingled with Sybil's grief, at the -thought that her mamma--she so gently bred and nurtured, and so -petted by her drowned father--she, who should then be in Rhoscadzhel, -surrounded by every appliance that wealth, luxury, skill, and rank -could furnish, was now in her desolate widowhood, and sore extremity, -the inmate of a poor and sordid cottage. - -Thus day succeeded day, and weeks rolled on without any change, at -least for the better--weeks which seemed so long, heavy and -monotonous, that to Sybil the world and time appeared to stand still. -No letters came from Denzil now, for he had marched up-country -somewhere, and India was not then what it has been since the Great -Mutiny of the Sepoys, intersected by railways and telegraph wires; -but Denzil's last epistle was full of unusual interest to Sybil and -her mamma. - -He had, of course, been duly acquainted by the former of all that had -occurred at home, with the startling revelations consequent to his -father's journey to Montreal, and his death at sea; and now he should -probably meet, ere long, this cousin of his, this Audley Trevelyan, -for they belonged to the same regiment, and it was, perhaps, to form -a portion of Trecarrel's brigade. And _how_ were they to meet--as -friends and brother officers, as relations or enemies?--for Audley's -father occupied _his_ (Denzil's) place in the world or in society, at -least. - -Relations--pshaw!--could they ever be aught but foes? was the young -man's immediate thought, and his sister's boding fear. And so his -father was gone--his good, kind father, his friend, companion, and -preceptor in many a manly sport. How often had they rode and -rambled, shot and fished together in Calabria, the Abruzzi, and -Switzerland, and at home in sturdy Cornwall, so many thousand miles -away! Only those who are so far from home--so far away as India, -with all its strange external influences and objects--can know how -keen, and strong, and tender, to the young at least, are the ties of -home and kindred, especially as the home-ties decrease in number by -distance, change, and death. - -Dead--his father dead! The "governor," as he had styled him, like -"other fellows" at Sandhurst, his "dear old dad," as he called him in -the home that was a broken home now; and as the pleasant face, that -he never more would look upon, with years of past affection, came -back to memory, the lad had covered his face with his hands, and wept. - -"It is only when we have been long at sea and have lost sight of -Europe," wrote Denzil, "ay, dearest Sybil, even of Europe, which -seems all one country and one home to us, that the Anglo-Indian feels -his banishment has fairly begun, and he is to be, henceforth, as some -fellow has it, 'among the dusky people of Ind, with whom we have no -traditions, no religious, few domestic, and scarcely any moral -sentiments in common, and whose very costume (want of it, sometimes, -I should say) is only characteristic of a much greater difference of -inward nature.' And so I am actually by birth a lord--a lord! I -have thought, and many visions of future greatness have floated -through my mind--and dear mamma is a lady---Dowager Lady Lamorna. -How odd it sounds. Are we all losing our identity; and how is all -this to be proved? The past mystery nearly cost me my life when I -first joined, and in this fashion:-- - -"Bob Waller, one of ours, a pleasant but sometimes supercilious -fellow, asked me one evening in the mess bungalow, if 'my people were -from the Channel Islands?' - -"'No,' replied I, colouring, for I always felt that some mystery -existed about us; 'but why do you ask?' - -"'The name sounds like a French one,' replied Waller. - -"'We are connected somehow with Montreal.' - -"'Oh, that explains it,' rejoined Waller. - -"'There is nothing to explain,' said I, angrily. - -"'Think not?--well--have a cigar?' - -"I roughly, perhaps, declined it, so Waller returned to the charge by -saying-- - -"'Your father was once in the Cornish Light Infantry, you say?' - -"'Yes--a captain--some twenty years ago.' - -"'Strange. I have looked all through the Army Lists, and can find no -such name in the corps.' - -"This assertion exasperated me (I afterwards found it correct), and I -challenged him to meet me the next morning in a grove of peepul -trees, outside the cantonments; but duelling days are over--the -affair got wind, and each of us was placed under arrest within his -own compound till we exchanged mutual promises. Bob Waller and I are -excellent friends now, and at the moment I am writing, he is sitting -opposite me in his shirt and drawers, for we are having a glass of -brandy-pawnee--the alcohol with water--and a couple of Chinsworah -cheroots together; and I must close now, to catch the dauk-boat--as -we call the mail." - -This was Denzil's last letter, and after its arrival the weeks -continued to roll monotonously on, and still found Sybil watching, -with unwearied and unrepining zeal, by what she knew to be a bed of -death. - -Constance could speak but little, and then only to murmur her fears -and prayers for the future of her daughter. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - -ALONE! - -At last there came an evening which Sybil was never to forget. - -She had been, for the tenth and last time, at the nearest -market-town, where, in the shop windows of a druggist, who combined -the dispensing of medicines with groceries, and the cares of a -circulating library with those of a post office, she had been fain to -display some of her sketches for sale, that she might procure certain -little comforts for her ailing mother in their penury. All had been -offered to the local public in succession, even to that one which -pourtrayed the lonely tarn and rock-pillar, where she had first met -Audley, when he came to apologise for his dog's intrusion (why keep -such a souvenir now?), and all had been offered in vain. Pleased -with the girl's beauty and sweetness of manner, the shopman willingly -enough displayed her productions (as decorations, perhaps) in his -windows; and there they had grown yellow, blistered, and fly-blown, -till they were completely spoiled. Each market-day she had hoped -that some enterprising Hobnail or Chawbacon might fancy one of her -sketches of some well-known locality, to ornament his dwelling, but -only to be disappointed, for art seemed to be sorely at a discount in -the land of Tre, Pol, and Pen. - -On the evening of the day in question, Sybil was returning from the -town to their new home with a heavy heart. Not a sketch had been -sold, and her purse was almost empty; the rain was falling heavily, -and a cold, keen blast from the Bristol Channel swept over the -desolate and open moorland she had to traverse; and her tears were -mingling with the large drops that plashed on her delicate face and -sodden hair. She had resolved that on the morrow--come what -might--she should take means to dispose of Audley's farewell gift, -the returned engagement ring; the diamond, she knew, was a valuable -one, too much so to find a purchaser in their now humble -neighbourhood; but the doctor, or the friendly druggist, who had her -luckless sketches, would perhaps advise her in the matter; and with a -sigh, in which sorrow mingled with relief and hope, she hastened -onward. - -The aspect of the district by which she had to pass to reach their -present abode, was but ill-calculated to raise her spirit on a wet, -stormy, and gloomy evening. In the distance rose the rough granite -summits of the Row Tor and Bron Welli, each nearly some fourteen -hundred feet in height, the sides of the former all covered by -enormous blocks, the mightiest in Cornwall, piled over each other a -very wilderness of spheroidal masses-- - - "Confusedly hurled, - The fragments of a former world." - - -Over these mountain summits, the descending evening mists, cold and -grey, had replaced the farewell rays of the red sun as he sunk beyond -the sea; the appearance of the former, made Sybil quicken her steps, -lest she should be overtaken on the moor, for then she should be able -to see but a few yards before her, so sudden and dense are those -floating vapours in Cornwall; and the bogholes were perilous. On -either side of the way--a mere cart track--stood those lines of -upright stones, which are ranged along it at regular distances, and -extend all the way from Watergate, over the moor, having been erected -at some remote period to mark the path in misty weather; and with a -new but not unaccountable foreboding in her heart, for like Constance -she was of a delicate organisation and had keen perceptions, Sybil -hastened on, till she experienced a kind of sad relief on seeing the -light that shone from the window of the little room where now her -ailing mother lay, and where kind old Winny Braddon sat and watched. - -Pausing at the threshold, she threw aside her drenched cloak and hat, -and strove to smooth her wetted hair, ere she stealthily opened the -door. - -"How is dear mamma now, Winny?" she whispered. - -"She sleeps still." - -"Still?" - -"Yes--the poor darling; but in her sleep she has been muttering much -of the past--dreaming, I suppose; oh, my poor _chealveen_, you're -wet, and cold, and weary too." - -"Please don't mind me, Winny; but tell me all about mamma." - -"What more have I to tell you?" asked the old woman, mournfully; "but -you--you must have tea, or something warm; you will kill yourself at -this rate, and then I shall have two to nurse instead of one." - -"No, no, I want nothing; let me but change these wet things, and then -I shall take your place beside mamma's bed." - -Sad, sad indeed, was Sybil's heart on this night, for it was a -melancholy one in many ways. As she sat by the plain unornamented -bed wherein Constance lay, and surveyed, by the light of a single -candle, the humble little room, destitute of cornice and all -decoration, with its scanty furniture, she doubted at times her own -identity, or whether this was not all a dream, from which she must -awake to find herself at home in the villa--at home, in that pretty -room where Audley saw her last, and where the windows opened to a -beautiful flower garden. - -And was this poor, wan and wasted invalid, so helpless and so passive -now, her once merry and handsome mamma, whose hands had so loved to -stray among her hair; who had hung over her little cot in infancy, -and whose nightly and morning kisses would never come again; whose -companionship she had shared like a younger sister, and with whom she -had spent so many happy years? - -All was very still in that sick room. - -In the hall, a great old-fashioned Dutch clock tick-tacked slowly and -monotonously; without, the night was wild, and prolonged and angry -blasts of wind swept over the desolate moor with a bellowing sound, -that made the sleeper stir uneasily; and lost in thought, the pale -girl sat there listening to the blast, the rain, and the clock, -sounds that repeated themselves over and over again in dreary -uniformity. - -On this night she thought much of her absent brother. She had -written to him that very morning, imploring him, if he met with -Audley, to be friendly with him, as their secret claims to the name -of Trevelyan and the Lamorna peerage, could never be established now; -and thus she hoped and begged that he, like herself, would retain -their mother's name of Devereaux, as they had always been known by it -and by no other. - -Sybil must have dropped asleep, for she started to find the old clock -wheezing and whirring as it struck the hour of three; and shivered, -for she was stiff and chilled; the candle had nearly burned down, and -what Winny Braddon would have called "a shroud" had guttered over the -side of it; and Sybil felt fully how cheerless and depressing is the -slow approach of morning in a sickroom--more than all, of a morning -so hopeless as each successive one proved now. - -The rain and the wind were over; the clouds were divided in heaven, -and the stars shone out brightly; the weather was calm, and no sound -came to Sybil's ear save the tick-tack of the old clock, and the -breathing of the sufferer, which seemed laborious and irregular. - -Shading the light with her hand, Sybil stole a glance at her mother's -face, and an alteration in its expression filled her with such -terror, that a cry almost escaped her. The mouth was more distorted, -and the eyes--for Constance was quite awake--were regarding her with -a strange, keen, sad and weird expression. At that moment, however, -Winny, hearing her young mistress stir, appeared at the door of the -room. - -"Oh Winny!" whispered Sybil in an agony of alarm, "there is a change -come over mamma; go--go at once for the doctor, ere it is perhaps -too--too late! No, no; you are old and frail, and the moor is wet," -she suddenly added; "get me my hat and cloak--I, myself, shall fly -for him." - -"No, no, darling; stay by her side--she may not be long spared to -you, and I shall go. Past three in the morning, and dark as -midnight. I'll take a lantern and be off." - -"Oh, thank you, Winny, thank you!" said the girl, kissing the old -woman's shrivelled cheek, and with hasty and trembling fingers -assisting to muffle her in a cloak, and to light a lantern; and then -seeing her issue forth upon her errand with all the speed her love -and charity inspired, and her old limbs could exert; and with clasped -hands, and a prayer upon her lips, Sybil at the door for a little -space watched the lantern (Winny's figure was soon lost amid the -gloom), as its fitful light fell in succession upon the grey, upright -blocks of the stone avenue that marked the desolate moorland road, -till at last it diminished to a spark, like an _ignis-fatuus_, and -then she stole back once more to her mother's side. - -The left arm of the latter was outside the coverlet now, and her -hand, so snowy in its whiteness, rested on the edge of the bed. With -her eyes full of tears, and her heart full of earnest prayer, Sybil -knelt reverently down to kiss it, taking the hand between her own -caressingly. - -How _heavy_ that little hand felt now! - -Cold, too--its touch startled her. She threw back the curtain; her -mother lay motionless with jaw somewhat relaxed, her eyes still, and -staring upward. Death was too surely there, but Sybil had never -looked upon it, and only felt wildly startled and terrified. She -tried to raise the head, but felt powerless. - -"Oh mamma--dear mamma, do not leave me! Come back to me, mamma--come -back to me!" she exclaimed, in a voice the tones of which seemed -discordant and shrill to her own ear. "Is this sleep or death? oh, -no! no, not death--NOT death!" - -But it was so, and how terribly pale, serene and still, how calm and -peacefully she lay, with something of a smile gathering on her lips, -like one "who had ended the business of life before death, and who, -when the hour cometh, hath nothing to do but to die." - -Bewildered and awe-struck, with a wild beating in her heart and in -her brain, Sybil drew back; then she stood still and listened. - -There was no sound save the pulsations in her own breast, and the -odious ticking of the old wooden clock, which now seemed to have -become unnaturally loud. Then emotions which appeared to be stifling -came over her, and a craven terror which she could not describe, and -of which she was afterwards ashamed, as if it had been a sin or -crime, possessed her, and she fled from the room, and from the house -itself, for she could not remain alone with the dead; and so, -crouching down on the wet, damp soil near the entrance door, she -muffled her head in her shawl. - -A ray of light was streaming out into the darkness, but she could not -look upon it, for it came where the dead was lying, and where the -light of life had passed away. - -"Heaven help me--heaven help me! I am now alone; most utterly -alone!" she moaned, and bent her head between her hands, as if the -dark waves of thought were flowing over it. - -Alas! how much may be condensed--how much felt, and yet never -expressed by that one little word--_alone_! - -Sybil, however, fainted from excess of emotion, for she was -discovered there crouching in a heap by the doctor and Winny, when -they arrived together, more than one hour after, when the distant -horizon was grey with the coming dawn, and the white fog was rolling -along the sides of the Kow Tor and Bron Welli; and thus, in -insensibility, had she found, for a time, oblivion to all her sorrows. - - - -END OF VOL. 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