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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/39192-8.txt b/39192-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2d65f30 --- /dev/null +++ b/39192-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6941 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of It May Be True, Vol. II (of III), by Mrs. Wood + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license + + +Title: It May Be True, Vol. II (of III) + +Author: Mrs. Wood + +Release Date: March 18, 2012 [EBook #39192] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IT MAY BE TRUE, VOL. II (OF III) *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Sue Fleming and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: There were a number of printer's errors + within the text which have not been altered. + + + + + IT MAY BE TRUE. + + + A NOVEL. + + + IN THREE VOLUMES. + + + BY + MRS. WOOD. + + + VOL. II. + + + London: + T. CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER, + 30, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE, + 1865. + + [THE RIGHT OF TRANSLATION IS RESERVED.] + + + + + IT MAY BE TRUE. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +NEWS FROM HOME + + "The smith, a mighty man is he, + With large and sinewy hands; + And the muscles of his brawny arms + Are strong as iron bands. + His hair is crisp, and black, and long; + His face is like the tan; + His brow is wet with honest sweat; + He earns whate'er he can; + And looks the whole world in the face, + For he owes not any man." + + LONGFELLOW. + + +It was just sunset as Matthew the pikeman went out to receive toll from +some one passing, or rather coming quickly up to the gate. + +It was market day at Brampton, so Matthew had to keep his ears open, and +his wits about him, for generally he had a lazy post, with scarcely half +a dozen calls during the day. + +A spare thin man was the occupier of the light cart now coming fast +along the road; who as he drew near the gate threw the pence--without +slackening his horse's pace--at least a foot from where the other was +standing. + +"There's manners for you!" said Matthew, stooping to look for the money, +"chucks the ha'pence to me as though I was a thief. Hates parting with +'em, I 'spose." + +"Or hates touching you with the ends of his fingers," said a voice at +his side. + +"Good evening to yer, Mrs. Grey," said he, civilly rising and looking +up, "Well, I'm blessed if I can find that last penny," and he counted +over again those he held in his hand, "I'll make him give me another, +next time I sets eyes on him, I know." + +"What's this?" said Goody Grey, turning something over with her stick. + +"That's it, and no mistake. Why I'd back yer to see through a brick +wall, Ma'am." + +"There!" said she, not heeding his last remark, and pointing out the +cart going slowly up a neighbouring hill, "he's too proud to shake hands +with his betters, now. Pride, all pride, upstart pride, like the rest of +the fools in this world. And he used to go gleaning in the very fields +he now rides over so pompously." + +"Can yer call that to mind, Mrs. Grey?" asked Matthew, eyeing her keenly +and searchingly. + +"Call it to mind! What's that to you? I never said I could, but I know +it for a truth." + +"Folks say there's few things yer don't know," replied Matthew, somewhat +scared at her fierce tone. + +"Folks are fools!" + +"Some of 'em; not all. Most say yer knows everything, and can give +philters and charms for sickness and heart-ache and the like." + +"Folks are fools!" repeated she again. + +"Well I know nothing, nor don't want to; but," said he, dropping his +voice to a whisper, "if yer could only give me a charm to keep _her_ +tongue quiet," and he pointed with his thumb meaningly over his +shoulder in the direction of the cottage, "I'd bless yer from the bottom +of my heart as long as I live." + +"What blessing will you give me?" + +Matthew considered a moment, as the question somewhat puzzled him. Here +was a woman who had apparently neither kith nor kin belonging to her, +one who stood, as far as he could see, alone in the world. How was he to +give her a blessing? She had neither children, nor husband to be kind or +unkind to her; she might be a prosperous woman for aught he or the +neighbours knew, or she might be the very reverse. She never seemed to +crave for sympathy from anyone, but rather to shun it, and never allowed +a question of herself on former days to be asked, without growing angry, +and if it was repeated, or persisted in, violent. + +Presently Matthew hit upon what he thought a safe expedient. "What +blessing do yer most want?" he asked cunningly. + +"None! I want none." + +"I'll give yer one Ma'am all the same. Most of us wish for something, +and I'll pray that the one wish of yer heart, whatever it is, yer may +get." + +"How dare you wish me that?" she said in a fierce tone, "how dare you +know I've any wish at all?" + +"'Cos I do. That's all," replied Matthew sullenly. + +"Who told you? Speak! Answer!" + +"Good Lord! Mrs. Grey, ma'am; how you scare a man. Who should tell me? I +don't know nothing at all about yer; how should I? All I know is that +most folks has wishes of some kind or another; nobody's satisfied in +this world, and in course you ain't, and so I just wished yer might be, +that's all; there's no great harm in that, is there?" + +"I told you folks were fools; but I think you are the biggest fool of +the lot." + +"Come, come, don't let's have words. I didn't mean to vex yer, you're a +lone woman with not a soul to stand by yer, and the Lord knows what +you've got on yer mind." + +Then seeing her eyes flashed again he hastened to change the subject. + +"It's a fine evening, anyhow," said he. + +"We shall have rain." + +"Rain!" and Matthew looked up overhead, but not a vestige of a cloud or +sign of a storm could he see. + +"Yes, rain, heavy rain, like the weeping of a stricken, woeful heart." + +And she was passing on; but Matthew could not let her go so; he must +have the charm, even at the risk of offending her again. He had thought +of it for days past, it was the one wish of his heart; he had longed and +sought for this opportunity and it must not slip through his fingers +thus, so he said meekly, but still rather doubtfully, + +"Well it may be going to rain; yer know a deal better than I do, and I +won't gainsay yer? we shall know fast enough afore night closes in. And +now Mrs. Grey will yer give me the charm?" + +"You don't need any charm." + +"Can't be done without," said he decidedly. "I've tried everything else +I know of, and it ain't no use," said he despairingly. + +"Well," said Goody Grey, after a moment's consideration, "do you see +this box?" and she took a small box out of her pocket and filled it with +some of the fine gravel from his garden, whilst Matthew looked eagerly +on as if his life depended on it. "When next you are on your road to the +Brampton Arms, and are close to the yew tree which grows within a +stone's throw of the door, _turn back_, and when you reach home again +take the box out of your pocket and throw away one of the stones, and +don't stir forth again, save to answer the 'pike, for the rest of the +evening." + +"And then?" questioned Matthew. + +"Then there's nothing more to be done, except to sit quiet and silent +and watch your wife's face." + +"Where I shall see ten thousand furies, if I don't answer her." + +"You are a man, what need you care? Do as I bid you every time you are +tempted to go to the Public-house; never miss once until the box is +empty. Then bring it back to me." + +"And suppose I miss. What then?" + +"How do you mean?" + +"Why; what if when I finds myself so near the door of the Public--you +see, ma'am, it's a great temptation--I turns in and gets a drop afore I +comes home?" + +"Then you must add another stone instead of taking one away, and don't +attempt to deceive me, or the charm will work harm instead of good." + +Deceive her; no. Matthew had far too much faith in the charm to do that; +there was no occasion for her fears. + +"And is this the only charm you know of?" he asked. + +"The only one. When the box is empty the cure is certain; but remember +the conditions, a silent tongue and not a drop of drink; the breaking of +either one of these at the time when the charm is working, and a stone +must be added." + +"The box'll never be empty in this world," said he, with a deep sigh; +"but I'll try. My thanks to yer all the same, ma'am." + +"You can thank me when you bring back the box. How is Mrs. Marks?" + +"Pretty tidy, thank yer," but he looked crestfallen, notwithstanding his +assertion. "I never know'd her ill; she's like a horse, always ready for +any amount of work, nothing knocks her up." + +"Sometimes the trees we think the strongest, wither the soonest," said +Goody Grey passing on, while Matthew leant against the gate and counted +the stones in the box. + +"There's eight of them," said he. "I wish it had been an uneven number, +it's more lucky. Eight times! More than a week. It'll never be +empty--never!" then he looked up and watched Goody Grey almost out of +sight, and as he did so her last words came across him again. + +What did she mean by them? Did she mean that his old woman was going to +die? Then he considered if he should tell her, and whether if he did +she would believe it, and take to her bed at once, and leave him in +quiet possession of the cottage and his own will; somehow his heart +leaped at the thought of the latter, although he shook his head sadly +while the former flashed through him. + +"There's mischief abroad somewhere, Mrs. Marks," said he, entering the +cottage. + +"Was when you was out," retorted she; "but it's at home now, and likely +to remain so for to-night." + +"Who was talking of going out? I'm sure I wasn't. I never thought onc't +of it, even." + +"Best not, for you won't as long as I know it. You were drunk enough +when the young master passed through the 'pike to last for a precious +sight to come; you're not going to make a beast of yourself to-night if +I can help it." + +Mrs. Marks was scrubbing the table down. She was one of those women who, +if they have no work to do, make it. She was never idle. Her house, or +rather cottage--there were only four rooms in it--was as clean as a new +pin; not a speck of dirt to be seen, and as to dust, that was a thing +unknown; but then she was always dusting, scrubbing, or sweeping. +Matthew hated the very sight of a brush or pail, and would have grumbled +if he dared; but he dared not; he was thoroughly henpecked. Had he been +a sober man this would not have been the case; but he was not, and he +knew it, and she knew it too; and knowing his weak points she had him at +her mercy, and little enough she showed him. He answered her fast enough +sometimes, but he dared not go in opposition to her will, even when he +came reeling home from the Public-house. Appearances were too against +him: he being small and thin, she a tall, stout, strong-looking woman. +Certainly the scrubbing agreed wonderfully with her, and there seemed +little prospect of Goody Grey's prophecy being verified. + +"Who was it passed through the 'pike, just now?" asked she. + +"White; as owns the Easdale Farm down yonder, with no more manners than +old Jenny out there--the donkey,--she lets her heels fly, but I'm +blessed if this chap don't let fly heels and hands both." + +"Chap!" reiterated Mrs. Marks, "where's your manners? He's a deal above +you in the world." + +"May be. But Goody Grey don't say so. She says he was no better nor a +gleaner time gone by." + +"She!" replied Mrs. Marks, contemptuously. "What does she know about it? +She's crazed!" + +"Crazed! no more nor you and I. She's a wise woman, and knows a deal +more than you think." + +"I am glad of it," said Mrs. Marks sneeringly, "for it's a precious +little I think of either her or her sayings." + +"She went through the 'pike same time as 'other did, and told me all +about him." + +"Why don't you be minding your own business, instead of talking and +gossiping with every tom-fool you meet." + +"She's no woman to gossip with, or fool either; she made me tremble and +shake again, even the fire don't warm me," said he, lighting his pipe +and settling himself in the chimney corner. + +"I'll take your word for her having scared you. There's few as couldn't +do that easy enough." + +Matthew's hand went instinctively into his pocket; he could scarcely +refrain from trying the effect of the charm, but it was growing dusk, +and he was afraid that for that night at least it was too late. + +"Wait a bit," said he in a low voice, "Wait a bit;" but his wife heard +him. + +"Was that what she said?" asked she. + +"No, she said--" and Matthew took the pipe out of his mouth so that he +might be heard the plainer, "she said; 'all trees wither the first as +looks fat and strong.' That's what she said." + +"Trees fat and strong! Are you muddled again?" + +"No, I'm not," replied he doggedly, "that's what she said, and no +mistake; the very words, I'll take my oath of it; and if you don't see +the drift of 'em I do." + +"Let's hear it." + +"Well," said Matthew solemnly, "she meant one or t'other of us was going +to die," and he looked her full in the face to see how she would take +it, expecting it would alarm her as it had done him. + +Mrs. Marks put down the scrubbing brush, and resting her arms on the +table returned his gaze. + +"Oh! you poor frightened hare," she said, "So you think you are going to +die, do you? Well I'd have more spirit in me than to list to the words +of a mad woman." + +His astonishment may be better guessed at than described. He had so +entirely made up his mind that his wife was the one Goody Grey had so +vaguely hinted at, that he never deemed it possible any one could think +otherwise; least of all Mrs. Marks herself: he glanced downwards at his +thin legs, then stretched out his arms one after the other and felt +them, as if to satisfy himself that he had made no mistake, and that he +really was the spare man he imagined. + +"No, you're deceiving yourself," said he, "I'll declare it wasn't me she +meant. She said fat, I call it to mind well; and I'm as thin as the sign +post out yonder and no mistake." + +Then he glanced at the stout, strong arms of his wife, now fully +developed with her determined scrubbing. "If she meant anyone," said he +decidedly, "she just meant you!" + +"Me!" screamed Mrs. Marks, "Is it me you are worriting yourself about, +you simpleton? There, rest easy; I'm not afraid of her evil tongue; not +that I suppose I've longer to live than other folks: I'm ready to go +when my time comes and the Lord pleases; but I'm not to be frightened +into my bed by Mrs. Grey or any woman in the parish. No, she's come to +the wrong box for that. I'll hold my own as long as I have the strength +for it, and am not to be ousted by any one; not I!" and Mrs. Marks +nearly upset the pail in her violence, as she swept the scrubbing brush +off the table into it. + +"Hulloa!" cried a voice, as the latch of the door was lifted, and a +stout strong-looking man entered with a good-humoured, cheerful face. +"Anybody at home? How are you Mrs. Marks? I'm glad to see you again, and +you too," he said, grasping and shaking Matthew's hand heartily. + +"It's William Hodge of Deane!" said she in surprise, "Who'd have thought +of seeing you down here, and what brings you to these parts?" + +"Business," replied the other laconically. + +"Something to do with the Smithy, eh?" questioned Matthew. + +"Just so." + +"You still keep it on, of course." + +"Of course." + +"There don't stand there cross-examining in that way," called Mrs. +Marks, as she opened a cupboard at the further end of the room, "but +attend to your own business, and just go and draw some ale, while I get +a bit of bread and cheese ready. Supper won't be served up yet," said +she apologetically, returning and spreading a clean snow white cloth on +the table; "but you must want a mouthful of something after your long +journey." + +"I can't wait supper, I'm in too great a hurry; thank yer all the same." + +"Are you going further on?" asked Matthew, coming in with the ale. + +"No. I'm to put up at the Brampton Arms for the night, or may be two--or +perhaps three," he replied. + +"I'm sorry for that," said Mrs. Marks. "I hate the very name of the +place. They're a bad set, the whole lot of 'em." + +"That don't signify a rap to me. I shan't have nothing to do with any of +'em so long as they let's me alone, that's all I care about. I shan't +trouble 'em much 'cept for my bed." + +"And now for a bit of news about home," said Mrs. Marks, as her visitor +began his supper, or rather the bread and cheese she had set before +him. "How are they all down at Deane? And how's mother?" + +"I'm sorry to say I've no good news of her; she've been ailing some +time, and the doctor's stuff don't do her no good; he says she'll go off +like the snuff of a candle. But there, she's precious old now, and well +nigh worn out. I've a letter from your sister Martha--Mrs. +Brooks--telling yer all about it;" and he searched and dived into his +deep pockets for it, and then handed it to her. + +"Is Jane as queer as ever?" asked Matthew, in a low voice, as his wife +was perusing the letter. + +"Yes, worse nor ever, I think; scarce ever opens her lips, and stares at +yer awful, as though she had the evil eye." + +"I always thought she had; she wor as strange a woman as ever I set eyes +on." + +"Well!" said Mrs. Marks, looking up from her letter, "I suppose I must +say yes. Perhaps you'll just look in, Mr. Hodge, when the time comes +for you to go back to Deane, and I'll give you the answer." + +"I won't fail," replied he. + +"What are yer going to say yes to?" asked Matthew. + +"Martha says mother's dying, and she wants to know what's to become of +Jane, and if she can't come here." + +"Here!" exclaimed Matthew. "The Lord save us." + +"Save you from what?" asked Mrs. Marks angrily. + +"From having a crazed creature in the house. Who knows but what she +might burn the house down about us; Mr. Hodge says she ain't no better +in the head than she used to be." + +"If she was ten times as bad as she is, she should come. It's a sin and +a shame to hear you talk so of your own wife's sister and she nowhere to +go to, and the cottage big enough to hold her." + +"Why can't your sister Martha take her?" + +"Just hear him talk," said she, derisively, "and Martha with more +children than she knows what to do with; and a husband as is always +ailing. Why you've no more charity in you than a miser; there, go and +draw some more ale, and have done with your folly. Least said is soonest +mended." + +Mrs. Marks had two sisters and a mother living at Deane, some forty, or +it might be more miles, from Brampton. Martha, the youngest, was +married, and blessed--as is too often the case with the poor, or those +least able to afford it--with nine children, and a sick husband; the +latter worked hard enough when his health permitted, but then there was +no certainty about his being able to earn wages. A cold caught and +neglected had given him a fever and ague, and the least chill brought on +a return of it. His wife, almost as energetic a woman as her sister, +Mrs. Marks, but with a more mild and even temper, earned a living by +washing, and did the best she could to keep them all; and her management +certainly did her credit, her house being as clean as Mrs. Marks', +although not so constantly scrubbed or washed. + +The other sister, Jane, lived with her mother, an old woman of +seventy-five, who, until now, had borne her age well, and looked +certainly some ten years younger, but then she had always enjoyed the +best of health; was up betimes in the morning, summer and winter, and +about her small farm and dairy, which she managed better than most did +with half-a-dozen hands to help them. + +Ever busy, and uncommonly active, her illness was totally unlooked for, +and least expected by Mrs. Marks, who read and re-read her sister's +letter several times, to assure herself there was no mistake; that she +really was struck with paralysis and not expected to survive many days, +and then what was to become of Jane? Jane, who was so totally dependent +on others, who lived as it were on sufferance, rarely doing work, or +helping her mother in any way, or interesting herself in any one single +thing. If she willed it she worked, if not, she remained idle; her +mother never grumbling or finding fault, while the girl who helped her +was severely rated as an idle good-for-nothing if any one portion of her +daily work was neglected. + +There were days when Jane would milk the cows, churn the butter, even +scour out the dairy itself, and work willingly and well--she had been +out to service in her youth--but these days were few and far between; +she usually roamed about at her will, sometimes half over the parish, or +else sat at home perfectly quiet and silent knitting, she never did any +other kind of needlework; or if unemployed she would clasp her hands +together over her knees, her eyes either fixed on vacancy, or restlessly +wandering to and fro, to all appearance, as the neighbours said, not +exactly a daft woman, but one whose mind was afflicted, or had been +visited with some heavy calamity, the weight of which bore her to the +ground, and was at times more than she had strength to bear or battle +against. + +Such was the sister Mrs. Marks had determined on befriending, there +being little doubt she would carry out her intention, notwithstanding +Matthew's decided aversion to it; and that Jane would ere long be in +quiet possession of the one spare room in the cottage. + +William Hodge, her present visitor, also came from Deane, and kept the +small blacksmith's shop, or parish smithy. He had two sons, one a +good-for-nothing, ne'er-do-weel. Also, well probably a sorrow and +constant anxiety to his parents, who had been absent from home now for +several months, and at his wife's earnest solicitations Hodge had come +down to Brampton to seek him, they having heard accidentally of his +being there or somewhere in the neighbourhood. + +"How's Mrs. Hodge, and your sons?" asked Mrs. Marks, as Matthew went off +once more for the ale. + +"Sons!" he repeated. "Ah! there's the rub, you've hit the right nail on +the head now. Richard, as works the smithy is as good a lad as ever +breathed; but Tom's turned out bad, and between you and I, 'tis he I've +come all this way to look after. I'd turn my back upon him and have +nothing more to do with him; but there, one can't always do as one +wishes." + +"Is Tom down here?" + +"I've heerd so." + +"What's he doing?" + +"No good, that you may be sure," replied he, "since he's here on the +sly. I'm afeard he's got into bad company, and gone along with a +terrible bad lot. The old woman thinks he's turned poacher, and most +worrits and frets herself to death about it; so I've come to try and +find him, and get him back home again, that is if I can. It'll most +break his mother's heart if I don't." + +"God grant he isn't with them as murdered poor Susan's husband?" + +"Amen," replied he solemnly. + +"One of 'em got hanged for that, God rest his soul, though he deserved +it; but there's lots of 'em about; they say the gang is more desperate +like since then, and have vowed to have their vengeance on Mr. Grant, +the Squire's head keeper, but there, it don't do to tell yer all this; +bad news comes fast enough of itself; we'll trust and hope Tom isn't +with none of these." + +"Well, we've all got our troubles," said Mrs. Marks again, seeing he +made no reply. "I begin to think those as has no children is better off +than those as has 'em." + +"Ye've less trouble, no doubt of it." + +"Less trouble! oh, I've mine to bear as well as the rest of yer; why +there's Matthew, with no more spirit in him than a flea, and all through +drink. He'll go off to the public, though 'tis half a mile and more +away, whenever my eyes isn't on him." + +"That's bad." + +"Bad! It's worse than bad. Here's mother dying, Jane not to be trusted +to come here alone, and Matthew not able to take care of himself no more +than a baby! How I'm to manage to get to Deane I don't know, nor can't +see neither how it's to be done." + +"If I was you, I'd go somehow. They'll think badly of you if you don't, +and as for Marks, leave him to get drunk as oft as he likes, for a +treat; I'll wager my life on it, he'll be sober when he sees your face +again, my word on it." + +This, to Hodge's mind, was satisfactory reasoning enough; but not so to +Mrs. Marks. She would like to know who was to take care of the 'pike, +during her absence, if Matthew was unable to do so? This was a question +Hodge had not foreseen, and when asked, could not reply to. However, +after a little more talking, they came to the friendly arrangement that +Mrs. Marks should start on the morrow for Deane; Hodge, in the +meanwhile, keeping house with Marks, while she was absent; her stay, +not under any circumstances whatever, to extend beyond a week. + +It was an arrangement that satisfied both parties, as on considering the +matter over, Hodge thought it was just as well he did not put up at the +inn for any length of time, his being there might be noised abroad, and, +although he intended passing under a feigned name, still Tom might +easily recognise a description of him, be on the alert, and keep aloof +until all was quiet again. + +Mrs. Marks gave him sundry pieces of advice as to how he was to manage +while she was at Deane, and among other things, cautioned him to beware +of trusting Marks too much about Tom. + +"If you take my advice," said she, "you won't tell him a word about him, +that's if you want it kept quiet, I never trust him with a secret. He's +the man for you if you want a bit of news spread, why it would be all +over the parish in--well, I'd give him an hour's start, then I'd walk +after him, and hear it all over again from everybody's mouth I met. It's +ten times worse when he's got a drop of drink in him, then he'll talk +for ever, and you'll may-be hear more than you care to, so mind, I +caution you to be wary." + +"I shan't wag my tongue, if you don't," replied Hodge. + +"I!" exclaimed Mrs. Marks, indignantly. "I mind my own business, which +I've plenty of, I can tell you, and don't trouble my head about other +people's; let everybody take care of their own, which it's my belief +they don't, or there wouldn't be so many squabbles going on in the +village at times." + +"You're a wise woman, Mrs. Marks." + +"True for you," said Matthew, returning, "I'll back her agin a dozen +women, twice her size." + +"Hold your tongue, you simpleton," said his wife, "and give me the ale +here; you've been a precious time drawing it. What have you been about?" +added she, eyeing him suspiciously. + +"Been about? Why just tilting the barrel, there ain't enough left to +drown a rat in." + +"Why don't you say a mouse, or som'ut smaller still. If I'd had my +senses about me, I'd never have trusted you within a mile of it," said +she, handing the mug to Hodge. + +"I'll swear I arn't tasted a drop. I'd scorn to drink on the sly," +replied Marks, attempting to look indignant, and glancing at his +visitor. + +"There, don't straiten your body that way, and try to look big, you meek +saint, you! as scorns to drink on the sly, but don't mind telling a lie +straight out; there ain't anybody here as believes you, leastways I +don't. Why Mr. Hodge," said she, taking the empty mug from his hand, +"you'd think I was blessed with the best husband as ever breathed, +instead of the greatest rogue. Why you'd be a villain, Marks, if it +warn't for knowing your wife's eye's always on you. You're afeard of it, +you know you are." + +"I'm a devilish deal more afeard of som'ut else; a 'ooman's eye only +strikes skin deep, but her tongue do rattle a man's bones and make his +flesh creep," muttered Matthew, turning away. + +"There don't settle yourself in the chimney corner again, but come and +help Mr. Hodge on with his great-coat. Hear to the wind how it's rising; +'tis a raw cold night outside, I take it." + +"It's drenching with rain," said Hodge, as he stepped over the threshold +and pulled up the collar of his coat preparatory to facing the rain, +which was coming down in torrents. + +"Rain!" exclaimed Matthew, as his wife closed the door on her visitor. +"Who'd have thought it? But there, _she_ said it would rain. Oh! she's a +true prophet, is Goody Grey, and no mistake. I said she was a fearful +'ooman, and know'd most everything. The Lord save and deliver us, and +have mercy upon us! for we none of us know," and he glanced at Mrs. +Marks, "what's going to happen. Good Lord deliver us from harm." + +"There go and put the pot on to boil for supper," said Mrs. Marks, +turning on him sharply, "and don't stand there a chaunting of the +psalms'es." + +And with deep sighs and many inward groans, Matthew went and did his +wife's bidding, but the psalms seemed uppermost in his mind that night; +he seemed to have them at his fingers' ends. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +A FRIENDLY INTERFERENCE. + + "No tears, Celia, now shall win + My resolv'd heart to return; + I have searched thy soul within, + And find nought but pride and scorn; + I have learn'd thy arts, and now + Can disdain as much as thou." + + CAREW. + + +Men fall in love every day, yet few of them like to be caught talking or +acting sentimentally towards the object of their affections. + +Charles was inwardly vexed at Frances' sudden appearance, and still more +so at the sarcastic way in which she had spoken and acted. What business +was it of hers to take either himself or Miss Neville to task? Was it +not partly his fault the wrist was sprained, and would he not have been +wanting in common politeness had he, when he accidentally discovered it, +not tried in some measure to remedy it? + +It was a bad sprain, there was no doubt about that, although she made +light of it. + +It ought to be looked to; but how to procure proper surgical attention +puzzled him. Somehow he did not quite like being the bearer of the +tidings to his brother's wife; he could fancy how proudly and +contemptuously she would raise her head, and look him through with her +dark flashing eyes; and how quietly--very differently from Frances--hint +her displeasure at his interference, and turn his fears and sympathy +into ridicule. He could not stand that; no, he was ready to face any +open danger, but the covert, sarcastic glance and mocking smile of his +sister-in-law was a little beyond even his courage. Yet it was necessary +she should be informed of it if Amy was to be helped, which he had made +up his mind she must be. How then was it to be managed? + +Ideas and plans crowded into his brain one after another, but all more +or less impracticable; as he stood at the window, where Amy had left +him, hopelessly entangled in a web of perplexing thoughts. + +There was, as I said, no restraining Anne's curiosity, she always +gratified it, or tried to do so, whatever the risk. Certainly, if +curiosity is, as we are told, a woman's failing, and men take every +opportunity of reminding them of the fact, or rather laying it at their +door, whether they will or not, Anne claimed a large portion of it. Why +women should be thought to have a larger share of curiosity than men +remains to be proved; surely if it be a sin, it is a very small one in +comparison to the long list of sins of greater magnitude not laid to +their charge, and if not to woman; then to whom do they belong? + +Anne had heard voices in the gallery, and had opened her door just +sufficiently wide to allow of her obtaining a sight of those who were +talking, and notwithstanding sundry hints from Julia as to the +disgraceful way in which she was acting, she determined to see the end, +let the cost be what it might. She could not hear what was said, but +there could be no harm in just peeping and seeing what was going on. + +It was with no little astonishment that she watched Charles and Amy +apparently on such intimate terms of acquaintance, when the latter had +only assured her the night before that she scarcely knew her cousin to +speak to. Subsequently, Frances' arrival on the scene, and evident anger +and scorn, astonished her still more. + +That Miss Neville was a flirt had crossed her mind ever since the day +she had caught her coming home with Mr. Vavasour; but here she was +apparently hand and glove with Charles. She did not see cause for any +such display of temper as Frances had made; still, she thought it a +shame Miss Neville should take all the men to herself, when there were +lots of other girls in the house ready to be made love to, now, of +necessity, left to their own devices, and dull enough in consequence. + +Anne began to think Miss Neville was not acting fairly, and certainly +not openly. Why should she have two strings to her bow, while Anne could +not conjure up one, for she counted Mr. Hall as nobody, and disdainfully +thrust the thought of him aside, as his image presented itself in full +force; even as she had gazed at him but last night, over the balusters +drenched to the skin, looking the true personification of a country +parson, but totally dissimilar to the beau ideal of Anne's imagination, +which she had snugly enshrined somewhere in a small corner of her heart. +It seemed ridiculous to imagine him falling in love, and least of all +with her, who had determined on marrying a man with fierce moustaches +and whiskers, and these Mr. Hall could never have. No, he should not +fall in love with her; she would not have it. + +Why should such an uncouth being be always dangling after her, while +Miss Neville, with no trouble at all, came in for all the loaves and +fishes, and she obliged to content herself with the fragments? If all +the beaux in the house were to be monopolised in this style, it was time +Mrs. Linchmore invited others who would be able to look at Miss Neville +without immediately falling down and worshipping her, as though she were +an angel. She had no intention of losing her temper, as Frances had +done, but she did not see why she should not let Charles know she had +seen him, so out of her room she marched at once, and went up straight +to where he still stood by the window. + +"What on earth have you done to offend Frances?" asked she, beating +about the bush, "she looks as surly as a bear." + +"I might ask _you_ that question, seeing she had evidently been put out +before I saw her." + +"I was peeping through a crack in the door, and could not help laughing +to see the rage she was in." + +"She may remain in it, and welcome, for aught I care," replied Charles, +trying to appear indifferent, but at the same time showing some slight +symptom of temper. + +"So may somebody else," said Anne; "but you know very well she was +mortified at seeing you hold Miss Neville's hand, and--and--I don't +think it was right of you, Charles." + +He looked up as if he could have annihilated her. "I am the best judge +of my own affairs," said he, slowly, "and as for Miss Neville, it is +impossible she could do wrong." + +"I do not accuse Miss Neville of doing wrong; but I think my cousin, Mr. +Charles Linchmore, is playing a double game." + +Charles bit his lip, but made no reply. + +"You may take refuge in a sneer," continued Anne, somewhat hotly, "and +play with Frances' feelings as much as you like, and as much as you have +done, and few will trouble their heads about it; but it's a shame to +carry on the same game with a governess, who cannot help herself, and +is obliged, nay expected, to put up with slights from everybody." + +"Not from me, Anne." + +"Yes, from you, who are making love to two girls at the same time." + +"How dare you accuse me of so dishonourable an action?" exclaimed +Charles. + +"Dare? Oh, I dare a great deal more than that," replied Anne, tossing +her head. + +"Any way, you could not accuse one of much worse." + +"It is the truth, nevertheless, and I cannot see that there is anything +daring about it. The daring is not in my speaking, but in your own act." + +"I never made love to Frances, or if I did, her own cold pride +annihilated any partiality I might have had for her." + +"Partiality!" uttered Anne, sarcastically, "Defend me from such +partiality from any man. I wonder you did not say flirtation; but even +your assurance could not summon courage to tell such a fib as that." + +"A truce to this folly, Anne, or I shall get angry, and you can't +convince me I ever--" he hesitated a moment--"loved Frances. Allowing +that I did show her a little attention, I don't see she is any the worse +for it." + +"You have succeeded in making her miserable, although you have not +broken her heart, and now want to play Miss Neville the same trick; but +I won't stand by and see it, I declare I won't; my woman's heart won't +let me; so, if you begin that game, we wage war to the knife. I cannot +help pitying Frances, whom I dislike, and will not, if I can help it, +have to pity Miss Neville also." + +"There is no reason why you should. Miss Neville is superior to a dozen +like Frances." Anne opened her eyes at this, but wisely held her tongue. +He went on, + +"I swear, Anne, I'll never give you reason to pity Miss Neville; but she +has sprained her wrist, I think very severely. That confounded brute was +the cause of it." + +"Man or beast?" she asked. "'Tis difficult to know which you mean." + +"My horse," replied he, determined not to be laughed into a good temper. +"She would hold him at the lake when I asked her not to; but women are +so obstinate, they will have their own way; there is no reasoning with +them. I would not have allowed her if I could have foreseen what was +going to happen, but how could I? and now the mischief is done, and she +is pretty considerably hurt." + +"All her own fault, according to your account, so why should you vex +yourself about it? Men generally send us to 'Old Harry' under such +circumstances." + +"But I consider it to have been partly my fault; I was a fool to allow +her to hold the horse, and a still greater one, inasmuch as now the +mischief is done, I am unable to help her." + +"In what?" + +Charles made no reply; he was thinking could Anne help him in his +difficulty? She might if she liked, but would she? Could he trust her? +as in evincing so much sympathy for Miss Neville would she not partly +guess at his secret liking for her--if she had not guessed it already? + +Anne was good-natured and truthful enough; had she not just plainly told +him he had done wrong? but that he would not allow of for a moment. It +was the natural thing to do, and would have been done by any one under +similar circumstances. How could he help being sorry? how could he help +feeling for her? Dr. Bernard must be sent for, the sprain might get +worse. Charles, like most men when their minds are set on attaining any +one object, determined on carrying his point. The more difficult the +accomplishment the more resolute was he in attaining it, and clearing +all obstacles that stood in his way. + +"I'm going to Standale," said he, suddenly looking up. + +"To Standale! You have just three hours to do it in; we do not dine +before eight, so I dare say you will manage it." + +"Yes. Have you any commissions?" + +"None, thank you. It will be too dark for you to match some wool for my +sister. I know she wants some. Men invariably choose such unseasonable +hours for their jaunts, when they know it is impossible for women to +load them with commissions." + +"Do you not think it would be as well to mention to my brother's wife +that I am going to Standale? She might like Dr. Bernard to call +to-morrow and see Miss Neville, and prescribe for that injured wrist." + +"Nonsense, Charles! It cannot be so bad as that; and besides, you said +it was caused entirely through her own obstinacy, so let her bear it as +best she may, as a just punishment for her sins." + +Then seeing he looked serious and a little annoyed, she added, "Of +course you can do as you like about it." + +"I shall be ready to start in less than ten minutes," replied he. "You +can meet me in the hall, and let me know the result of your +communication with Mrs. Linchmore." + +"That is what I call cool," said Anne, as Charles vanished; "he does not +like to tell Isabella herself, so makes me the bearer of the unpleasant +news, and I dare say thinks I am blind and do not see through it. Well, +the cunning of some men beats everything. I believe the wretch is fast +falling in love with Miss Neville, if he is not so already. At all +events, it strikes me, cousin Frances stands a very good chance of being +cut out; so she had better control her temper instead of allowing it to +get the better of her as it did to-day." + +Then, as if a sudden thought struck her, she turned and darted away +after Charles. + +"I tell you what it is," said she, breathlessly, coming up with him, "I +do not mind doing this little act of mercy for you; but at the same time +I must first go and see Miss Neville. It would never do to have Isabella +asking me how she looked? What was the matter with her? and lots of +other questions, that I could not answer; so you must have patience and +give me half-an-hour's start." + +"Half-an hour!" cried he, looking at his watch. "Why it is nearly five +o'clock now." + +"I must have half-an-hour, I ought to have said an hour. Why, if it is +so late, not put off your journey to Standale until to-morrow. Is your +business there so very pressing?" asked she, slyly. + +"Yes. I must go this evening," replied he, evading her look. + +"Men are so obstinate, there is no reasoning with them. Is not that what +you said of Miss Neville?" + +"This is quite a different thing." + +"Oh! of course, quite different, when it suits your convenience; but I +am not convinced." + +"Women never are," muttered Charles, turning on his heel. + +In the meanwhile Fanny had carried the flower in safety to her +governess, her little mind full of wonderment as to what her cousin +Frances could have meant; why she had looked so strangely and spoken +still more so? + +Children are great observers, and often think and see more clearly than +their elders give them credit for. So it was in the present instance. +Fanny felt certain her cousin did not like Miss Neville should have the +flower, that she was jealous of her, and disliked her; and the child +settled very much to her own satisfaction that it was all because her +governess was so pretty, and had such lovely hair; even more golden than +Edith's, while Frances' was as nearly approaching black as it well could +be. + +Amy was a little indignant on seeing the flower, and hearing from Fanny +that "_he_ had sent it to her." She recognised the Camellia at a glance. +It was the one Robert Vavasour had gathered for her in the greenhouse; +she knew it again, because in arranging the bouquet for Mrs. Linchmore +its stem had been too short, and she had added a longer one, and secured +it by winding a piece of thread round; it was there still, while some +of the pure white leaves of the flower were becoming tinged with brown; +evidences of the length of time it had been gathered. + +"He said it was not quite fresh," said Fanny watching her governess, as +she thought noticing its faded beauty, "but I thought you would like it +just as well, because you are so fond of flowers." + +"Who desired you to give it me?" + +"That tall dark gentleman who walked home with us one day, the day you +lost your embroidery." Fanny could not get the latter out of her mind, +it was uppermost there. + +It was Mr. Vavasour, then who sent it; and why? + +Amy remembered his having asked for the flower she had gathered for Mrs. +Linchmore, and her refusal to give it. Had he now sent it to show her +that another, even Mrs. Linchmore, had been more willing to oblige him +than she had; as also how little value he placed on the gift? Or +probably their meeting in the greenhouse had escaped his memory, and +perhaps he merely wished to please her, seeing how fond she was of +flowers, and thought any flower, however faded, was good enough for a +governess. + +As she stood by the fire her hand unconsciously wandered towards the +bars; in another moment the poor flower would have been withered, the +heat would have scorched it. + +"Oh! don't burn it, Miss Neville, please don't," exclaimed Fanny. "It +isn't half dead yet; and I have had such trouble in bringing it you +safely, because cousin Frances wanted it." + +"Miss Strickland?" + +"Yes. She got in such a rage, you never saw anything like it; but I +would not let her have it. I was determined she should not. She knew it +was for you too, and it was that made her so angry. She told a fib as +well, for she said she saw Uncle Charles give it me, and you know it was +Mr. Vavasour." + +"Did you tell her so?" + +"No" replied Fanny, triumphantly, little thinking how every word was +grieving her governess. "No, I didn't; she tried very hard to make me +say, but I wouldn't; see," said she, baring her arm, "I'll show you what +she did. There! see that; only look, Miss Neville," and she pointed to +some deep blue marks, plainly the impression of four lines like fingers, +"wasn't it spiteful and naughty of her?" + +Amy looked up in surprise and compassion. Was it possible Miss +Strickland, usually so calm could have so far lost her temper, as to +hurt her so severely. Spiteful? yes it was worse than spiteful, it was +wicked. If she had shown so little mercy to a child who could not have +intentionally harmed her what would be the result of the appeal she +meditated making to her womanly feelings? would she feel for her and +help? she who had shown none for a helpless child? Amy's heart sank +within her, and she began to fear she was in a sea of troubles, that +would take a wiser head than hers, and a stronger hand and heart to +extricate her from. + +And all this time the little girl stood with bared arm before her +governess, waiting for and claiming her pity, while the four blue marks +seemed more plainly visible each time Amy looked at them. + +Would Miss Strickland ever wound her as deeply? Words she did not care +for, they were often lightly spoken, and soon perhaps regretted or +forgotten; but acts were different things, they caused injuries, and +heart-aches to last a life-time. They might like words be regretted, but +could never be recalled, causing irreparable mischief. + +Fanny's arm gave Amy a disagreeable insight into Frances' character, one +that was altogether new and unexpected. Julia Bennet had often spoken of +her, and always from the first as a proud, cold girl, wrapped up in +self, with no interest in the every day cares of life, or affection for +home ties or duties; but fond of society, and caring for little beyond +it, living in the world and only for its approval and worship; a being +neither exacting nor demanding homage, but taking it to herself as a +matter-of-course and right, yet it was evident to Amy, that though she +assumed the appearance of a goddess, she, like many a Homeric deity, was +affected with a mortal's worse passion--revenge, and Amy shivered +slightly as she thought of the coming interview, fearing an explanation +might be more difficult than she had imagined, and that instead of a few +quiet words, it might be a stormy warfare. + +"You must have your arm bathed, Fanny," she said, putting the sleeve +down in its place again, and hiding from sight the ugly marks. "I am +sadly afraid you must have been very naughty for Miss Strickland to have +punished you so severely. Why was she angry with you? What did you do to +annoy her?" + +"Nothing, Miss Neville. She tried to make me tell her who sent you the +flower; and because I would not she got angry, and wanted to snatch it +from me. It was cousin Frances began it all; she caught hold of me as I +was coming along quite quietly, and never thinking of her at all." + +"But you must have vexed her, Fanny. It is impossible she could have +injured you so severely without." + +"Well, perhaps I did, a little--only just a little. I found out," said +Fanny, looking down, "something she thought was a secret, and only known +to herself, and she could not bear to think I knew it." + +"You found out a secret?" + +"Yes," replied Fanny, hesitatingly; "but I must not tell you what it is, +Miss Neville. Please don't ask me." + +"I will not, Fanny; but at the same time I hope it is nothing wrong that +will not bear the telling. I am sadly afraid that appearances are +against you. I fear now more than ever that you must have seriously +offended or wounded Miss Strickland. Are you sure, quite sure, Fanny, +that you cannot trust me with the secret?" + +"Oh, I must not tell you, indeed I mustn't. You are wrong, too, in what +you think. I have done nothing bad, Miss Neville; do believe me, and +please don't think badly of me." + +"I will try not to, Fanny." + +"Oh, how I wish I had come in with Edith when she asked me, and never +waited for anyone, then I should never have seen cousin Frances," and +fairly overcome with all her little heart had been suffering during the +past hour, Fanny burst into tears. + +"I have made my appearance at a most unfortunate moment," said Anne, +opening the door. "Good gracious, child! don't cry like that; you are +roaring like a mad bull, and will make a perfect fright of yourself into +the bargain. There, do stop. I promise you, you shall be forgiven +whatever your sin, and receive the kiss of forgiveness on the spot, if +you will only have done and be quiet." + +"Go, Fanny," said Amy, "we will talk over this quietly by-and-by, go and +desire Mary to see to your arm." + +"Thank goodness she is gone," said Anne, "now I can begin to breathe +again. If there is anything in this world I hate, it is the cry of +children and cats; I class them both together, as I don't know which is +the worst of the two, all I do know is, that when children once begin, +they never know when to leave off." + +Then suddenly she caught sight of the Camellia, and took it up, while +Amy most sincerely wished she had burnt it. + +"Where did you get this Camellia?" asked she. + +"Fanny brought it me a few minutes ago," replied Amy, blushing slightly, +feeling she was in a manner evading the question. + +But Anne was far too point blank to be put off, and had Amy but +considered for a moment, she would have remembered how hopeless it was +to check or elude Anne's curiosity. She returned to the charge at once, +without one moment's thought or hesitation. + +"Who gave it her?" she asked shortly. + +"I believe Mr. Vavasour did." + +"Of course I expected as much. Here are you like some saintly nun, shut +up in a cloister, no one supposed to get even a glimpse of you, and yet +for all that, you receive more attention than all us poor girls put +together, who are dressing and walking, laughing and talking, and doing +I do not know what else besides to please the men. You may smile, but I +can tell you I think it no laughing matter. Upon my word, it is a great +deal too bad." + +"The flower is not worth having," replied Amy, constrained to say +something. "It is faded." + +"Not worth having! now I do call that ungrateful, when I dare say the +poor man has done his best to please you. I know I should be thankful +enough at having such a graceful compliment paid me; but there, I never +have the chance of showing my gratitude to anybody, seeing no one ever +pays me the compliment of even sending me a dead flower!" + +"I am sure Mr. Hall would." + +"Oh! the monster, don't name him, pray. Thank goodness he has not found +out my penchant for flowers, or I believe I should find him waiting +every morning at the bottom of the staircase, with a bouquet as big as +his head, composed of ivy berries and Christmas holly; he decorates his +church with them, and I have no doubt thinks them preferable to the most +lovely hot-house flowers; here, take your Camellia," and she held it out +at arm's length. + +This was a ruse on Anne's part to induce Amy to hold out her arm, so +that she might, as it were by accident, discover the sprain, having +determined in her own mind, after leaving Charles, not to let Miss +Neville know a word about his solicitude; he had appealed to Anne's good +nature, and she was willing enough to help him to get a dozen +doctors--if he wished it--to see her, but then Miss Neville must not +know anything about it; there was no reason why she should, but every +reason why she should not. + +Anne would not, by the slightest word or hint, soften Miss Neville's +heart towards her cousin; people must manage their own love affairs +themselves, and if they got into scrapes, not get others into a mess as +well; besides, Anne knew well enough, or rather guessed it, that neither +Mr. or Mrs. Linchmore would exactly approve of it, while as for Charles, +she hoped Miss Neville would pay him out in the same coin as he had paid +Frances. If her cousin was foolish enough to fall in love with the +governess, it was his fault, Anne was not going to take the blame, or +have anything to do with it. + +Then it was evident to Anne's quick sight that Mr. Vavasour was getting +up a flirtation too, and if Miss Neville was wise she would improve upon +that, there being no one in the world to say a word against his falling +desperately in love with her, if he liked; he was a rich man, and his +own master entirely, and ought to have a wife to help him spend his +money, whereas Charles's fortune was all built upon expectations; it +was true he had some four or five hundred a year, but that might, in +the end, starve a wife, or turn her into a household drudge. + +There was not a shadow of doubt in Anne's mind which of the two ought to +be the object of Miss Neville's choice; but true love never did run +smooth, and she supposed she would choose Charles, simply on account of +the difficulties that stood in her way. She only wished, with a sigh, +she was the chosen one, instead of Miss Neville--and then--what a dance +she would lead the two! + +"What is the matter with your wrist?" asked she, as Amy of necessity +stretched out the left hand for the flower. + +"I have sprained it." + +Anne never asked the why or wherefore,--which might have surprised Amy +had she thought at all about it; knowing, as she did, her +inquisitiveness,--but examined it at once. + +"Yes, it is a bad sprain, and how swollen the fingers are! and how funny +it looks," said she laughing. "Why you might as well be afflicted with +gout. How it burns! I should be quite frightened if it was mine." + +"I am not in the least so," replied Amy. "I am going to bathe it in cold +water presently. I think that will do it good." + +"How can you possibly know what will do it good; you ought to have old +Dr. Bernard to see it." + +"Oh, no!" exclaimed Amy hastily, "there is not the slightest necessity +for any such thing. I cannot bear the idea of it; pray do not think of +it for one moment, I would rather not see him." + +"Well, it is horrid, the idea of having a medical man, and knowing that +for the time being, you are bound to follow wherever he leads; I hate it +too. But old Dr. Bernard is so mild and meek, so fatherly-looking, with +his grey hair or hairs--he has only got about twenty round his shining +bald pate--so different to our young doctor at home, who comes +blustering in, cracking his okes; and then sends medicine enough to +kill the whole household. Of course Isabella knows about your arm?" + +"No, not a word, and I hope she will not." + +"Hope no such thing, please, as I shall tell her of it the very first +opportunity I have." + +"Pray do not, Miss Bennet. It will be quite well to-morrow." + +"It will not be well for days; and as for not telling Mrs. Linchmore, I +always do what I say, and if you were to talk until Doomsday you would +not reason me out of it. Only think if it were to bring on fever; you +might get seriously ill and die, imagine what a mischance, obliged to +have a funeral and all kinds of horrors; and then, how do you suppose us +poor visitors would feel. I am sure we are dull enough as it is; at +least, I am; so in compassion to our poor nerves, you _must_ see that +dear old Dr. Bernard. It is no use whatever fighting against your +destiny," and without waiting for a reply Anne went away, thinking she +had managed admirably well, seeing she had carried her point, without +in the least compromising Charles. + +She looked into the morning-room on her way down: there was no one there +but Alfred Strickland having a quiet nap to while away the time before +dinner, and Mr. Hall; the latter with his legs as usual, tucked away out +of sight, a book in his hand; but fortunately for Anne his face turned +away from its pages, towards the fire; so she crept softly away without +disturbing either. + +In the hall, to her astonishment, she met Charles, impatiently awaiting +her, cloaked and booted for his cold ride. + +"Well, what success?" asked he. + +"How ridiculous!" exclaimed Anne angrily. "There is such a thing as +being too punctual. If I am to do as you wish, I will not be hurried; I +am a woman as well as Miss Neville, and look for as much consideration. +Besides, I said half an hour, and half an hour I will have;" and +without waiting for a reply she passed on into the drawing-room, while +Charles, throwing off his great coat, followed. + +But he was doomed to be terribly tried, for there sat Mrs. Linchmore, +the object of Anne's search, deep in the mysteries of a game of chess +with Mr. Vavasour. + +Anne sat down and took up a book. "It will never do for me to disturb +them," said she, quietly, rather enjoying the joke of Charles' +discomfiture, now visibly expressed on his face. + +A muttered exclamation of impatience, which sounded very much like an +oath, passed his lips. + +Anne slightly winced at this. She thought the case getting desperate. + +Why should Charles be in such a tremendous hurry? + +It was not a case of life and death. She really thought, considering she +was doing him a favour, he might have a chat, and make the time pass +pleasantly and agreeably, instead of letting her see how entirely his +heart was wrapped up in another girl. Only that her word was passed, +from which Anne never deviated, she would have thrown up the office she +had undertaken, and have nothing more to do with it. + +Time passed on, not as it generally does, with swift fleet wings; but +even to Anne, who did not care how it went, heavily and slowly, very +much in the same way as the game of chess was progressing. Charles +evinced his impatience by crossing his legs, uncrossing them, taking up +a book and tossing over the pages; for not one word did he read or +desire to; and finally, as the small French clock on the mantel-piece +chimed six, he threw down the book and exclaimed impatiently-- + +"When the devil will that game be over?" Then catching Anne's astonished +look, he laughed aloud, and said, "You do not often see me out of +temper, cousin?" + +"True, but then I never recollect having seen it tried." + +"Or tried so severely as it is now." + +"Men have no patience, see how quietly I take it." + +"You! you have no interest in the matter." + +"Have I not? And pray may I ask do you suppose it is very pleasant for +me to be sitting here doing nothing. There are Alfred and Mr. Hall, both +in the morning room, alone, waiting to be talked to, and I might have +them all to myself, for the next half hour, and certainly all the time I +have been wasting on you and your affairs. Have a little more gratitude +Sir, or you may get some one else to manage for you." + +"You are a good girl, Anne, but a shocking flirt." + +"Oh yes! abuse me as much as you like, it will do you good, and perhaps +make you in a better temper; as I said before, men have no patience. As +long as things go smoothly and quietly they are all right; but when +things happen contrary or not exactly as they wish, they get into a +rage, and do not know how to bear it like us poor women, who are taught +it every hour of our lives." + +"I never remember to have heard such a piece of moral wisdom from your +lips before Anne." + +They were here, much to the intense delight of Charles, interrupted by +the voices of the chess players. + +"That was a very pretty checkmate," said Robert Vavasour, "so totally +unexpected and unperceived." + +"Who has beaten?" asked Anne, going towards them, as Charles went out of +the room, leaving her to do as best she could for him. + +"Mr. Vavasour," replied Mrs. Linchmore, "he always does." + +"Not always; you won two games of me last evening." + +"Or rather you allowed me to; but I do not mind being beaten sometimes, +it is tiresome never to win." + +While the chess-men were being put away, Anne considered how she should +begin her story, which, now it had come to the point, seemed more +difficult than she had imagined. At length a bright idea struck her. + +"I hate chess," she said, "and cannot think what pleasure there can be +in poring over such a dull game. I would a thousand times rather play +the children's Race game; there is something exciting in that, but poor +Miss Neville is too ill to play now." + +"Ill!" exclaimed Mrs. Linchmore. "Miss Neville ill?" while one of the +chess-men slipped from Robert Vavasour's fingers, and rolled over on to +the soft hearth rug, instead of into the box as he had intended. + +"Yes, she has sprained her wrist," continued Anne, giving the chess-man +a gentle kick with her foot as it lay close beside her. + +"Is that all? I thought at least it was the small pox, or scarlet +fever," said Mrs. Linchmore. + +"Although it is neither one nor the other," said Anne, "still it is +very bad, and ought to be seen to." + +"Do you speak from your own personal observation?" + +"Yes. I have been sitting with her for some time, and certainly think +she looks ill and feverish; her hand is swollen an awful size. I should +be quite frightened if it were mine, and told her so. I dare say old Dr. +Bernard though would soon put it all right." + +"He shall be sent for to-morrow," replied Mrs. Linchmore, "should she be +no better, but perhaps a night's rest, and a little of Mrs. Hopkin's +doctoring, may make her quite well again. Do you know how she sprained +it?" + +"I never asked her," replied Anne, evading a direct reply, "all I know +is, it is very bad." + +"If no better to-morrow, I will send for Dr. Bernard in the afternoon," +said Mrs. Linchmore, quietly. + +"To-morrow afternoon," repeated Mr. Vavasour quite as quietly, and +before Anne had time to shape any answer in reply, "But perhaps Miss +Neville is in a great deal of pain; a sprain is an ugly thing sometimes, +and at all times painful." + +"It is quite impossible to send to-night," replied Mrs. Linchmore, +decidedly. "Mr. Linchmore will not return from Standale himself much +before ten, and I never send any of the servants so far without his +sanction. It strikes me there is a little unnecessary haste and +compassion displayed for my governess." + +Robert Vavasour was silenced; but not so Anne, she came to the rescue at +once, rather nettled. + +"I am sure, Isabella, I don't care a bit about it; only I thought as +Charles was going into Standale,--I suppose to ride home with your +husband at night,--he might as well call on Dr. Bernard as not; or leave +a message to say he was wanted." + +As there was no good reason why he should not, Mrs. Linchmore was +obliged to acquiesce, though apparently,--and she did not care to +conceal it--with a very bad grace, and without the slightest solicitude +expressed for her governess. + +"I have managed it for you," said Anne, going out into the hall, where +she found Charles striding up and down, impatiently; "such a fight as I +have had." + +"Never mind about the fight, Anne. Am I to call on Dr. Bernard?" + +"Yes." + +The word was scarcely spoken, ere to Anne's astonishment, he had caught +her in his arms, and kissed her. + +"You're a dear good girl, Anne," he said, "I swear there's nothing I +wouldn't do for you!" + +"How rough you are, cousin!" exclaimed Anne, struggling from his hasty +embrace. "I'll do nothing for you, if this is the style I am to be +rewarded with. It may be all very well for you, but I don't like it." + +"Here's another then," laughed Charles, "and now for Dr. Bernard, I +suppose he's the best medical man in the place?" + +"Oh! for goodness sake," said Anne, aghast at the bare idea of facing +Mrs. Linchmore, if any other were called in. "Do not go to any one but +old Dr. Bernard, whatever you do; Isabella will never forgive me; she is +in a tremendous gale as it is. Do you hear, Charley?" said she, catching +his arm as he was going off. + +"All right," said he, laughing at her fright, and leaving her only half +convinced as to what he intended doing. "I'll tell him to call the first +thing in the morning." + +Anne held back the hall door as he passed out. + +It was pouring with rain, but he was on his horse and away in a second. + +"Why he must be desperately in love with that Miss Neville," said Anne, +"to go off in such torrents of rain; he'll be drenched to the skin +before he gets to the park gates. Well, I wish I could be ill, and +somebody--not that Hall--go mad for me in the same way." + +And Anne sighed, and smoothed the hair Charles had slightly +disarranged. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE LETTER. + + "They sin who tell us love can die! + With life all other passions fly-- + All others are but vanity. + In heaven ambition cannot dwell, + Nor avarice in the vaults of hell. + Earthly these passions, as of earth-- + They perish where they draw their birth. + But love is indestructible! + Its holy flame for ever burneth-- + From heaven it came, to heaven returneth." + + SOUTHEY. + + +Against the mantle-piece in the morning-room leant Mrs. Linchmore; one +hand supported her head, the other hung listlessly by her side, while in +the long taper fingers she clasped an open letter. A tiny foot peeped +from under the folds of her dress, and rested on the edge of the fender; +the fire burnt clear and bright, and lent a slight glow to her cheeks, +which were generally pale. + +She looked very beautiful as she stood there; her graceful figure showed +itself to the best advantage, and her long dark lashes swept her cheek, +as she looked thoughtfully on the ground. + +Mrs. Linchmore was not a happy woman; she had, as I have said, married +for money, and when too late, found out her mistake, and that money +without love is nothing worth. + +When scarcely seventeen, she had loved with all the fervour and truth of +a young heart's first love; her love was returned, but her lover was +poor, they must wait for better times; so he went abroad to India, full +of hope, and firm in the faith of her to whom he was betrothed; to win +honour, fame, glory, and promotion; and with the latter, money wherewith +to win as his wife her whom he so dearly loved. + +Scarcely three years had passed slowly away, when Mr. Linchmore wooed +the beautiful Isabella for his bride; he was young and handsome, and +unlike her former lover, rich. Did she forget him to whom her young love +was pledged? No, she still thought of him, love for him still filled +her heart, yet she smothered it, and became the wife of the wealthy Mr. +Linchmore, with scarcely a thought as to the suffering she was causing +another, or remorse at her broken faith and perjured vows. + +Shortly after her marriage, she heard of her young lover's hasty return, +and what a return! Not the return he had so often pictured to her in the +days gone by, never to be lived over again; but he came as a sorrowful, +broken-hearted man, mourning the loss of one who was no longer worthy of +his love, one for whom he had been willing to sacrifice so much, even +the wishes of those nearest and dearest to him--his father and mother, +whose only child he was. + +His death soon after nearly broke his mother's heart; some said it was +occasioned from the effects of a fever, caught in an unhealthy climate, +but Mrs. Linchmore, his early love, dared not question her own heart +when she heard of it, but gazed around, and shuddered at the +magnificence of the home for which he had been sacrificed. Then remorse +and anguish, bitter anguish, must have been busy within her, but she +showed it not; outwardly, she was the same, or it might be a little +prouder, or more stately in her walk, more over-bearing to her servants, +with all of the proud woman, and none of the girl about her. + +The envy of many. Ah! could they but have seen the wretchedness of her +heart, the hollowness of her smiles, would they have envied her? Would +they not rather have been thankful and contented with their lot, and +changed their envy into pity? + +This was what she dreaded. Their pity! No, anything but that. To be +hated, feared, disliked, dreaded, all--all anything but pitied. To none +would she be other than the rich, the happy Mrs. Linchmore; and so she +appeared to some, nay, to all. Henceforth her heart was dead and cold, +no love must,--could enter there again. + +She became a flirt, and a selfish woman, without one particle of +sympathy, and scarcely any love for her husband. How dissimilar they +were--in ideas, thoughts, feelings, tastes--in everything. She took no +trouble to conceal from him how little she cared for him; he who loved +her so intensely--so truthfully. + +In the first early days of their married life he strove to win her +affection by every little act of kindness, or devotion that his love +prompted; but all in vain;--he failed. All his deeds of kindness all his +love elicited no answering token of regard, no look of love from her; +she was ever the same--cold, silent, distant; no sweet smile on her face +to welcome him home, no brightening of the eye at his approach, no fond +pressure of the hand: truly she loved him not, yet no word of unkindness +or reproach ever crossed his lips, even when she turned away from his +encircling arm as he stooped to kiss his first-born, no word escaped +him--but his look,--she remembered that long after; it haunted her +dreams for many a long night. + +How she had betrayed and deceived, him who fondly thought before their +marriage that she loved with all a girl's first love; yet he forgave her +for the sake of his children, and blamed himself for the change; he had +perhaps been too harsh, too stern to her. Kind, unselfish man! poor +short-seeing mortal! It was not you, it was her unfeeling, cruel heart. + +Lately, instead of flirting and laughing with all and every one as she +had formerly done, she singled out one to whom for the time being all +her smiles were directed. At balls, at parties, riding, or walking, it +mattered not, the favoured one was ever at her side; she danced with +only him, rode with him, talked alone to him, or leant on his arm when +tired. + +Human nature could not stand this; she had gone too far. At length Mr. +Linchmore's spirit was roused, at length her conduct had maddened him; +he had borne uncomplainingly her coldness, but his honour she might not +touch; none should lift a finger against the wife of his bosom, the +mother of his little ones. She might receive homage from _all_; but his +spirit roused, his pride rebelled at the marked attentions of _one_. +High words ensued between husband and wife, which might almost be said +to be their first quarrel, so silently had he endured her want of love; +but now he stood firm, and she was defeated. + +This event caused a considerable alteration in both parties. Mrs. +Linchmore saw that however quietly her husband might brook the knowledge +of her coldness, or the wrong she had done in marrying him without love; +yet there was a boundary beyond which even she dared not step. He might +appear easy and weak, but deep in his heart lay a strong firm will she +could not thwart, a barrier not to be broken through, nor even touched +with ever so gentle a hand. She might be heartless, might be a flirt; +but beyond that she might not go. She felt also that her husband no +longer trusted her, even searched her conduct, so she took refuge in +pride, and open cruel indifference to his words or wishes, more galling +than her former thinly veiled coldness. He had found out she loved him +not; what need for further deceit? + +And Mr. Linchmore? Had his wife judged him rightly? Yes, even so. The +sad truth that she loved him not had crept slowly yet surely into his +heart, vainly as he had striven to crush it; her indifference he had +borne without resentment, hoping that in time she might be brought to +love him; for he still loved her passionately, as also sternly, almost +harshly, if I might so say. His was not a nature to change, and then his +love for her had been the one deep, intense feeling of his manhood, a +love that nothing short of death could change; but with his knowledge of +her deceit had gone his trust; and latterly almost his respect. He now +lived hoping that time might change her heart, or draw it towards him--a +hopeless wish, since the very presence of him she had wronged, and who +had innocently wrought his and her own life-long misery, was a reproach +and bitterness to her. No wonder he was severe and stern! Yet there +were times when his old impetuous nature would have sway, and shut up +in his room alone with nothing but despairing thoughts, he would pace it +in utter anguish of spirit, hoping, looking for what never could be, +namely, the love of his wife. And so they lived on. She fearing his +love. He mourning hers. + +What did she care for the dark Frenchman of whom her husband had grown +jealous? and who had singled her out from among a multitude it might be +for her haughty beauty, or it might be for the _éclat_ of being thought +the favoured one of her who was the centre of admiration around which so +many flocked at Paris the winter before Amy's arrival at Brampton? He +had no intention, that man of the world, of falling in love with her; it +was a flirtation, nothing more, and cost neither a pang. That she +encouraged his attentions was without a doubt; that she despised him was +without a doubt, too, seeing his absence--for Mr. Linchmore had +positively forbidden him the house--did not cost her a sigh, not even a +thought. What mattered it if he went? there were others to pay her the +self-same attentions, others as gay and fascinating. So she went on her +way in no degree wiser or better for the obstacle she had stumbled upon +in her path, the provocation of her husband's wrath. + +Flirt she must. How otherwise divert her thoughts? those thoughts that +crowded so relentlessly into her brain, threatening to overwhelm her +with the memory of the one loved and lost; him whom she had thought to +forget, or of whom she had hoped to crush out the remembrance. + +Ah! her heart was not all coldness. Did she not love her children +passionately; and were not her very faults, bad as they were, caused by +the one false step--the forsaking her early love? + +The storm between husband and wife blew over; it was not _outwardly_ of +long duration, and again Mrs. Linchmore singled out another--it mattered +not to her whom she flirted with. "_La belle Anglaise_"--as she was +called--cared not; life to her was a blank--a dreary waste. + +Alas! how much misery it is in woman's power to make, how much to avert +or remove. Man's comforter, sharer of his joys, partaker of his sorrows, +ever ready to pour into his ear the kind word of comfort, consolation, +and hope; whose soft, gentle hand smooths his pillow in the hour of +sickness; and whose low, sweet voice assuages his pain, and bears +without complaint his sometimes irritable temper. What would he do +without her? How much good can she do, and alas! how much evil. Few, +very few women there are without some one redeeming quality. Few, very +few, we hope, like Mrs. Linchmore. + +But to return to our story. + +Ere long, with a deep drawn sigh, Mrs. Linchmore raised her eyes, and +recalled the thoughts--which had been wandering away into the past,--to +the present time, and to the letter she held in her hand, and began to +peruse its contents, a troubled unquiet look resting on her face, as she +did so. + +It was the answer to the letter she had written at her husband's +earnest solicitations, to Mrs. Elrington. + + "ISABELLA MARY--(so it began)-- + + "Your heart deceived you not when it warned you I should not accept + Mr. Linchmore's invitation. God forbid I should ever see your face + again; it would be pain and grief to me, and recall to life + recollections, now long _hidden and buried_ in my heart. I never + wish to look on you again, though God knows I have long since + forgiven you, and that my ever constant prayer is, that I may think + of you without bitterness, and ever with charity. + + "It was an evil dark day when first I saw you, and will be a still + darker one for me if ever I see you again. I could not trust myself + even now--though long years have passed away since we met last--to + meet you face to face. It would bring the image of _one_ too + forcibly and vividly to my mind; even now my hand shakes and + trembles with emotion; and my eyes swim with tears, bitter, + blinding tears, as I write. + + "Do not mistake me, do not think I write this letter to reproach + you, I do not. I have never reproached you; or, at least, I have + striven to stifle all ill-feeling. I promised _him_, on his + death-bed, to forgive you and learn to think of you with, if + possible, kindly feeling and pity; and I trust I have been enabled + to fulfil that promise. No, I do not reproach you, but I leave your + own heart to do so; long, long ago, if I mistake not, it must. + + "Miss Neville has told me you are cold, stern, and seldom smiled; + you are changed indeed. Changed more than I, if I were your + bitterest enemy, could have wished. Alas! that one wrong, wilful, + wicked act could have entailed so much misery and sorrow. + + "I will not lay down my pen without thanking you for your kindness + to my young friend, Amy; she says you are very kind. And here again + I would repeat what I said in a former letter to Mrs. Murchison, + that she has been tenderly nurtured, and I would not that her young + spirit should be broken. Forget not your promise to treat her more + as a companion and friend, than as a governess, or as the latter + class are sometimes treated. I am inclined to doubt any promise of + yours being kept, but I have Mr. Linchmore's word, and I am + content. + + "And now farewell. May God forgive you, as I do. When your hour of + death draws near--for in this changing and transitory life, we know + not what a day may bring forth, or how soon we may be summoned + away, and perhaps I shall never write to you again--may it smooth + your dying hour, and give peace to your then troubled, remorseful + heart, to know, that she whom you so deeply injured and so cruelly + deceived and whose life you helped to render desolate, has forgiven + you. + + "ELLEN ELRINGTON." + +There was an expression of pain on Mrs. Linchmore's face as she read, +but not a sigh not a tear escaped her; perhaps those had all been shed +long ago, or surely those sad, earnest words, from a sorrowful heart +would have moved her; but ere she closed the letter and looked up, the +painful look passed away, and a sarcastic curl had settled on her lip, +and shone brightly in her full dark eye. She crushed the letter in her +hand as she would perhaps have crushed the writer, if she could, and +laughed aloud; a laugh so hollow, so forced, its very echo would have +made one's blood run cold; but there was no fear of its being heard, she +was still alone, as she felt with satisfaction as she glanced hurriedly +around. + +Again she laughed. But this time the tones were more subdued, the echo +was scarcely heard. + +She crushed the letter more tightly in her hand, until the clear blue +veins were almost swelled to bursting, while she murmured, "so much for +Mrs. Elrington's letter. Did she think to frighten and make a coward of +me. Pshaw! she was mistaken; _I am altered and changed_, for it amused +me." + +But though she gave vent to these words, such were not her feelings. She +was in reality deeply moved; past scenes had risen up vividly before +her, with all the hopes and fears, joys and sorrows, of her girlish +days. As she read word after word, line after line, of the letter, those +days became more vivid still; and the old loving, gentle feelings +crowded together at her heart; she was again the loving and beloved of +him of her early choice; again, in fancy, sitting by his side, weeping +bitter, passionate, despairing tears, as on the morning they had parted, +then with the hope of meeting again; but it had been for the last +time--for _ever_--and as the last word, with all its dreadful import +came steadily into her heart, she could in very desolation have thrown +herself into the large arm chair and wept more despairingly, more +passionately still; but no, she was Mrs. Linchmore, cold and stern; Miss +Neville had said so,--she must be herself again. So she crushed the old +regretful feelings, and stifled their dying moan with that bitter, +ghastly laugh. + +On the table was a beautiful small bouquet of hot-house flowers; she +drew out a bright scarlet one, and arranged it in her hair at the glass +over the chimney piece. + +"I may be cold and stern--I may be changed--but--I am still beautiful." +Such were her thoughts as she stood gazing at herself long after the +flower had been arranged to her satisfaction. + +But now a step sounded on the stairs; it echoed in the lofty hall; it +approached the door. Suddenly she remembered the letter, and hastily +snatching it from the ground where it had lain forgotten, she hurriedly +threw it into the fire. + +There was a bright light for a moment, then it was gone, and a thin +black substance floated lightly on the coals, showing where the letter +had been; this she buried at once, deep--deep beneath the burning coals, +until not a vestige remained, and turned to greet her visitor. + +It was her husband. + +He entered, drew a chair near the fire, and sat down, while his wife, +with no visible trace of the emotion she had but lately felt, busied +herself with some fancy work, so that her eyes might not meet his, or +they must have revealed a little of the passions that had been +struggling within; at all events she dared not raise them, but kept them +obstinately fixed on the canvas in her lap, and worked on in silence, +expecting her husband to be the first to speak: but he did not, he took +up his newspaper and read it as perseveringly as she worked. + +Ere long the silence grew oppressive; the crumpling of the paper as Mr. +Linchmore turned it in his hand annoyed and irritated her; her thoughts +were still half struggling with the past; she _must_ bury that, and +bring them forcibly back to the present time, so she spoke; but try as +she would she could not do so without showing a little irritation of +manner. + +"The paper appears to engross your attention entirely, Mr Linchmore. +Have you found anything so very interesting in it?" + +He looked up in surprise, then quietly laid it on the table, as he +replied, "Perhaps I did not speak, as I have rather unfortunate news for +you, 'Lady Emily'--Mrs. Linchmore's riding horse--has gone dead lame." + +"Lame!" exclaimed Mrs. Linchmore in a vexatious tone of voice. "It must +be something very sudden then; she was perfectly well the last time I +rode her, there was not the slightest symptom of lameness about her +then." + +"That was some time ago," rejoined her husband. + +"Only a few days, or a week at the utmost. What is the matter with her? +or what has caused the lameness?" + +"A nail has been accidentally run into her foot in shoeing. There has +been great carelessness no doubt." + +"It is always the case that whenever I wish to ride or drive something +happens to prevent me, for the last two or three months I have noticed +it. What is the use of having servants if one cannot trust them, or +horses either, when they are never fit to be ridden?" + +"There are other horses in the stable, Isabella, would carry you just as +well as Lady Emily, but you never will ride them." + +Mrs. Linchmore was not exactly a timid horsewoman, but she was not +courageous enough to ride a strange horse, whose temper and habits she +was unacquainted with. She had ridden the mare constantly for the last +five years, and knew her temper well, and after the first canter was +over all nervousness was gone, and she could talk and laugh and ride +without fear, or the slight timidity she might have felt at first +starting. + +"I promised to ride into Standale with Mr. Vavasour," said she. + +"Shall I order the bay to be brought round for you, Isabella? You will +find him even quieter than Lady Emily." + +"You know I hate strange horses, Mr. Linchmore. I wonder at your +proposing such a thing. After being accustomed to one horse for so long, +I should be nervous." + +"I will ride with you with pleasure," was the reply, "and give you +confidence if I can, and see no accident happens." + +But no, her husband's escort was very different to the promised pleasure +she had looked forward to with Mr. Vavasour. + +"Thank you," replied she coldly, "but I shall stay at home, and give up +all idea of riding until my horse gets well." + +"Very well, Vavasour can ride into Standale with me if he chooses, I am +starting for it in half an hour. By-the-by, what report did Bernard give +of Miss Neville this morning?" + +"Nothing very much the matter, I believe," said she carelessly, "simply +a sprain caused by some folly or another." + +"I am glad it is nothing more serious; she looks a delicate girl." + +"Some people always look so. I believe she is strong enough; we were +always from the first led to expect a rather fragile person." + +This was an unwise speech of Mrs. Linchmore's, as it recalled Mrs. +Elrington at once to her husband's mind, and he asked-- + +"Have you received any reply to the letter you wrote to Mrs. Elrington, +Isabella?" + +"Yes. Miss Neville gave me a message to the effect that she did not +intend," said she sarcastically, "honouring our poor house with a +visit." + +"Did she write to Miss Neville?" + +"I fancy not. I think it was mentioned by Mrs. Neville, in a letter she +wrote from Ashleigh." + +"And Mrs. Elrington has never answered your letter?" + +"No. I suppose she thought the message good enough for us." + +There was no quivering of the lip, no tell-tale blood in her cheeks, +nothing to betray the falsehood she was telling, save her eyes, and +those she still bent down. She could not have met her husband's gaze. + +"Strange," murmured he, "that she should so long keep aloof from us. I +should have thought she would have wished to heal up old quarrels." + +"You know her not," was the reply. "I told you she would not come, and +implored you, almost, not to ask me to write to her." + +"It was my fault you wrote, and I cannot help feeling sorry at her +discourtsey; it is so different from what I should have thought she +would have done. I liked the little I saw of Mrs. Elrington, she was a +true Englishwoman. I wonder what she disliked me for. I suppose she did +dislike me?" asked he. + +"Yes, thoroughly. You supplanted her son." + +"But you never cared for him, Isabella?" and this time he waited for the +eyes to be raised to his. + +But they were not. Mrs. Linchmore bent lower still over her work, so +that not only the eyes, but the face was almost hidden. She seemed to +have made some mistake, for, with a slight hasty exclamation, she took +the scissors and cut out, hurriedly, what a few moments before she had +been so busy with. + +Again he repeated the question, but not sternly, only sorrowfully and +slowly, as if he almost feared the answer, or guessed what it would be. + +"You never cared for him, Isabella?" + +But the emotion or embarrassment had passed away, and although Mrs. +Linchmore did not look up to meet his gaze, now so searchingly bent on +her, she laid down her work and patted the head of the lap-dog lying at +her feet. + +"I liked him as I do Fido," replied she, perhaps a little mockingly. "He +was a pretty plaything." + +But the answer did not satisfy Mr. Linchmore. He withdrew his eyes from +her face and sighed. Did he doubt her? Alas! a strange, sad thought had +long filled his mind, and would not be chased away. + +"I am glad you did not _love_ him, Isabella," was all he said. + +And then he sat silent for some time. At length he spoke again, somewhat +suddenly. "To revert to Miss Neville," he said. "I feared her illness +might be caused from dulness or ennui. She is so much alone--too much +for one so young. Miss Tremlow, even, hinted at it to me the very first +day she came downstairs; but I do not see what else is to be done, with +these young men in the house." + +"I invited her down the other day, but she would not come." + +"I am glad she did not. Why did you ask her?" + +"You told me to yourself, Mr. Linchmore. You surely cannot have +forgotten it; and besides, we promised to treat her more as a young +friend than as a governess." + +"True," he replied. "I now regret we ever gave such a promise. It would +be far better for Miss Neville, for although we treat her as a friend, +who amongst our numerous acquaintances will? They do not know her as we +do, and will simply treat her as a governess, nothing more. I neither +like Miss Strickland's apparent haughtiness, which amounts to rudeness, +or Vavasour's attentions, which almost amount to a flirtation with her." + +"The first is unaccountable to me; but the latter--what harm can there +be in that?" replied Mrs. Linchmore. + +"To Miss Neville there might be harm. She might lose her heart to him, +for she is no flirt; _he is_," said he, decidedly, and his wife could +not attempt to contradict him, "and would as soon break her heart as +not; perhaps be a little proud of it, and certainly think less about it +than he would at breaking his horse's neck in leaping a fence." + +"You are very uncharitable." + +"Not at all. My opinion is, Vavasour intends getting up a flirtation +with Miss Neville, just to pass the time away; perhaps you had better +see to it, Isabella, and try and give her a hint. You could easily do +it, without appearing to have noticed his attentions to her." + +"The very way to make her fall desperately in love with him; women +always do with those they hear abused--our hearts are so pitiful. Much +better let her do as she likes, she has plenty of sense." + +"As you will, Isabella; but I must not see her feelings trifled with; +there is nothing half so sad as to love without return--hopelessly." + +And again he turned his face, and looked sorrowfully at his wife, as if +expecting or longing for some slight mark of affection; but she gave +none, and rising slowly, he went out. + +Mrs. Linchmore was once more alone. + +The preceding conversation, at least the latter part of it, had been +entirely to her satisfaction. It must not be supposed she had been a +blind spectator to Vavasour's attentions to Amy. She had heard of the +first walk from Frances, she had seen the second, and imagined that, +perhaps, having remarked the looks with which, once or twice, Mr. +Linchmore had watched his attentions to herself, he had had recourse to +a ruse-de-guerre, and now flirted with the governess, as the most +harmless girl he could pick out, whilst all his looks, all his _petits +soins_, were directed and given to _her_. + +She laughed at the idea of outwitting her husband; not that she cared +for Vavasour, but the flirting spirit was strong and powerful within. +Old memories and associations, instead of softening had only hardened +her present life, and made her look back more regretfully to the past, +more hopelessly and bitterly to the future. + +"Miss Neville is certainly very beautiful," mused she, "but so quiet, so +meek; no animation about her, nothing to charm such a man as Mr. +Vavasour with." Then she wondered if she herself possessed that power. + +She rose up, and again stood before the glass, which reflected back her +proud, beautiful face, with the conscious haughty look, that if beauty +had the power to charm it was hers, she need fear no rival. + +Then she re-arranged the flower which she had previously pinned in her +hair, and a smile, sparkling with pleasure, showed that she was +satisfied. + +Mr. Linchmore judged Robert Vavasour's character more justly than his +wife, although neither quite understood it. The mystery of his birth was +the shadow continually haunting Vavasour's path, and making him +thoughtless and trifling towards women. If his mother, as he believed, +still lived, where was her gentle, tender love? Why had he never felt +it? Why had she so cruelly deserted him, and left him to fight his own +way in the world, with no name but a false one? His heart hardened +against womankind. If a mother could be false to her child, what woman +could be true? What woman worth living or caring for? They were triflers +all, and to be trifled with; so he held no reverence in his heart for +them, but flirted with his hostess thoughtlessly, and admired her as he +would have admired any other beautiful woman; as he admired Amy, and +would have flirted with her also if she would have let him. + +Would his heart ever be touched by love? ever see reason to regret or +recall the rash vow he had made that no woman should ever hold a place +in his heart, seeing that in loving her he would have to plead, not only +his love, but his nameless birth. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE INTERVIEW. + + ----"Earthly things + Are but the transient pageants of an hour; + And earthly pride is like the passing flower, + That springs to fall, and blossoms but to die." + + HENRY KIRKE WHITE. + + "Whoever looks on life will see + How strangely mortals disagree." + + CAWTHORNE. + + +It was almost dusk as Frances Strickland, who had been sitting for the +last hour before the glass trying the effect of a wreath of fuschias she +intended wearing at some forthcoming party, laid the flowers on the +dressing table with a dissatisfied sigh as her maid entered the room +with candles. + +"At last!" exclaimed she, impatiently, "what have you been about, Jane? +I thought you would never come; make haste and dress me for dinner, as +I wish to try the effect of these flowers in my hair." + +Proud and haughty as Frances was to her equals, she seldom or ever +showed much pride to her maid, or if it did occasionally peep out, it +was instantly checked and controlled. + +Jane was useful to her young mistress in more ways than the mere +dressing her, and brushing her hair. She was an incessant talker, and +found a willing listener in Frances, who silently encouraged her in +repeating all the gossip and tittle-tattle of the servants' hall: as in +this way Frances flattered herself she found out with little trouble the +character as well as the sayings and doings of those around her. + +Jane was perfectly well aware of Frances' failing, consequently indulged +her propensity of talking to the utmost, and when she had nothing to +relate, drew somehow from her own fertile brain and lively imagination, +or added many wonderful improvements to the story already at her +fingers' ends. Sometimes Jane was cross, or as she expressed it--"had a +bad head-ache," and then it required all Frances' tact and ingenuity to +get her to utter a syllable; and cunningly as she thought she +cross-questioned her on these occasions, Jane's cunning equalled if not +surpassed her mistress's, as she generally contrived to guess at what +she was aiming, and either added fuel to the fire already kindled there, +or quenched it altogether. + +On the present occasion, Jane was especially communicative, and as she +smoothed the raven tresses of her hair, talked away to her heart's +content, now of this thing, now of that, until at length she approached +the subject nearest her own heart and that of her mistress', namely, +Miss Neville. + +The loss of the piece of embroidery, and the search that had been made +for it, had annoyed and irritated many of the servants, and especially +Mason, who had long had a dislike of the governess, though she had not +openly expressed it; then, Mr. Linchmore's apparent partiality for her? +Why should Miss Neville come into the room just as she pleased when +Madam was dressing, and give her opinion as to how she looked, and what +she wore, even sometimes to the very ornaments themselves, throwing the +lady's maid completely into the shade, where before she had reigned +paramount, with no one's opinion or taste asked but her own. So Mason +grew jealous, and took in the end a dislike to her, as servants often +foolishly do to governesses; and only waited her time to manifest it. + +Mrs. Hopkins' decided tone and speech in Miss Neville's favour, and the +'setdown' she gave Mason, only rooted her dislike the more firmly; if it +had not been for the governess she would not have had that; and as birds +of a feather flock together, so she had impressed upon Jane, during +their many friendly chats, her opinion of Miss Neville: that she was a +nobody, who gave herself airs, and interfered where she had no business +to, and as to the lost piece of work, there was no doubt whatever that +she suspected some of the servants, and most likely meanly accused them +of taking it; otherwise, why was such a fuss made, and why had they been +questioned as to whether they had seen it? + +Jane readily believed all that was told her, and determined on shewing +Miss Neville on the very first opportunity she had, that she thought her +in no way better than herself, so meeting her one day accidentally in +the corridor coming upstairs, she tossed her head and pushed rudely past +her, allowing the baize door to slam to, without so much as offering to +hold it open for her to pass through. + +Amy gently and indignantly remonstrated with her on her rudeness, which +she saw at once was intended, and silenced the second impertinent +action, namely the answer hovering on Jane's lips; but though silenced, +Jane went away more firmly impressed and convinced that Mason was right, +and that Miss Neville was an upstart and a nobody. + +"The idea," said she, as she recounted the adventure to Mason. "The +idea of Miss Neville's teaching _me_ manners, and ordering _me_ to +bridle my tongue; I'd like to see her as could make me do it, that's +all; I'll teach my lady to bridle _her_ tongue, and keep _her_ sauce to +herself." + +Mason's temper was not a passionate one; Jane's was, and vindictive too; +she felt convinced, judging from what she should do were she in Miss +Neville's place, that the latter would immediately repeat all that had +taken place to her young mistress, so she determined to be beforehand +with her, and have, as she called it, the first say; whereas Amy had +almost forgotten the circumstance, and certainly had no wish to recall +it. + +"Did you give my message to Mrs. Linchmore?" asked Frances, "I almost +hope you did not, as I am so much better. I intend after all going down +to dinner." + +There had been a long silence, uninterrupted save by the noise the brush +made as it passed through the soft dark hair. + +"Yes Miss, I did, and they all said they were sorry to hear you had such +a bad head-ache." + +"All!" exclaimed Frances, "I desired you to give the message to Mrs. +Linchmore. Why did you disobey me?" + +"Well, Miss, I'm sure it was no fault of mine that Miss Neville happened +to be in the room." + +"Miss Neville!" exclaimed Frances. + +"Yes, Miss Frances, I thought it would surprise you, but I know it was +her, because I saw her through a chink of the door as Mason held it +open; besides Mason says she is always there, trying to butter her +bread, as the saying is; and after I'd given the message, which I should +not have given if I'd known she had been there, I heard her and Mrs. +Linchmore say they thought you was a very perverse and disagreeable +girl; of course they didn't know I was so near, or they wouldn't have +spoke so loud." + +"And how dare Miss Neville have a word to say in the matter concerning +any affairs of mine!" said Frances, thrown off her guard by the +suddenness of Jane's announcement, and drawing her head up proudly, so +as to almost drag her hair through Jane's fingers, and totally +disarrange the long silken plait she had just completed. + +"Law! Miss! I'm sure I can't say," replied Jane somewhat surprised in +her turn at the extraordinary emotion she witnessed, and delighted that +so far she had succeeded beyond her hopes. + +"Then you ought to know; I don't believe one word of it." + +"It's true all the same, Miss, whether you believe it or no, and I'm +sure there's some people as is always picking other people to pieces, +and more especially those as is much above them in station; and if I +don't mistake Miss Neville thinks herself a mighty fine lady, and as +Mason says tries--though she doesn't say she manages it--to turn Mrs. +Linchmore round her thumb." + +A gentle tap at the door here interrupted Jane, and she hastened to open +it, but before she could do so the imperious "come in," of Frances was +answered by the door softly opening and shutting; a light footstep +crossed the room, and Amy Neville herself stood by the table. + +Frances looked surprised. + +"This is a most extraordinary intrusion, Miss Neville," said she rising. +Then added sarcastically, "to what fortunate circumstance am I to +ascribe the pleasure of your company?" + +"No fortunate circumstance," replied Amy, almost as proudly, "has +induced me to come here." + +"Perhaps unfortunate, then," suggested Frances, in the same tone, still +standing, and never asking her visitor to sit down. + +"You are right," said Amy, quietly. + +But this quietness enraged Frances, predisposed as she was to quarrel +with her, and inwardly hating her, as she did; so she answered, +angrily-- + +"And do you suppose I have nothing better to do than to listen to +unfortunate circumstances, related by unfortunate people; for I suppose +you are come with some absurd story. I care nothing for you or yours, +and have no wish to listen to anything you have to say," and turning +away, as rudely as she had spoken, Frances once more seated herself at +the table, and desired Jane, who had been looking on in astonishment, to +go on with her hair. + +"But you _must_ listen," replied Amy firmly, her eyes flashing at +Frances' insulting tones and speech. "I have something to tell you,--an +explanation to give,--a circumstance to explain; indeed you must +listen." + +Frances mused. + +"Must listen," she repeated presently. "If that is all, pray talk on; as +to whether I answer or no remains to be seen. No one ever yet compelled +me to do aught against my will; therefore I advise Miss +Neville,--determined as she seems,--to think twice before she puts me to +the test. I must also state I am rather hurried, the dressing bell +having rung long since." + +And Frances carelessly wound the two long plaits Jane had plaited round +her head. + +"I have little to say; I shall not detain you long." + +"Pray begin," said Frances. "Jane be more careful, that hair-pin hurts +me. Well, Miss Neville?" + +But Amy answered-- + +"What I have to say is for your ear alone; Jane cannot be present." + +"I have no secrets from Jane; you need have no fear of her repeating +anything she hears." + +"Still, what I have to say, Miss Strickland, cannot be said before her." + +"Really, Miss Neville, your conduct is most extraordinary, not to say +presuming and impertinent. Jane is necessary to me, I cannot dress +without her assistance. I am late as it is, and cannot send her away." + +"If you will allow me, I will assist you." + +"Well, I'm sure!" exclaimed Jane, who had been listening in secret +wonderment to the fore-going conversation, and anticipating the +dismissal she was now about to receive. "Well, I'm sure! I'm the last +woman in the world to wish to pry into other people's secrets. Thank +God, I've none of my own to trouble me, and don't care who hears what +_I_ say; and thank you, Miss Neville, for your good opinion of me," said +she, with a slight bend, and, throwing the dress she held in her hand +across the back of a chair, she marched indignantly from the room, +taking care not to close the door behind her. + +But Amy followed, and shut it, a proceeding that still more incensed +her, as she had fully intended hearing something, if not all, of what +passed, and learning, if possible, what secret enmity there was, or ill +feeling between the two; as, with all her cunning and quickness, for +once Jane was at fault. "Never mind," thought she, as she proceeded in +search of Mason, to whom to unburden her ill-treatment. "I've been +beforehand with you, with all your caution, Miss Neville, and I'm much +mistaken if Miss Frances likes you one whit better than I do, and that's +a precious deal, I can tell you," and Jane laughed; "though I'm puzzled +to know why she got on her proud horse so soon. Yes, I'm fairly puzzled; +but I'll find out yet. All those airs and graces didn't come from what I +told her. No, no; I must be awake, and keep my eyes open. I'm not so +easily deceived. Shut the door as tight and close as you will--say your +say, whisper your secret, yet, for all that, Jane will be up to it, and +fathom it out." + +Amy and Frances were alone. + +How different were the thoughts and feelings of both! + +Declining her companion's assistance in dressing, Frances seated herself +in an easy chair by the fire, her feet in their rich worked slippers +resting on a footstool; her small jewelled fingers playing impatiently +with a small gold heart attached to a bracelet she wore round her smooth +white arm, her eyes emitting from under their dark lashes looks of +defiance and scorn--for Frances, as I have said, cared not to hide her +feelings, or had not yet learnt the habit of doing so;--a determined +expression about the corners of her mouth, as if she had fully made up +her mind what course to pursue, and that neither argument nor persuasion +should induce her to abandon it. + +She sat looking like some empress, awaiting the victim about to be +sacrificed or made to bend to her haughty will. + +A faint idea as to what Amy's explanation would be arose in her mind, +how should she take it? should she remain silent, or answer it, and so +lead her on until her whole heart should be probed,--laid bare before +her? yes, she would do the latter, would penetrate into the very secret +recesses of her heart; find out what her thoughts were, and how much she +cared or did not care for her cousin, and then gradually retreat when +she had her at her mercy. "We," so she reasoned, "cannot both +triumph--one must be defeated--one must fall--and that one must be Miss +Neville." + +Amy stood a little apart. + +She, too, had a determined expression playing round the corners of her +mouth, and her tall, graceful figure was drawn up proudly to its full +height; yet there was softness, gentleness in the very way she stood, +one small fair hand tightly clasped round the injured wrist, as it +rested delicately on the back of the chair, as if to keep down some +strong inward emotion with its tight grasp; there was pride--there might +be a touch of haughtiness, too--for she was but a poor weak mortal, but +there was no anger, no defiance, no doggedness about Amy's looks. Her +clear dark grey eye quailed not beneath her companion's hard cold gaze, +it flashed as brightly, but there was neither malice, nor hatred, nor +revenge in it; all was soft and womanly, though had opportunity offered +or occasion required it, it might have returned scorn for scorn. + +The two young girls were alone. + +Yet both remained silent; perhaps both feared to be the first to speak, +or wished her companion might break the silence becoming every moment +more painful and embarrassing. + +Twice Frances turned her head impatiently, but meeting Amy's steady +gaze, her eyelids dropped and again she leant back in the soft cushioned +chair, and played with the locket as though she could not rest quiet: if +her lips were silent her hands must be employed--she must appear +careless and unconcerned, and uninterested in what was to follow. + +Amy never attempted to move or speak. There she stood gazing at Frances, +but seemingly engrossed by other thoughts, for a close observer might +have detected a slight, almost imperceptible trembling of the under lip, +and a nervous twitching of the fair fingers of the left hand as it +rested softly on the other. + +At length, stooping as though to brush something off her wrapper, +Frances spoke. + +"Well, Miss Neville, how long is this farce to last, this silence +continue? I have already intimated my wish to be alone, and that I do +not care to be troubled with anything you may have to say; yet, hurried +as I am, you seem to take little heed as to the length of time you +detain me. Have the kindness to begin and end quickly." + +Amy started. Her thoughts had been far away. Once again she had gone +over in thought all those pleasant, joyous days, when the world seemed +all so fair and bright, and the days had flown too quickly by; and at +night, she had slept the sleep of happiness and peace, without a thought +for the morrow, save to find or try and make it as happy as the one that +had gone before. + +Ah! how many days had fled since then; how many sorrows and trials had +she seen and experienced. Each day now was but a sad counterpart of the +yesterday that had been, no bright looking forward, no trembling +certainty of happiness; all seemed drear, and the future a blank to her +troubled mind. + +Again Frances spoke. + +This time her voice was firm, though she still steadily avoided meeting +Amy's gaze. + +"When is this wonderful explanation to take place, Miss Neville? If you +have changed your mind about it, pray say so at once, that I may call +Jane, and continue my dressing." + +"Miss Strickland," began Amy, falteringly, for Frances' cruel manner had +made her even more nervous than when she entered the room; "you must +have guessed, you must be aware that--that--" + +But instead of helping her, Frances laughed, and _that_ gave Amy the +courage she lacked, for her cheek glowed, and her eye flashed, and +calmly and without hesitation, she went on at once. + +"Have patience, Miss Strickland. I will go on quickly. You saw me +yesterday talking to your cousin in the corridor, and I was led to infer +from your manner, that you imagined I had done wrong in staying to speak +with him, and I thought if I could only explain to you how accidentally +it all occurred, you would exonerate both him and me from blame and +unkind suspicion." + +Frances raised her head haughtily. "I have so many cousins, that I must +trouble Miss Neville to explain herself more fully, as I am unable +either to recall the circumstance, or to remember which cousin was +honoured by Miss Neville on the occasion referred to." + +"Which cousin? I know but one--Mr. Charles Linchmore." + +"I understood Miss Neville to be a lover of truth. If you know that +Charles Linchmore is my cousin, may I ask what relation his brother can +be?" + +Amy was silent. Neither shame, fear, nor anger kept her so, for +presently, a torrent of words burst from her lips, and she hurried on as +if nothing could stop her; no, not even Frances' mocking gaze, or the +seemingly indifferent manner with which she listened. + +"Miss Strickland, why torture me thus? Think you that the change in my +position has changed my feelings, my heart, my very nature? Think you I +am a stone, or my heart dead within me, that I can stand calmly by, and +hear such cutting cruel words from you, and not feel them bitterly? How +could I look into your face the other day, or listen to your words, and +not feel that you were judging me harshly; it was not possible, neither +is it possible I can go on in my daily path of duty, until at least I +have attempted to clear myself of the wrong I see you think me capable +of. I have lived to see my fairest dreams vanish, and have bowed with +submission to the will of One who is wiser then I,--have neither +murmured nor fought against the burden God has seen fit to cast upon me, +though it has been, nay, is, heavy and severe; and though my spirit has +been sad and weary, cast down almost to the dust, yet I have had +strength given me to fight against all repining, unthankful thoughts, +and although not perhaps exactly satisfied with my lot in life, still I +know it might be much worse; that many others suffer more than I do." +And Amy's voice sank almost to a whisper, still and low. + +But Frances was in no way moved by it, and replied as hardly and +tauntingly as before-- + +"Go on, pray, Miss Neville, or is this all you have to say?" + +"All? Ah, no! I could talk for ever. My feelings have been pent up--kept +back for days, weeks, months past. You have loosened them, and they must +have sway. I cannot restrain them now. Oh, if you had ever felt as I +have felt, you could never sit there so indifferently, and not feel some +pity for me; have I not been as tenderly and delicately nurtured? as +much love lavished on me? and yet it is all past and gone, and I am +alone in the world. There is comfort in once again being able to +talk--to tell of all that is binding my heart so tightly--burning my +brain. I have shed tears, but they have brought no relief. I have +pictured to myself happier days, such days of love and peace, but they +have vanished from before me. I have dreamt pleasant dreams, but with +the morning sun they too have disappeared, and all is cold, stern +reality. Oh, I could talk for ever if I thought it would move you to +think better of me." + +"You have my free permission to do so if this is what you come to ask; +only you must excuse my being a careless or inattentive listener, as +really your conversation interests me so little." + +"And are you so strangely devoid of pity, then, or is it because you do +not think me worth any? Alas! alas! when rich I was courted, flattered, +and even loved; now, as the poor governess, I am despised and deserted," +and again Amy's voice was low and plaintive. + +"I never had the pleasure of knowing you in those palmy days you speak +of; as a governess of course you must not expect to find much pity; it +would be just as well to leave the history of your reverses--I hate +everything sorrowful--and return to the starting point of your +conversation, my cousin." + +"I will," replied Amy. "I met Mr. Charles Linchmore yesterday +accidentally in the corridor, as I was returning from a fruitless search +for Fanny; he saw that I had injured my hand, and simply asked to look +at it, that was all; you came by just then; your manner--your words, +Miss Strickland, gave me the impression that you had misjudged me, and +I shrank from the feeling, and could not rest until I had explained how +it all happened, thinking,--but it seems I was wrong,--that your kind, +womanly feeling and pity would at once feel for me, seeing the delicate +position I occupy in this house." + +But Amy's words only kindled the fire already smouldering in Frances' +heart. Did they not recall to her remembrance the flower Charles had +sent her? The embroidery he had taken? The hurt she had received from +his horse? The interest he had afterwards taken in her welfare? + +"I know you misjudged me, Miss Strickland; do not be afraid to say so." + +"Afraid!" repeated Frances, scornfully, "No, you are mistaken; do you +suppose I should consult your feelings?" + +"No," replied Amy, sorrowfully, "I am sure you would not; I might have +thought otherwise a few minutes ago, but now--" + +"Now, I hope you are convinced that whatever I thought on the occasion +referred to, I think still." + +"I am sorry," replied Amy, much in the same tone she had said it to +Charles the day before, "because you are wrong." + +"I am not. Do you suppose I am blind, and do not see the interest _he_ +takes in your welfare?" + +"Scarcely more so than he would show to a stranger whose wrist had been +injured partly from his own fault in saying his horse was a quiet one, +when the accident proved it to have been otherwise. Your manner, Miss +Strickland, placed me in a very awkward position. Mr. Charles Linchmore +noticed it as well as myself, and I think it irritated and annoyed him, +but I, of course, had no right to feel hurt; I will try and act +differently for the future." + +But Frances answered not. Slowly her brow contracted--slowly her passion +seemed to rise. + +Suddenly she stood up and confronted her fancied rival, hatred, revenge, +anger, by turns burning in her eyes, while at each sentence she uttered +she stamped her foot impatiently, as if to give emphasis to what she +said. + +"How dare you tell me what _he_ thought of me? I don't believe a word of +it! Do you suppose I am a simpleton? a fool? and cannot see that you +care for him, perhaps love him; and would prejudice me against him, +cause disunion if you could, but it is useless--utterly useless--for I +love him, Miss Neville;--loved him long before you knew him--long before +you ever saw him,--yes, you may stare; I am not ashamed to repeat +it--loved him--worshipped him if you will. What is your love, compared +to mine, but a paltry, insignificant, nameless thing? What is your love +that it should be preferred before mine? You whom he has known only so +short a time. There is nothing in the world I would not give up for him; +home, everything: for what are they all in comparison to his love? There +is nothing I would not do to win him; nothing too great a +sacrifice,--his love would compensate for all, and more than all." + +Amy stood as if thunderstruck, while Frances, who had paused for a +moment, went madly on. The ice was broken,--Amy knew of her love, she +was glad of it, and cared not what she said. + +"You talk of pity for your feelings: what are they in comparison to +mine? You have never seen him you love, deserting, forsaking you for +another. You have never seen his love grow colder and colder, his eye +less bright when it met yours, and his smile less kind; you have never +felt the cold touch of the hand that once warmly pressed yours, or found +that your words have been spoken to careless ears, your conversation +listened to heedlessly--indifferently; when before, every word that fell +from your lips was waited for with impatient eagerness; you have never +known the bitterness of estranged love; you have never known what it is +to feel that all your deep strong love is unsought, unvalued, uncared +for, that nothing, not even all your tenderness can recall the heart +that once loved, once beat for you alone. You talk of sorrows. What are +your sorrows compared to mine? You talk of trials; have you ever been +tried like this?" + +Frances stopped, overcome by her emotion, and wept violently and +passionately; but her tears were caused more by the angry vehemence of +her manner than from sorrow. + +Who could have believed that the pale proud girl that nothing seemed to +animate, nothing seemed to rouse, had such deep strong feelings within +her? that beneath that cold, proud demeanour, fiery, unruly passions lay +sleeping, requiring but a touch to call them forth with angry violence. + +"Miss Strickland," said Amy, gently and pityingly placing her hand on +her arm, "believe me, I never suspected, never guessed all this, or I +should have made some excuse, some allowance for the manner in which you +spoke to us on that day." + +"To _us_," exclaimed Francis, as she dashed away the soft hand, "already +you talk of him so; perhaps he has already told you he loves you, and +when next you meet it will be to triumph over me, and talk with pity of +her you have supplanted." + +"No, never! Miss Strickland," replied Amy quickly; "you wrong me, I +never could do so; pity you I certainly should; but triumph in your +sorrow! Never! your suspicion is unjust, you wrong me, you do indeed!" + +"And what if I do wrong you? there is no great harm in that. But I do +not judge you harshly; I know you well enough; I know you will glory in +being able to say you have supplanted proud Frances Strickland." + +"Again let me assure you such will never be the case; from my heart I +pity, will keep with you, if you will let me, and if he cares not for +you, strive to lead your thoughts from him, and help you to conquer your +love and learn if possible that there are other things to strive for +besides his love, things that ought never to be lost sight of." + +"And pray what may these wonderful things be?" asked she sarcastically. + +"Your own self-respect, and the esteem of those around you." + +"Self-respect! Esteem! Am I a child that you pretend to teach me? Did I +think myself deficient in morals I should not come to Miss Neville to +learn them." + +"I do not pretend to teach you, Miss Strickland, neither do I wish to +intrude my advice where I see it is not wanted." + +"You do well. I want neither advice nor assistance from any one. My mind +is fully made up how to act, I will enter heart and soul into it, and it +will be strange if I do not succeed; so you had best, of all my +_friends_," and Frances dwelt contemptuously on the last word, "wish me +success." + +"I am in total ignorance as to what your plans are; and therefore am not +able to give any opinion on the subject." + +"I shall be delighted to unravel them: it is but fair we should start +together in the race we are to run." + +"You are mistaken, Miss Strickland. There is no race to run. I shall +never strive to win the love of one who cares not for me; besides I want +it not. Mr. Charles Linchmore is,--can never be, anything to me; we are +friends; nothing more; you have deceived yourself in imagining +otherwise. I will never wilfully or deliberately deviate from the path +of duty my conscience points out as the right and safe one to follow." + +"Neither do I intend to; my conscience tells me Charles once cared for +me; he cannot have forgotten me, have ceased to love me altogether; his +love is only estranged for a time, not alienated for ever." + +"I trust it may be so, and that if he ever cared for you--" + +"Ever cared for me?" exclaimed Frances, "I tell you he loved me. Yes," +added she passionately, "and his love shall return. Oh! I will enter +heart and soul into it, he must--nay shall love me again. That you, meek +and passionless as you are, love him, I wonder not; but that he should +return your love? it must not! shall not! cannot be! I will move heaven +and earth to aid me; I will humble my pride, sacrifice my ambition, all! +all! I will suffer degradation, poverty, such as you complain of, all +for him; and when at last he finds out, as he must, how I have loved +him, knows all my heart's devotion, all its deep tenderness; I feel and +know he will love me again as of old, as I know he once did. It cannot +be that I should be doomed to a life of misery, without one bright ray +to cheer the darkness of my lot, one bright spot to lighten my days." + +"It is a sad life," replied Amy, "the one you have pictured, and the +only one I have to look forward to." + +"You!" cried Frances in the same passionate tone, "you! what matters it? +Your love is but a child's love, your love is but a name. Oh, would," +and she clasped her hands eagerly together, "would I could tell +him--would he could know the value of the heart he rejects--what deep +earnest love burns there for him. And he will know it, he shall know +that the heart of proud Frances Strickland is all his own; then he will, +he must, despise the love of such a weak, simple girl." + +"I love him not," replied Amy, while her face and even neck crimsoned +with the words. + +"Talk not to me!" replied Frances, wildly. "I tell you it shall be so; +the day shall come when he shall spurn you from him, cast away your +love--scorn it--trample upon it. I tell you his love shall be mine, +wholly, entirely mine, and none other's. You shall never be his. You +think, perhaps, that the means to attain this end will be difficult and +impossible. I tell you if there be means on earth to accomplish it--it +shall be done. I will thwart all your fine plans; when you think +yourself most secure, I will step in like a dark cloud, and hang about +your path, hurling all your fond schemes to the ground. If he is not +mine, he shall be no other's. Go! leave me." + +"No, Frances Strickland, I will not, cannot leave you with such hot, +revengeful feelings warring in your heart. I would have you think +otherwise than what you do before I go. You are speaking in haste and +passion and are scarcely aware of what you are saying. When the present +feelings which now agitate you pass away, cooler moments will succeed; +you will then be sorry I am gone, and that you cannot recall what you +have said." + +"Never! never!" cried Frances angrily and vehemently. "I will do as I +have said, I will enter heart and soul into it, and since you have dared +to love him, so I will ruin you if I can in his eyes." + +"Shame on you, Miss Strickland, for so far forgetting your womanly +feelings as to seek to injure one who has never intentionally done you +harm. Shame on you for encouraging such revengeful feelings and badness +of heart; for striving to render another as unhappy as you are yourself. +All womankind, if they knew it, would think ill of you, and hold you in +utter contempt. As for me, I scorn your words--your acts--and care +little for the premeditated evil you threaten me with. Yes, I the poor +dependant, separated from home,--mother,--friends, with none to help and +befriend me, save One who has said He will be a father to the +fatherless. Strong in his strength, and confident in my own purity of +heart, I reject your words--your threats--with scorn, and pity you!" + +How beautiful Amy looked, as for a moment she stood confronting Frances +with all the strong emotions she felt flashing in her soft eyes, and +chasing one another by turns over her face. + +If a look could have turned Frances Strickland from her purpose, surely +she would there and then have repented; but there was no sign of +wavering, no pitying expression in her eyes, and turning away without +another word, Amy left the room. + +As the door closed upon her, the revengeful, unpitying expression died +away from Frances' face, and burying her face in the soft crimson +cushions of the chair, she wept, as only women can weep, +passionately--convulsively. + +After a while, she slowly raised herself and while sobs shook her frame, +murmured with difficulty. + +"Is it possible that I can have lost his love? Has he indeed taken it +from me and given it to that girl? My God! that I should have lived to +see it. Was ever anguish equal to mine? A drowning man catching at a +straw is an enviable fate compared to mine; for I have not a straw even +to lay hold of. To think that I should live to see myself deserted--cast +aside without a thought. Oh! if I could only cast him off as easily, and +revenge myself by weaning her love--for I know she must love him--poor +and pitiful as it is, from him; so that he might feel some of the woe I +suffer. If I could only do that. But no, I cannot--I cannot; I must love +him." + +Again she wept bitter, passionate tears, then went on despairingly. + +"I cannot have been deceived; surely he did love me? I cannot have +fancied it; oh! no, no; I am sure he loved me until he saw her. Oh! why +did he ever see her? Why did they ever meet? And why was I so angry and +proud with him when I found them talking together?" + +She stopped again. Then went on bitterly and gloomily, while she clasped +her hands tightly together over her bosom as if to check the tumult +within, and stifle the sobs that shook her. + +"I was proud--too proud. Yes it must be so,--he often said I was proud, +but he shall say so no longer; to him at least, I will be a different +being. Even if he never loved me, I will make him love me now--I will be +all softness, gentleness, without a sign of the burning passions I feel. +But should he speak of her?" and Frances tossed back her hair from her +forehead impatiently, "yes, even then I will smother all pride, all +angry feeling. I will win him yet, if he is to be won; no obstacle shall +stop me. He shall learn to think me warm-hearted and generous, though to +others I still seem cold and proud. Yes, I will rouse myself; I will no +longer despond. I will cast aside all doubts and dismal forebodings. I +will triumph over her yet, and trample her under foot; I wonder I could +be so foolish as to weep," and, hurriedly rising, she bathed her eyes, +so as to efface all trace of the emotion she had undergone, and then +once more summoned Jane to her presence. + +And Amy? + +She went at once to her own room, sad and heavy at heart, and pondered +long and deeply on all that Frances had said, and dreaded to think what +might be the end of her plots and machinations. She foresaw she would +leave no stone unturned to gain her end; and what might she not urge, +what stories invent? Her hope,--all hope of softening Frances' heart and +exonerating herself from blame, had failed utterly. The interview from +which she had hoped so much had done harm, and evidently roused angry, +jealous feelings, which Amy would believe and persuade herself there was +no foundation for. She would not allow, for a moment, that Charles +Linchmore had a thought for her, and as to loving her, that could not +be. Amy even felt vexed and angry, and indignant with Frances, for so +insisting upon it. She wondered what Frances would tell him, when next +they met; and could not help feeling an undefinable dread--a sensation +of coming evil. Suppose she should tell him that, though unsought, Amy's +love was his, the bare supposition of what he would think brought tears +into her eyes, but she hastily brushed them away, for Amy was not one to +give way to needless sorrow, and tried to smile and think how foolish it +was to weep, when there was yet no cause for it. + +Yet, as she arrived at this conclusion, Frances' evident dislike to her, +combined with her passionate, revengeful temper rose up before her; and +what might they not lead her to do; "and he," murmured Amy mournfully, +"does not know half she is capable of, and will believe anything she +says of me. How I wish we had never met! How I wish she had never loved +him!" + +Poor Amy! she scarce knew what she wished, or what to think. One moment +she was confident, at another she doubted, and trembled she scarce knew +why. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +DOUBTS AND FEARS. + + "Why so pale and wan, fond lover? + Prithee, why so pale? + Will, when looking well can't move her, + Looking ill prevail? + Prithee, why so pale? + + Why so dull and mute, young sinner? + Prithee, why so mute? + Will, when speaking well can't win her, + Saying nothing do 't? + Prithee, why so mute?" + + SUCKLING. + + +"The wrist is better," was Dr. Bernard's next report of Amy; "but Miss +Neville is ill and feverish, and must be kept perfectly quiet." + +So there were no more lessons for some days; while Julia installed +herself by Amy's bedside as head nurse, aided by Mary; and sometimes +Mrs. Hopkins came, bringing a jelly or some nicety she had prepared +with her own hands to please the invalid; Amy, therefore, was not dull, +with so many friends to cheer and take care of her. + +During these days Charles was restless and unhappy; was it not partly +his fault she was ill? How he accused himself of being the author of all +the mischief that had accrued from the simple fact of having allowed her +to have her own way, when he might have so easily prevented it; nor was +he in any way consoled when Julia said to him, "Well, you must confess, +Miss Neville has nerve now, and is not afraid of her own shadow; for I +have never heard her once complain of pain; she bears it like a martyr." + +How he envied Dr. Bernard his privilege of seeing and speaking to Amy, +and would have waylaid him at every visit if he had only dared. To ask +news of his patient would betray too evident an interest in her welfare; +so although Charles saw him come and go every day, yet he was obliged to +wait patiently, sometimes for hours, until he could catch sight of +Anne. Anne, who kept out of his way as much as she could, who had +determined on having nothing to do in the matter, now found herself +dragged into his confidence, whether she would or no. How she regretted +the curiosity that had induced her to join him that day in the corridor; +if it had not been for that she would had been free now, and not +troubled with the knowledge of the fact that he had certainly fallen in +love irretrievably with his sister-in-law's governess; but then he +looked so miserable and unhappy, Anne could not help pitying him, she +was too kind-hearted not to do that. So every day she gave him news of +Amy, and consoled herself with thinking things had gone too far for any +interference of hers to do any good; but, at the same time, she would be +the bearer of no kind messages, no books, no flowers; and Charles often +flew into a rage, and they parted bad friends in consequence, only to +find him awaiting her the next day as anxiously as before. + +Anne wondered sometimes how it would all end, and whether Amy loved him +or no, and whether Frances guessed how things were going on. Anne did +not like Frances, and had often felt sorry at Charles's seeming +partiality for her, and thought how unsuited they were to make each +other happy; and yet only last year everyone had looked forward to an +engagement between them as almost a settled thing. How devoted he had +been; but then perhaps he had found out what a temper Frances had, so +proud and jealous--so imperious a will. Men did not like that, so she +concluded that during the few months that had intervened, he had thought +better of it and changed his mind. Besides, they were cousins, so there +was an excuse for his paying her more attention than he would have done +had there been no relationship between them. + +Amy's illness was more of mind than body; she heard old kind Dr. Bernard +say so, and knew it well herself, and tried hard and earnestly to rouse +and be herself again, but all to no purpose; it would not do. She had +worried and fretted, and thought, and allowed her mind to dwell too much +on the eventful interview she had had with Frances, to shake off so +easily the weight that was pressing on her mind, and sinking her +spirits. Julia was kindness itself, and did all she could to comfort and +cheer her, but then she knew nothing of Frances' unkind suspicions and +unjust opinions, or of the fear Amy felt lest she should tell Charles +what she so erroneously and determinately adhered to, namely, that her +love was his, although unsought, unasked, and unwished for. + +It was this fear kept Amy ill. If she could only have unburthened her +mind to Julia and told her that! But she could not, and so she lay +quiet, very quiet, and did all they wished her to do, those kind nurses; +but still she did not get well, and it was nearly a fortnight before Dr. +Bernard pronounced her better, and in a fair way of recovery. + +Then, as she grew convalescent, she dreaded the idea of meeting Charles +Linchmore again, lest he should have heard and believed Frances. How she +wished his leave had expired and he were gone, so that she might never +see him again, never hear of him, and she blushed painfully one day when +Anne happened to mention his name, to the no small astonishment of the +sharp-sighted Anne, who noted it at once, and drew her own conclusions +therefrom. + +In the meantime Frances had not been idle. Determined on gaining her +end, she went cunningly and cautiously to work, and while Amy was ill +the field was all her own. + +First, she must find out how much of Charles's heart had been given to +Amy; so, controlling her feelings by a strong effort of will, which made +her appear a little colder than she really was, and was worthy of a +better cause, she led him to talk of Amy, and wept afresh at each new +proof he gave of how much he thought of and cared for her. Still she did +not, would not despair. Like all the Linchmores, Charles was proud. If +she could only touch that; only rouse a jealous feeling within him, the +battle would be won. + +How well she remembered his hasty exit from the school-room and the +angry, jealous expression of his face. Was it not that that had first +led her to think he cared for another, and that his love was lost to +her, or nearly so? + +All the fears Amy was suffering and tormenting herself with were +groundless. Not for worlds would Frances have allowed Charles to think +Amy cared for him, or returned his love. No, that would take him from +her for ever, and oh! the anguish that thought cost her. So while Amy +was fidgeting and worrying herself, Frances was trying all in her power +to lead Charles to think that Amy's heart was Mr. Vavasour's, and as Amy +grew better, and able to resume studies again, so Charles became more +depressed and irritable, and more unlike his former self than ever. + +Amy no longer passed her evenings upstairs alone, but came down into +the drawing-room. Mr. Linchmore would have it so. Dr. Bernard had said +her illness was principally caused by anxiety of mind, and Miss Tremlow +had hinted her fears that the governess was too much alone for one so +young, so he mildly but gently insisted upon it, overruling Amy's +scruples and his own. + +This great change in her life at Brampton was viewed very differently by +those most interested in her. Frances hated it, as bringing her and +Charles on more intimate terms of friendship, and he himself hated it, +as giving Vavasour an opportunity of paying her more attention than +before. + +Robert Vavasour was the only one pleased with the arrangement. Knowing +nothing, suspecting nothing, of what was passing around him, he was glad +to see her, and sat down by her and told her so the very first evening +she came down, much to Charles's intense disgust, who kept sullenly +aloof, in a wretchedly bad temper, which not even his cigar or Bob could +dissipate or soothe, although he angrily left the room and had recourse +to both; but neither had any good effect, his mind was too thoroughly +engrossed with the governess. + +Another consequence of Amy's evenings being spent downstairs was that +she had little time for writing home. Often instead of the four +closely-written crossed sheets of paper, only one found its way into the +envelope, and that one sometimes scarcely filled, and hastily written. +But Mrs. Neville never complained; she fully believed that as Amy said, +so it was; not the will but the time was wanting. + +Sometimes there was dancing of an evening, and then Amy was expected to +contribute her share to the evening's amusement by playing the piano for +the dancers, who never seemed to tire. Sometimes her head ached sadly, +and her fingers grew quite stiff, and she stumbled dreadfully over the +notes, but no one heeded it, or seemed to mind it, and she played on +until relieved by Julia or Anne, who soon learned to guess the true +reason of the false notes. + +The tight fitting black dress and little plain collar, that had often +annoyed Anne, were now laid aside in the evening for a plain white +muslin, made high, without ornament or ribbon of any kind, confined at +the waist by a broad band. It was simple, but suited her well; and many +a proud beauty, conscious of her own loveliness, would have fallen into +the shade beside the governess in her plain white muslin. + +There was a dignity as well as beauty in Amy: the one attracted, the +other commanded the respect of everyone. There was something truly +feminine about her--grace in every movement, sweetness in every smile, +sad as her smiles were now; and her manner was so devoid of affectation, +yet so soft and winning, what wonder that she was loved by some, and +hated as a dangerous rival by others. + +Amy sat at a small table writing home, her head bent gracefully forward, +and her fair fingers guiding the pen rapidly over the paper, as she +added a few lines to the hastily-written note begun that morning. Her +hair--it looked almost golden by the fire-light--was plainly braided, +though the brush had scarcely been able to smooth the waving luxuriant +masses--and wound simply round a comb at the back of her small +head--'Madonna-wise,' as Charles had once said. + +Her naturally fair complexion--so fair, that it almost rivalled the +clear white muslin dress--was set off by a slight colour which tinged +her cheeks, caused, perhaps, by the eagerness with which she wrote; for +Amy knew full well, that the dinner over, she would have to go below, +with no chance of finishing her letter that night, for the morrow's +early post. + +But now her task is done; a pleasant task for her, so filled as her +heart is with love for her fond and anxious mother. A few tears +glistened in her eyes, as she sealed and directed the letter, and, "I +wish dear Mamma would write to me," fell scarcely audible from her +lips. + +It was nearly a month since Mrs. Neville had written; not once during +all the time of Amy's illness; but then she knew nothing of that, Amy +never mentioned it; it would have made her mother too anxious and +unhappy. + +How slowly the days crept by! and how anxiously every morning Amy looked +forward to the afternoon, when the postman made his appearance at the +park; yet each day she was disappointed, Mrs. Neville did not write. + +Mrs. Elrington wrote constantly, at her friend's earnest request and +wish, so she said. But did this satisfy Amy? No; she longed once again +to see her dear parent's handwriting; she felt an aching void at the +heart; and was most anxious and nervous, fearing she knew not what, +whilst a thousand wild suggestions filled her brain, and sad thoughts +trembled in her heart. + +Amy's desk was scarcely shut ere Mrs. Hopkins came in. She hesitated +half-way between the door and the table, uncertain whether to advance or +not, but Amy's voice soon assured her. + +"Come in, Nurse," said she, "and sit down. I am not busy; I have been +writing, but my letter is finished, so I am quite ready to talk to you, +which will be far pleasanter to me than sitting alone." + +"Thank you, Miss; it is so long since I had a talk with you--not since +your illness; I hope you are feeling well and strong again?" + +"Quite, thank you; I am entirely out of the doctor's hands now, and hope +I shall not want him again for a long time. How are you and Mason +getting on? more amicably, I hope?" + +"No, I can't say we are; her head is filled with French nonsense. It was +a thousand pities Madam ever took her to France, she has never been the +same woman since--such airs and graces; such bends and courtesies! such +twistings of her body! and as for her waist, why it's just half the size +it was; I wonder she doesn't burst sometimes--I'm sure her face looks +red enough, and all through being squeezed so tight; but there, it's no +business of mine, I only wonder Madam puts up with it. + +"Then as to master," continued Mrs. Hopkins, "I never did see a +gentleman so altered as he is. I thought the staying at Brampton, and +having company here, would have enlivened him; but Lord bless you, Miss, +he is worse a great deal. He always was grave, like; but then he'd a +pleasant smile and good word for everybody in the house; but now--" +Nurse sighed, stroked and doubled up the corner of her apron, and looked +thoughtful. + +"And now?" asked Amy, enquiringly. + +"Now, Miss, he's quite altered, quite changed--melancholy, like. 'Tis +true he says, 'Good morning, Mrs. Hopkins;' but that's all. The butler +tells me he seldom smiles with the company; but sits and talks like a +gentleman absent in his mind." + +"You surely must be mistaken, Nurse," said Amy, thoughtfully, "I see no +difference." + +"Very likely not, Miss; but we servants see it. There's scarce anything +ever goes on amiss in a house that servants don't notice it. I don't +pretend to know why master's changed; but certain as I am sitting here, +he is changed. May-be he has something on his mind. How different his +father was. God rest his soul, poor old gentleman." + +"Was his father much liked? was he popular at Brampton? for all seem to +respect and love the present Mr. Linchmore." + +"He never lived long enough down here for people to know enough about +him to like him. He wasn't over and above fond of his lady, nor of her +doings neither--so I've heard my mother say. He was, by all accounts, a +very wild gentleman in his youth." + +"And old Mrs. Linchmore, his wife. Why was he not fond of her?" + +"She was a fearful woman!" replied Mrs. Hopkins, drawing her chair +nearer Amy's; "very handsome in her youth. Mr. Linchmore married her +for her beauty, and sorry enough he was for it afterwards. That's her +picture hangs over the chimney-piece in the dining room, and a beautiful +face it has; only too proud and stormy, like, to my mind." + +"Did you ever see her?" + +"Yes, Miss. I mind her just before she died. Six months before that +happened, the housekeeper, who was a friend of my mother's, got me the +under housemaid's place here. I seem to see the lady now, tall and +straight as a needle, with such a stately step and proud look; her eyes +bright, black, and piercing as a hawk's, although she was gone forty and +more. I used to tremble whenever she looked at me, and many's the time +I've run for the life of me down the long gallery to get out of her way. +Oh! she was a fearful lady!" + +"How so?" inquired Amy, hoping to gain some intelligence as to why her +room was so pertinaciously kept closed. + +"They say, Miss," replied Nurse, glancing uneasily about her, "that the +house was haunted when she was alive. I can't say as ever I saw +anything; but I believe it all the same, and so did my fellow-servants, +though it was never whispered between us; certainly she was no good +christian any more than Tabitha, her maid, who had lived with her ever +since she was a girl, and knew all her secrets; and would be muttering +to herself all day long. This was a strange house then, and I don't +wonder the villagers were 'frighted to come near it." + +"Why so? surely a woman could do them no harm?" + +"Well, Miss, they said she could, and did do a deal of harm to them she +didn't like; and then there was that bad story they had about her +husband's cousin." + +"What was that, Nurse?" + +"I can't scarce tell you all the rights of it, Miss, only what I've +heard people say, as you see it happened afore my time; but 'twas all +about a cousin of her husband's, who had been adopted by his mother. My +old mistress was fearful jealous of her, as well she might be if all +accounts was true about her gentle, loving ways. But there, they didn't +save her from being suspected by Mrs. Linchmore of carrying on at a +shameful, scandalous rate with her husband, Mr. Linchmore. Poor young +lady! She disappeared one night, and 'twas given out that she had fled +from the Park to hide her shame. But there, people ain't blind; and then +she never came back again, and so the villagers whispered 'twas a darker +deed than that took her away so sudden." + +"But what did Mrs. Linchmore's husband say?" + +"He and his wife had fine words about it, Miss, and he went off soon +after and left her for good. But there worse than that happened; for his +poor mother, her as adopted Miss Mary--that was the poor young lady's +name, Miss--broke her heart about it all, and died. She was a nice, good +old lady, and very fond of Miss Mary, and on her death-bed she told my +mother she died believing the young lady innocent; and no one was ever +to believe anything else until they saw Miss Mary again, and then all +wou'd come right, and everybody hear the truth. But there, we never did +hear the truth, for we never saw Miss Mary again; so it was just as well +the old lady was took when she was, and went so happy and peaceful." + +"But her daughter-in-law, your old mistress, what became of her? I think +she died suddenly, did she not?" + +"Very, Miss Neville. She would have no one but Tabitha to wait on her +when she was ill; but none of us cared much about that; and they used to +abuse one another terrible sometimes. It was a long time before she'd +see the doctor, and then she wouldn't take his medicine; we found all +the bottles ranged like a regiment of soldiers in the cupboard after she +died--not even the corks out of them, or a drop of medicine taken. When +she got worse she wouldn't lay in the bed, but had the mattress moved +off on to the floor. She died that very night quite sudden, for none of +us thought her so bad as that, not even the doctor; but there, he was +quite a young man, and I mind well his coming in the morning. She hadn't +been so well the evening before, so he came quite early, as I was +cleaning down the hall. I went upstairs with him, and knocked twice at +my mistress's door, but nobody answered; so the doctor opened it, and +went in, and I followed, terribly frightened, but so curious like, I +couldn't keep back anyhow." + +Nurse paused, and then sunk her voice almost to a whisper as she went +on, + +"Oh! what a terrible sight we saw. My mistress was quite dead; one of +her hands clutching the bed clothes, the other thrown above her head, +and closed so tight, it looked as though the nails were buried in the +flesh. Her eyes were wide open, and a frightful look her face had, as +though she had died in torments.--She was an awful corpse;" and Nurse +shuddered, and her hands trembled as she stirred up the fire. + +"But where was Tabitha? How was it she had not called for anyone?" + +"She was lying by the side of the bed on the floor, and at first I +thought she was dead, too; but she came to life again when we carried +her into the open air, and a scared look she had when she opened her +eyes; but it was weeks before she got well again, and then she left, and +none of us felt sorry, I can tell you." + +"Did she give you no account of the lady's death?" + +"The doctors said she died in a fit, but we all knew her end was +something awful, for one of the maids who had been put to sleep in a +room near, in case she might be wanted, told us she heard in the dead of +the night an awful noise in Mrs. Linchmore's room--it woke her; and then +a loud talking; as if my mistress was angry about something, and +presently a loud scream and laughter; and then she was so frightened she +dropped off insensible, like, and didn't come to herself until she +heard us all astir with Tabitha in the morning." + +"Where was Mr. Linchmore?" + +"He was away abroad somewhere with his two little boys; and didn't get +here till three or four days after her death. We all thought he would +shut up the house and go abroad to foreign parts again, as he had done +for years past; but no, he had it all fresh painted and papered; all +except his wife's two rooms,--there's a dressing-room adjoining, but +only the one door for the two--he never went near them again I believe, +but can't say for certain, as I married and left the place. My mistress +was buried in great state, ever so many carriages and grand folks,--some +of them from London,--and a mighty lot of beautiful feathers nodding and +bobbing over the hearse; but for all that we wern't sorry to lose her, +we all feared her, and though a crowd assembled in the churchyard, 'twas +out of curiosity, many of the villagers never having seen such a grand +funeral before; there wasn't, so I heard my old man say, a wet eye +amongst them, not even the master's, and as for the company of mourners, +Lor' bless you, Miss, they laughed and joked over their luncheon +afterwards as though they had been to a wedding." + +"Has Mrs. Linchmore's room never been occupied since her death?" + +"Never, Miss, that I know of. I don't think my old master ever went into +it again; my present master don't seem to love it neither, and as for +Madam, she says it's the worst room in the house; all old fashioned and +gloomy." + +"I should like to see the room some day, Nurse, will you show it to me?" + +"I, Miss? I wouldn't go into it for any money. John at the lodge says +he's seen a queer sort of light there lately; bright and blue, like. +Half the maids in the house are talking about it; and go about in +couples to turn the beds down. But he only saw it once, and then for +only half a minute, so perhaps it was his fancy." + +"Is the door kept locked?" + +"I shouldn't like to go to sleep if it wasn't. Yes, Miss, the key's kept +down in my room below. I couldn't bide comfortable in bed with it in my +room above stairs, at night. No, I was mortal afraid of the old lady +when she was alive, and couldn't face her dead anyhow, and she such an +awful corpse too." + +Just at this moment Anne, who had entered the room unperceived, clapped +her hands. Nurse nearly dropped off her chair with fright; even Amy was +startled. + +"Now, that serves you right!" exclaimed the intruder, "for talking about +such horrible things. Mrs. Hopkins, let me put your cap straight; now +don't tremble so, and shake your head, or I shall put it on awry,--there +that will do; and now come away, Miss Neville; who would have believed +you were so superstitious? Imagine Miss Tremlow's astonishment when she +hears it. 'Miss Bennet,' said she, just now, 'if you are going upstairs +do let Miss Neville come down with you; and open the door +_ve--ry--gent--ly_, as I dare say she is busy writing home.' Instead of +which my gentleness nearly frightened you into fits, and instead of +writing you are listening to all kinds of horrors." + +"What a mad young lady she is," soliloquised Mrs. Hopkins, as the two +girls left the room together, "I declare for the moment I thought it was +my old mistress herself; she used to clap her hands just that way when +she was vexed. I'll go below, it's lonely here now Miss Neville's gone. +She's a sweet young lady and deserves a better husband than that Mr. +Vavasour, who John says is hankering after her, and makes eyes when +Madam isn't looking. There's no good in a man as keeps company with two +young women at once, and one of them married too, he ought to be ashamed +of himself; but there, I suppose it's only what the gentry call +flirting. Ah! well, for my part I don't like it; and how Miss Neville's +mother would vex if she knew it. I musn't forget her letter neither, +but'll put it with the rest for the post; and that reminds me I never +gave her the one that came for her this afternoon, but I'll lay it on +her dressing table, she'll be sure to see it when she goes to bed. Poor +dear! I suppose she'll be kept up pianning it till her fingers are most +ready to drop off." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE WARNING. + + "Oh! life is like the summer rill, where weary daylight dies; + We long for morn to rise again, and blush along the skies; + For dull and dark that stream appears, whose waters in the day, + All glad, in conscious sunniness, went dancing on their way. + But when the glorious sun hath 'woke, and looked upon the earth, + And over hill and dale there float the sounds of human mirth; + We sigh to see day hath not brought its perfect light to all, + For with the sunshine on those waves, the silent shadows fall." + + CAROLINE NORTON. + + +Frances Strickland was seated at the piano, singing, when Anne and Amy +entered the drawing-room. + +"I wonder who asked or persuaded her to sing, for she always requires an +immense amount of pressing. However, so much the better for you, as she +will, I doubt not, remain perched on the music-stool half the night," +said Anne. + +Amy sat down in her usual place, near the window, so as to be almost +hidden by the heavy drapery of the curtain, and mechanically her eyes +wandered in search of Mr. Linchmore, as her thoughts dwelt on Mrs. +Hopkin's words, "Master has something on his mind." + +Was it so? Was it possible? and if so, why was he unhappy? Young and +inexperienced in the ways of the world, Amy had no suspicion of the real +cause of Mr. Linchmore's sadness; in fact, as she told Mrs. Hopkins, she +had not remarked it. Why should he be changed? What should he be sad +about? + +Often, in after days, Amy wished she had never found out the dreadful +cause of this alteration. + +Mr. Linchmore held a book in his hand, but his eyes had wandered from +its pages. Amy followed their direction. + +At the farthest end of the room sat Mrs. Linchmore, and by her side Mr. +Strickland. Listlessly she sat, and listlessly she appeared to be +listening to her companion's words, although he seemed to be exerting +himself in an unusual manner to please her, not a yawn, or symptom of +fatigue about him. They seemed to have changed places, the weariness all +on her part; she was evidently inattentive and absent. + +Robert Vavasour leant against the back of the sofa on which she sat; +like Mr. Linchmore, he held a book in his hand. Was he reading it? No. +Impossible! the leaves were turned over carelessly, and at random, two +or three together, not one by one. + +A little farther off sat Anne, laughing and chatting merrily with Mr. +Hall, while he was bending low, and speaking, in a soft, subdued voice, +such things as only those who love know how to speak--Anne looking pert, +and trying to appear indifferent to his words. + +"He loves her!" thought Amy, as she watched them, "and she? yes, I think +she does, or will love him too. How happy she looks, not a cloud to +darken her bright path; everything is smooth for her, and appears in +gay, golden colours. Happy Anne! May the light that sparkles in your +eyes never be quenched, nor your merry laugh be chased away by the sad, +sorrowful look that tells of the heart's best hopes faded away, and +bright days gone never to return." + +Again Amy looked towards Mrs. Linchmore. Robert Vavasour had taken the +vacant seat by her side. Alfred Strickland was gone. + +How different she appeared! No longer listless or inattentive, her face +was brightened by smiles. She was all animation, talking and laughing +almost as merrily as Anne. + +How sad it is to see those we love smiling on others as they never smile +on us, or whilst our hearts are overcharged with sorrow and heaviness, +theirs are careless and unconcerned, insensible to our misery, if not +even mocking our anguish. Then it is that in bitterness of heart we +could lie down and die, or at least weep drops of agony, to think that +our love could be so lightly valued, or we ourselves so neglected and +forsaken. + +Mrs. Linchmore knew her husband's eyes were watching her, knew, too, +partly the agony of his heart, yet she trifled on, caring little for the +feelings of him whose slightest wish she should have studied to please, +and striven to obey. + +Mr. Linchmore closed his book. It accidentally fell to the ground. His +wife,--whose attention had been seemingly engrossed by Robert Vavasour, +nevertheless watched her husband uneasily. When would his patience be +exhausted? When would his pride take the alarm? Now! thought she, as she +started at the slight noise the book made as it reached the ground. +Calling to remembrance her husband's previous suspicions, she asked Mr. +Vavasour to beg Miss Neville to play for a dance. + +He was at Amy's side as Mr. Linchmore rose from his chair. Very stiffly +she received him. + +"Does Miss Neville intend retiring from observation all night? It was +with some difficulty I found her out in this out of the way corner." + +"This is my usual seat when I am not required to play. I should have +thought Mr. Vavasour had seen me here too often to have searched for me +elsewhere." + +"You are right, I did not look for you elsewhere. What I meant to say +was, that I wished you would take a seat somewhere, where one might +catch a glimpse of you, instead of beneath the shade of this detestable +window curtain. Have I got into a scrape by so wishing?" + +"Certainly not," replied Amy. + +"You think too little of self, Miss Neville. Look at Miss Strickland, +who always plants herself in the most prominent position, so that no one +can fail remarking her the moment they set foot into a room." + +"Do you not think it is rather her beauty strikes the eye of a +stranger?" + +"It may be so. I do not admire her." + +"Not admire her?" exclaimed Amy, "I must condemn your bad taste, surely +everyone must think her beautiful." + +"Because everyone thinks so, is that a reason why I should?" + +"No, but most men admire beauty. It seems so strange you should not." + +"I have the bad taste not to care about mere beauty such as Miss +Strickland's; she is too proud, and, if I mistake not, her temper is +none of the sweetest; no, I shall not choose my wife for her pretty +face." + +"Perhaps you seek a miracle of perfection, mind and face both." + +"No miracle, Miss Neville, for I have seen both." + +He looked at her so earnestly, that Amy felt confused, while Charles, +who savagely watched them at a distance, felt as surly as a bear, and as +miserable as he well could be. He could stand it no longer. + +"Miss Neville," said he approaching them, "Has Vavasour given you Mrs. +Linchmore's message?" + +"No. I quite forgot it," replied he, "It was something about dancing +wasn't it? but I for one don't care a rush about it." + +"Because you do not, is no reason why others should not," retorted +Charles, turning on his heel. + +"The next time a message is entrusted to Mr. Vavasour," said Amy rising, +"I hope he will not forget to deliver it. I will ask Mrs. Linchmore if +it is her wish I should play." + +"Stay, Miss Neville, I can answer the question She does--but--" + +"Thank you, I need no further commands," replied Amy proudly. + +As they left the recess, Alfred Strickland,--who sitting close by had +overheard almost every word,--turned lazily round on the sofa. + +"Well done for the schoolmistress!" muttered he, "by Jove! how she +snubbed Vavasour. That last was a settler!" + +Robert Vavasour leant over Amy as she arranged the music and commenced +playing. + +"You misjudge me, Miss Neville; but I hope a time will come when you +will think better of me." + +"I do not think badly of you," replied Amy as he turned away. + +"Thoroughly snubbed! old fellow, eh?" said Alfred Strickland, as +Vavasour passed the sofa where he still sat, "never mind, cheer up! and +better luck next time!" + +"Did you speak, sir?" exclaimed Vavasour fiercely. + +"No, no, nothing of any consequence. It's chilly, don't you find it so?" + +"Very," replied Robert, as he passed on. + +Had Mr. Linchmore, as Mrs. Hopkins said, anything on his mind, or was he +blind to all that was passing around him? Partly so; he had seen +Vavasour's flirtation with his wife with uneasiness and displeasure, +determined in his own mind to put a stop to it; but the scene suddenly +changed. Miss Neville appeared, and he immediately transferred his +attentions to her, or certainly a great part of them. + +For a short time Mr. Linchmore was puzzled, but ere long he set him down +as that most selfish of human beings, one who systematically storms a +woman's heart until it succumbs to him, and is all his own, when +gradually and quietly he releases himself from his victim, and leaves +her heart to break or recover as best it can. + +A female flirt is bad enough, but there are oftentimes excuses to be +made for her. She becomes so from the force of circumstances, from undue +admiration or a natural love of it; from some secret sorrow, or unhappy +home, made so by a husband's desertion, something there must be to urge +her on. + +But how many men glory in and boast of their conquests, and tell of the +many hearts they have broken. How sad is the idea of some young girl, +just entering life, made the sport of one of these. She surrenders her +truthful, guileless heart, in all its first strong love, to him who she +truly believes is all her young fancy ever pictured in her brightest +dreams--all that is good and noble. + +Too late she finds out her mistake, too late knows she has been +deceived, and her heart trifled with. She becomes in her turn a flirt, +and her heart hard and callous. The world is no longer in her eyes the +bright world it was, but a hollow, heartless pageant. + +Mr. Linchmore liked Amy. Should such be her fate? Should he sit quietly +by and see her heart thus sacrificed, her peace of mind so destroyed? +God forbid! If he had the power to prevent it; it should never be. So he +watched her and Mr. Vavasour narrowly, determined to warn her himself. + +The grand piano Amy played on was so placed as to command a view of the +dancers, as they flitted past her. Robert Vavasour, although he said he +cared not a rush for it, was flying along in a waltz with Mrs. +Linchmore. Somehow Amy did not like seeing him so soon with her again, +she felt sorry; and her eyes involuntarily sought Mr. Linchmore, but she +had not far to look, he was close beside her; and placed a chair as she +finished playing. + +"You must be tired, Miss Neville," he said kindly. + +"No; I am so accustomed to play, that I think the dancers would get +tired before I should." + +"My wife never tires." + +"How beautiful she looks to-night!" said Amy. + +Mrs. Linchmore was always well dressed; this evening, perhaps, more +simply than usual. A rich white silk dress, fitting her to perfection, +with a few scarlet roses in her hair and bosom. + +"She grows more beautiful every day," replied he, sorrowfully. "Are you +fond of gaiety, Miss Neville?" + +"Yes, I think so, or fancy I should be. I have seen little of it; but it +must be so pleasant to thoroughly enjoy oneself." + +"I doubt if very many feel it to be thorough enjoyment; even balls and +parties have their cares; but you would hardly think so to listen to the +talking and merriment around." + +Anne, at this moment, played a galop, and again Robert Vavasour whirled +past with his hostess. + +"Mr. Vavasour dances well," was all the remark Mr. Linchmore made. "You +appear well acquainted with him, Miss Neville. Is he an old +acquaintance?" + +"No. Oh, no!" replied Amy, hurriedly and confusedly. + +"He is a man who soon ingratiates himself with the fair sex. Of a proud, +reserved nature, a word from his lips is of more weight with them than +half the good deeds of a better man. He is a man who could humbug the +wisest, and flirt with the silliest; and without the slightest intention +of losing his own heart, or becoming entangled himself. He is not a +marrying man; and for that simple reason every girl will try to win his +heart; or will fall into the snare he sets, believing that she is the +chosen one, and that his iron will and heart has succumbed to her; and +be naturally proud of her supposed conquest, until she finds out her +mistake, as most assuredly she will." + +"I have warned her," thought Mr. Linchmore, as he left her, nor stayed +to see the effect of his words. + +While Amy inwardly murmured, "I shall never fall into the snare." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +MISGIVINGS. + + "Coquets, leave off affected arts, + Gay fowlers at a flock of hearts; + Woodcocks to shun your snares have skill, + You show so plain, you strive to kill. + In love the heartless catch the game, + And they scarce miss, who never aim." + + GREEN. + + +How often it happens that in realising our fondest hopes, we experience +not the happiness we expected. + +Each and all of us, at some unhappy period of our lives, have been led +to exclaim, "Ah! if this state of uncertainty were but at an end, this +suspense over. Let the worst come, we are prepared for it: it cannot +make us more miserable than we are." Yet fortified as we deem ourselves +against the worst, braced up as it were, and prepared for aught that may +happen; how feeble we are, at the very best, when the ruin, sickness, +death of those we love, or whatever sorrow it may be, overtakes us; how +often--always--unequal to bear the blow. Then we sigh for our former +state of uncertainty; it was bliss compared to our present grief, when, +fancying ourselves prepared for the worst, gentle hope filled our +hearts, and bade us look trustfully onwards for bright smiles, wreathed +with roses; where, alas! we found only tears beneath a crown of thorns. + + "Such is life; + The distant prospect always seems more fair; + And when attained, another still succeeds, + Far fairer than before,--yet compassed round + With the same dangers and the same dismay; + And we poor pilgrims in this dreary maze, + Still discontented, chase the fairy form + Of unsubstantial happiness, to find, + When life itself is sinking in the strife, + 'Tis but an airy bubble and a cheat." + +Thus it was with Amy Neville. She had been uneasy and unhappy at not +hearing from her mother; evil forebodings had filled her heart, and all +kinds of imaginary fancies her brain. She had sighed again and again but +for one short letter of explanation, clearing away her mother's +mysterious silence, and lifting the veil that seemed to hang so gloomily +and heavily between her and her home. + +It came. It had arrived the evening before. It was the letter Mrs. +Hopkins had forgotten to give her, and had placed on her dressing table, +and there Amy found it on retiring for the night. + +How eagerly she seized and perused its contents, read and re-read every +word of it, till her eyes ached and swam with tears, and she could no +longer trace the handwriting on the sheet of paper. Then wearily she +crept to bed, and placing the letter beneath her pillow, so as to be +able to read it again the first thing in the morning, fell into a +troubled sleep, with but one thought at her heart, and that one, that +her beloved parent had been ill,--very ill. + +The letter was from Mrs. Elrington, assuring her that although Mrs. +Neville had been seriously ill, all danger was over now, and the invalid +in a fair way of recovery; yet Amy, whose eyes were heavy with recent +tears and unrefreshing rest, could scarcely reconcile to herself that it +was so, and how her heart beat as she read an account of her mother's +sufferings. How gladly would she have watched by the sick bed, and +ministered to her relief. How gladly have shared with Mrs. Elrington in +the kind attentions and unremitting care she knew she had bestowed on +her good and gentle parent. + +Mrs. Elrington's letter was kindly and thoughtfully worded, well +calculated to soothe and tranquillise an anxious daughter's heart. + +Mrs. Neville, she said, had certainly been very ill, though not in any +immediate danger. It had been her express wish throughout that Amy +should not be told of her illness, as there was no necessity for her +incurring an expensive journey at such an inclement season of the year; +"and," continued Mrs. Elrington, "your mother rightly judged that had +you known she was ill, your anxiety would have been great if not allowed +to share in nursing her. Thank God, she is able to leave her room, and +now reclines on a sofa in the little parlour, and is gradually regaining +her usual strength, though we must not expect her to become well all at +once; but I hope in a few weeks she will be able to occupy her usual +seat as of old, in the easy chair by the fire-side, which said chair +Sarah is very busy making a new chintz cover for, in readiness for the +invalid, and in honour of the day when she first sits up. So dear Amy," +concluded Mrs. Elrington, "you must keep up your spirits and your roses, +or your mother will outvie you in both when you see her again, and be +sure that I will send for you at once, should she not go on as well as +we could wish." + +And with this letter Amy was obliged to rest satisfied, though for many +days after that she grew nervous and restless as the hour for the post +drew near; and could scarcely control the impatient desire she felt to +walk half way down the road to Standale to meet the postman. Once she +did walk down. + +Though now approaching the end of January, it was quite like a November +day--foggy, with a thick drizzling rain falling, yet Amy heeded it not, +but walked quickly on, wrapped in a thick seal-skin cloak. She passed +through the village and reached the turnpike gate. Here at the cottage +door stood William Hodge. + +"A nasty damp day, Miss," said he, touching his hat civilly. + +"Yes," replied Amy, "quite a change from the cold, frosty, snowy weather +we have had." + +"We shall have more rain yet, I'm thinking." + +"I hope not. How are Mrs. Marks and her husband?" + +"Well. Very well, thank'ee, Miss." + +"Are they from home, that you have charge of the Gate?" asked Amy, +surprised at seeing a stranger. + +"Mrs. Marks is, Miss, and that's why I'm here. I'm keeping house with +her husband while she's away. Her mother's took very bad." + +"I am sorry to hear that; but I hope it is nothing serious?" + +"Well I don't expect anyhow she'll get over it, Miss, she ought to be +dead by this time, and if she isn't I can't bide here no longer, I must +be turning about home. Mrs. Marks promised fairly enough to bide only a +week, and it's near upon three by my calculations. She's going to bring +back a sister along with her, one that's dazed," and he tapped his +forehead with a knowing look. + +"A sad charge," replied Amy, "and one rather unsuited to Mrs. Marks." + +"I don't know that, Miss. Yer see neighbours think Jane wouldn't be so +bad if she worn't humoured, and she ain't likely to get much of that +down here. To my thinking Mrs. Marks is just the right sort to cure her; +she'd racket any poor body to their senses, if 'twas possible." + +"Has Mrs. Marks' sister always been in such a sad state?" + +"All as I can tell yer, Miss, is, she worn't born so, it's comed on her +since, and when I've said that I've said all I do know about it. Her +mother comed down years ago now to Deane,--that's my home, Miss,--with +three daughters. Mrs. Marks was one of 'em, she married off, and came +down here with her husband. Then t'other one she married too, but as for +Jane, she never had no chance of a husband, for who'd marry a 'dafty,' +Miss? They was pretty close people, and never wagged their tongues with +nobody, so nobody knew nothing at all about them nor where they comed +from; only folks make a guess at things somehow; and down at Deane they +thinks they comed from Stasson, a place none so far from this neither; +and more than that Miss, that Jane was the reason why they comed so +sudden and secret, like; but there, if they thought the sight of a new +place 'ould cure Jane they was mighty mistaken, for from that day to +this she've never been no good at all to them, and to my thinking never +will be." + +"It's a sad story, indeed," replied Amy. + +"You may depend upon it, Miss, if we knew the rights of it, it's a +_bad_, as well as a sad story, but there, I've no call to say so. For +certain, Miss, there's a something very strange and mysterious 'bout +Jane. Perhaps the Brampton folks'll turn out more cute than the Deane +ones, and find out what 'tis. It's on my mind, and has been scores of +times, that Jane's mortal afeard of summut or other." + +Amy smiled at Hodge's suspicions, and passed on. + +Marks did not make his appearance, fond of a gossip as he was, and of +saying good-morrow to everyone who passed through the 'pike. Probably +the "Brampton Arms" was too strong a temptation, and,--as Hodge had +predicted it would be,--he was taking his swing there while he could, +though three weeks was rather a long time to be intoxicated; but then +there was the better chance of his being sober when Mrs. Marks did +return, and he should begin to try the effect of the "charm." + +On Amy went. The road seemed quite deserted, not a soul to be seen, even +the donkeys which usually grazed along the hedges were nowhere. + +As Amy walked on her thoughts unconsciously wandered towards Jane and +the strange account Hodge had given of her, and anxious as she was about +her mother's letter, her mind was almost as much occupied now with Mrs. +Marks' sister. She and the letter seemed irretrievably mixed up together +in hopeless confusion. The fact was, Hodge had excited Amy's curiosity +without being able to satisfy it in the smallest degree, so she was +making innumerable conjectures at the truth, all more or less improbable +when they came to be analysed. _Would_ the Brampton people be more +clever than the Deane ones, and find out what seemed such a puzzle, and, +as Hodge said, mystery to everyone? There was Mrs. Taylor, the village +chatterbox, she surely would ferret it out, and what a wonderful tale +she would make of it. Amy thought she would call at her cottage some +day and broach the subject, and hear what she had to say about it. It +could do no harm to hear what the village gossip said of poor crazy Jane +and her sorrowful story. + +As she arrived at this conclusion, a horseman came in sight. It was +Charles Linchmore. He was almost close by ere he recognised her. Then he +drew rein. + +"Miss Neville!" he exclaimed, in surprise, "surely after your illness it +is hardly prudent for you to be out on so damp a day." + +"It will not harm me," replied Amy. + +"Are you going much further? You will find it very dirty walking. Would +it not be wiser to return home?" + +"No, I think not, as least not just yet; I am too anxious to remain at +home. The walk will do me good." + +"I doubt that last assertion very much. It can do no one good being out +in such weather," and dismounting, he walked by her side. + +"Why did you venture?" she asked. + +"I? Oh, nothing brings me to grief. I am a soldier, and ought to rough +it." + +"Are ladies in your opinion so fragile that a slight shower will wash +them away?" + +"This is not a slight shower, Miss Neville, but a nasty, misty rain, +that does a deal more damage than a heavy down-pour." + +"I do not agree with you. The one is certainly disagreeable, but the +other thoroughly drenches, and is more than disagreeable--it makes one +out of temper." + +"I have thought more than once that that latter assertion of yours is +with you an impossibility." + +"Ah! you were never more deceived. I am feeling vexed now," replied Amy. + +"Now?" returned Charles. + +"Yes. I have been terribly anxious all day, and it vexes me to hear +anyone say I should return home, when I have come out purposely to get +rid of my weariful thoughts. I know such a damp mist as this will never +harm me half as much as they would." + +Charles waited, hoping she would say more, but she did not, so he broke +the silence. + +"I have been to see Grant," he said. + +"I trust there has been no more fuss with the poachers?" + +"No," replied he carelessly, "but it seems they expect an attack +to-night, that is, they are going out in expectation of something of the +kind." + +"Of a fight with the poachers?" + +"Yes; they had scent of them last night, but did not come up with any. +To-night they hope for better luck, and Grant and a lot of the game +watchers are going in quest." + +"It seems to me such a sad way of risking one's life," said Amy. + +"Property must be protected, Miss Neville. None of these fellows going +out to-night go with the idea of losing their lives." + +"Perhaps not; but look at the fate of poor Susan's husband." + +"You mean the man who was shot? That is a bad spoke to put in the wheel +of your argument, as his sad end has only urged on those who are left to +annihilate such a set of ruffians. I have half made up my mind to join +in the night expedition." + +"You!" exclaimed Amy hastily, "pray do not think of such a thing," and +then fearing she had said too much--betrayed too deep an interest in his +welfare, added, "every one would think it foolish!" + +"Would you?" he asked. + +"I? oh yes! of course I should, and besides, every one would be so +anxious. What would Mrs. Linchmore say?" + +"My brother's wife's opinion is naught to me. Would _you_ be anxious, +Miss Neville?" + +"I shall be anxious for all those who put their lives in jeopardy +to-night," replied Amy, coldly, "And now as I see nothing of the +postman, I think I will turn back." + +"Are you expecting a very important letter?" asked he, harshly, his +jealousy creeping to the very tops of his fingers. Surely it must be +some one she cared very much about, to induce a walk in such weather. + +"My mother is ill," replied Amy. + +The words were simple enough, but he fancied they were spoken in a +reproachful tone; or otherwise his suspicions at an end, he was ready to +accuse himself. Disarmed at once, he was too generous not to make the +one atonement in his power. Springing on his horse, he exclaimed,-- + +"I will fetch the letter for you, Miss Neville," and was out of sight in +a moment. + +Amy turned, and retraced her steps homewards, thinking he would soon +overtake her, as it was past four o'clock, and the postman always +reached the Park by half-past, so that he must of necessity be some way +on his road when Charles would come up with him. But no, she walked on, +reached the turnpike, and next the village; and then she loitered, went +on slowly, and at length stopped and looked back. Still no signs of +him. + +She went on more slowly still, through the village, and at last, delay +as she would, reached the park gates; then an anxious, restless +expression came over her face, she began to feel nervous, as she always +did now when the chance of meeting or seeing Frances Strickland +presented itself, with ever that one fear at her heart, that she should +know or find out Charles Linchmore was doing her any act of kindness, +however simple, and in revenge, tell him what she suspected and accused +her of. + +Amy hesitated ere she entered the park. Should she retrace her steps? +She turned as if to do so, then the thought came across her, what if he +should think she wished him to walk home with her? Hurriedly she went +through the gate, and tried to shake off the fear she felt of being seen +with him, but the very speed she walked at now, showed she could not, +while, instead of walking up the long avenue, she struck across the +park. + +But all to no purpose, for just as she emerged again into the drive, +close to the house, a horse's hoofs rang out over the ground, and +Charles Linchmore came up with her, his horse bespattered with mud, as +though he had ridden hard and fast. + +"Here is your letter, Miss Neville," said he, "I almost feared I should +miss you, and that you would have reached home," and again he +dismounted, so that there was no chance of escape, or of hurrying on. + +"I am sorry you should have had so much trouble on my account, Mr. +Linchmore, thank you very much for my letter," and her eyes brightened, +as at length she recognized her mother's hand writing on the envelope. + +"I am fully repaid by seeing the pleasure the sight of the letter gives +you." + +"Yes, it is my mother's writing, so she must be better." + +"You would have had it sooner, but there had been some accident or delay +with the train, I did not stop to hear what. It had not arrived long +before I got there." + +"Had you to go all the way to Standale? How very kind of you!" + +"Not at all. It was just as well you turned back," and he pointed +smilingly at the muddy state of his boots. + +"I think it very kind indeed of you," replied Amy again, and then wished +she had never said it, because he looked so more than pleased. + +They were close to the house now; to the windows of which Amy dared not +raise her eyes, but hurriedly wished him "good-bye." + +"I will get your letters for you every day, Miss Neville," he said, as +he pressed her hand rather warmly in his. + +"No, no. Do not think of it for a moment," she said, and passed on. + +That evening, when Amy took her pupils down stairs, she found on +entering the drawing-room, all the ladies clustered around Mrs. +Linchmore. + +"Such a piece of work, Miss Neville," said Anne, advancing from the +circle, and going over to her, "here are all the men wild to go on a +poaching expedition--so fool-hardy, isn't it?" + +"What does Mr. Linchmore say to it?" + +"He's going too, I believe. It is all that abominable Charles's doing; +he came home with some fine story or another Grant had told him, and +sent all the rest mad. I call it downright folly." + +"I met Mr. Charles Linchmore this afternoon," replied Amy, "and he +mentioned his intention of going with Grant, but I thought little of it +then, as I fancied it would most likely fall to the ground when the time +for action came." + +"You were wrong, then. For the plan was seized on with avidity as soon +as proposed, but I am surprised at Mr. Linchmore, I did not for one +moment think he would have seconded it. As for Charles, any hairbreadth +danger pleases him. I do not believe he has ever been in a real fight, +so he thinks to try a mock one." + +"I hope it may simply prove such," replied Amy, "but the last was +anything but a mock fight; I do not think you were here at the time, but +I dare say you may have heard of it." + +"Yes, and it is just that that makes us all fearful; as to Frances, she +is just wild about it, I know, but to look in her face you would think +her a piece of adamant, for aught you can find written there. I wish +Charles would give it up; I think if we could only get him to throw cold +water on it, the rest would soon follow his example. Do you mind helping +me to try, Miss Neville?" asked Anne, knowing full well in her own heart +that Amy's voice would have its full weight with one of the gentlemen at +least. + +But Amy declined. She felt she dared not so brave Frances; and Anne, +after expressing her belief in her unkindness, left her. + +Frances' face did look like adamant, so still and set; and yet she was +feeling at her heart, more perhaps than any one there present in that +large room. Would her voice have any weight with Charles? Would he stay +behind if she asked him? While a chill fear crept over her as the +thought flew through her of what might happen if he went; might not his +fate be that of the man they had spoken of so recently? might he not be +brought home even as he was--lifeless--and she never see him more? and +then what would life be worth to her? As she watched him in the circle +round Mrs. Linchmore, laughing and joking, and turning the fears of +those near him into ridicule, she felt that now he was so near danger he +was nearer and dearer to her heart than he had ever been before. He +should not, must not go, if she could prevent it. + +Presently he moved away from the rest. She went and joined him. + +"Charles," she began, "are you really in earnest?" + +"About what, Frances?" + +"Determined on this expedition in spite of all opposition?" + +"Of course I am. What made you think otherwise?" + +"I thought you might have been persuaded to stay." + +"Then you thought wrong, cousin," said he, laughingly. + +"It is surely no laughing matter, when we are all so anxious." + +"It is that very circumstance makes me laugh. We must not show craven +hearts just because women cry and sob." + +"But we are not doing anything of the kind." + +"At heart some of you are." + +"I am not for one," replied she, indignantly annoyed that he should +suspect her. + +"Then why ask me to stay?" + +"Because you were the one who started the expedition; and if you say +nay, all the rest will." + +"And think me a fool for my pains. No, Frances, what needs--must. I +shall not draw back now, it is not my way, as you know; I am sorry for +you, if any one is going you particularly care about. I'd have my eye on +him if I knew who he was, but I don't." + +This to her? Frances could have wept with vexation. Was it possible he +did not see it was for himself she was anxious? Perhaps she did look a +little reproachfully as she replied, somewhat sorrowfully, + +"No one is going I care about. Only take care of _yourself_, Charles." + +At another moment the words might have struck him, and perhaps sent +conviction into his heart; but now?-- + +"Then do as I told my brother's wife just now," he replied; "have supper +ready for us by the time we come back; I'll answer for our doing justice +to it." + +"Can you think of nothing but eating and drinking?" she asked, bitterly +and yet could have thrown herself on her knees, and implored and +besought him to stay. Ah! if only in days gone by she could have allowed +her warmer nature to have had play, have crushed out her pride and +stubbornness, things might have been different between them, and she +have been dearer to him; now she was his cousin, nothing more, and with +no thought of what she was suffering, he turned away without any reply, +rather annoyed at her words than otherwise. + +A few moments later he joined Amy. + +"I trust you do not give me credit for being such a sinner as the rest +of your sex do? or throw all the onus of this expedition on me, Miss +Neville?" + +"Every one seems to think it originated with you." + +"Perhaps it did; but then every one need not follow in my footsteps. +Surely I am not answerable for any one but myself?" + +"It seems," replied Amy, evading his question, "to have thrown a damp on +every one's spirits. I suppose it must be undertaken now?" + +"If you had said the last words to me to-day, Miss Neville, it might +have been different." + +Then, as she made no reply, he added, "You do not ask me to stay." + +"I would do so, if I thought you could retreat honourably." + +"And you do not think so? You do not blame me for going?" + +"Certainly not. Things have proceeded too far. You must go. I am only +sorry to see so many sad faces." + +"Thank you, Miss Neville, those are my own feelings entirely. I am in no +way to blame for the actions of others, and should have gone myself, +whether or no. Good-bye.--God bless you!" he added, softly, as he held +her hand in his. + +It was only for a moment; even Frances could not have found fault with +the length of time he held it, and Amy scarcely felt the pressure of his +fingers; yet she felt and saw the mark his ring had made as his hand +clasped hers so tightly; felt and thought of it for many days after +that. + +Nearly all the gentlemen passed out after Charles. Robert Vavasour +hesitated as he drew near the spot where Amy sat; but she did not look +up from the book she held in her hand; and, after a moment's delay, he, +too, went out, and most of the ladies followed. + +"Are you not going Alfred?" asked his sister, advancing towards an easy +chair, near the fire where he had made himself especially snug. + +"What's all the row about?" said he. + +"You know as well as I do. What is the use of pretending ignorance? Are +you going or no?" + +"Have they all been such fools as to go?" + +"Most of them have." + +"What a confounded shame not to let a man enjoy a quiet evening. I +suppose I must go with the rest, but it is a deuced bore all the same." + +"You think everything a bore that entails a little trouble." + +"Yes, I do. That fellow Charles ought to know better than to drag us out +against a rascally set of low ruffians." + +"Don't work yourself into a rage," said his sister, "it is not worth +while." + +"No, of course not," replied he, yawning and closing his book. "Well I +suppose I must be off, so here goes." + +"I ought to have been born the man, not you," said Frances, +contemptuously. + +"With all my heart," said he, "and what an easy life I would have had of +it." + +"I do not find my life such a very easy one. You had better make haste +if you are going. There, they have opened the hall door." + +"I'll owe Charles a grudge for this," said he, rising slowly, and +seemingly in no hurry to be off, "turning us all out on such a damp, +dirty night. As black as pitch too," said he, as he reached the hall, +and glanced through the half-opened door. + +His sister helped him on with his great coat, he grumbling all the +while, and vowing they ought to go to bed, instead of going out on such +a fool's errand, risking their lives for sheer humbug, as far as he +could see. + +His sister listened in silence, and then said suddenly,-- + +"Take care of Charles, Alfred, will you?" + +"Oh, yes," he replied; "and who will take care of me, I should like to +know? I may get a sly dig in the ribs, while looking after my +neighbours." + +"No, no, you will be safe, but he is so rash and foolhardy. Do take care +of him Alfred, promise me you will?" and she laid her hand entreatingly +on his arm as she spoke. + +He looked surprised as he heard her words and noticed the action, and +turning round, caught a glimpse of her pale face. + +"Well, don't look like that, Frances; I'll make no promises, but I'll +try and do the best I can for you. Good-bye." + +And he, too, was gone. They were all gone, and Frances turned again into +the drawing-room, where Amy still sat apparently so quiet and still, but +inwardly listening intently to the last foot-fall; the last faint echo +of one voice. Now she lost it,--again it reached her ear--was gone! + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +A DARK NIGHT. + + + "The moon had risen, and she sometimes shone + Through thick white clouds, that flew tumultuous on, + Passing beneath her with an eagle's speed, + That her soft light imprison'd and then freed: + The fitful glimmering through the hedgerow green + Gave a strange beauty to the changing scene; + And roaring winds and rushing waters lent + Their mingled voice that to the spirit went. + To these she listen'd; but new sounds were heard, + And sight more startling to her soul appear'd; + + * * * * * + + And near at hand, but nothing yet was seen." + + CRABBE. + + +Amy felt oppressed in spirit as the last sound of Charles' voice reached +her ear, nor dared she question her heart wherefore she had listened for +it, why she had strained every nerve to catch its sound. Was she +allowing a warmer feeling to enter her heart than she had hitherto +entertained? Was she beginning to care more for him than she ought? No; +she would not allow it. She merely felt grateful for his kindness, that +was all, for he _was_ kind to her, there was no doubt of that, and her +heart could not but be touched by it, so lonely and so uncared for as +she felt; so utterly alone in that large house. + +Had he not on that very day ridden several miles for her pleasure? and +had he not offered, nay promised, to fetch her letter every day? and she +had been obliged to give him but cold thanks for his kindness, and still +colder looks, when her heart was all the while longing to tell him how +more than grateful she felt. Even but a few moments ago, she knew she +had been cold to him; but it could not be helped. It could not be +otherwise, it must ever be so between them. And yet as she recalled his +last words, and the fervent "God bless you," she thought that had she +not been a governess, he might have loved her. Now, it could never be. + +She grew restless; the quiet stillness around her became oppressive, +most of those who were left having retired into the drawing-room; so +when the children had said good night she took them up to bed herself, +and as each little one knelt down, she joined earnestly in the simple +prayer that "God would bless dear Papa and Mamma, and all their +relations and friends." + +Mary did not put them to bed, one of the other servants did the office +for her. Amy enquired where she was, and whether she was ill? + +"No, Miss, not ill," replied the girl, "only worrying herself." + +"About what? I trust she is in no trouble." + +"Well, you see her father's gone out against the poachers to-night." + +"True," replied Amy. "Poor girl! I quite forgot her interest in the +matter." + +"She's most worrying and fretting herself to death about it, and all to +no good, as we all tell her, but she won't listen to none of us." + +"Words are poor comfort in such cases." + +"Yes, Miss; and what's worse, I believe they've threatened to do for +him, her father--I mean." + +"That may be mere idle report; there is no authority for the rumour." + +"Except the words of the man that was hung, Miss." + +"Poor wretched criminal! Do not let us talk or dwell on such scenes. I +will go and see Mary, if you will show me the way." + +"Indeed I will, Miss, and I'm sure it will do her good. She's in her own +room." + +And, guided by the other, Amy went. + +Mrs. Hopkins sat by the side of the bed on which Mary lay, worrying and +fretting herself to death, as her fellow-servant had said, and refusing +to be comforted or calmed. + +"Ever ready to do any one an act of kindness, Miss Neville," said Mrs. +Hopkins, as she rose on Amy's entrance. "This is sad work." + +"Yes; it is an anxious time for all of us, but it is surely not wise to +give way to imaginary evils, which after all may only exist in our own +brains and foolish fancies." + +"No one knows," sobbed Mary, "how I love my father." + +"We all believe it, Mary. Do you know that your mistress's husband is +also gone with the rest?" + +"No one has threatened his life, like they have my father's." + +"But will your crying remedy that? Will it not make things a thousand +times worse, by making you too ill to see him when he does return?" + +"He may never return, Miss, never!" sobbed Mary afresh. + +"It's of little use talking, Miss," said Mrs. Hopkins, "she will cry and +worry; and nothing will stop her that I can see. She will be sorry and +ashamed enough to-morrow when she thinks of it." + +"I think she should hope the best, and not so readily look forward to +the very worst that can happen. Try and think that there is a good and +kind Providence watching over us all, Mary." + +"I do. But it's no use Miss--no use." + +"Here drink this, Mary," said Mrs. Hopkins, handing her some +salvolatile, "It's no use talking, Miss, we must dose her." + +"I believe it is the best plan," replied Amy, half smiling; then as the +girl sat up to drink it she added, "If you must cry, Mary, why not go +down below? you can cry just as well there, and watch for the men's +return." + +"Oh! I daren't, I daren't--" she said. + +"Her father will be quite frightened when he does see her face," said +Mrs. Hopkins, as she bathed her forehead with cold water, "and as for +her, she won't be able to open her eyes to look at him they're that +swelled." + +Amy seeing her presence could do no good, left, and went to the +school-room, intending to spend the rest of the evening in writing home, +but she found the attempt useless, so she closed her desk and put away +her pen in despair. Reading was better than writing, she would fetch a +book. She glanced at the bookshelves Charles had made and put up for her +but a few short months ago. He was nothing to her then; simply Mr. +Linchmore's brother, but now?--Again she grew restless. Why would her +thoughts so often wander towards him? He could never be more than a +friend, never! She would go below. The gloom and solitariness of the +room struck her more forcibly than it had ever done before, and she grew +nervous and timid and stole away to the drawing-room. + +When she entered it, she was surprised to find how soon things had +resumed their usual course. Mrs. Linchmore was at the piano singing, +Anne at a game of drafts, every one chatting and laughing as though +nothing had occurred to disturb their hearts, Amy could hear the rattle +of the bagatelle balls quite plainly in the inner room from where she +sat, and the sound jarred upon her nerves. Surely Frances could not be +one of the players, for Amy well knew how anxious she must be; and she +crossed the room to where Julia had taken up her position by the fire, +and looked in as she passed the arch which divided the two rooms. No, +Frances was not playing--was not even there. + +"I feel entitled to roam about at will," said Amy, seating herself by +Julia, "as so few of the gentlemen are here, and I think you look +lonely. Are you anxious, Miss Bennet?" + +"Very." + +"I wonder what time they will be home?" + +"It may be early, it may be late. Can you imagine how my cousin is able +to sit there and sing to those boobies?" and she pointed to where Mrs. +Linchmore sat, with one or two young men as listeners. + +"Some people are able to control their feelings better than others," +replied Amy. + +"You are always ready to think kindly of everyone, Miss Neville; but +there is no excuse for her; she is in no way put out; her voice is as +clear as a bell, and to hear the way in which she is singing that +mournful, pathetic song, you would imagine her to be a woman of deep +feeling, when in reality she has none, not even for her good, kind +husband." + +"Mary, the children's maid, is fretting herself to death upstairs," +replied Amy, anxious to change the subject. + +"What is the matter with her?" + +"Her father is the gamekeeper, Grant." + +"And her lover one of the game watchers, I dare say." + +"No, I think not, at least I heard no whisper of it." + +"Perhaps not; but girls don't fret to death for their fathers; they must +die in the course of nature, but a lover is not easily replaced." + +"I never heard you speak so unkindly," replied Amy. + +"No, you must not mind it; I am not myself to-night. I feel out of +spirits, and could have a good cry, like that foolish old Miss Tremlow +did just now; I marshalled her off to bed, for if anything was to +happen she would send us all crazy." + +"I see Mr. Hall has not gone with the rest." + +"No. And much as Anne talks about men being brave and fearless in +danger, I am certain she is glad of it." + +"Perhaps she has not found out that she cares for him?" + +"Many women, when it is too late, find out they care for a man. Look at +Frances, for instance." + +"What of her?" asked Amy nervously. + +"Nothing, only I fancy she is _au désespoir_," said Julia carelessly. + +"I do not see her anywhere." + +"No, you would not, when her feelings are such that she can no longer +hide them. Then she hides herself." + +It was even so. Frances had hidden herself away in the library; she +could no longer sit in the glare of the many lamps, and listen to the +laughing and talking going on around; and not only listen, but be +obliged to talk herself. It was too much, she could not do it. Instead +of trying, like Amy, to shake off the gloom that oppressed her, she +nursed it, and sat alone, sullen and miserable. + +Had not her voice failed to persuade Charles to stay; failed to win one +kind word from him? Had he not, the rather, heartlessly mocked at her +anguish? Had he not left her and gone over to Miss Neville, and given +her his last parting words, the last clasp of his hand? When, if he had +cared for her, every moment would have been precious to him, even as it +was to her. How she wished she could hate him? But still the cry of her +heart was "He shall not love her." + +It was true she was advancing slowly, very slowly; but still, to advance +at all, was better than making no progress, to feel that Amy was having +it all her own way, and she without the power of preventing her, doomed +to sit quietly and look on at the wreck of all her hopes of happiness. +But that last should never be, and her eye flashed more brightly as she +thought that not one single opportunity had she lost of loosening the +hold Amy seemed to have over Charles's actions, the interest she had +created in his breast. + +Ever on the watch, and restless when Charles was absent, lest he should +meet with her rival, and she not be there to prevent his joining and +walking with her, her life was one perpetual state of disquietude and +excitement. + +He should never find out Amy loved him. Never! never! So Frances sat on +in the gloom of the one small lamp, and thought such thoughts as these; +and bitter enough they were to her. How she hated to see Amy enter the +drawing-room each night, and more especially this last evening, when +instead of sullenly standing aloof, as he had once or twice done, +Charles had joined her. Had they met without her knowledge, and had she +won him over to her again, sent all the jealous suspicions which Frances +had instilled into his mind, to the winds? Oh! if it should be so? She +sprung from the chair, and walked up and down the room, in utter +desolation of heart. + +And so we must leave her, and return to Amy. + +The evening had worn on. It was growing late. Twice the butler had +himself come in and replenished the fire. Was he also anxious? Amy +thought so, as she watched his face, and noted how he loitered about the +room, and was in no hurry to be gone; but glanced round gravely, as he +went slowly out, and again, a few moments after, entered it once more, +looked to the lamps, and a number of other things there was no occasion +for. + +Still the hours crept slowly on; again her thoughts were with the +absent, again they wandered into the park. There, far away, was one +coppice she knew right well; so thick the bushes, so close the shade, +she could almost fancy she was there, so vividly did it come before her. +Surely it would be there the poachers would be, there the affray would +take place, there they would watch and meet with them. + +Each hour now seemed to drag more slowly than the last, the minutes were +hours to her impatient fancy; while the noise of the company, the noise +of the piano grew intolerable. Oh! if she could go out into the park, +and learn what was doing; even if not near, she could still hear if a +shot were fired, and that would be something gained; but then she might +be missed--might be enquired for? No. It would never do to be found out +alone in the grounds, on such a night. Was all the game in the world +worth the misery of such thoughts as these? Oh! the agony of +waiting--and waiting for what? + +Amy trembled, and a slight shudder passed through her; her anxiety was +growing past control. + +The music was still playing, surely she would not be missed; and rising +softly she passed into the hall. Should she go into the library, where +Frances still moodily paced up and down? No, she would hear nothing +there. On into the billiard-room she went. + +There was no lamp alight, she was glad of it; all was darkness, save for +the flickering of the fire in the grate. She drew near, and tried to be +patient and hope for the best; but it would not do, her thoughts would +turn to _one_. + +As she grew accustomed to the gloom, each object became dimly visible. +There was the table; it was but yesterday all those who were now absent +had played on it. Would they ever meet there again? How well she +remembered seeing Charles Linchmore; it was not so long ago, she could +almost fancy she was passing by the door now--waiting for Fanny, who had +rushed to Papa on some fruitless errand--and that she saw his form as he +leant across the table; but no, he might never play there again, nor +ever live to return home. + +She could bear it no longer, but went over to one of the windows, passed +behind the curtain, drew back the shutter, opened the window softly, +and looked out. The rain had passed away, and the moon shone brightly +enough when the thick clouds that were hurrying across it would allow. +It was not a very cold night, at least Amy did not feel the cold even in +the thin light dress she wore; her eyes were fixed on the one part of +the Park where she guessed they must be; her ears straining to catch +every sound. But none came. All was silent and still. + +How long she stood she never knew, she was aroused from her thoughts by +a dull, distant sound. She listened intently. + +It came from the other side of the park. Her fears had deceived her. +They were coming at last. It must be them. Relieved at last, she drew +back from the window, then returned again, but stood further in the +shade. They must pass by. She would stay and see them. + +The sound she had heard became more distinct, then faded away with the +wind which blew in gusts through the leafless trees, then grew nearer +still. Strange no voices reached her ear,--now--yes, it was near enough +for her to distinguish the heavy tread of men's footsteps. + +Nearer and nearer they came. + +It was no tread of many feet, but the dull heavy tramp of footsteps +treading in unison together. It could not be they; they would not walk +like that; so silently, so strangely. + +Still Amy waited and watched--a heavy fear slowly creeping over her +heart, and almost staying its beatings. + +They came nearer still; yes, onwards they came round the turn of the +drive as it swept up to the house; they passed it, and now their dark +forms came slowly but surely on in the varying moonlight, with still +that one dreadful tread. They were close by; passed under the window +where she stood. What was that dark object they carried so fearfully, so +carefully? + +Amy moved away from the window, reached the door of the room, and stood +in its deep shade like a statue of stone, every nerve strained, every +pulse beating almost to bursting. + +The servants had heard it then, or had they like Amy been watching? +There stood the grey-headed butler; how ominous was his face, how grave +the faces of those men near him, all waiting, all dreading--what? + +Mr. Linchmore was the first to enter; a painful, anxious expression on +his face. + +"Thank God!" exclaimed the old butler, as he saw him; he had been +anxious for his master, whom he had known as a boy. Were his fears then +at rest? No; he was again about to speak, when,-- + +"Hush!" Mr. Linchmore said. Then to those behind, "tread softly," and +again, "where is your mistress?" + +He passed quickly on, almost brushing Amy's dress, as she stood so white +and still in the shade, looking on, watching, noting everything. + +The other half of the hall door opened; on they came, those dark forms, +and others with them, steadying them, clearing the way for them as they +went. + +They bore a litter, but the form that rested so motionless on it could +not be seen, a cloak covered it. + +One man stood quite close to Amy as he held open the door for the rest +to pass through. She touched his arm gently. She tried to speak, but her +tongue refused to utter those anxious words. But there was no need; he +looked in her face and understood the mute anguish, the agonised look of +her eyes. + +"It's only one of the young gents, Miss. Mr. Vavser I think they calls +'im." + +It was not Charles Linchmore, then. The reaction was too great. As they +bore the litter on past her up the staircase, she uttered no cry, but +her slight form trembled for an instant--wavered--and the next fell +heavily almost at Charles' feet, as he hastily entered the hall. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +GOING AWAY. + + "Our faults are at the bottom of our pains; + Error in acts, or judgment, is the source + Of endless sighs; we sin, or we mistake." + + YOUNG. + + "It is not granted to man to love and to be wise." + + BACON. + + +For a moment Charles stood mute with amazement, the next he bent over +the poor prostrate form, and lifted it tenderly in his arms. + +"Bring her in here," said a voice, while a hand was laid on his arm, and +he was impelled with gentle force into the library. There he laid Amy on +the sofa, and kneeling by her side, took the small lifeless hand in his, +and pressed it to his lips and forehead; then gently pushed the soft +fair hair off her face, and as he did so felt the marble coldness of +her cheek. Then a strange fear crept over him: he rose, and bent his ear +close to her mouth; but no gentle breathing struck his ear. All was +still and silent, even his loving words and the endearing names he +called her, failed to bring back life, or restore warmth to that still +and apparently lifeless form. + +He turned his face, now blanched almost as white as the one he was +bending over, to Frances, for it was she who had asked him to bring Amy +there, and now stood by the door so despairingly, watching his every +action, listening to his words; those loving, cruel words which told how +completely, how entirely his heart was another's. If he could but have +seen into her heart, how averse he would have been to ask her assistance +for Amy! How much misery might have been spared him. + +"Is she dead?" he asked, fearfully. + +"Dead!" exclaimed Frances. "No, she has only fainted." + +"I never saw any one look so like death," he said softly, as he again +took her hands and chafed them in his. + +"Perhaps not. I dare say your experience is not very great?" + +"Can nothing be done for her? must she die like this?" + +"A great deal might be done for her," replied Frances, advancing, "but +nothing while you bend over her in that way. I will soon bring her to, +if you will only let me come near." + +"Then why in the name of fortune don't you begin to try something? For +God's sake, Frances, do rouse yourself a little from that cold marble +nature of yours, and throw a little warmth and feeling into your +actions." + +She took no notice of his hasty, almost angry words. + +"Could you fetch me some Eau-de-Cologne?" she asked. "Go quietly," for +he was rushing off in desperate haste, "it is as well no one suspects or +knows of this, and bring a glass of water also." + +"Dead!" thought Frances, as she gazed at the pale inanimate form, "I wish +she was; how I hate her; but for her none of these dreadful thoughts +would enter my head. Am I not a murderess, wishing her dead? and it is +all her fault, all; she has taken his love from me, and in taking that, +has made me wicked, and put all these cruel revengeful feelings in my +heart." + +She bathed her with the Eau-de-Cologne Charles brought, even dashed some +of the cold water into her face; but all to no purpose; not a sign; not +a movement of returning life gave Amy; the shock had been too great; she +lay as dead. + +As Charles stood and watched all the efforts Frances made, as he +thought, so indifferently, he grew impatient. + +"Where is Anne? or Mrs. Hopkins?" exclaimed he, "confound that woman! +she's never in the way when she's wanted," and he was for darting off +again, only Frances restrained him. + +"Do not call either of them," said she, "even you must not remain here +when Miss Neville returns to consciousness." + +"I shall stay, whatever happens," he replied, decidedly. + +Had he made up his mind to tell Amy he loved her? + +"She would not like it," she replied, "would any woman like to think +such a secret was found out?" + +"What secret?" + +"That of her love for him." + +"For him! For who?" + +"I thought you knew," replied Frances, quietly. + +Too quietly, for her apathy maddened him, and he exclaimed angrily. + +"For God's sake, Frances, speak out, you'll drive me mad with your cold +replies and words!" + +"Hush! Go away, she is coming to." + +"I will not stir!" he replied, "until you tell me why she fainted." + +"She saw them bring Mr. Vavasour into the hall, and--" + +"How could she tell it was him?" he asked, suspiciously, with a +half-doubt on his mind. + +"I do not ask you to believe me," replied Frances haughtily, "you asked +me to answer you, and I have done so." + +"Not my last question." + +"I should have thought a lady's word would have been sufficient; but as +it is not so, you had better ask Joe, that man that comes here sometimes +with Grant. I heard him tell Miss Neville it was Mr. Vavasour that had +been killed, and then--" + +"Then?" he asked. + +"She fainted." + +Whatever Charles thought, he said not a word; a determined, despairing +expression stole over his face; he looked hard at Frances as if he would +read her very soul, but she returned his look, and flinched not. +Presently a faint colour returned into Amy's face; he moved away, placed +the glass he still held on the table, and said slowly, for even the +tone of his voice had altered, and was unsteady and husky, + +"Tell her _he_ is not dead,--not much hurt, even--" + +And without a look, or even a glance at Amy, he went with a slow, +uncertain step across the room. As he reached the door, Amy moved +slightly and sighed, but ere she opened her eyes, the door had closed on +his retreating form, and he was gone. + +"Are you better now?" asked Frances kindly. She could afford to be kind +now she thought the field was won, and Charles' heart turned from her, +she hoped for ever. + +"Thank you, yes," said Amy, confusedly, and striving to collect her +thoughts. "How came I here? Who brought me?" + +"Do not talk just yet, you are scarcely equal to it. One of the men +carried you in here." + +"One of the men? No one else saw me, then?" + +"No one." + +Then it could not have been Charles Linchmore's voice she had heard, as +she lay only half-restored to consciousness? Nor his form she had dimly +seen retreating through the half open door, as she opened her eyes? She +must have fancied it. + +"I was so shocked, Miss Strickland," began Amy, trying to make some +apology for her fainting, "and you know I am not very strong yet, and--" + +"Do not make any excuses, Miss Neville; the sight was enough to frighten +anyone. I felt sick myself, but there was not much occasion for it, as I +have ascertained Mr. Vavasour is not much hurt; but I thought, as you +did, he was dead." + +Amy made no reply, she was too truthful to do so. It was best Miss +Strickland thought _that_ the reason and cause of her faintness. + +"Had you not better remain a little longer?" continued Frances. "There +is little chance of any one coming in here; and they will be all at +supper presently." + +But no--Amy felt well enough to go; longed to get away to the quiet of +her own room, and went. + +Dr. Bernard, hastily aroused from his sleep, came and stayed all night +at the Park. He corroborated Charles's opinion: Mr. Vavasour's was but a +slight wound. The faintness and insensibility that had alarmed them so, +proceeded more from the effects of a severe blow on the head, which had +stunned him for the time being. In a few days, with a little quiet +nursing, he would be all right again; so the excitement and fears of +everyone tamed down, and the supper prepared at Charles's suggestion was +partaken of heartily by everyone but himself, and he was nowhere. + +Two of the poachers had been overpowered, after a desperate resistance, +and taken; but the rest, all armed with sticks, or some other weapon of +defence, had succeeded in getting clear away, though not without +injuring, not only Robert Vavasour, but two of the night watchers also. +One man kept his bed for weeks afterwards, and was unable even to appear +and give evidence against the two men who had been taken; one supposed +to be the man who had fired the shot, either purposely or accidentally, +that had wounded Robert, while at the same moment a severe blow from +some murderous weapon felled him to the earth, and in the confusion +which this occasioned the rest got clear away, though not without a +suspicion that some of them had been disabled by the shower of blows +with which they were assailed; they proved themselves, as Charles and +others had hinted they were, a desperate set of ruffians, whom the +recent violent death of one of their band had in no wise alarmed, but +the rather made them thirst to revenge it. + +Charles Linchmore was up betimes the next morning, and away across the +park long before any of its inmates save the servants were stirring. He +had passed a sleepless night. At one time Amy's love for Vavasour +appeared as clear as day; the next he doubted, and could not make up his +mind that it was indeed so. Morning found him still unreconciled to the +thought, still undecided. Frances might have been mistaken; he would +seek Joe, and find out what had been told Amy. It was impossible the man +could have any interest in telling him a lie. + +He had not far to walk, Joe met him at the lodge gate, where he was +evidently detailing to the man and his wife who kept it, an exaggerated +account of the last night's affray. + +"Good morning, Joe," began Charles, "how are you and the rest after last +night's work? and where are you off to now?" as Joe touched his cap, and +was proceeding onwards. + +"Up to the house, Sir. The Master bade me bring news this morning of the +two men who got hurt, Sir." + +"Well, how are they?" + +"There ain't much the matter with one, Sir; but Jem's awful bad, his +head swelled most as big's two, Sir. Mr. Blane--the village +doctor--wouldn't give much for his life, I reckon." + +"Your Master will be sorry to hear it. And now, Joe, I want a word with +you. How came you to tell one of the ladies last night that Mr. +Vavasour was dead?" + +"Please, Sir, I couldn't help it; the lady did look so kind of +beseeching at me, and tried to speak; but, poor lady, she was that bad +at heart she couldn't say a word. I could no more refuse nor tell her, +Sir, I should have been afeard to; unless I'd had a heart as hard as a +_haythen's_, and I hadn't, Sir, so just out with the news, and--" + +"That will do; be more cautious in future." + +And away went Charles with still faster strides than before; half over +the park and then home again, and up to his room, where he thrust his +things hastily into his portmanteau; it was but a few minutes' work, and +then he was off downstairs again. Here he met Anne. + +"Why Charles," said she, "where have you been all the morning? We have +finished breakfast. What a lazy creature you are!" + +"I am going to make a start of it," replied he. "I am off to join +again." + +"Going back to your regiment!" exclaimed Anne in amazement at the +sudden announcement. "When?" + +"Now, this moment." + +"What will Isabella think? How surprised she will be!" + +"No, not a bit of it, she is too accustomed to my sudden movements, and +scarcely volunteered a remark when I told her." + +"But your leave is only half expired?" + +"Isn't it?" he replied, as if he had never thought at all about it. +"Well, so much the better, I can knock about abroad for a short time. +Good-bye." + +Anne looked in utter bewilderment, until she suddenly caught sight of +the sorrowful, despairing expression of his face. What had happened? + +"Don't say good-bye like that, Charley," said she, her kind heart roused +at once at the sight. "Something has vexed you. Can I help you in any +way? I am ready and willing, if you will only tell me how." + +"No. I am past help, Anne," and he dashed away a tear which had started +at the sound of her kind voice, and then added bitterly--"I am a fool to +care so much about it!" + +"About what, Charles? Do tell me, I am certain I could help you." + +She pitied him entirely, and would have braved a dozen Mrs. Linchmores +to have seen the old happy, merry expression on his face again. + +"You have always been kind, Anne, and so I do not mind telling you, what +I dare say you have seen all along, although I've been such a blind fool +to it! It's no fault of hers, Anne,--but--but she loves another." + +"Impossible! I don't believe it!" said Anne, hastily, forgetting all her +wise resolutions of never helping him to find out Amy cared for him. + +"Nor I, for a long time," and he thought of the long sleepless hours he +had passed in pacing up and down his room. "But it is so." + +"How did you find it out? Did she tell you?" + +"No; but some one else did, little suspecting the interest I had in the +matter. I could not believe, at first, that all my hopes were to be +dashed aside at once in that way. I could have sworn she took an +interest in me, but there I have convinced myself and--and--I am a +miserable wretch, that's all, with my eyes wide open to my dreadful +fate. Bid her good-bye for me, Anne. I could not trust myself to do so +without showing her I love her. Thank you for all your kindness." And he +wrung her hand. "Where is Frances?" + +Frances! What had she to do in the matter? Anne's curiosity was roused, +and for once rightly, and in a just cause. She had long thought Frances +bore no good feeling towards Miss Neville; perhaps she was jealous of +her, for it was certain Amy had supplanted her in Charles's +affection;--if he ever had any for her. Ah! that was it. It was all as +clear as day to Anne now. But if it was as she suspected, Charles was, +indeed, a fool to believe it; she was certain if she were in his place +she would not, but then men were so easily convinced of a woman's +falseness; but how could he look in Amy's eyes and believe it? Miss +Neville a flirt? Impossible! But then Anne suddenly recollected how she +had thought so herself, simply because she and Robert Vavasour had +walked home together. No, after all she could not blame Charles so much, +perhaps she should have thought the same. At all events, she determined +to watch Frances closely when she gave her his message. + +"Charles wants to speak to you, Frances; he is in the dining-room." And +Anne fixed her eyes full on her face as she spoke. + +But Frances was gaining experience every day; learning to attain a +self-possession and control equal to any emergency. + +Only a faint--very faint, colour tinged her cheeks as she replied, + +"Charles must wait until I have finished reading this chapter; I am too +interested to leave off in the middle of it." + +"Oh! very well. I will tell him so; but you will miss shaking hands with +him, as he is going away." + +This time Anne succeeded. Frances' face expressed the utmost +astonishment, while her cheeks paled to an almost marble whiteness. + +"Going away!" she gasped. "How? When?" + +"How? By the train I suppose. When? Now this moment. You had better come +at once if you wish to see him." + +She followed Frances to the dining-room, and stood at the window while +she went up to the fire where Charles stood. Anne watched them. + +He turned his face, still with the same gloomy, despairing expression, +towards Frances and said a few words. What were they to cause her pale +face to flush so hotly, while a proud, triumphant look shone brightly in +her eyes? Anne would have given worlds to have heard them, certain as +she was they contained some clue to the mystery shrouding his hasty +departure. + +They were said, those few words, and he moved towards the door. Frances +followed him after an instant's thought, and arrested his footsteps, +slow and uncertain as they were. Anne could hear quite plainly now. + +"One moment, Charles. I am so sorry you are going," said Frances. + +"Never mind," he replied, "it is best I should go." + +"I suppose so. I suppose you must go?" + +"You know I must. You best of all others," he replied, sternly. + +"Alas! yes," was the reply. + +The next moment he was whirling rapidly past the window in a dog cart; +with Bob seated on the cushion at his side, instead of running at the +horse's heels as he usually did. "The only living creature who cared for +him," as Charles had once said to Miss Neville; become doubly dear now +she had proved faithless. Bob nevertheless seemed uncomfortable in his +exalted post, and did not approve seemingly of his new position in +society; for while his Master cast not a glance behind him, saw not +Anne's sympathising face at the window or Frances' tearful one; he +seemed to give a wistful side-look--as well as the jolting of the cart +on the hard gravel would allow--at the comfortable home he was leaving +for the Barrack yard, and his old surly companions of the canine species +he had so often fought and won many a hard earned battle with, for Bob, +though not a savage dog, never allowed a liberty to be taken with him +without resenting it. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +JANE. + + "Oh, memory, creature of the past! + Why dost thou haunt me still? + Why thy dark shadow o'er me cast, + My better thoughts to chill? + + I spread my fingers to the sun, + No stain of blood is there; + Yet oh! that age might see undone, + The deeds that youth would dare!" + + ANON. + + +Mrs. Marks had returned home. Her mother was dead, and she had brought +back Jane as she had threatened, much to Matthew's intense disgust. He +was afraid of his wife's tongue, but had been so long accustomed to hear +it going, that he could not understand a woman who could keep hers +quiet, and sit the whole day long by the fire-side, scarcely saying a +word, in his own favourite corner too,--seldom lifting her eyes from +her knitting. As he watched the progress of the socks she was making, he +vowed in his own mind never to wear them when they were finished, +believing as many of the ignorant in his class of life do, that they +would be bewitched, and cause him to meet with some harm, perhaps fulfil +Goody Grey's prophecy that some one in the cottage was going to die. + +He found it more difficult than ever to resist the temptation of going +to the "Brampton Arms," now that his home was even more uncomfortable +than it used to be. How could he seat himself at the other corner of the +fire-side, and smoke his pipe, with his sister-in-law's eyes so +constantly and intently fixed on him? Matthew longed to see Goody Grey +to ask for a new charm to spirit away Jane and her unholy presence, +which was a constant irritation to him. Meanwhile he had twice tried the +effect of the charm and each time apparently without the slightest +success; as not only had Mrs. Marks eyes, but her tongue also, flashed +ten thousand furies at his extraordinary silence, while Jane, to whom +during the storm he looked for sympathy, sat perfectly heedless, and +mindful only of her dreadful knitting. + +William Hodge was still with the Marks', when he heard of the poaching +affray and its consequences. His mind was at once filled with alarm, and +he determined on going into Standale. What if his son should be one of +the men taken, and now lodged in the jail there? + +Hodge kept very quiet at first, and talked it over with Mrs. Marks,--who +had returned a few days after,--and at length made up his mind to go to +the town and gain a sight of the two men; but this was easier said than +done, he had to wait quietly until they were brought up before the +magistrates; when he returned to the cottage with the satisfactory +intelligence that neither bore the slightest resemblance to his son Tom. +Still he was more certain than ever that Tom was down there, for on +mentioning his name casually to the landlord of the inn where he had +put up, a man seated in the bar had turned round suddenly, eyed him +keenly, and asked him to join him 'in a glass.' This, Hodge, who had his +wits about him, was not slow to do, and both played at cross questions +with the other, and tried to find out where each came from, and where +bound to; but each proved a match for his fellow in cunning and +sharp-sightedness, and they parted mutually dissatisfied, certain in +their own minds that each could have revealed something of interest in +which they both took part, had he so willed it. + +A few days after Hodge's return, as he was going across the fields, he +again met with his acquaintance of the inn, who passed him close by +without renewing their former intimacy, indeed, without a word or +greeting of any kind, as though they were strangers, and now met for the +first time. Hodge thought he must have been mistaken in his man; but +no--a second and yet a third time, he met him on different days; and now +Hodge was convinced he was right--they had met before; but why this +apparent forgetfulness on his part? Why this perpetual crossing of his +path? Hodge grew uneasy, perhaps the man was employed as a spy to watch +him? If it was so, there was nothing for it but to return home; but the +thought of his wife's sorrowful face, as he should tell her of his +fruitless search, deterred him, and he waited yet another day, hoping +that a few hours might disclose his son's whereabouts, and unravel the +mystery of his absence; but no, the days crept on, and still found him as +far from the clue as ever, while he never stirred from the cottage +without seeing his mysterious friend, or it might be enemy, either close +by or in the distance, too far off to distinguish his features; but +there was the unmistakable slouching walk, awkward gait, and +broad-brimmed hat. + +"Mrs. Marks, Ma'am," said Hodge one day, when they were alone, with only +Jane in the chimney-corner for company, and she was supposed to be just +nobody, "I've come across that man again, and I don't like the look +things are taking--I think they look sort of queer. I never done no +harm to nobody, why should this chap follow me about like a dog? I'm +beginning to think he's a kind of spying to find out what my business is +down here, leastways, I can't see what else brings him so often in my +road." + +"Why not up and ask him, like a man?" exclaimed Mrs. Marks. + +"Well, Ma'am, you see, that's just what I would like to do. Many's the +time I've had it in my heart; but somehow I'm afeard to." + +"Afraid! Well, Mr. Hodge, I thought you'd more pluck. I know there's few +men would frighten me, if I was in your place. Good Lord! what's the +world coming to when all the men's so chicken-hearted!" said she, +indignantly. + +"And the women so uppish!" retorted Hodge, somewhat angrily. "I wouldn't +be afraid to knock him down with one blow of my fist," and he stretched +out his strong muscular arms, and clenched his knuckles, "if he came to +me openly and insulted me; but it's this underhand way of going to work +that bothers me. I'd like to pick a quarrel with him, Ma'am, that I +would, and bad luck to his walks for the future, if I did; that's all!" + +"If those are your opinions, William Hodge, I'm sorry I spoke. I've +never set eyes on the man myself; but I think you're over-suspicious, +maybe." + +"Not a bit too much so. What for should he come across me wherever I go. +I saw him the other night as Matthew and I came home. It was broad +moonlight, and he was hidden away under the shade of the trees, just +before you come to the mile-stone; but I saw him for all that, and so I +do most every time I set foot outside the cottage. What the devil can he +want with me? and why was I such a born fool as to tell my real name?" + +"That's it," said Jane, from the chimney-corner, as if talking to +herself. "It's the devil puts all the badness into our hearts." + +"Don't mind her," said Mrs. Marks, seeing Hodge looked startled. "She +understands nothing, and is only talking to herself. And now what do you +mean to do?" + +"I must go home agin, as wise as I was when I came." + +"And without a word of Tom? Why Mrs. Hodge will nigh break her heart." + +"It can't be helped. I've done all I can. You see, I've been thinking +this man may be a kind of spy of the Squire's, and on the look-out for +Tom, and if so, I may do him more harm than good by staying here. Who +knows? perhaps he's guessed I'm Tom's father, and so thinks, by dodging +me, to catch him, so, you see, I'd best be on the road home; he won't +learn nothing there, save a cracked crown, if he comes that way +meddling." + +"I tell you what it is," said Mrs. Marks, "you go along home, and leave +me to ferret it all out. I've never said nothing all this time you've +been racking your brains, and walking about most over the whole country, +till I should think you knew every stone and stick in it. I warrant a +few weeks don't go over my head before I get at the bottom of it all. +You men think yourselves mighty clever; but, after all, there's nothing +like getting a woman to help you over the stile." + +"Well, Mrs. Marks, I believe you're most right. It's certain I couldn't +leave the business in better hands. I know you'll do the best you can +for me." + +"Of course I will, there's my hand on it. And now just point out this +chap in the wide-awake, and I'll be bound to say I'll find out every +secret concerning him. And if he knows anything about Tom, why I'll find +that out, too; so just rest easy in your own mind, and keep quiet, and +bid Mrs. Hodge do the same; and take my advice, and be off home +to-morrow--you won't do no good down here, only harm." + +And home Hodge went. + +A few days after his departure, as Matthew was lounging at the turnpike +gate, who should pass through but Goody Grey. As she came in sight at +the turn of the hill, Matthew began to prepare his thoughts as to what +he should say to her. She would be sure to ask about the success of the +charm; he felt proud at the idea of being able to tell he had not added +to the number of stones in the box, but on the contrary two had been +thrown away. What a fortunate thing for him Mrs. Marks was out, he could +talk to Mrs. Grey without a chance of her shrill voice calling him and +bidding him attend to his business, and not be gossiping out there. + +"Good morning, Mrs. Grey," began he, taking up a position so as to +command a view of the whole road by which the enemy, in the shape of his +wife, should first come in sight on her way home. + +"The same to you," replied she civilly, and was passing on, when-- + +"I've tried the charm, Ma'am," said Matthew, mysteriously. + +"The what?" asked she sharply. + +"The charm, Mrs. Grey. The box with the gravel in it, that you give +me." + +"True, I had forgotten. What was the result?" + +"If you mean what good did it do, why then it just did no good at all," +said Matthew, sorrowfully. + +"How often have you tried it?" + +"Twice, Ma'am, I'm proud to say; and a hard matter I found it, going so +nigh the Public, that I could most smell the baccy, and hear the drawing +of the beer; but there I stuck to the 'structions yer give me, and +turned back home agin, but only to hear my wife's tongue going faster +and sharper than ever." + +"I dare say, at first, it may be so; but persevere, and in the end your +wife will be silenced." + +"I wish I could think so," he replied; "but I'm afraid, Ma'am, her +tongue have been going so long now, that nothing 'cept a miracle won't +stop it." + +"Is Mrs. Marks at home?" + +"No, Ma'am, she's out. And that's another thing bothers me, she's taken +to going out all hours now, no matter what kind of weather 'tis. It's a +puzzle to me where she goes to, tramping about in the mud." + +"Well, I cannot help you there," replied Goody Grey, "her tongue I might +stop, but not her actions, you must look to those yourself." + +"And so I mean to, Mrs. Grey, so I _will_," said Matthew, determinately. +"I only thought so this very day, as I was leaning on this very gate, +just before I saw you." + +"It is a wise resolution, but fools see wisdom or learn it sometimes." + +"Don't you begin that old story agin, Ma'am, nor say one word about the +trees that's going to fall; for I can't abide it, and don't want to know +nothing about what's going to happen. Death's near enough for us all, +but we don't want to be knowing when he's going to knock us up." + +"Where there's a storm there's sure to be a wreck," said she. + +"Stop there, Ma'am," replied Matthew, "and don't be after looking that +way at the cottage. What do yer see?" + +"I saw the face of a woman at the window." + +"No, that yer couldn't," replied he, "Mrs. Marks is out!" + +"Are you sure she is out?" + +"Lord save yer, Mrs. Grey, in coorse I am. Didn't I watch her out? and +wouldn't I have heard her voice calling out after me, long afore this," +and Matthew grinned at the very idea. + +"Who was it then?" + +"Yer couldn't have seen no one. There's only crazed Jane in the place, +and she don't never move out of the chimbly corner for no one. She's no +curiosity, like Mrs. Marks says I have." + +"Who is crazed Jane? Where does she come from? and what does she in your +cottage?" + +"Just nothing save to be knitting all day long, and follering me about +with her big eyes. She's my wife's sister, yer see, and is living with +us, she don't need no charm to keep her tongue quiet. She's just the +only woman I ever met as could, saving yer presence, Ma'am; and is every +bit as knowing as yerself, and could tell yer a deal if yer liked." + +"About what?" + +"About whatever yer liked to ask her. It's my belief she could tell the +weather just every bit as well as yerself. If yer'd lost anything she'd +know where to clap eyes on it again, just as yer did the bit of copper +t'other day, and a deal of other things as don't cross my mind now." + +"I don't believe it! I don't believe it!" exclaimed Goody Grey fiercely. +"If I did--I'd tear her very heart out, if she didn't tell me." + +And she passed on, leaving Matthew horrified at her words. He watched +her all the way down the road, which she traversed with a quick, hasty +step, striking her staff defiantly into the ground as she went, until +the turn of the road took her out of his sight. + +"What a fearful body she is!" thought he, as he turned into the +cottage. + +But there his horror and astonishment was still further increased at +finding crazed Jane lying in a heap on the floor. + +At first he was for rushing to her aid; but on second thoughts, he +reached his hat off the peg, and darted out of the cottage. There taking +to his heels he ran as fast as his legs could carry him along the road +Goody Grey had taken. + +"For the love of Heaven!" said he overtaking her, "come back!" + +"Come back!" exclaimed she, "and what for should I come back?" + +"To take away the curse and witcheries yer've put upon Jane; or she'll +die." + +"What are you raving about? What have I to do with Jane and her curses?" + +"Yer know well what I mean, Ma'am; yer've most killed her with yer evil +eye. I know yer're a fearful 'ooman, and a wise 'un too, but for the +love of Heaven don't leave her like that, but come back." + +"You're a fool!" replied Mrs. Grey, "I've no more power over her than a +fly," and she passed on, bidding him seek his wife's help. + +And again Matthew started off faster than before to find Mrs. Marks, +with an inward malediction on Goody Grey. + +He was scarcely out of sight ere she halted;--hesitated--then turned +back with rapid steps towards the cottage. + +Jane had fallen near the window from which Goody Grey had seen her +gazing, and lay almost under it, so as to be entirely concealed from the +broad glare of its light. She lay on her side with one arm across her +face. Her visitor gently moved away the arm, and looked at her. It was +but a momentary glance, and the fainting woman rested, as I have said, +away from the light. Was it this made Goody Grey fail in recognizing +her? or was it the sharp, pinched features, and worn haggard face, with +those deep furrows ploughing it so roughly in every direction. + +Filling a jug with water, Goody Grey lifted Jane, and tried to force +some down her throat, then dashed the rest over her face and forehead, +but her efforts at restoring life were useless, and after a few more +ineffectual attempts she left her, and went and seated herself by the +fire, thinking perhaps it would be but neighbourly to remain and await +Mrs. Marks's return. + +Not many minutes elapsed ere Jane opened her eyes, and the first object +they rested on was the old woman's face and figure, as she sat looking +at the fire, her profile fully marked out, and apparent to Jane's gaze, +whose face assumed a terrified, horror-stricken look, as she almost +glared at her, seemingly too fascinated or frightened to look away. + +Evidently Jane's memory served her better than Goody Grey's did, for she +recognized her, although the old woman did not, and after a minute or +two she sat up on the floor, and clasping arms round her knees, buried +her face in them and groaned aloud. + +Goody Grey started and turned at the sound, then rose and went over to +her. + +"Are you better?" she asked kindly, "you've had a long faint." + +Jane made no answer, only moaned and shivered from head to foot. + +"You are too cold to drink this water. Is there no brandy anywhere that +I can get you? Try and get up, and I will help you over to the fire." + +It was astonishing to hear the gentle, almost soft, sweet voice with +which she spoke, so different from her usual harsh, sharp manner. But +the more gentle she was, the less Jane seemed to like it, never raising +her head or answering a word, but moaning and rocking herself backwards +and forwards as she sat; and Goody Grey, seeing words or deeds, however +well meant, were alike wasted upon her, rose to go; saying as she did +so,-- + +"I'm sorry to see you so sullen, woman. Have you never a word of thanks +to give me?" + +But Jane continued silent as before. + +"Well, well," she muttered, in something of her old, impatient, sharp +voice, as she stepped across the threshold of the door. "That fool said +she was a 'dafty.'" Then in a milder, almost sorrowful tone, she added +"it is better to be crazed than broken-hearted." + +Jane raised her head as she caught the last sound of Goody Grey's voice; +then, as the last foot-fall died away, she got up stealthily, and closed +and bolted the cottage door. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE CONSERVATORY. + + "All other ills, though sharp they prove, + Serve to refine and perfect love: + In absence, or unkind disdaine, + Sweet hope relieves the lovers' paine: + But, oh, no cure but death we find + To sett us free + From jealousie, + Thou tyrant, tyrant of the mind. + + False in thy glass all objects are + Some sett too near, and some too far; + Thou art the fire of endless night + The fire that burns, and gives no light. + All torments of the damn'd we find + In only thee, + O jealousie! + Thou tyrant, tyrant of the mind." + + DRYDEN. + + +January had drawn to an end, and with Charles Linchmore had gone all the +visitors from Brampton, save the Stricklands and Bennets, and they being +cousins remained on, as Mrs. Linchmore said it would be wretchedly dull +to be entirely deserted when Robert Vavasour was too weak to be moved, +and kept her and Mr. Linchmore tied to Brampton. This plan appeared to +please everybody but Frances, who seemed to require a great deal of +persuasion before she would consent to remain, though at heart she was +only too glad to stay; but Julia and Anne acquiesced at once. + +Robert Vavasour's illness was of longer duration than was at first +expected; even when the pain from the severe blow on the head abated, +there was still the wound in his leg with the inflammation attending it, +so that he could not leave his room for some few weeks after Charles's +departure, and then only to come down of an evening and recline on a +sofa in the dining-room, where all in turn tried, or did their best +endeavours to amuse him, save one--Miss Neville. + +As he lay there, evening after evening, with nothing better to do than +watch those around him, he soon became aware that his eyes and thoughts +were ever constantly with the governess, He watched her with no common +interest. He who had vowed his heart should never soften towards any +woman now found himself listening eagerly to catch the faintest sound of +her voice, or the outline of her figure reflected in the glass as she +moved across the room. As he noted her quiet ways, so different from the +haughty Frances, or the bustling Anne, or the numbers of other girls he +had known, he grew more in love with her than he liked to acknowledge to +himself, and determined she should be his if she was to be won. If she +loved him what to her would be the shade and mystery of his birth; for +he would make no secret of it, but tell her all he knew, all that made +him so reserved, and at times impatient. + +Mr. Linchmore was wrong in the opinion he had given Amy of his +character, for, although Robert Vavasour was ready to flirt with every +girl or woman in the room, his hostess included, yet he had long felt +Miss Neville was not to be so trifled with; she was superior to them +all. A being to be reverenced and loved with all a man's heart. She +must be his wife--if she so willed it--and if she did not, none other +ever should. How he chafed with impatience at being obliged to lie so +utterly useless and idle, when he would have given worlds to be at Amy's +side pouring soft nothings--as men only know how to--into her ear and +striving to win her love and make her his own. + +Meanwhile Anne watched Frances as the spider watches the fly, but as yet +had found out nothing likely to unravel the mystery shrouding Charles's +hasty departure. She had sought out Amy almost immediately, and +delivered the message and hurried adieux entrusted to her; had noted the +agitation vainly attempted to be suppressed, the quick flushing of the +face and trembling of the lips before the studied words came slowly +forth expressing her thanks at his kindness in remembering her. Anne's +heart opened to her, even as it had done but a short half-hour earlier +to her cousin; and she pitied Miss Neville, and was more than half +tempted to tell her all she knew--all he had said--but there was a +something in Amy's manner that day which forbade Anne's communication; +and she remained silent, yet waiting and watching ready to seize the +very first opportunity of discovering and unravelling the plot, which +seemed so persistently to baffle her; and then not only could she make +two people happy, but what pleasure in being able to defeat Frances! +What a triumph it would be! + +Frances went on silently and secretly. Her wishes were only half +fulfilled. The end was yet to be worked out. + +She felt Anne suspected her the moment Charles drove away from the door; +but what signified that? What could the simple Anne Bennet do? She was a +mere worm in her path. A nobody. Still Frances was more cautious than +ever and more wary. Anne was to be avoided, not openly, but secretly, +while others of far more consequence were to be gained over, so as to +drag Amy more completely into the snare, from which there was to be no +escape. + +There was no need to urge Robert Vavasour on now. Frances saw plainly +enough that he was ready to sacrifice everything and anything to gain +Amy's love; and she must be his wife; even if it broke her heart. + +He was better now, able to walk about again, and generally devoted part +of the evenings to Amy. Poor Amy! who saw not his love--wanted it +not--yet felt grateful at his kindness in talking to her when nobody +else did; besides, did it not keep him away from Mrs. Linchmore, with +whom she could not bear to see him, fancying Mr. Linchmore always looked +sad and dejected while he was at her side. Little did Amy think that +while there was no fear of her losing her heart, Mr. Vavasour was fast +becoming enslaved to herself for ever. + +It was true Mr. Linchmore did not like Vavasour's attentions to his +wife, but he liked his attentions and devotion to his governess far +less. He felt his warning had been of no use, and that Miss Neville was +falling into the snare he had essayed to lead her from. As he sat one +evening resolving it all over in his mind for the twentieth time, +Frances joined him. + +There was no knowing how soon they might be interrupted, so she went to +the point at once without hesitation. + +"Mr. Vavasour has quite recovered from his recent illness, and appears +to be making up for lost time in Miss Neville's good favour." + +"He will hardly make good his footing there," replied Mr. Linchmore. +"Miss Neville is too sensible a girl to be won over by a little fulsome +flattery, however adroitly administered." + +"But there seems more than flattery here; at least, I hope so." + +"Why should you hope it?" + +"For Miss Neville's sake, as I think--nay, am sure he is winning her +heart." + +"Impossible!" + +"He does not think it so impossible, otherwise he would not be so +devoted; men never are when the one object is proved to be +unattainable." + +"I trust you are mistaken, Frances. For if she loves him he will break +her heart," replied Mr. Linchmore, sorrowfully. + +"It is you who are mistaken. That she loves him I am certain, or she +would never have fainted like dead when she heard he was wounded; and as +for him, I believe he loves her with all his heart, only he is afraid to +tell her so. At all events, her fate rests in your hands, to make or mar +as you please." And having said all she wished, Frances left him to +dwell and ponder on it as much as he liked. + +Was it so? Did Miss Neville's fate, indeed, rest in his hands? If so, +then, he must no longer remain inactive, but must bestir himself. He +looked around, but during his conversation with Frances, short as it +was, Miss Neville had disappeared. As Frances and the rest adjourned +into the billiard-room for a game he again sought Amy; surely she had +not gone with the rest? No; there she sat alone in the inner +drawing-room. + +"You are almost in total darkness, Miss Neville," said he, drawing a +chair near her, as she sat within the shade of the alcove or arch +dividing the two rooms. + +The fire burnt low in the grate, while the lamps were all out save one, +which threw a strange, fitful light every now and then across the room. + +"Mrs. Linchmore likes this room kept dark; she says it is sometimes +pleasant to come into, and a relief to the eyes after the brilliant +glare of the other rooms," replied Amy. + +"Perhaps she is right; it certainly is a pleasant rest for the eyes +after the intense glare of the many lamps out there." + +"Yes; and then one is almost sure of being quiet and alone late in the +evening, as no one cares for this dull room then; the lamps are never +trimmed after being once lit, but are allowed to die out as they like." + +"Slowly, like the hopes of our hearts." + +Amy looked up surprised. + +"It is best to have no hopes," she said. + +"That would be contrary to human nature. We all hope, even the most +satisfied mortal, and sometimes our hopes last a life time, and only +fade with our lives." + +"It is true; but perhaps our hopes, if realised, would only render us +miserable. It is best after all to go hoping on." + +"It is best," he replied, quietly. + +Amy thought what a strange mood Mr. Linchmore was in. Why did he speak +and talk so gloomily? Had Mr. Vavasour vexed him again by devoting +himself too much to his wife? or she been flirting more than usual? + +This inner room they now sat in was not so large as the drawing-room, +part of it being taken off for the conservatory, which ran its entire +length, and then adjoined the drawing-room at the point where the arch +which separated the two rooms terminated. In the day time the smaller +room was the prettiest and most cheerful, as the windows at the end +commanded a fine view of the magnificent woods and country beyond, with +the lawn sloping down in front almost to the banks of the lake, whereas +the view from the drawing-room on that side was entirely concealed by +the conservatory. + +As Mr. Linchmore silently revolved in his mind how he should begin about +Mr. Vavasour; how broach the subject so as to find out how far her heart +had been won--or as he thought, lost--thrown away on so unworthy an +object; given to one who neither cared for or valued the rich treasure +he had won, and Amy sat in silent wonderment as to what he would say +next; the rustle of a silk dress was heard, and in another moment two +forms were indistinctly seen through the flowering shrubs and exotics of +the conservatory. + +Amy's breath was hushed, her very pulse was stilled, as she +distinguished Robert Vavasour and Mrs. Linchmore. + +Yet why should they not have separated from the rest? There was nothing +so very strange in it. But Amy felt as if some impending calamity hung +over her, or was near, and she without the power of averting it; and +would have given worlds to have turned and fled. Brave as she was, she +felt a very coward now, and would have warned them how near they were to +others if she could; but it could not be, the windows were closed, no +sound might reach them. + +And now Mr. Linchmore's eyes were fixed in the same direction. He had +seen them, too. + +Amy rose as if to go. She would leave him and join them, come what +would, but-- + +"Sit still, Miss Neville," he said, sternly, and in a tone that +compelled obedience, and Amy sank down again without a word; in dread +and fear; feeling more utterly helpless than ever to avert the coming +storm her heart suggested. + +Once more she looked through the evergreens and tall dark plants. They +were still there, close to one of the doors now, and almost opposite. +He gathered and offered a flower. + +That she received it with a flush of pleasure, could be surmised by the +gentle bend of the proud head, and the soft smile which could almost be +distinguished flitting across her features. + +They came nearer still. Oh! when would they go away? What could interest +them so deeply, and why did he look so earnestly in her now averted +face? What could he be pleading that she would not--did not wish to +grant? + +She has turned her head towards him now, and is looking down on the +ground as though loath to meet his gaze--is speaking--has granted his +request, whatever it is, and he has seized her hand and is kissing it +again and again. + +A hasty, passionate exclamation from Mr. Linchmore, as he suddenly +sprang to his feet, and in another moment would have dashed into the +conservatory, shivering the slight glass door into a thousand fragments, +but Amy threw herself in his path. + +"Oh, stay, stay!" she said. "Don't go, please don't!" + +"Away!" he said. "Out of my way! He shall rue this deeply!" and he tried +to shake her off, but in vain; she clung more firmly to him than before, +beseeching him to stay. + +"Don't, don't go," she continued, imploringly. "I must not let you go! +Pray, pray, listen to me; you will be sorry if you don't. Oh! Mr. +Linchmore, be advised. You cannot tell why he has taken her hand." + +"Villain!" he muttered, between his clenched teeth. "Scoundrel!" + +"No, no! you are mistaken," said Amy, hurriedly, "indeed you are. How +can you guess at anything? He may be entreating her good will, may be +telling her of his love for another. Oh! Mr. Linchmore, be yourself +again; don't give way to this sudden anger until you are certain you are +right, and you may be wrong. Believe me, you _are_ wrong. Oh, don't harm +him, pray don't!" and Amy's eyes filled with tears, as she felt she +could urge nothing more; was powerless if he would go. + +But as her voice grew hushed, and she relaxed her hold, he turned and +said, + +"Miss Neville, you love this man?" + +"Oh, no, no, no!" replied Amy, now fairly sobbing. + +"Then why this interest in him? Why seek to palliate his conduct, base +as I believe it to be?" + +"I would not, if I thought it base, but--but I do not. I am but a poor +ignorant girl, but I implore you, for your wife's sake--your own sake, +do nothing rashly." + +"I will not. I am calm again--as calm as you wish; but this must be +sifted to the very core, must be explained till all is as clear as the +moon, which shines so brightly through that half-darkened window. No +half measures will satisfy me. I must not only be convinced, but feel +so. You say he is pleading his love for another--entreating _her_ good +will in his behalf. Be it so. Then who is this other?" + +He was quiet now, very quiet; with a firm, gloomy determination from +which there could be no escape, no loophole to creep out of. All must be +as clear as day. He had stood his wife's heartless conduct too long, he +would stand it no longer. No half measures, as before, would now satisfy +that angry husband, with the demon jealousy roused in his heart--that +stern yet loving heart. + +Alas! this jealousy, what mischief it causes. What hearts it sunders and +wounds with its fierce stabs; and how powerless are most to rise above +it or shake off its strong iron grasp. If once allowed to enter our +hearts it is an enemy difficult to contend with; still more difficult to +get rid of, for although only a small corner may be taken possession of +or unwillingly granted it at first, yet in time what a much larger +portion becomes its share. + +"Who is this other?" again asked Mr. Linchmore, more gently. + +"I cannot tell," replied Amy. + +"I am willing to believe, Miss Neville, it is as you say; but there must +be no more trifling or prevarication, matters have become too serious +for that. This other you speak of. Who is she? I _must_ know; and if +this man's heart is capable of love, and she loves him," and he looked +fixedly at Amy, and spoke more slowly as if wishing her to weigh well +every word, "then let her be his wife; if she wills it so; but--it will +be to her sorrow." + +"You cannot tell that," replied Amy, seeing he waited for her to speak. +"He may love her with all his heart." + +"He may. But what is all his heart when he is so ready to trifle with +others? Miss Neville," and his voice was still more gentle, and very +pitying in its tone; "you are alone, perhaps feel alone in this house, +and are young, very young to be so thrown upon the world, which you find +a cold and desolate one, I have no doubt. _He_ has been ever kind and +courteous. I fear too much so, and I do not wonder he has created an +interest in your heart, and at last won it. But he must not be allowed +to trifle with it while I stand by. No. It shall never be!" + +"Oh! Mr. Linchmore!" exclaimed Amy, now indeed feeling utterly desolate +at this continued accusation, and belief in her love for Robert +Vavasour. + +"Hush!" he rejoined, gently placing his hand on her soft hair, as she +sat with her face bowed in her hands. "Poor girl; poor desolate young +creature; your happiness shall be my first care, you shall no longer +feel alone; there is no need to tell me anything. I know all that your +heart cannot speak, even to your fainting when you saw him brought home +the other evening." + +Amy's sobs burst out afresh; she felt totally unable to stay them or +convince Mr. Linchmore he was mistaken. + +"Well, well," he continued with a sigh, "it cannot be helped now, things +must take their course; but with him I _will_ have a reckoning," and the +old stern look once more flitted across his face. "But fear not, Miss +Neville; for the sake of your love for him, I will be calm and control +my anger." + +"You will not tell him I care for him--love him, Mr. Linchmore? Oh! no, +no, you could not do so!" said Amy, with fear. + +"I will not; that must rest with you alone, with that I can have nothing +to do, your future happiness must be made or marred by yourself alone. +You need have no fear, but trust; only trust in me, Miss Neville." + +"And I shall see him, shall speak to him myself--alone?" + +"You shall do so. He shall hear no word of your love from me." + +"You promise it, Mr. Linchmore," said Amy, now for the first time +raising her eyes to his. + +"I promise it, Miss Neville, most faithfully." + +"Thank you! thank you; then all will be right." + +"I wish, oh! how I wish it could be otherwise," sobbed Amy, as he left +her; "but I must not murmur, I must be thankful,--thank God it is no +worse than it is; but how can he think that I love him?" + +Amy felt utterly miserable. Did she deny Vavasour's being the cause of +her fainting, would not Mr. Linchmore naturally enough wonder what had +been the occasion of it? or perhaps in the end guess of her love for his +brother, even as he had supposed it to be for Mr. Vavasour? No, rather +let him think anything than that! a thousand times rather. + +Mr. Linchmore had promised she should see Mr. Vavasour--there was some +comfort in that; she could appeal to him, he would be reasoned with, +would listen and believe her even if he loved her--if?--Amy began to +think there was no need of a doubt, and that it was true he loved her. +Why should Mr. Linchmore be deceived? All the latter's warnings, and Mr. +Vavasour's kindness were accounted for now; but love her as he would, +she could not be his wife. No--even if she had never had a thought for +another, it could not have been, and now?--now she would never be any +man's wife. + +Alone? Yes, hopelessly alone. Alone with that one secret love in her +heart, that no one must know or guess at, not even her mother. Yes, it +was hard, very hard. Was she not striving hard to forget him? Perhaps +she would die in the struggle, she felt so hopelessly unequal to face +the storm; perhaps it was best she should die. But then her mother? Yes, +she must live for her, and forget him. It would not be so difficult, +seeing he loved her not, would perhaps never see her again. She was glad +_he_ had not known of her fainting. And who could have told Mr. +Linchmore? Was it Frances? + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +LOOKING FOR THE "BRADSHAW." + + "Yet though my griefe finde noe redress, + But still encrease before myne eyes, + Though my reward be cruelnesse, + With all the harme, happs can devyse, + Yet I profess it willingly + To serve and suffer patiently. + + There is no griefe, no smert, no woe, + That yet I feel, or after shall, + That from this minde may make me goe, + And whatsoever me befall, + I do profess it willingly, + To serve and suffer patiently." + + WYAT. + + "I am two fools, I know, + For loving and for saying so." + + DONNE. + + +Amy was not the only one who wept that night; Frances also did so at +heart, for very anger and vexation. + +She had missed Mr. Linchmore almost immediately after she had sought +Miss Neville; had suspected why he had done so, and managed to overhear +almost every word of the latter part of their conversation, and when Amy +went so sorrowfully out of the inner drawing-room Frances walked +straight over to the fire, and seated herself in the easy chair where +Amy had only a few minutes before sobbed out her very heart, almost. + +Frances had good cause for tears and anger, feeling she was being foiled +and defeated when the end was almost won. Her conversation with Mr. +Linchmore had been a false move, she had urged him on too quickly; but +for that, he never would have seen his wife and Mr. Vavasour, and all +would yet have been well; now all was going on wrong--utterly wrong. + +That Robert Vavasour would propose for Miss Neville was certain. That +Miss Neville meant to refuse him was certain, too. The first she had +fully calculated upon, but not the latter. She had intended the first to +take place only when Amy had been so hopelessly entangled that she +could not escape, could not say no, and now to be defeated at the very +moment of victory, was almost more than her proud spirit could brook. + +Was all her plotting to be of no use? all to be lost? and to be lost +now? Now that the end was all but attained, and it wanted but one final +stroke for Amy to be lost to Charles for ever! + +A dull, heavy despair was fast creeping over her spirits; what could be +done now? Oh! for some one to aid her! What if she spoke to Robert +Vavasour, and urged him on to make Amy his at all hazards; she felt +certain he loved her with all his heart. Suppose she told him of Amy's +secret, and apparently hopeless love for her cousin, as the true reason +why she would refuse to listen to his suit. But then again, he might be +too proud to marry a woman whose heart was another's, on the mere +dangerous chance of being able to win it in the end, and if he should +think so and give her up? might not Charles hear of it and return, and +then all her hopes be dashed to the ground, just as they seemed on the +point of being accomplished? + +Frances sat moodily by the smouldering fire, tapping her foot +impatiently on the ground in utter vexation of spirit, her heart aching +and her temples throbbing with the anguish of her thoughts. She had a +strong ruthless will; but how to make others bend to it? How bring them +under the influence of it? She chafed with angry vexation; no rest had +she that night; but lay restlessly tossing about the bed, when at last, +utterly worn out, she threw herself impatiently on it. It was the first +drawback she had had in the task she had set herself to accomplish. If +Robert Vavasour would only defer his proposal to Miss Neville for one +day? Give her time to think of some fresh stratagem! But no. Mr. +Linchmore had willed it otherwise. Had she not heard him tell Miss +Neville he would have an explanation from Mr. Vavasour of what he had +seen in the conservatory; and that Frances knew right well could lead +but to one result: a repetition of his conversation with Mrs. +Linchmore, disclosing his love for her governess. + +As Frances drew up her blind in the morning, almost hating the winter's +sun as it streamed in at the window, she knew a few short hours would +decide Amy's fate and hers. A reprieve she could not hope for: it was +simply impossible. Still she did not give up all hope; a trifle might +yet turn the tide of events in her favour; so she went downstairs to +breakfast, her head filled as much as ever with schemes and plots. How +it beat with renovated hope as she heard that Mr. Linchmore had been +suddenly called away on business early that morning. How she wished it +might last for days! + +The studies did not progress very happily that morning, although Amy set +herself resolutely to work, and strove to drive away the troubled +thoughts that crowded into her brain. But they would come back do what +she would. How many false notes were played by Fanny, without being +noticed, at her morning's practising; and mistakes made by Edith at her +French reading without correction. Every moment Amy expected and awaited +a summons from Mr. Linchmore; but none came; and as the morning wore on, +she grew restless and impatient. + +The afternoon drew on, and Amy grew still more anxious; could settle +herself to nothing; but sat and watched the sun as it sunk lower and +lower, and wondered at the reason of the delay. Mary entered with a +letter. It must be later than she thought, almost half-past four, and +still no summons. + +She drew near the fire-light, and opened her letter. It was from +Ashleigh, and as if to verify the old adage that troubles never come +alone, her mother was worse, and Mrs. Elrington asked Amy to return home +for a week, as she thought the sight of her daughter might rouse and +cheer the invalid. It was the apathy and apparent want of energy the +medical man feared, nothing else; and it was thought Amy's presence +might dissipate it. + +All minor troubles were now swallowed up in this; with tearful eyes Amy +sought Mrs. Linchmore and obtained the wished-for leave. This time there +was no regretful tardiness in granting it, no unwillingness expressed. + +"Pray go as soon as you like, Miss Neville," she said, "and do not hurry +back on the children's account, a week or so will make no difference to +either them or me." + +Amy felt grateful for her kindness in so readily granting her request, +although the words themselves were somewhat stiffly spoken; but her +thoughts were so entirely engrossed by her mother's illness and the +feeling of being so soon at home again, they could not long dwell on +anything else; all were trifles compared to that. + +"I will not say good-bye," added Mrs. Linchmore, "as we shall meet again +in the drawing-room this evening." + +But Amy excused herself. She had so much to do, and to think of. There +was her packing not begun even. + +"Then I will make my adieux now. I trust you will find Mrs. Neville +better, or at all events mending. I fear you will not see Mr. Linchmore; +he was called away early this morning to attend the death bed of a very +old friend of his, and had to start at a minute's notice; but I will +desire the carriage to be ready for you at any hour you like to name, or +you can send word by Mary." + +Mr. Linchmore was away then; hence the reason of his not having +fulfilled his promise. Amy was glad of the reprieve, perhaps before her +return, things might wear a different aspect; at all events, her heart +felt lighter, and she went to her room with a less weight on her +spirits. + +"Where is your governess?" asked Frances, entering the school-room soon +after Amy had left it to seek Mrs. Linchmore. + +Fanny was nursing her doll, and scarcely deigned to look up as she +replied, "She is busy packing." + +"Packing!" exclaimed Frances in bewilderment. "Packing! and for what?" + +"To go away," was the curt answer. + +Go away. Another step backwards in the wheel of fortune. + +"She is not going for good?" she asked. + +"Oh! no. Only for a week. Are you not sorry, cousin? I am," said Fanny, +in somewhat of a saucy tone. The child still remembered the "Holy Work:" +thought of her hurt arm. + +"Very sorry," replied Frances sincerely enough. What could she be going +away for? but anxious as Frances was, she disdained to ask the children, +but sat down and awaited quietly Miss Neville's coming. + +Amy went on steadily with her packing, which, with Mary's help, was +soon finished, and then went down to the library to look at the +"Bradshaw," and find out which was the very earliest train by which she +could start on the morrow. But it was not on the table. She turned over +the books one by one, removed the inkstand and papers, but her search +was fruitless. It was gone. + +As she stood undecided what to do next, Robert Vavasour came forward; +she had not noticed him in the dim uncertain twilight. + +"Can I assist you, Miss Neville?" he asked. "What is it you look for?" + +"I was looking for the 'Bradshaw,' which is usually kept on this table; +but it is gone." + +"It is here," he replied, taking it off a chair, where it had been +hastily left by Mr. Linchmore in the morning. "Allow me to find out what +you wish, this book is a puzzle to most people." + +Amy explained her wishes. "You are going away?" he asked. + +"Yes; but only for a short time, a fortnight at the furthest." + +"It is a long time--to me," he said, gently; then lit the taper, and +busied himself with pen, ink, and paper, and the 'Bradshaw;' while Amy +stood by, wishing she had not come down, but had sent Mary, or one of +the children instead. + +After dotting down the times of the trains as they arrived and left the +different stations, he closed the book; still he did not look up, or +give her the memorandum. + +"Thank you," said Amy, "that will do very nicely." + +"You cannot leave the Standale station before the 9.10 train," he said +presently, "that is express, and will take you with less delays on the +road than any other, and will only detain you some twenty minutes or so, +when you join the ordinary train. I will write this time table out +better and more clearly for you, and let you have it before you start." + +"Do not take that trouble. What you have written will be quite guide +enough for me. Good-bye, Mr. Vavasour," and she held out her hand. + +He hesitated a moment, then took it in both his, and held it fast. + +"I cannot say good-bye, Miss Neville." All the love he felt for her was +welling up into his heart, and striving to be heard. He must speak. "I +cannot let you go thus," he said, "had you remained it would have been +otherwise, and I would not have opened my heart to you yet; but, as it +is, I cannot help myself. Miss Neville, I never loved any woman till I +saw you--never thought I could do so. I had but a poor opinion of your +sex. Had not my mother deserted me, and was not that enough to fill my +heart with hatred and bitterness? There is a mystery shadowing my birth, +which seems to me to be growing darker and darker every day. I have no +claim even to the very name I bear, and cannot tell you who my parents +are; perhaps this silence is better than the knowledge that they live, +and are ashamed to own me. I thought I was too proud to ask any woman to +overlook that, and vowed I never would; but then I trifled with them +all, even with you. Do you remember the flower I sent by Fanny? how many +a sleepless night has the remembrance of that folly cost me? But, +knowing all I have now told you, all that at times drives me to the +solitude of my lonely home, and distracting thoughts, will you come and +comfort me,--pity me--love me? Amy, I love you with all my heart. Will +you be my wife?" + +He could not see her face, the light was too uncertain, and she stood in +the shade; but he felt that she trembled as she withdrew her hand from +his. + +Yes, it was even so. Amy was quite prepared when he began, to say she +did not love him; but he claimed her pity, and her woman's heart felt +for him at once. + +"Will you let me love you, care for you, Amy, as never woman was loved +or cared for before? Speak to me, Amy, say one word--one word of hope." + +But Amy could give none. "I am sorry," she replied, falteringly, +"believe me, deeply sorry; but hope? Alas, Mr. Vavasour, I can give you +none." + +"You do not love me?" he asked, sorrowfully. + +"I like you, have always liked you. You have been so kind to me, the +only one almost who has; and I have felt grateful for that--it would be +strange if I were not; but I do not love you," she said softly, fearing +the pain she was causing. + +"I have been premature in asking your love, I know. I have had so little +opportunity of winning it, how could I expect you would love me with +scarcely any wooing at all. May I ask you one question, Miss Neville? I +feel I have no right to ask it, and it may be a death-blow to my hopes?" + +"Yes," replied Amy. How could she refuse, and he so sad and +heart-broken. + +"Forgive me; but has another claimed your love?" + +"No. No other has ever spoken to me of love, or loved me," she said +sadly. + +"Thank you, Miss Neville. Then I will--must hope. Why should I not win +your love, when I love you so very dearly; how dearly you know not? I +will wait patiently; but strive to win you I must. In my dreary, sad +life it is the one bright star to lead me on to better things. I have +trifled away life--hated it at times; but now I will begin to live. You +are going home, Miss Neville, let this tale of my love be as if it had +never been. I will be content to take my chance with others; let us be +friends again, as hitherto. I promise no word of love shall ever pass my +lips. When you know me better, and, perhaps, judge me better than you do +now, then once again I will ask you to be my wife; and then, if you +reject me--well. Then we must never meet again; but while your heart is +free I must hope. Shall it be so?" he asked. + +Alas! what could she say? She could not tell him her love was another's +unasked and unsought for, when she was striving to shut it out of her +heart for ever. She could only murmur that she did not love him, and +could give no hope. While he, thinking her love yet unwon, believed it +might be his in the end, and that he had told her of his love too soon. + +"You will not refuse my request, Miss Neville, will you?" he asked, +sorrowfully. + +"I do not like to refuse," she replied, "and yet I doubt if I ought to +grant it. It will only make both you and me unhappy, because it can lead +but to the same result as now." + +"I dare not think so," he said. "Surely God will be more merciful than +to leave my life an utter blank. No mother's love have I ever known; +mine has been, and is a dreary, unloved lot. Is it a wonder my heart +clings to you, loves you so madly? and yet you will not even let me try +and win you; but would shut out all hope. If you loved another; +then--then indeed I would not plead; but, as it is--it is scarcely kind, +Miss Neville; forgive me for saying so." + +"Believe me, I do not wish to be unkind," faltered Amy. "I think my +decision would have been the kindest in the end. But enough; it shall be +as you wish, only you must not blame me hereafter." + +"Neither now nor ever!" + +And so they parted, both sorrowful at heart, both feeling the future +which seemed to loom so gloomily for each; neither daring to look +beyond the shadow even now flitting across their path. + +Little did Frances Strickland think while loitering in the school-room +awaiting Amy, that the very meeting she had come to prevent had taken +place. + +Just as she was growing impatient, and wondering at the unwonted delay, +Miss Neville entered. + +"I have been waiting to make my adieux," she said, "having heard you +were going away, and I did not like you should go without a word of +farewell." + +Amy was quite unprepared for this, and looked her surprise. + +"Do we part friends, Miss Neville?" + +"I can scarcely say yes," replied Amy, "our acquaintance has been but +short, and--and--you have never liked me, Miss Strickland; if you +recollect you almost told me so once." + +"Ah, you have not forgotten that stormy interview. But I was angry and +passionate. I have regretted what I said then ever since. Even you must +know I never carried out my threats." + +"I cannot tell," replied Amy. "I know I feared them, and the thought of +what you had threatened--the shame--made me ill. No, Miss Strickland, we +can never be friends." + +"And why not?" + +There was a slight touch of hauteur in her tone, do what she would to +hide it. Amy saw it, and felt more than ever convinced Miss Strickland +did not like her; never would like her. Why should she so persistently +wish to be friendly now, after all her anger and rudeness Amy could not +divine, but she suspected Frances, and thought some motive lay hidden +deep in her heart. She answered coldly, + +"Our paths in life lie so very wide apart, that being friends is simply +impossible." + +"Not so," replied Frances. "Our lives may be nearer knit together than +you think; you will not be always teaching." + +"As yet I see no reason to think otherwise, and as I think I told you +once before, I am reconciled to it, or I trust nearly so." And Amy felt +she was growing more ungracious every moment. + +Perhaps Frances saw it too, for she held out her hand as she said, "Do +we, or rather are we to part friends, Miss Neville?" + +"I do not wish we should part as enemies. Good-bye, Miss Strickland." +She wished she could thank her for coming, but she could not. + +"Well, good-bye, I think you will be sorry some day for refusing my +friendship. I suppose you will not come down this evening; so this is a +final leave-taking." + +She turned as if to go, then stopped. Her anger at Amy's refusal got the +mastery over her wise resolutions, and her eyes flashed fire as she +said, + +"There can be no middle course, Miss Neville; if you will not have me as +a friend, I can be a bitter enemy." + +"I know it," replied Amy, "and cannot help it." + +"Very well, then, I bid you beware! We shall see which is defeated. You +or I. I will be relentless." + +And she passed out. + +"Why do you look so sad, Miss Neville?" said little Fanny, creeping up +close to her, "I am glad you don't like her, because I know she can't +bear you." + +"I don't know, Fanny. She says she does, or rather did." + +"But that's a story. Only see her eyes when she went away!" + +"Yes, Fanny; but that was my fault. I fear I was not wise to brave her; +but then it could scarcely have been otherwise. I could not like her." + +"I know I don't!" replied the child, "and am glad no one does. She +nearly pinched Edith's arm a minute ago like she did mine, because she +told her Uncle Charles put up those book shelves for you; and oh! she +looked so angry. She's just like the dog in the manger. Isn't she?" + +Ah! Had there been no such person as Uncle Charles in the world, these +two young girls might have been friends. But as it was; that was the +sore point which kept their hearts, the one so distant; the other so +revengefully inclined. Frances, who nursed and encouraged her love, knew +it was so: while Amy, who dared not think of or allow her love, tried to +imagine a hundred other reasons as the true cause of her dislike. + +The children were up betimes in the morning to take a tearful farewell +of their governess; Fanny crying heartily and aloud, until severely +rated by Anne Bennet, who, with her sister Julia, was also there bidding +good-bye while Amy's boxes were being stowed away in the carriage. + +"I can't help crying," said Fanny, when rebuked, "indeed I can't! so +it's of no use, Cousin Anne." + +"Then cry to yourself, child; or stay, here is my hankerchief to stuff +into your mouth; your noise is enough to scare an inmate of Bedlam, and +nearly drives us all crazy. Good-bye, Miss Neville; you will write to +me, won't you? A long letter, mind, when you are settled at home." + +"I have promised your sister a letter," was the reply. + +"Just like my luck. I ought to have asked you sooner. But I shall write +to you all the same. I dare say I shall have lots of news that Julia +will know nothing about." + +Then the carriage drove away, and Amy wondered why Mr. Vavasour had +never given her the time-table as he had promised, and felt a little +disappointed at his forgetfulness; either he did not care for her so +much as she had imagined, or he felt her going away too deeply; at all +events his non appearance made her feel sad. She had learned to like +though not to love him. + +But when she reached the Standale Station, and the carriage steps were +being let down; the first person she saw was Mr. Vavasour, awaiting her +at the door. + +"Mr. Vavasour! you here?" she exclaimed, involuntarily, and perhaps with +a slight welcome of gladness in the tone. + +"Yes; why not? Did you suppose I would let you go alone, and uncared +for? The train will be here in another moment; I almost feared you would +be late." + +Then he went away for her ticket, and presently she was leaning on his +arm as they walked along the platform. It seemed like a dream. + +"Here is the time-table, Miss Neville," he said, as soon as she was +seated in the carriage, "I think you will be able to understand it, and +you must allow me to lend you this railway rug, it will be of use to +you, both going and returning, and I shall not require it," and he drew +it over her feet as she sat, "I wish you a safe journey, though I fear +it will scarcely be a pleasant one; I trust you will find Mrs. Neville +better. God bless you." + +There was a banging of doors, the whistle sounded, and she was carried +away out of his sight, feeling she had been more cared for and thought +of during those few minutes than she had ever been before in all her +life; yet his last three words stirred her heart strangely, bringing as +they did that last sad evening of Charles Linchmore's stay at Brampton +vividly before her, when he had held her hand, and softly said the same +words. + + + END OF VOL. II. + + + T. C. NEWBY, 30, Welbeck Street, Cavendish Square, London. + + + * * * * * + + + WILSON'S + PATENT DRAWING-ROOM + BAGATELLE AND BILLIARD TABLES, + WITH REVERSIBLE TOPS. + Circular, Oblong, Oval, and other Shapes, in various Sizes + FORMING A HANDSOME TABLE. + + [Illustration: Patent Bagatelle Table-Open.] + + [Illustration: Patent Bagatelle Table-Closed.] + + Prices from 5 to 25 Guineas. 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Several of the most attractive portions +of the human frame are delicate and fragile, in proportion as they are +graceful and pleasing; and the due conservation of them is intimately +associated with our health and comfort. The hair, for example, from the +delicacy of its growth and texture, and its evident sympathy with the +emotions of the mind; the skin, with its intimate relation to the most +vital of our organs, as those of respiration, circulation and digestion, +together with the delicacy and susceptibility of its own texture; and +the teeth, also, from their peculiar structure, formed as they are, of +bone or dentine, and cased with a fibrous investment of enamel; these +admirable and highly essential portions of our frames, are all to be +regarded not merely as objects of external beauty and display, but as +having an intimate relation to our health, and the due discharge of the +vital functions. The care of them ought never to be entrusted to +ignorant or unskilful hands; and it is highly satisfactory to point out +as protectors of these vital portions of our frame the preparations +which have emanated from the laboratories of the Messrs. Rowlands, their +unrivalled Macassar for the hair, their Kalydor for improving and +beautifying the complexion, and their Odonto for the teeth and gums. + + * * * * * + + + NEW NOVELS IN THE PRESS. + + + In Three Vols. + THE MAITLANDS. + + + In Three Vols. + TREASON AT HOME. + By MRS. GREENOUGH. + + * * * * * + + + BEDSTEADS, BEDDING, AND BED ROOM + FURNITURE. + + HEAL & SON'S + + Show Rooms contain a large assortment of Brass Bedsteads, suitable + both for home use and for Tropical Climates. + +Handsome Iron Bedsteads, with Brass Mountings, and elegantly Japanned. + +Plain Iron Bedsteads for Servants. + +Every description of Woodstead, in Mahogany, Birch, and Walnut Tree +Woods, Polished Deal and Japanned, all fitted with Bedding and +Furnitures complete. + +Also, every description of Bed Room Furniture, consisting of Wardrobes, +Chests of Drawers, Washstands, Tables, Chairs, Sofas, Couches, and every +article for the complete furnishing of a Bed Room. + + AN + + ILLUSTRATED CATALOGUE, + +Containing Designs and Prices of 150 articles of Bed Room Furniture, as +well as of 100 Bedsteads, and Prices of every description of Bedding. + + Sent Free by Post. + + + HEAL & SON, + + BEDSTEAD, BEDDING, + + AND + + BED ROOM FURNITURE MANUFACTURERS + + 196, TOTTENHAM COURT ROAD, + + LONDON. W. + + * * * * * + + + NOW READY. + + + In Three Vols. + + THE NAVAL LIEUTENANT. + + BY F. C. ARMSTRONG, + + Author of "The Two Midshipmen," "The Medora," "The + Lily of Devon," "The Queen of the Seas," &c. + + * * * * * + + IN THE PRESS. + + + In Three Vols. Price 31s. 6d. + + AN OLD MAN'S SECRET. + + A Novel. + + BY FRANK TROLLOPE, + + Author of "A Right-Minded Woman." + + * * * * * + + NEW WORKS IN THE PRESS. + + + I. + + In One Vol. Price 10s. 6d. + + THE ADVENTURES OF A SERF WIFE + + AMONG THE MINES OF SIBERIA. + + + II. + + In Three Vols. Price 31s. 6d. + + AN OLD MAN'S SECRET + + A Novel. + + By FRANK TROLLOPE, + + Author of "A Right-Minded Woman." + + + III. + + In Three Vols. Price 31s. 6d. + + TREASON AT HOME. + + A Novel. + + BY MRS. GREENOUGH. + + * * * * * + + + J. W. BENSON, + + WATCH AND CLOCK MAKER, BY WARRANT OF APPOINTMENT, TO + H.R.H. THE PRINCE OF WALES. + +Maker of the Great Clock for the Exhibition, 1862, and of the +Chronograph Dial, by which was timed "The Derby" of 1862, 1863, and +1864, Prize Medallist, Class XXXIII., and Honourable Mention, Class XV, +begs respectfully to invite the attention of the nobility, gentry, and +public to his establishment at + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, + +Which, having recently been increased in size by the incorporation of +the two houses in the rear, is now the most extensive and richly stocked +in London. In + + THE WATCH DEPARTMENT + +Will be found every description of Pocket Horological Machine, from the +most expensive instruments of precision to the working man's substantial +time-keeper. The stock comprises Watches, with every kind of case, gold +and silver, plain, engine-turned, engraved, enamelled, chased, and +jewelled, and with dials of enamel, silver, or gold, either neatly +ornamented or richly embellished. + + + BENSON'S WATCHES. + +"The movements are of the finest quality which the art of horology is at +present capable of producing."--_Illustrated London News_ 8th Nov., +1862. + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. + + + BENSON'S WATCHES. + +Adapted for every class, climate, and country. Wholesale and retail from +200 guineas to 2½ guineas each. + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London + + + BENSON'S WATCHES. + +Chronometer, duplex, lever, horizontal, repeating, centre seconds, +keyless, astronomical, reversible, chronograph, blind men's, Indian, +presentation, and railway, to suit all classes. + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. + + + BENSON'S WATCHES. + + London-made levers, gold from £10 10s., silver from £5 5s. + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. + + + BENSON'S WATCHES. + + Swiss watches of guaranteed quality, gold from £5 5s.; silver from + £2 12s. 6d. + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. + + + Benson's Exact Watch. + + Gold from £30; silver from £24. + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. + + + Benson's Indian Watch. + + Gold, £23; silver, £11 11s. + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. + + + BENSON'S CLOCKS. + +"The clocks and watches were objects of great attraction, and well +repaid the trouble of an inspection."--_Illustrated London News_, 8th +November, 1862. + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. + + + BENSON'S CLOCKS. + +Suitable for the dining and drawing rooms, library, bedroom, hall, +staircase, bracket, carriage, skeleton, chime, musical, night, +astronomical, regulator, shop, warehouse, office, counting house, &c., + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. + + + BENSON'S CLOCKS. + +Drawing room clocks, richly gilt, and ornamented with fine enamels from +the imperial manufactories of Sèvres, from £200 to £2 2s. + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. + + + BENSON'S CLOCKS, + +For the dining room, in every shape, style, and variety of bronze--red, +green, copper, Florentine, &c. A thousand can be selected from, from 100 +guineas to 2 guineas. + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. + + + BENSON'S CLOCKS, + +In the following marbles:--Black, rouge antique, Sienne, d'Egypte, rouge +vert, malachite, white, rosée, serpentine, Brocatelle, porphyry, green, +griotte, d'Ecosse, alabaster, lapis lazuli Algerian onyx, Californian. + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. + + + THE HOUSE-CLOCK DEPARTMENT, + +For whose more convenient accommodation J. W. BENSON has opened spacious +show rooms at Ludgate Hill, will be found to contain the largest and +most varied stock of Clocks of every description, in gilt, bronze, +marbles, porcelain, and woods of the choicest kinds. + +In this department is also included a very fine collection of + + BRONZES D'ART, + +BENSON'S ILLUSTRATED PAMPHLET, free by post for three stamps, contains a +short history of Horology, with prices and patterns of every description +of watch and clock, and enables those who live in any part of the world +to select a watch, and have it sent safe by post. + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, E.C. + + * * * * * + + + NOW READY. + + + In Three Vols. + + THE NAVAL LIEUTENANT. + + BY F. C. ARMSTRONG, + + Author of "The Two Midshipmen," "The Medora," + "The Lily of Devon," "The Queen of the Seas," &c. + + * * * * * + + + IN THE PRESS. + + + In Three Vols. Price 31s. 6d. + + AN OLD MAN'S SECRET. + + A Novel. + + BY FRANK TROLLOPE, + + Author of "A Right-Minded Woman." + + * * * * * + + + THE FURNISHING OF BED-ROOMS. + + +HEAL and SON have observed for some time that it would be advantageous +to their Customers to see a much larger selection of BED-ROOM FURNITURE +than is usually displayed, and that to judge properly of the style and +effect of the different descriptions of Furniture, it is necessary that +each description should be placed in a separate room. They have +therefore erected large and additional Show-Rooms, by which they are +enabled not only to extend their show of Iron, Brass, and Wood +Bedsteads, and Bed-room Furniture, beyond what they believe has ever +been attempted, but also to provide several small rooms for the purpose +of keeping complete suites of Bed-room Furniture in the different +styles. + +Japanned Deal Goods may be seen in complete suites of five or six +different colours, some of them light and ornamental, and others of a +plainer description. Suites of Stained Deal Gothic Furniture, Polished +Deal, Oak, and Walnut, are also set apart in separate rooms, so that +customers are able to see the effect as it would appear in their own +rooms. + +The Stock of Mahogany Goods for the better Bed-rooms, and Japanned Goods +for plain and Servants' use, is very greatly increased, the whole +forming as complete an assortment of Bed-room Furniture as they think +can possibly be desired. + + + HEAL AND SON'S + + ILLUSTRATED CATALOGUE OF + + BEDSTEADS, BEDDING, + + AND + + BED-ROOM FURNITURE, + + Sent free by Post. + + 196, 197, 198, TOTTENHAM COURT ROAD. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's It May Be True, Vol. II (of III), by Mrs. Wood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IT MAY BE TRUE, VOL. II (OF III) *** + +***** This file should be named 39192-8.txt or 39192-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/1/9/39192/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Sue Fleming and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license + + +Title: It May Be True, Vol. II (of III) + +Author: Mrs. Wood + +Release Date: March 18, 2012 [EBook #39192] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IT MAY BE TRUE, VOL. II (OF III) *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Sue Fleming and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="notebox"> +<p><b>Transcriber's Note: </b> There were a number of printer's errors within the +text which have not been altered.</p> +</div> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 233px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="233" height="400" alt="" /> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<h1>IT MAY BE TRUE.</h1> +<p class="title"> + +<small>A NOVEL.</small><br /> + +<small>IN THREE VOLUMES.</small><br /> + +<small>BY</small><br /> + +<big>MRS. WOOD.</big><br /> + +<small>VOL. II.</small><br /> +</p><p class="title"> +<small>London:</small><br /> + +<small>T. CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER,</small><br /> +<small>30, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE,</small><br /> +<small>1865.</small><br /> + +<small>[THE RIGHT OF TRANSLATION IS RESERVED.]</small> +</p> + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h1><a name="IT_MAY_BE_TRUE" id="IT_MAY_BE_TRUE"></a>IT MAY BE TRUE.</h1> +<hr class="chap" /> + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> +<h4>NEWS FROM HOME</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"The smith, a mighty man is he,</span> +<span class="i4">With large and sinewy hands;</span> +<span class="i2">And the muscles of his brawny arms</span> +<span class="i4">Are strong as iron bands.</span> +<span class="i2">His hair is crisp, and black, and long;</span> +<span class="i4">His face is like the tan;</span> +<span class="i2">His brow is wet with honest sweat;</span> +<span class="i4">He earns whate'er he can;</span> +<span class="i2">And looks the whole world in the face,</span> +<span class="i4">For he owes not any man."</span> +<span class="i20"><span class="smcap">Longfellow.</span></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>It was just sunset as Matthew the pikeman went out to receive toll from +some one passing, or rather coming quickly up to the gate.</p> + +<p>It was market day at Brampton, so Matthew had to keep his ears open, and +his wits about him, for generally he had a lazy post, with scarcely half +a dozen calls during the day.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<p>A spare thin man was the occupier of the light cart now coming fast +along the road; who as he drew near the gate threw the pence—without +slackening his horse's pace—at least a foot from where the other was +standing.</p> + +<p>"There's manners for you!" said Matthew, stooping to look for the money, +"chucks the ha'pence to me as though I was a thief. Hates parting with +'em, I 'spose."</p> + +<p>"Or hates touching you with the ends of his fingers," said a voice at +his side.</p> + +<p>"Good evening to yer, Mrs. Grey," said he, civilly rising and looking +up, "Well, I'm blessed if I can find that last penny," and he counted +over again those he held in his hand, "I'll make him give me another, +next time I sets eyes on him, I know."</p> + +<p>"What's this?" said Goody Grey, turning something over with her stick.</p> + +<p>"That's it, and no mistake. Why I'd back yer to see through a brick +wall, Ma'am."</p> + +<p>"There!" said she, not heeding his last re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>mark, and pointing out the +cart going slowly up a neighbouring hill, "he's too proud to shake hands +with his betters, now. Pride, all pride, upstart pride, like the rest of +the fools in this world. And he used to go gleaning in the very fields +he now rides over so pompously."</p> + +<p>"Can yer call that to mind, Mrs. Grey?" asked Matthew, eyeing her keenly +and searchingly.</p> + +<p>"Call it to mind! What's that to you? I never said I could, but I know +it for a truth."</p> + +<p>"Folks say there's few things yer don't know," replied Matthew, somewhat +scared at her fierce tone.</p> + +<p>"Folks are fools!"</p> + +<p>"Some of 'em; not all. Most say yer knows everything, and can give +philters and charms for sickness and heart-ache and the like."</p> + +<p>"Folks are fools!" repeated she again.</p> + +<p>"Well I know nothing, nor don't want to; but," said he, dropping his +voice to a whisper, "if yer could only give me a charm to keep <i>her</i> +tongue quiet," and he pointed with his thumb<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> meaningly over his +shoulder in the direction of the cottage, "I'd bless yer from the bottom +of my heart as long as I live."</p> + +<p>"What blessing will you give me?"</p> + +<p>Matthew considered a moment, as the question somewhat puzzled him. Here +was a woman who had apparently neither kith nor kin belonging to her, +one who stood, as far as he could see, alone in the world. How was he to +give her a blessing? She had neither children, nor husband to be kind or +unkind to her; she might be a prosperous woman for aught he or the +neighbours knew, or she might be the very reverse. She never seemed to +crave for sympathy from anyone, but rather to shun it, and never allowed +a question of herself on former days to be asked, without growing angry, +and if it was repeated, or persisted in, violent.</p> + +<p>Presently Matthew hit upon what he thought a safe expedient. "What +blessing do yer most want?" he asked cunningly.</p> + +<p>"None! I want none."</p> + +<p>"I'll give yer one Ma'am all the same. Most<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> of us wish for something, +and I'll pray that the one wish of yer heart, whatever it is, yer may +get."</p> + +<p>"How dare you wish me that?" she said in a fierce tone, "how dare you +know I've any wish at all?"</p> + +<p>"'Cos I do. That's all," replied Matthew sullenly.</p> + +<p>"Who told you? Speak! Answer!"</p> + +<p>"Good Lord! Mrs. Grey, ma'am; how you scare a man. Who should tell me? I +don't know nothing at all about yer; how should I? All I know is that +most folks has wishes of some kind or another; nobody's satisfied in +this world, and in course you ain't, and so I just wished yer might be, +that's all; there's no great harm in that, is there?"</p> + +<p>"I told you folks were fools; but I think you are the biggest fool of +the lot."</p> + +<p>"Come, come, don't let's have words. I didn't mean to vex yer, you're a +lone woman with not a soul to stand by yer, and the Lord knows what +you've got on yer mind."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then seeing her eyes flashed again he hastened to change the subject.</p> + +<p>"It's a fine evening, anyhow," said he.</p> + +<p>"We shall have rain."</p> + +<p>"Rain!" and Matthew looked up overhead, but not a vestige of a cloud or +sign of a storm could he see.</p> + +<p>"Yes, rain, heavy rain, like the weeping of a stricken, woeful heart."</p> + +<p>And she was passing on; but Matthew could not let her go so; he must +have the charm, even at the risk of offending her again. He had thought +of it for days past, it was the one wish of his heart; he had longed and +sought for this opportunity and it must not slip through his fingers +thus, so he said meekly, but still rather doubtfully,</p> + +<p>"Well it may be going to rain; yer know a deal better than I do, and I +won't gainsay yer? we shall know fast enough afore night closes in. And +now Mrs. Grey will yer give me the charm?"</p> + +<p>"You don't need any charm."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Can't be done without," said he decidedly. "I've tried everything else +I know of, and it ain't no use," said he despairingly.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Goody Grey, after a moment's consideration, "do you see +this box?" and she took a small box out of her pocket and filled it with +some of the fine gravel from his garden, whilst Matthew looked eagerly +on as if his life depended on it. "When next you are on your road to the +Brampton Arms, and are close to the yew tree which grows within a +stone's throw of the door, <i>turn back</i>, and when you reach home again +take the box out of your pocket and throw away one of the stones, and +don't stir forth again, save to answer the 'pike, for the rest of the +evening."</p> + +<p>"And then?" questioned Matthew.</p> + +<p>"Then there's nothing more to be done, except to sit quiet and silent +and watch your wife's face."</p> + +<p>"Where I shall see ten thousand furies, if I don't answer her."</p> + +<p>"You are a man, what need you care? Do as I bid you every time you are +tempted to go to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> Public-house; never miss once until the box is +empty. Then bring it back to me."</p> + +<p>"And suppose I miss. What then?"</p> + +<p>"How do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Why; what if when I finds myself so near the door of the Public—you +see, ma'am, it's a great temptation—I turns in and gets a drop afore I +comes home?"</p> + +<p>"Then you must add another stone instead of taking one away, and don't +attempt to deceive me, or the charm will work harm instead of good."</p> + +<p>Deceive her; no. Matthew had far too much faith in the charm to do that; +there was no occasion for her fears.</p> + +<p>"And is this the only charm you know of?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"The only one. When the box is empty the cure is certain; but remember +the conditions, a silent tongue and not a drop of drink; the breaking of +either one of these at the time when the charm is working, and a stone +must be added."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The box'll never be empty in this world," said he, with a deep sigh; +"but I'll try. My thanks to yer all the same, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"You can thank me when you bring back the box. How is Mrs. Marks?"</p> + +<p>"Pretty tidy, thank yer," but he looked crestfallen, notwithstanding his +assertion. "I never know'd her ill; she's like a horse, always ready for +any amount of work, nothing knocks her up."</p> + +<p>"Sometimes the trees we think the strongest, wither the soonest," said +Goody Grey passing on, while Matthew leant against the gate and counted +the stones in the box.</p> + +<p>"There's eight of them," said he. "I wish it had been an uneven number, +it's more lucky. Eight times! More than a week. It'll never be +empty—never!" then he looked up and watched Goody Grey almost out of +sight, and as he did so her last words came across him again.</p> + +<p>What did she mean by them? Did she mean that his old woman was going to +die? Then he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> considered if he should tell her, and whether if he did +she would believe it, and take to her bed at once, and leave him in +quiet possession of the cottage and his own will; somehow his heart +leaped at the thought of the latter, although he shook his head sadly +while the former flashed through him.</p> + +<p>"There's mischief abroad somewhere, Mrs. Marks," said he, entering the +cottage.</p> + +<p>"Was when you was out," retorted she; "but it's at home now, and likely +to remain so for to-night."</p> + +<p>"Who was talking of going out? I'm sure I wasn't. I never thought onc't +of it, even."</p> + +<p>"Best not, for you won't as long as I know it. You were drunk enough +when the young master passed through the 'pike to last for a precious +sight to come; you're not going to make a beast of yourself to-night if +I can help it."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Marks was scrubbing the table down. She was one of those women who, +if they have no work to do, make it. She was never idle. Her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> house, or +rather cottage—there were only four rooms in it—was as clean as a new +pin; not a speck of dirt to be seen, and as to dust, that was a thing +unknown; but then she was always dusting, scrubbing, or sweeping. +Matthew hated the very sight of a brush or pail, and would have grumbled +if he dared; but he dared not; he was thoroughly henpecked. Had he been +a sober man this would not have been the case; but he was not, and he +knew it, and she knew it too; and knowing his weak points she had him at +her mercy, and little enough she showed him. He answered her fast enough +sometimes, but he dared not go in opposition to her will, even when he +came reeling home from the Public-house. Appearances were too against +him: he being small and thin, she a tall, stout, strong-looking woman. +Certainly the scrubbing agreed wonderfully with her, and there seemed +little prospect of Goody Grey's prophecy being verified.</p> + +<p>"Who was it passed through the 'pike, just now?" asked she.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> + +<p>"White; as owns the Easdale Farm down yonder, with no more manners than +old Jenny out there—the donkey,—she lets her heels fly, but I'm +blessed if this chap don't let fly heels and hands both."</p> + +<p>"Chap!" reiterated Mrs. Marks, "where's your manners? He's a deal above +you in the world."</p> + +<p>"May be. But Goody Grey don't say so. She says he was no better nor a +gleaner time gone by."</p> + +<p>"She!" replied Mrs. Marks, contemptuously. "What does she know about it? +She's crazed!"</p> + +<p>"Crazed! no more nor you and I. She's a wise woman, and knows a deal +more than you think."</p> + +<p>"I am glad of it," said Mrs. Marks sneeringly, "for it's a precious +little I think of either her or her sayings."</p> + +<p>"She went through the 'pike same time as 'other did, and told me all +about him."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you be minding your own business, instead of talking and +gossiping with every tom-fool you meet."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She's no woman to gossip with, or fool either; she made me tremble and +shake again, even the fire don't warm me," said he, lighting his pipe +and settling himself in the chimney corner.</p> + +<p>"I'll take your word for her having scared you. There's few as couldn't +do that easy enough."</p> + +<p>Matthew's hand went instinctively into his pocket; he could scarcely +refrain from trying the effect of the charm, but it was growing dusk, +and he was afraid that for that night at least it was too late.</p> + +<p>"Wait a bit," said he in a low voice, "Wait a bit;" but his wife heard +him.</p> + +<p>"Was that what she said?" asked she.</p> + +<p>"No, she said—" and Matthew took the pipe out of his mouth so that he +might be heard the plainer, "she said; 'all trees wither the first as +looks fat and strong.' That's what she said."</p> + +<p>"Trees fat and strong! Are you muddled again?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, I'm not," replied he doggedly, "that's what she said, and no +mistake; the very words, I'll take my oath of it; and if you don't see +the drift of 'em I do."</p> + +<p>"Let's hear it."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Matthew solemnly, "she meant one or t'other of us was going +to die," and he looked her full in the face to see how she would take +it, expecting it would alarm her as it had done him.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Marks put down the scrubbing brush, and resting her arms on the +table returned his gaze.</p> + +<p>"Oh! you poor frightened hare," she said, "So you think you are going to +die, do you? Well I'd have more spirit in me than to list to the words +of a mad woman."</p> + +<p>His astonishment may be better guessed at than described. He had so +entirely made up his mind that his wife was the one Goody Grey had so +vaguely hinted at, that he never deemed it possible any one could think +otherwise; least of all Mrs. Marks herself: he glanced downwards<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> at his +thin legs, then stretched out his arms one after the other and felt +them, as if to satisfy himself that he had made no mistake, and that he +really was the spare man he imagined.</p> + +<p>"No, you're deceiving yourself," said he, "I'll declare it wasn't me she +meant. She said fat, I call it to mind well; and I'm as thin as the sign +post out yonder and no mistake."</p> + +<p>Then he glanced at the stout, strong arms of his wife, now fully +developed with her determined scrubbing. "If she meant anyone," said he +decidedly, "she just meant you!"</p> + +<p>"Me!" screamed Mrs. Marks, "Is it me you are worriting yourself about, +you simpleton? There, rest easy; I'm not afraid of her evil tongue; not +that I suppose I've longer to live than other folks: I'm ready to go +when my time comes and the Lord pleases; but I'm not to be frightened +into my bed by Mrs. Grey or any woman in the parish. No, she's come to +the wrong box for that. I'll hold my own as long as I have the strength +for it, and am not to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> ousted by any one; not I!" and Mrs. Marks +nearly upset the pail in her violence, as she swept the scrubbing brush +off the table into it.</p> + +<p>"Hulloa!" cried a voice, as the latch of the door was lifted, and a +stout strong-looking man entered with a good-humoured, cheerful face. +"Anybody at home? How are you Mrs. Marks? I'm glad to see you again, and +you too," he said, grasping and shaking Matthew's hand heartily.</p> + +<p>"It's William Hodge of Deane!" said she in surprise, "Who'd have thought +of seeing you down here, and what brings you to these parts?"</p> + +<p>"Business," replied the other laconically.</p> + +<p>"Something to do with the Smithy, eh?" questioned Matthew.</p> + +<p>"Just so."</p> + +<p>"You still keep it on, of course."</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>"There don't stand there cross-examining in that way," called Mrs. +Marks, as she opened a cupboard at the further end of the room, "but +attend to your own business, and just go and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> draw some ale, while I get +a bit of bread and cheese ready. Supper won't be served up yet," said +she apologetically, returning and spreading a clean snow white cloth on +the table; "but you must want a mouthful of something after your long +journey."</p> + +<p>"I can't wait supper, I'm in too great a hurry; thank yer all the same."</p> + +<p>"Are you going further on?" asked Matthew, coming in with the ale.</p> + +<p>"No. I'm to put up at the Brampton Arms for the night, or may be two—or +perhaps three," he replied.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry for that," said Mrs. Marks. "I hate the very name of the +place. They're a bad set, the whole lot of 'em."</p> + +<p>"That don't signify a rap to me. I shan't have nothing to do with any of +'em so long as they let's me alone, that's all I care about. I shan't +trouble 'em much 'cept for my bed."</p> + +<p>"And now for a bit of news about home," said Mrs. Marks, as her visitor +began his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> supper, or rather the bread and cheese she had set before +him. "How are they all down at Deane? And how's mother?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry to say I've no good news of her; she've been ailing some +time, and the doctor's stuff don't do her no good; he says she'll go off +like the snuff of a candle. But there, she's precious old now, and well +nigh worn out. I've a letter from your sister Martha—Mrs. +Brooks—telling yer all about it;" and he searched and dived into his +deep pockets for it, and then handed it to her.</p> + +<p>"Is Jane as queer as ever?" asked Matthew, in a low voice, as his wife +was perusing the letter.</p> + +<p>"Yes, worse nor ever, I think; scarce ever opens her lips, and stares at +yer awful, as though she had the evil eye."</p> + +<p>"I always thought she had; she wor as strange a woman as ever I set eyes +on."</p> + +<p>"Well!" said Mrs. Marks, looking up from her letter, "I suppose I must +say yes. Perhaps you'll just look in, Mr. Hodge, when the time<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> comes +for you to go back to Deane, and I'll give you the answer."</p> + +<p>"I won't fail," replied he.</p> + +<p>"What are yer going to say yes to?" asked Matthew.</p> + +<p>"Martha says mother's dying, and she wants to know what's to become of +Jane, and if she can't come here."</p> + +<p>"Here!" exclaimed Matthew. "The Lord save us."</p> + +<p>"Save you from what?" asked Mrs. Marks angrily.</p> + +<p>"From having a crazed creature in the house. Who knows but what she +might burn the house down about us; Mr. Hodge says she ain't no better +in the head than she used to be."</p> + +<p>"If she was ten times as bad as she is, she should come. It's a sin and +a shame to hear you talk so of your own wife's sister and she nowhere to +go to, and the cottage big enough to hold her."</p> + +<p>"Why can't your sister Martha take her?"</p> + +<p>"Just hear him talk," said she, derisively,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> "and Martha with more +children than she knows what to do with; and a husband as is always +ailing. Why you've no more charity in you than a miser; there, go and +draw some more ale, and have done with your folly. Least said is soonest +mended."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Marks had two sisters and a mother living at Deane, some forty, or +it might be more miles, from Brampton. Martha, the youngest, was +married, and blessed—as is too often the case with the poor, or those +least able to afford it—with nine children, and a sick husband; the +latter worked hard enough when his health permitted, but then there was +no certainty about his being able to earn wages. A cold caught and +neglected had given him a fever and ague, and the least chill brought on +a return of it. His wife, almost as energetic a woman as her sister, +Mrs. Marks, but with a more mild and even temper, earned a living by +washing, and did the best she could to keep them all; and her management +certainly did her credit, her house being as clean as Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> Marks', +although not so constantly scrubbed or washed.</p> + +<p>The other sister, Jane, lived with her mother, an old woman of +seventy-five, who, until now, had borne her age well, and looked +certainly some ten years younger, but then she had always enjoyed the +best of health; was up betimes in the morning, summer and winter, and +about her small farm and dairy, which she managed better than most did +with half-a-dozen hands to help them.</p> + +<p>Ever busy, and uncommonly active, her illness was totally unlooked for, +and least expected by Mrs. Marks, who read and re-read her sister's +letter several times, to assure herself there was no mistake; that she +really was struck with paralysis and not expected to survive many days, +and then what was to become of Jane? Jane, who was so totally dependent +on others, who lived as it were on sufferance, rarely doing work, or +helping her mother in any way, or interesting herself in any one single +thing. If she willed it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> she worked, if not, she remained idle; her +mother never grumbling or finding fault, while the girl who helped her +was severely rated as an idle good-for-nothing if any one portion of her +daily work was neglected.</p> + +<p>There were days when Jane would milk the cows, churn the butter, even +scour out the dairy itself, and work willingly and well—she had been +out to service in her youth—but these days were few and far between; +she usually roamed about at her will, sometimes half over the parish, or +else sat at home perfectly quiet and silent knitting, she never did any +other kind of needlework; or if unemployed she would clasp her hands +together over her knees, her eyes either fixed on vacancy, or restlessly +wandering to and fro, to all appearance, as the neighbours said, not +exactly a daft woman, but one whose mind was afflicted, or had been +visited with some heavy calamity, the weight of which bore her to the +ground, and was at times more than she had strength to bear or battle +against.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p> + +<p>Such was the sister Mrs. Marks had determined on befriending, there +being little doubt she would carry out her intention, notwithstanding +Matthew's decided aversion to it; and that Jane would ere long be in +quiet possession of the one spare room in the cottage.</p> + +<p>William Hodge, her present visitor, also came from Deane, and kept the +small blacksmith's shop, or parish smithy. He had two sons, one a +good-for-nothing, ne'er-do-weel. Also, well probably a sorrow and +constant anxiety to his parents, who had been absent from home now for +several months, and at his wife's earnest solicitations Hodge had come +down to Brampton to seek him, they having heard accidentally of his +being there or somewhere in the neighbourhood.</p> + +<p>"How's Mrs. Hodge, and your sons?" asked Mrs. Marks, as Matthew went off +once more for the ale.</p> + +<p>"Sons!" he repeated. "Ah! there's the rub, you've hit the right nail on +the head now. Richard, as works the smithy is as good a lad as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> ever +breathed; but Tom's turned out bad, and between you and I, 'tis he I've +come all this way to look after. I'd turn my back upon him and have +nothing more to do with him; but there, one can't always do as one +wishes."</p> + +<p>"Is Tom down here?"</p> + +<p>"I've heerd so."</p> + +<p>"What's he doing?"</p> + +<p>"No good, that you may be sure," replied he, "since he's here on the +sly. I'm afeard he's got into bad company, and gone along with a +terrible bad lot. The old woman thinks he's turned poacher, and most +worrits and frets herself to death about it; so I've come to try and +find him, and get him back home again, that is if I can. It'll most +break his mother's heart if I don't."</p> + +<p>"God grant he isn't with them as murdered poor Susan's husband?"</p> + +<p>"Amen," replied he solemnly.</p> + +<p>"One of 'em got hanged for that, God rest his soul, though he deserved +it; but there's lots<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> of 'em about; they say the gang is more desperate +like since then, and have vowed to have their vengeance on Mr. Grant, +the Squire's head keeper, but there, it don't do to tell yer all this; +bad news comes fast enough of itself; we'll trust and hope Tom isn't +with none of these."</p> + +<p>"Well, we've all got our troubles," said Mrs. Marks again, seeing he +made no reply. "I begin to think those as has no children is better off +than those as has 'em."</p> + +<p>"Ye've less trouble, no doubt of it."</p> + +<p>"Less trouble! oh, I've mine to bear as well as the rest of yer; why +there's Matthew, with no more spirit in him than a flea, and all through +drink. He'll go off to the public, though 'tis half a mile and more +away, whenever my eyes isn't on him."</p> + +<p>"That's bad."</p> + +<p>"Bad! It's worse than bad. Here's mother dying, Jane not to be trusted +to come here alone, and Matthew not able to take care of himself no more +than a baby! How I'm to manage to get<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> to Deane I don't know, nor can't +see neither how it's to be done."</p> + +<p>"If I was you, I'd go somehow. They'll think badly of you if you don't, +and as for Marks, leave him to get drunk as oft as he likes, for a +treat; I'll wager my life on it, he'll be sober when he sees your face +again, my word on it."</p> + +<p>This, to Hodge's mind, was satisfactory reasoning enough; but not so to +Mrs. Marks. She would like to know who was to take care of the 'pike, +during her absence, if Matthew was unable to do so? This was a question +Hodge had not foreseen, and when asked, could not reply to. However, +after a little more talking, they came to the friendly arrangement that +Mrs. Marks should start on the morrow for Deane; Hodge, in the +meanwhile, keeping house with Marks, while she was absent; her stay, not +under any circumstances whatever, to extend beyond a week.</p> + +<p>It was an arrangement that satisfied both parties, as on considering the +matter over, Hodge thought it was just as well he did not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> put up at the +inn for any length of time, his being there might be noised abroad, and, +although he intended passing under a feigned name, still Tom might +easily recognise a description of him, be on the alert, and keep aloof +until all was quiet again.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Marks gave him sundry pieces of advice as to how he was to manage +while she was at Deane, and among other things, cautioned him to beware +of trusting Marks too much about Tom.</p> + +<p>"If you take my advice," said she, "you won't tell him a word about him, +that's if you want it kept quiet, I never trust him with a secret. He's +the man for you if you want a bit of news spread, why it would be all +over the parish in—well, I'd give him an hour's start, then I'd walk +after him, and hear it all over again from everybody's mouth I met. It's +ten times worse when he's got a drop of drink in him, then he'll talk +for ever, and you'll may-be hear more than you care to, so mind, I +caution you to be wary."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I shan't wag my tongue, if you don't," replied Hodge.</p> + +<p>"I!" exclaimed Mrs. Marks, indignantly. "I mind my own business, which +I've plenty of, I can tell you, and don't trouble my head about other +people's; let everybody take care of their own, which it's my belief +they don't, or there wouldn't be so many squabbles going on in the +village at times."</p> + +<p>"You're a wise woman, Mrs. Marks."</p> + +<p>"True for you," said Matthew, returning, "I'll back her agin a dozen +women, twice her size."</p> + +<p>"Hold your tongue, you simpleton," said his wife, "and give me the ale +here; you've been a precious time drawing it. What have you been about?" +added she, eyeing him suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"Been about? Why just tilting the barrel, there ain't enough left to +drown a rat in."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you say a mouse, or som'ut smaller still. If I'd had my +senses about me, I'd never have trusted you within a mile of it," said +she, handing the mug to Hodge.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll swear I arn't tasted a drop. I'd scorn to drink on the sly," +replied Marks, attempting to look indignant, and glancing at his +visitor.</p> + +<p>"There, don't straiten your body that way, and try to look big, you meek +saint, you! as scorns to drink on the sly, but don't mind telling a lie +straight out; there ain't anybody here as believes you, leastways I +don't. Why Mr. Hodge," said she, taking the empty mug from his hand, +"you'd think I was blessed with the best husband as ever breathed, +instead of the greatest rogue. Why you'd be a villain, Marks, if it +warn't for knowing your wife's eye's always on you. You're afeard of it, +you know you are."</p> + +<p>"I'm a devilish deal more afeard of som'ut else; a 'ooman's eye only +strikes skin deep, but her tongue do rattle a man's bones and make his +flesh creep," muttered Matthew, turning away.</p> + +<p>"There don't settle yourself in the chimney corner again, but come and +help Mr. Hodge on with his great-coat. Hear to the wind how it's rising; +'tis a raw cold night outside, I take it."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's drenching with rain," said Hodge, as he stepped over the threshold +and pulled up the collar of his coat preparatory to facing the rain, +which was coming down in torrents.</p> + +<p>"Rain!" exclaimed Matthew, as his wife closed the door on her visitor. +"Who'd have thought it? But there, <i>she</i> said it would rain. Oh! she's a +true prophet, is Goody Grey, and no mistake. I said she was a fearful +'ooman, and know'd most everything. The Lord save and deliver us, and +have mercy upon us! for we none of us know," and he glanced at Mrs. +Marks, "what's going to happen. Good Lord deliver us from harm."</p> + +<p>"There go and put the pot on to boil for supper," said Mrs. Marks, +turning on him sharply, "and don't stand there a chaunting of the +psalms'es."</p> + +<p>And with deep sighs and many inward groans, Matthew went and did his +wife's bidding, but the psalms seemed uppermost in his mind that night; +he seemed to have them at his fingers' ends.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h4>A FRIENDLY INTERFERENCE.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"No tears, Celia, now shall win</span> +<span class="i4">My resolv'd heart to return;</span> +<span class="i2">I have searched thy soul within,</span> +<span class="i4">And find nought but pride and scorn;</span> +<span class="i2">I have learn'd thy arts, and now</span> +<span class="i2">Can disdain as much as thou."</span> +<span class="i20"><span class="smcap">Carew.</span></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>Men fall in love every day, yet few of them like to be caught talking or +acting sentimentally towards the object of their affections.</p> + +<p>Charles was inwardly vexed at Frances' sudden appearance, and still more +so at the sarcastic way in which she had spoken and acted. What business +was it of hers to take either himself or Miss Neville to task? Was it +not partly his fault the wrist was sprained, and would he not have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +wanting in common politeness had he, when he accidentally discovered it, +not tried in some measure to remedy it?</p> + +<p>It was a bad sprain, there was no doubt about that, although she made +light of it.</p> + +<p>It ought to be looked to; but how to procure proper surgical attention +puzzled him. Somehow he did not quite like being the bearer of the +tidings to his brother's wife; he could fancy how proudly and +contemptuously she would raise her head, and look him through with her +dark flashing eyes; and how quietly—very differently from Frances—hint +her displeasure at his interference, and turn his fears and sympathy +into ridicule. He could not stand that; no, he was ready to face any +open danger, but the covert, sarcastic glance and mocking smile of his +sister-in-law was a little beyond even his courage. Yet it was necessary +she should be informed of it if Amy was to be helped, which he had made +up his mind she must be. How then was it to be managed?</p> + +<p>Ideas and plans crowded into his brain one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> after another, but all more +or less impracticable; as he stood at the window, where Amy had left +him, hopelessly entangled in a web of perplexing thoughts.</p> + +<p>There was, as I said, no restraining Anne's curiosity, she always +gratified it, or tried to do so, whatever the risk. Certainly, if +curiosity is, as we are told, a woman's failing, and men take every +opportunity of reminding them of the fact, or rather laying it at their +door, whether they will or not, Anne claimed a large portion of it. Why +women should be thought to have a larger share of curiosity than men +remains to be proved; surely if it be a sin, it is a very small one in +comparison to the long list of sins of greater magnitude not laid to +their charge, and if not to woman; then to whom do they belong?</p> + +<p>Anne had heard voices in the gallery, and had opened her door just +sufficiently wide to allow of her obtaining a sight of those who were +talking, and notwithstanding sundry hints from Julia as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> to the +disgraceful way in which she was acting, she determined to see the end, +let the cost be what it might. She could not hear what was said, but +there could be no harm in just peeping and seeing what was going on.</p> + +<p>It was with no little astonishment that she watched Charles and Amy +apparently on such intimate terms of acquaintance, when the latter had +only assured her the night before that she scarcely knew her cousin to +speak to. Subsequently, Frances' arrival on the scene, and evident anger +and scorn, astonished her still more.</p> + +<p>That Miss Neville was a flirt had crossed her mind ever since the day +she had caught her coming home with Mr. Vavasour; but here she was +apparently hand and glove with Charles. She did not see cause for any +such display of temper as Frances had made; still, she thought it a +shame Miss Neville should take all the men to herself, when there were +lots of other girls in the house<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> ready to be made love to, now, of +necessity, left to their own devices, and dull enough in consequence.</p> + +<p>Anne began to think Miss Neville was not acting fairly, and certainly +not openly. Why should she have two strings to her bow, while Anne could +not conjure up one, for she counted Mr. Hall as nobody, and disdainfully +thrust the thought of him aside, as his image presented itself in full +force; even as she had gazed at him but last night, over the balusters +drenched to the skin, looking the true personification of a country +parson, but totally dissimilar to the beau ideal of Anne's imagination, +which she had snugly enshrined somewhere in a small corner of her heart. +It seemed ridiculous to imagine him falling in love, and least of all +with her, who had determined on marrying a man with fierce moustaches +and whiskers, and these Mr. Hall could never have. No, he should not +fall in love with her; she would not have it.</p> + +<p>Why should such an uncouth being be always<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> dangling after her, while +Miss Neville, with no trouble at all, came in for all the loaves and +fishes, and she obliged to content herself with the fragments? If all +the beaux in the house were to be monopolised in this style, it was time +Mrs. Linchmore invited others who would be able to look at Miss Neville +without immediately falling down and worshipping her, as though she were +an angel. She had no intention of losing her temper, as Frances had +done, but she did not see why she should not let Charles know she had +seen him, so out of her room she marched at once, and went up straight +to where he still stood by the window.</p> + +<p>"What on earth have you done to offend Frances?" asked she, beating +about the bush, "she looks as surly as a bear."</p> + +<p>"I might ask <i>you</i> that question, seeing she had evidently been put out +before I saw her."</p> + +<p>"I was peeping through a crack in the door, and could not help laughing +to see the rage she was in."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She may remain in it, and welcome, for aught I care," replied Charles, +trying to appear indifferent, but at the same time showing some slight +symptom of temper.</p> + +<p>"So may somebody else," said Anne; "but you know very well she was +mortified at seeing you hold Miss Neville's hand, and—and—I don't +think it was right of you, Charles."</p> + +<p>He looked up as if he could have annihilated her. "I am the best judge +of my own affairs," said he, slowly, "and as for Miss Neville, it is +impossible she could do wrong."</p> + +<p>"I do not accuse Miss Neville of doing wrong; but I think my cousin, Mr. +Charles Linchmore, is playing a double game."</p> + +<p>Charles bit his lip, but made no reply.</p> + +<p>"You may take refuge in a sneer," continued Anne, somewhat hotly, "and +play with Frances' feelings as much as you like, and as much as you have +done, and few will trouble their heads about it; but it's a shame to +carry on the same game with a governess, who cannot help herself, and +is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> obliged, nay expected, to put up with slights from everybody."</p> + +<p>"Not from me, Anne."</p> + +<p>"Yes, from you, who are making love to two girls at the same time."</p> + +<p>"How dare you accuse me of so dishonourable an action?" exclaimed +Charles.</p> + +<p>"Dare? Oh, I dare a great deal more than that," replied Anne, tossing +her head.</p> + +<p>"Any way, you could not accuse one of much worse."</p> + +<p>"It is the truth, nevertheless, and I cannot see that there is anything +daring about it. The daring is not in my speaking, but in your own act."</p> + +<p>"I never made love to Frances, or if I did, her own cold pride +annihilated any partiality I might have had for her."</p> + +<p>"Partiality!" uttered Anne, sarcastically, "Defend me from such +partiality from any man. I wonder you did not say flirtation; but even +your assurance could not summon courage to tell such a fib as that."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A truce to this folly, Anne, or I shall get angry, and you can't +convince me I ever—" he hesitated a moment—"loved Frances. Allowing +that I did show her a little attention, I don't see she is any the worse +for it."</p> + +<p>"You have succeeded in making her miserable, although you have not +broken her heart, and now want to play Miss Neville the same trick; but +I won't stand by and see it, I declare I won't; my woman's heart won't +let me; so, if you begin that game, we wage war to the knife. I cannot +help pitying Frances, whom I dislike, and will not, if I can help it, +have to pity Miss Neville also."</p> + +<p>"There is no reason why you should. Miss Neville is superior to a dozen +like Frances." Anne opened her eyes at this, but wisely held her tongue. +He went on,</p> + +<p>"I swear, Anne, I'll never give you reason to pity Miss Neville; but she +has sprained her wrist, I think very severely. That confounded brute was +the cause of it."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Man or beast?" she asked. "'Tis difficult to know which you mean."</p> + +<p>"My horse," replied he, determined not to be laughed into a good temper. +"She would hold him at the lake when I asked her not to; but women are +so obstinate, they will have their own way; there is no reasoning with +them. I would not have allowed her if I could have foreseen what was +going to happen, but how could I? and now the mischief is done, and she +is pretty considerably hurt."</p> + +<p>"All her own fault, according to your account, so why should you vex +yourself about it? Men generally send us to 'Old Harry' under such +circumstances."</p> + +<p>"But I consider it to have been partly my fault; I was a fool to allow +her to hold the horse, and a still greater one, inasmuch as now the +mischief is done, I am unable to help her."</p> + +<p>"In what?"</p> + +<p>Charles made no reply; he was thinking could Anne help him in his +difficulty? She might if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> she liked, but would she? Could he trust her? +as in evincing so much sympathy for Miss Neville would she not partly +guess at his secret liking for her—if she had not guessed it already?</p> + +<p>Anne was good-natured and truthful enough; had she not just plainly told +him he had done wrong? but that he would not allow of for a moment. It +was the natural thing to do, and would have been done by any one under +similar circumstances. How could he help being sorry? how could he help +feeling for her? Dr. Bernard must be sent for, the sprain might get +worse. Charles, like most men when their minds are set on attaining any +one object, determined on carrying his point. The more difficult the +accomplishment the more resolute was he in attaining it, and clearing +all obstacles that stood in his way.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to Standale," said he, suddenly looking up.</p> + +<p>"To Standale! You have just three hours to do it in; we do not dine +before eight, so I dare say you will manage it."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes. Have you any commissions?"</p> + +<p>"None, thank you. It will be too dark for you to match some wool for my +sister. I know she wants some. Men invariably choose such unseasonable +hours for their jaunts, when they know it is impossible for women to +load them with commissions."</p> + +<p>"Do you not think it would be as well to mention to my brother's wife +that I am going to Standale? She might like Dr. Bernard to call +to-morrow and see Miss Neville, and prescribe for that injured wrist."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Charles! It cannot be so bad as that; and besides, you said +it was caused entirely through her own obstinacy, so let her bear it as +best she may, as a just punishment for her sins."</p> + +<p>Then seeing he looked serious and a little annoyed, she added, "Of +course you can do as you like about it."</p> + +<p>"I shall be ready to start in less than ten minutes," replied he. "You +can meet me in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> hall, and let me know the result of your +communication with Mrs. Linchmore."</p> + +<p>"That is what I call cool," said Anne, as Charles vanished; "he does not +like to tell Isabella herself, so makes me the bearer of the unpleasant +news, and I dare say thinks I am blind and do not see through it. Well, +the cunning of some men beats everything. I believe the wretch is fast +falling in love with Miss Neville, if he is not so already. At all +events, it strikes me, cousin Frances stands a very good chance of being +cut out; so she had better control her temper instead of allowing it to +get the better of her as it did to-day."</p> + +<p>Then, as if a sudden thought struck her, she turned and darted away +after Charles.</p> + +<p>"I tell you what it is," said she, breathlessly, coming up with him, "I +do not mind doing this little act of mercy for you; but at the same time +I must first go and see Miss Neville. It would never do to have Isabella +asking me how she looked? What was the matter with her?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> and lots of +other questions, that I could not answer; so you must have patience and +give me half-an-hour's start."</p> + +<p>"Half-an hour!" cried he, looking at his watch. "Why it is nearly five +o'clock now."</p> + +<p>"I must have half-an-hour, I ought to have said an hour. Why, if it is +so late, not put off your journey to Standale until to-morrow. Is your +business there so very pressing?" asked she, slyly.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I must go this evening," replied he, evading her look.</p> + +<p>"Men are so obstinate, there is no reasoning with them. Is not that what +you said of Miss Neville?"</p> + +<p>"This is quite a different thing."</p> + +<p>"Oh! of course, quite different, when it suits your convenience; but I +am not convinced."</p> + +<p>"Women never are," muttered Charles, turning on his heel.</p> + +<p>In the meanwhile Fanny had carried the flower in safety to her +governess, her little mind full of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> wonderment as to what her cousin +Frances could have meant; why she had looked so strangely and spoken +still more so?</p> + +<p>Children are great observers, and often think and see more clearly than +their elders give them credit for. So it was in the present instance. +Fanny felt certain her cousin did not like Miss Neville should have the +flower, that she was jealous of her, and disliked her; and the child +settled very much to her own satisfaction that it was all because her +governess was so pretty, and had such lovely hair; even more golden than +Edith's, while Frances' was as nearly approaching black as it well could +be.</p> + +<p>Amy was a little indignant on seeing the flower, and hearing from Fanny +that "<i>he</i> had sent it to her." She recognised the Camellia at a glance. +It was the one Robert Vavasour had gathered for her in the greenhouse; +she knew it again, because in arranging the bouquet for Mrs. Linchmore +its stem had been too short, and she had added a longer one, and secured +it by winding a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> piece of thread round; it was there still, while some +of the pure white leaves of the flower were becoming tinged with brown; +evidences of the length of time it had been gathered.</p> + +<p>"He said it was not quite fresh," said Fanny watching her governess, as +she thought noticing its faded beauty, "but I thought you would like it +just as well, because you are so fond of flowers."</p> + +<p>"Who desired you to give it me?"</p> + +<p>"That tall dark gentleman who walked home with us one day, the day you +lost your embroidery." Fanny could not get the latter out of her mind, +it was uppermost there.</p> + +<p>It was Mr. Vavasour, then who sent it; and why?</p> + +<p>Amy remembered his having asked for the flower she had gathered for Mrs. +Linchmore, and her refusal to give it. Had he now sent it to show her +that another, even Mrs. Linchmore, had been more willing to oblige him +than she had; as also how little value he placed on the gift? Or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +probably their meeting in the greenhouse had escaped his memory, and +perhaps he merely wished to please her, seeing how fond she was of +flowers, and thought any flower, however faded, was good enough for a +governess.</p> + +<p>As she stood by the fire her hand unconsciously wandered towards the +bars; in another moment the poor flower would have been withered, the +heat would have scorched it.</p> + +<p>"Oh! don't burn it, Miss Neville, please don't," exclaimed Fanny. "It +isn't half dead yet; and I have had such trouble in bringing it you +safely, because cousin Frances wanted it."</p> + +<p>"Miss Strickland?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. She got in such a rage, you never saw anything like it; but I +would not let her have it. I was determined she should not. She knew it +was for you too, and it was that made her so angry. She told a fib as +well, for she said she saw Uncle Charles give it me, and you know it was +Mr. Vavasour."</p> + +<p>"Did you tell her so?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No" replied Fanny, triumphantly, little thinking how every word was +grieving her governess. "No, I didn't; she tried very hard to make me +say, but I wouldn't; see," said she, baring her arm, "I'll show you what +she did. There! see that; only look, Miss Neville," and she pointed to +some deep blue marks, plainly the impression of four lines like fingers, +"wasn't it spiteful and naughty of her?"</p> + +<p>Amy looked up in surprise and compassion. Was it possible Miss +Strickland, usually so calm could have so far lost her temper, as to +hurt her so severely. Spiteful? yes it was worse than spiteful, it was +wicked. If she had shown so little mercy to a child who could not have +intentionally harmed her what would be the result of the appeal she +meditated making to her womanly feelings? would she feel for her and +help? she who had shown none for a helpless child? Amy's heart sank +within her, and she began to fear she was in a sea of troubles, that +would take a wiser head than hers, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> a stronger hand and heart to +extricate her from.</p> + +<p>And all this time the little girl stood with bared arm before her +governess, waiting for and claiming her pity, while the four blue marks +seemed more plainly visible each time Amy looked at them.</p> + +<p>Would Miss Strickland ever wound her as deeply? Words she did not care +for, they were often lightly spoken, and soon perhaps regretted or +forgotten; but acts were different things, they caused injuries, and +heart-aches to last a life-time. They might like words be regretted, but +could never be recalled, causing irreparable mischief.</p> + +<p>Fanny's arm gave Amy a disagreeable insight into Frances' character, one +that was altogether new and unexpected. Julia Bennet had often spoken of +her, and always from the first as a proud, cold girl, wrapped up in +self, with no interest in the every day cares of life, or affection for +home ties or duties; but fond of society, and caring for little beyond +it, living in the world and only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> for its approval and worship; a being +neither exacting nor demanding homage, but taking it to herself as a +matter-of-course and right, yet it was evident to Amy, that though she +assumed the appearance of a goddess, she, like many a Homeric deity, was +affected with a mortal's worse passion—revenge, and Amy shivered +slightly as she thought of the coming interview, fearing an explanation +might be more difficult than she had imagined, and that instead of a few +quiet words, it might be a stormy warfare.</p> + +<p>"You must have your arm bathed, Fanny," she said, putting the sleeve +down in its place again, and hiding from sight the ugly marks. "I am +sadly afraid you must have been very naughty for Miss Strickland to have +punished you so severely. Why was she angry with you? What did you do to +annoy her?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, Miss Neville. She tried to make me tell her who sent you the +flower; and because I would not she got angry, and wanted to snatch it +from me. It was cousin Frances began it all;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> she caught hold of me as I +was coming along quite quietly, and never thinking of her at all."</p> + +<p>"But you must have vexed her, Fanny. It is impossible she could have +injured you so severely without."</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps I did, a little—only just a little. I found out," said +Fanny, looking down, "something she thought was a secret, and only known +to herself, and she could not bear to think I knew it."</p> + +<p>"You found out a secret?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Fanny, hesitatingly; "but I must not tell you what it is, +Miss Neville. Please don't ask me."</p> + +<p>"I will not, Fanny; but at the same time I hope it is nothing wrong that +will not bear the telling. I am sadly afraid that appearances are +against you. I fear now more than ever that you must have seriously +offended or wounded Miss Strickland. Are you sure, quite sure, Fanny, +that you cannot trust me with the secret?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I must not tell you, indeed I mustn't.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> You are wrong, too, in what +you think. I have done nothing bad, Miss Neville; do believe me, and +please don't think badly of me."</p> + +<p>"I will try not to, Fanny."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how I wish I had come in with Edith when she asked me, and never +waited for anyone, then I should never have seen cousin Frances," and +fairly overcome with all her little heart had been suffering during the +past hour, Fanny burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"I have made my appearance at a most unfortunate moment," said Anne, +opening the door. "Good gracious, child! don't cry like that; you are +roaring like a mad bull, and will make a perfect fright of yourself into +the bargain. There, do stop. I promise you, you shall be forgiven +whatever your sin, and receive the kiss of forgiveness on the spot, if +you will only have done and be quiet."</p> + +<p>"Go, Fanny," said Amy, "we will talk over this quietly by-and-by, go and +desire Mary to see to your arm."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Thank goodness she is gone," said Anne, "now I can begin to breathe +again. If there is anything in this world I hate, it is the cry of +children and cats; I class them both together, as I don't know which is +the worst of the two, all I do know is, that when children once begin, +they never know when to leave off."</p> + +<p>Then suddenly she caught sight of the Camellia, and took it up, while +Amy most sincerely wished she had burnt it.</p> + +<p>"Where did you get this Camellia?" asked she.</p> + +<p>"Fanny brought it me a few minutes ago," replied Amy, blushing slightly, +feeling she was in a manner evading the question.</p> + +<p>But Anne was far too point blank to be put off, and had Amy but +considered for a moment, she would have remembered how hopeless it was +to check or elude Anne's curiosity. She returned to the charge at once, +without one moment's thought or hesitation.</p> + +<p>"Who gave it her?" she asked shortly.</p> + +<p>"I believe Mr. Vavasour did."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Of course I expected as much. Here are you like some saintly nun, shut +up in a cloister, no one supposed to get even a glimpse of you, and yet +for all that, you receive more attention than all us poor girls put +together, who are dressing and walking, laughing and talking, and doing +I do not know what else besides to please the men. You may smile, but I +can tell you I think it no laughing matter. Upon my word, it is a great +deal too bad."</p> + +<p>"The flower is not worth having," replied Amy, constrained to say +something. "It is faded."</p> + +<p>"Not worth having! now I do call that ungrateful, when I dare say the +poor man has done his best to please you. I know I should be thankful +enough at having such a graceful compliment paid me; but there, I never +have the chance of showing my gratitude to anybody, seeing no one ever +pays me the compliment of even sending me a dead flower!"</p> + +<p>"I am sure Mr. Hall would."</p> + +<p>"Oh! the monster, don't name him, pray.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> Thank goodness he has not found +out my penchant for flowers, or I believe I should find him waiting +every morning at the bottom of the staircase, with a bouquet as big as +his head, composed of ivy berries and Christmas holly; he decorates his +church with them, and I have no doubt thinks them preferable to the most +lovely hot-house flowers; here, take your Camellia," and she held it out +at arm's length.</p> + +<p>This was a ruse on Anne's part to induce Amy to hold out her arm, so +that she might, as it were by accident, discover the sprain, having +determined in her own mind, after leaving Charles, not to let Miss +Neville know a word about his solicitude; he had appealed to Anne's good +nature, and she was willing enough to help him to get a dozen +doctors—if he wished it—to see her, but then Miss Neville must not +know anything about it; there was no reason why she should, but every +reason why she should not.</p> + +<p>Anne would not, by the slightest word or hint,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> soften Miss Neville's +heart towards her cousin; people must manage their own love affairs +themselves, and if they got into scrapes, not get others into a mess as +well; besides, Anne knew well enough, or rather guessed it, that neither +Mr. or Mrs. Linchmore would exactly approve of it, while as for Charles, +she hoped Miss Neville would pay him out in the same coin as he had paid +Frances. If her cousin was foolish enough to fall in love with the +governess, it was his fault, Anne was not going to take the blame, or +have anything to do with it.</p> + +<p>Then it was evident to Anne's quick sight that Mr. Vavasour was getting +up a flirtation too, and if Miss Neville was wise she would improve upon +that, there being no one in the world to say a word against his falling +desperately in love with her, if he liked; he was a rich man, and his +own master entirely, and ought to have a wife to help him spend his +money, whereas Charles's fortune was all built upon expectations; it +was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> true he had some four or five hundred a year, but that might, in +the end, starve a wife, or turn her into a household drudge.</p> + +<p>There was not a shadow of doubt in Anne's mind which of the two ought to +be the object of Miss Neville's choice; but true love never did run +smooth, and she supposed she would choose Charles, simply on account of +the difficulties that stood in her way. She only wished, with a sigh, +she was the chosen one, instead of Miss Neville—and then—what a dance +she would lead the two!</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with your wrist?" asked she, as Amy of necessity +stretched out the left hand for the flower.</p> + +<p>"I have sprained it."</p> + +<p>Anne never asked the why or wherefore,—which might have surprised Amy +had she thought at all about it; knowing, as she did, her +inquisitiveness,—but examined it at once.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is a bad sprain, and how swollen the fingers are! and how funny +it looks," said she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> laughing. "Why you might as well be afflicted with +gout. How it burns! I should be quite frightened if it was mine."</p> + +<p>"I am not in the least so," replied Amy. "I am going to bathe it in cold +water presently. I think that will do it good."</p> + +<p>"How can you possibly know what will do it good; you ought to have old +Dr. Bernard to see it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" exclaimed Amy hastily, "there is not the slightest necessity +for any such thing. I cannot bear the idea of it; pray do not think of +it for one moment, I would rather not see him."</p> + +<p>"Well, it is horrid, the idea of having a medical man, and knowing that +for the time being, you are bound to follow wherever he leads; I hate it +too. But old Dr. Bernard is so mild and meek, so fatherly-looking, with +his grey hair or hairs—he has only got about twenty round his shining +bald pate—so different to our young doctor at home, who comes +blustering in, cracking his okes; and then sends medicine enough<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> to +kill the whole household. Of course Isabella knows about your arm?"</p> + +<p>"No, not a word, and I hope she will not."</p> + +<p>"Hope no such thing, please, as I shall tell her of it the very first +opportunity I have."</p> + +<p>"Pray do not, Miss Bennet. It will be quite well to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"It will not be well for days; and as for not telling Mrs. Linchmore, I +always do what I say, and if you were to talk until Doomsday you would +not reason me out of it. Only think if it were to bring on fever; you +might get seriously ill and die, imagine what a mischance, obliged to +have a funeral and all kinds of horrors; and then, how do you suppose us +poor visitors would feel. I am sure we are dull enough as it is; at +least, I am; so in compassion to our poor nerves, you <i>must</i> see that +dear old Dr. Bernard. It is no use whatever fighting against your +destiny," and without waiting for a reply Anne went away, thinking she +had managed admirably well, seeing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> she had carried her point, without +in the least compromising Charles.</p> + +<p>She looked into the morning-room on her way down: there was no one there +but Alfred Strickland having a quiet nap to while away the time before +dinner, and Mr. Hall; the latter with his legs as usual, tucked away out +of sight, a book in his hand; but fortunately for Anne his face turned +away from its pages, towards the fire; so she crept softly away without +disturbing either.</p> + +<p>In the hall, to her astonishment, she met Charles, impatiently awaiting +her, cloaked and booted for his cold ride.</p> + +<p>"Well, what success?" asked he.</p> + +<p>"How ridiculous!" exclaimed Anne angrily. "There is such a thing as +being too punctual. If I am to do as you wish, I will not be hurried; I +am a woman as well as Miss Neville, and look for as much consideration. +Besides, I said half an hour, and half an hour I will have;" and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +without waiting for a reply she passed on into the drawing-room, while +Charles, throwing off his great coat, followed.</p> + +<p>But he was doomed to be terribly tried, for there sat Mrs. Linchmore, +the object of Anne's search, deep in the mysteries of a game of chess +with Mr. Vavasour.</p> + +<p>Anne sat down and took up a book. "It will never do for me to disturb +them," said she, quietly, rather enjoying the joke of Charles' +discomfiture, now visibly expressed on his face.</p> + +<p>A muttered exclamation of impatience, which sounded very much like an +oath, passed his lips.</p> + +<p>Anne slightly winced at this. She thought the case getting desperate.</p> + +<p>Why should Charles be in such a tremendous hurry?</p> + +<p>It was not a case of life and death. She really thought, considering she +was doing him a favour, he might have a chat, and make the time pass +pleasantly and agreeably, instead of letting her see how entirely his +heart was wrapped up in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> another girl. Only that her word was passed, +from which Anne never deviated, she would have thrown up the office she +had undertaken, and have nothing more to do with it.</p> + +<p>Time passed on, not as it generally does, with swift fleet wings; but +even to Anne, who did not care how it went, heavily and slowly, very +much in the same way as the game of chess was progressing. Charles +evinced his impatience by crossing his legs, uncrossing them, taking up +a book and tossing over the pages; for not one word did he read or +desire to; and finally, as the small French clock on the mantel-piece +chimed six, he threw down the book and exclaimed impatiently—</p> + +<p>"When the devil will that game be over?" Then catching Anne's astonished +look, he laughed aloud, and said, "You do not often see me out of +temper, cousin?"</p> + +<p>"True, but then I never recollect having seen it tried."</p> + +<p>"Or tried so severely as it is now."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Men have no patience, see how quietly I take it."</p> + +<p>"You! you have no interest in the matter."</p> + +<p>"Have I not? And pray may I ask do you suppose it is very pleasant for +me to be sitting here doing nothing. There are Alfred and Mr. Hall, both +in the morning room, alone, waiting to be talked to, and I might have +them all to myself, for the next half hour, and certainly all the time I +have been wasting on you and your affairs. Have a little more gratitude +Sir, or you may get some one else to manage for you."</p> + +<p>"You are a good girl, Anne, but a shocking flirt."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes! abuse me as much as you like, it will do you good, and perhaps +make you in a better temper; as I said before, men have no patience. As +long as things go smoothly and quietly they are all right; but when +things happen contrary or not exactly as they wish, they get into a +rage, and do not know how to bear it like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> us poor women, who are taught +it every hour of our lives."</p> + +<p>"I never remember to have heard such a piece of moral wisdom from your +lips before Anne."</p> + +<p>They were here, much to the intense delight of Charles, interrupted by +the voices of the chess players.</p> + +<p>"That was a very pretty checkmate," said Robert Vavasour, "so totally +unexpected and unperceived."</p> + +<p>"Who has beaten?" asked Anne, going towards them, as Charles went out of +the room, leaving her to do as best she could for him.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Vavasour," replied Mrs. Linchmore, "he always does."</p> + +<p>"Not always; you won two games of me last evening."</p> + +<p>"Or rather you allowed me to; but I do not mind being beaten sometimes, +it is tiresome never to win."</p> + +<p>While the chess-men were being put away,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> Anne considered how she should +begin her story, which, now it had come to the point, seemed more +difficult than she had imagined. At length a bright idea struck her.</p> + +<p>"I hate chess," she said, "and cannot think what pleasure there can be +in poring over such a dull game. I would a thousand times rather play +the children's Race game; there is something exciting in that, but poor +Miss Neville is too ill to play now."</p> + +<p>"Ill!" exclaimed Mrs. Linchmore. "Miss Neville ill?" while one of the +chess-men slipped from Robert Vavasour's fingers, and rolled over on to +the soft hearth rug, instead of into the box as he had intended.</p> + +<p>"Yes, she has sprained her wrist," continued Anne, giving the chess-man +a gentle kick with her foot as it lay close beside her.</p> + +<p>"Is that all? I thought at least it was the small pox, or scarlet +fever," said Mrs. Linchmore.</p> + +<p>"Although it is neither one nor the other,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> said Anne, "still it is +very bad, and ought to be seen to."</p> + +<p>"Do you speak from your own personal observation?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I have been sitting with her for some time, and certainly think +she looks ill and feverish; her hand is swollen an awful size. I should +be quite frightened if it were mine, and told her so. I dare say old Dr. +Bernard though would soon put it all right."</p> + +<p>"He shall be sent for to-morrow," replied Mrs. Linchmore, "should she be +no better, but perhaps a night's rest, and a little of Mrs. Hopkin's +doctoring, may make her quite well again. Do you know how she sprained +it?"</p> + +<p>"I never asked her," replied Anne, evading a direct reply, "all I know +is, it is very bad."</p> + +<p>"If no better to-morrow, I will send for Dr. Bernard in the afternoon," +said Mrs. Linchmore, quietly.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow afternoon," repeated Mr. Vavasour quite as quietly, and +before Anne had time<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> to shape any answer in reply, "But perhaps Miss +Neville is in a great deal of pain; a sprain is an ugly thing sometimes, +and at all times painful."</p> + +<p>"It is quite impossible to send to-night," replied Mrs. Linchmore, +decidedly. "Mr. Linchmore will not return from Standale himself much +before ten, and I never send any of the servants so far without his +sanction. It strikes me there is a little unnecessary haste and +compassion displayed for my governess."</p> + +<p>Robert Vavasour was silenced; but not so Anne, she came to the rescue at +once, rather nettled.</p> + +<p>"I am sure, Isabella, I don't care a bit about it; only I thought as +Charles was going into Standale,—I suppose to ride home with your +husband at night,—he might as well call on Dr. Bernard as not; or leave +a message to say he was wanted."</p> + +<p>As there was no good reason why he should not, Mrs. Linchmore was +obliged to acquiesce, though apparently,—and she did not care to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +conceal it—with a very bad grace, and without the slightest solicitude +expressed for her governess.</p> + +<p>"I have managed it for you," said Anne, going out into the hall, where +she found Charles striding up and down, impatiently; "such a fight as I +have had."</p> + +<p>"Never mind about the fight, Anne. Am I to call on Dr. Bernard?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>The word was scarcely spoken, ere to Anne's astonishment, he had caught +her in his arms, and kissed her.</p> + +<p>"You're a dear good girl, Anne," he said, "I swear there's nothing I +wouldn't do for you!"</p> + +<p>"How rough you are, cousin!" exclaimed Anne, struggling from his hasty +embrace. "I'll do nothing for you, if this is the style I am to be +rewarded with. It may be all very well for you, but I don't like it."</p> + +<p>"Here's another then," laughed Charles, "and now for Dr. Bernard, I +suppose he's the best medical man in the place?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh! for goodness sake," said Anne, aghast at the bare idea of facing +Mrs. Linchmore, if any other were called in. "Do not go to any one but +old Dr. Bernard, whatever you do; Isabella will never forgive me; she is +in a tremendous gale as it is. Do you hear, Charley?" said she, catching +his arm as he was going off.</p> + +<p>"All right," said he, laughing at her fright, and leaving her only half +convinced as to what he intended doing. "I'll tell him to call the first +thing in the morning."</p> + +<p>Anne held back the hall door as he passed out.</p> + +<p>It was pouring with rain, but he was on his horse and away in a second.</p> + +<p>"Why he must be desperately in love with that Miss Neville," said Anne, +"to go off in such torrents of rain; he'll be drenched to the skin +before he gets to the park gates. Well, I wish I could be ill, and +somebody—not that Hall—go mad for me in the same way."</p> + +<p>And Anne sighed, and smoothed the hair Charles had slightly +disarranged.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h4>THE LETTER.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"They sin who tell us love can die!</span> +<span class="i2">With life all other passions fly—</span> +<span class="i2">All others are but vanity.</span> +<span class="i2">In heaven ambition cannot dwell,</span> +<span class="i2">Nor avarice in the vaults of hell.</span> +<span class="i2">Earthly these passions, as of earth—</span> +<span class="i2">They perish where they draw their birth.</span> +<span class="i2">But love is indestructible!</span> +<span class="i2">Its holy flame for ever burneth—</span> +<span class="i2">From heaven it came, to heaven returneth."</span> +<span class="i20"><span class="smcap">Southey.</span></span> +</div></div> + + + +<p>Against the mantle-piece in the morning-room leant Mrs. Linchmore; one +hand supported her head, the other hung listlessly by her side, while in +the long taper fingers she clasped an open letter. A tiny foot peeped +from under the folds of her dress, and rested on the edge of the fender; +the fire burnt clear and bright, and lent a slight glow to her cheeks, +which were generally pale.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> + +<p>She looked very beautiful as she stood there; her graceful figure showed +itself to the best advantage, and her long dark lashes swept her cheek, +as she looked thoughtfully on the ground.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Linchmore was not a happy woman; she had, as I have said, married +for money, and when too late, found out her mistake, and that money +without love is nothing worth.</p> + +<p>When scarcely seventeen, she had loved with all the fervour and truth of +a young heart's first love; her love was returned, but her lover was +poor, they must wait for better times; so he went abroad to India, full +of hope, and firm in the faith of her to whom he was betrothed; to win +honour, fame, glory, and promotion; and with the latter, money wherewith +to win as his wife her whom he so dearly loved.</p> + +<p>Scarcely three years had passed slowly away, when Mr. Linchmore wooed +the beautiful Isabella for his bride; he was young and handsome, and +unlike her former lover, rich. Did she forget him to whom her young love +was pledged? No,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> she still thought of him, love for him still filled +her heart, yet she smothered it, and became the wife of the wealthy Mr. +Linchmore, with scarcely a thought as to the suffering she was causing +another, or remorse at her broken faith and perjured vows.</p> + +<p>Shortly after her marriage, she heard of her young lover's hasty return, +and what a return! Not the return he had so often pictured to her in the +days gone by, never to be lived over again; but he came as a sorrowful, +broken-hearted man, mourning the loss of one who was no longer worthy of +his love, one for whom he had been willing to sacrifice so much, even +the wishes of those nearest and dearest to him—his father and mother, +whose only child he was.</p> + +<p>His death soon after nearly broke his mother's heart; some said it was +occasioned from the effects of a fever, caught in an unhealthy climate, +but Mrs. Linchmore, his early love, dared not question her own heart +when she heard of it, but gazed around, and shuddered at the +magnificence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> of the home for which he had been sacrificed. Then +remorse and anguish, bitter anguish, must have been busy within her, but +she showed it not; outwardly, she was the same, or it might be a little +prouder, or more stately in her walk, more over-bearing to her servants, +with all of the proud woman, and none of the girl about her.</p> + +<p>The envy of many. Ah! could they but have seen the wretchedness of her +heart, the hollowness of her smiles, would they have envied her? Would +they not rather have been thankful and contented with their lot, and +changed their envy into pity?</p> + +<p>This was what she dreaded. Their pity! No, anything but that. To be +hated, feared, disliked, dreaded, all—all anything but pitied. To none +would she be other than the rich, the happy Mrs. Linchmore; and so she +appeared to some, nay, to all. Henceforth her heart was dead and cold, +no love must,—could enter there again.</p> + +<p>She became a flirt, and a selfish woman, without one particle of +sympathy, and scarcely any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> love for her husband. How dissimilar they +were—in ideas, thoughts, feelings, tastes—in everything. She took no +trouble to conceal from him how little she cared for him; he who loved +her so intensely—so truthfully.</p> + +<p>In the first early days of their married life he strove to win her +affection by every little act of kindness, or devotion that his love +prompted; but all in vain;—he failed. All his deeds of kindness all his +love elicited no answering token of regard, no look of love from her; +she was ever the same—cold, silent, distant; no sweet smile on her face +to welcome him home, no brightening of the eye at his approach, no fond +pressure of the hand: truly she loved him not, yet no word of unkindness +or reproach ever crossed his lips, even when she turned away from his +encircling arm as he stooped to kiss his first-born, no word escaped +him—but his look,—she remembered that long after; it haunted her +dreams for many a long night.</p> + +<p>How she had betrayed and deceived, him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> who fondly thought before their +marriage that she loved with all a girl's first love; yet he forgave her +for the sake of his children, and blamed himself for the change; he had +perhaps been too harsh, too stern to her. Kind, unselfish man! poor +short-seeing mortal! It was not you, it was her unfeeling, cruel heart.</p> + +<p>Lately, instead of flirting and laughing with all and every one as she +had formerly done, she singled out one to whom for the time being all +her smiles were directed. At balls, at parties, riding, or walking, it +mattered not, the favoured one was ever at her side; she danced with +only him, rode with him, talked alone to him, or leant on his arm when +tired.</p> + +<p>Human nature could not stand this; she had gone too far. At length Mr. +Linchmore's spirit was roused, at length her conduct had maddened him; +he had borne uncomplainingly her coldness, but his honour she might not +touch; none should lift a finger against the wife of his bosom, the +mother of his little ones. She might receive homage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> from <i>all</i>; but +his spirit roused, his pride rebelled at the marked attentions of <i>one</i>. +High words ensued between husband and wife, which might almost be said +to be their first quarrel, so silently had he endured her want of love; +but now he stood firm, and she was defeated.</p> + +<p>This event caused a considerable alteration in both parties. Mrs. +Linchmore saw that however quietly her husband might brook the knowledge +of her coldness, or the wrong she had done in marrying him without love; +yet there was a boundary beyond which even she dared not step. He might +appear easy and weak, but deep in his heart lay a strong firm will she +could not thwart, a barrier not to be broken through, nor even touched +with ever so gentle a hand. She might be heartless, might be a flirt; +but beyond that she might not go. She felt also that her husband no +longer trusted her, even searched her conduct, so she took refuge in +pride, and open cruel indifference to his words or wishes, more galling +than her former thinly veiled coldness. He had found<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> out she loved him +not; what need for further deceit?</p> + +<p>And Mr. Linchmore? Had his wife judged him rightly? Yes, even so. The +sad truth that she loved him not had crept slowly yet surely into his +heart, vainly as he had striven to crush it; her indifference he had +borne without resentment, hoping that in time she might be brought to +love him; for he still loved her passionately, as also sternly, almost +harshly, if I might so say. His was not a nature to change, and then his +love for her had been the one deep, intense feeling of his manhood, a +love that nothing short of death could change; but with his knowledge of +her deceit had gone his trust; and latterly almost his respect. He now +lived hoping that time might change her heart, or draw it towards him—a +hopeless wish, since the very presence of him she had wronged, and who +had innocently wrought his and her own life-long misery, was a reproach +and bitterness to her. No wonder he was severe and stern! Yet there +were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> times when his old impetuous nature would have sway, and shut up +in his room alone with nothing but despairing thoughts, he would pace it +in utter anguish of spirit, hoping, looking for what never could be, +namely, the love of his wife. And so they lived on. She fearing his +love. He mourning hers.</p> + +<p>What did she care for the dark Frenchman of whom her husband had grown +jealous? and who had singled her out from among a multitude it might be +for her haughty beauty, or it might be for the <i>éclat</i> of being thought +the favoured one of her who was the centre of admiration around which so +many flocked at Paris the winter before Amy's arrival at Brampton? He +had no intention, that man of the world, of falling in love with her; it +was a flirtation, nothing more, and cost neither a pang. That she +encouraged his attentions was without a doubt; that she despised him was +without a doubt, too, seeing his absence—for Mr. Linchmore had +positively forbidden him the house—did not cost her a sigh, not even a +thought.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> What mattered it if he went? there were others to pay her the +self-same attentions, others as gay and fascinating. So she went on her +way in no degree wiser or better for the obstacle she had stumbled upon +in her path, the provocation of her husband's wrath.</p> + +<p>Flirt she must. How otherwise divert her thoughts? those thoughts that +crowded so relentlessly into her brain, threatening to overwhelm her +with the memory of the one loved and lost; him whom she had thought to +forget, or of whom she had hoped to crush out the remembrance.</p> + +<p>Ah! her heart was not all coldness. Did she not love her children +passionately; and were not her very faults, bad as they were, caused by +the one false step—the forsaking her early love?</p> + +<p>The storm between husband and wife blew over; it was not <i>outwardly</i> of +long duration, and again Mrs. Linchmore singled out another—it mattered +not to her whom she flirted with. "<i>La belle Anglaise</i>"—as she was +called—cared not; life to her was a blank—a dreary waste.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> + +<p>Alas! how much misery it is in woman's power to make, how much to avert +or remove. Man's comforter, sharer of his joys, partaker of his sorrows, +ever ready to pour into his ear the kind word of comfort, consolation, +and hope; whose soft, gentle hand smooths his pillow in the hour of +sickness; and whose low, sweet voice assuages his pain, and bears +without complaint his sometimes irritable temper. What would he do +without her? How much good can she do, and alas! how much evil. Few, +very few women there are without some one redeeming quality. Few, very +few, we hope, like Mrs. Linchmore.</p> + +<p>But to return to our story.</p> + +<p>Ere long, with a deep drawn sigh, Mrs. Linchmore raised her eyes, and +recalled the thoughts—which had been wandering away into the past,—to +the present time, and to the letter she held in her hand, and began to +peruse its contents, a troubled unquiet look resting on her face, as she +did so.</p> + +<p>It was the answer to the letter she had written<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> at her husband's +earnest solicitations, to Mrs. Elrington.</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"<span class="smcap">Isabella Mary</span>—(so it began)— +</p> + +<p> "Your heart deceived you not when it warned you I should not accept Mr. +Linchmore's invitation. God forbid I should ever see your face again; it +would be pain and grief to me, and recall to life recollections, now +long <i>hidden and buried</i> in my heart. I never wish to look on you again, +though God knows I have long since forgiven you, and that my ever +constant prayer is, that I may think of you without bitterness, and ever +with charity.</p> + +<p>"It was an evil dark day when first I saw you, and will be a still +darker one for me if ever I see you again. I could not trust myself even +now—though long years have passed away since we met last—to meet you +face to face. It would bring the image of <i>one</i> too forcibly and vividly +to my mind; even now my hand shakes and trembles <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>with emotion; and my +eyes swim with tears, bitter, blinding tears, as I write.</p> + +<p>"Do not mistake me, do not think I write this letter to reproach you, I +do not. I have never reproached you; or, at least, I have striven to +stifle all ill-feeling. I promised <i>him</i>, on his death-bed, to forgive +you and learn to think of you with, if possible, kindly feeling and +pity; and I trust I have been enabled to fulfil that promise. No, I do +not reproach you, but I leave your own heart to do so; long, long ago, +if I mistake not, it must.</p> + +<p>"Miss Neville has told me you are cold, stern, and seldom smiled; you +are changed indeed. Changed more than I, if I were your bitterest enemy, +could have wished. Alas! that one wrong, wilful, wicked act could have +entailed so much misery and sorrow.</p> + +<p>"I will not lay down my pen without thanking you for your kindness to my +young friend, Amy; she says you are very kind. And here again I would +repeat what I said in a former letter to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>Mrs. Murchison, that she has +been tenderly nurtured, and I would not that her young spirit should be +broken. Forget not your promise to treat her more as a companion and +friend, than as a governess, or as the latter class are sometimes +treated. I am inclined to doubt any promise of yours being kept, but I +have Mr. Linchmore's word, and I am content.</p> + +<p>"And now farewell. May God forgive you, as I do. When your hour of death +draws near—for in this changing and transitory life, we know not what a +day may bring forth, or how soon we may be summoned away, and perhaps I +shall never write to you again—may it smooth your dying hour, and give +peace to your then troubled, remorseful heart, to know, that she whom +you so deeply injured and so cruelly deceived and whose life you helped +to render desolate, has forgiven you.</p> + +<p style='text-align: right'>"<span class="smcap">Ellen Elrington.</span>" </p> +</blockquote> + +<p>There was an expression of pain on Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> Linchmore's face as she read, +but not a sigh not a tear escaped her; perhaps those had all been shed +long ago, or surely those sad, earnest words, from a sorrowful heart +would have moved her; but ere she closed the letter and looked up, the +painful look passed away, and a sarcastic curl had settled on her lip, +and shone brightly in her full dark eye. She crushed the letter in her +hand as she would perhaps have crushed the writer, if she could, and +laughed aloud; a laugh so hollow, so forced, its very echo would have +made one's blood run cold; but there was no fear of its being heard, she +was still alone, as she felt with satisfaction as she glanced hurriedly +around.</p> + +<p>Again she laughed. But this time the tones were more subdued, the echo +was scarcely heard.</p> + +<p>She crushed the letter more tightly in her hand, until the clear blue +veins were almost swelled to bursting, while she murmured, "so much for +Mrs. Elrington's letter. Did she think to frighten and make a coward of +me. Pshaw!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> she was mistaken; <i>I am altered and changed</i>, for it amused +me."</p> + +<p>But though she gave vent to these words, such were not her feelings. She +was in reality deeply moved; past scenes had risen up vividly before +her, with all the hopes and fears, joys and sorrows, of her girlish +days. As she read word after word, line after line, of the letter, those +days became more vivid still; and the old loving, gentle feelings +crowded together at her heart; she was again the loving and beloved of +him of her early choice; again, in fancy, sitting by his side, weeping +bitter, passionate, despairing tears, as on the morning they had parted, +then with the hope of meeting again; but it had been for the last +time—for <i>ever</i>—and as the last word, with all its dreadful import +came steadily into her heart, she could in very desolation have thrown +herself into the large arm chair and wept more despairingly, more +passionately still; but no, she was Mrs. Linchmore, cold and stern; Miss +Neville had said so,—she must be herself again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> So she crushed the old +regretful feelings, and stifled their dying moan with that bitter, +ghastly laugh.</p> + +<p>On the table was a beautiful small bouquet of hot-house flowers; she +drew out a bright scarlet one, and arranged it in her hair at the glass +over the chimney piece.</p> + +<p>"I may be cold and stern—I may be changed—but—I am still beautiful." +Such were her thoughts as she stood gazing at herself long after the +flower had been arranged to her satisfaction.</p> + +<p>But now a step sounded on the stairs; it echoed in the lofty hall; it +approached the door. Suddenly she remembered the letter, and hastily +snatching it from the ground where it had lain forgotten, she hurriedly +threw it into the fire.</p> + +<p>There was a bright light for a moment, then it was gone, and a thin +black substance floated lightly on the coals, showing where the letter +had been; this she buried at once, deep—deep beneath the burning coals, +until not a vestige remained, and turned to greet her visitor.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was her husband.</p> + +<p>He entered, drew a chair near the fire, and sat down, while his wife, +with no visible trace of the emotion she had but lately felt, busied +herself with some fancy work, so that her eyes might not meet his, or +they must have revealed a little of the passions that had been +struggling within; at all events she dared not raise them, but kept them +obstinately fixed on the canvas in her lap, and worked on in silence, +expecting her husband to be the first to speak: but he did not, he took +up his newspaper and read it as perseveringly as she worked.</p> + +<p>Ere long the silence grew oppressive; the crumpling of the paper as Mr. +Linchmore turned it in his hand annoyed and irritated her; her thoughts +were still half struggling with the past; she <i>must</i> bury that, and +bring them forcibly back to the present time, so she spoke; but try as +she would she could not do so without showing a little irritation of +manner.</p> + +<p>"The paper appears to engross your attention<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> entirely, Mr Linchmore. +Have you found anything so very interesting in it?"</p> + +<p>He looked up in surprise, then quietly laid it on the table, as he +replied, "Perhaps I did not speak, as I have rather unfortunate news for +you, 'Lady Emily'—Mrs. Linchmore's riding horse—has gone dead lame."</p> + +<p>"Lame!" exclaimed Mrs. Linchmore in a vexatious tone of voice. "It must +be something very sudden then; she was perfectly well the last time I +rode her, there was not the slightest symptom of lameness about her +then."</p> + +<p>"That was some time ago," rejoined her husband.</p> + +<p>"Only a few days, or a week at the utmost. What is the matter with her? +or what has caused the lameness?"</p> + +<p>"A nail has been accidentally run into her foot in shoeing. There has +been great carelessness no doubt."</p> + +<p>"It is always the case that whenever I wish to ride or drive something +happens to prevent me,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> for the last two or three months I have noticed +it. What is the use of having servants if one cannot trust them, or +horses either, when they are never fit to be ridden?"</p> + +<p>"There are other horses in the stable, Isabella, would carry you just as +well as Lady Emily, but you never will ride them."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Linchmore was not exactly a timid horsewoman, but she was not +courageous enough to ride a strange horse, whose temper and habits she +was unacquainted with. She had ridden the mare constantly for the last +five years, and knew her temper well, and after the first canter was +over all nervousness was gone, and she could talk and laugh and ride +without fear, or the slight timidity she might have felt at first +starting.</p> + +<p>"I promised to ride into Standale with Mr. Vavasour," said she.</p> + +<p>"Shall I order the bay to be brought round for you, Isabella? You will +find him even quieter than Lady Emily."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You know I hate strange horses, Mr. Linchmore. I wonder at your +proposing such a thing. After being accustomed to one horse for so long, +I should be nervous."</p> + +<p>"I will ride with you with pleasure," was the reply, "and give you +confidence if I can, and see no accident happens."</p> + +<p>But no, her husband's escort was very different to the promised pleasure +she had looked forward to with Mr. Vavasour.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," replied she coldly, "but I shall stay at home, and give up +all idea of riding until my horse gets well."</p> + +<p>"Very well, Vavasour can ride into Standale with me if he chooses, I am +starting for it in half an hour. By-the-by, what report did Bernard give +of Miss Neville this morning?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing very much the matter, I believe," said she carelessly, "simply +a sprain caused by some folly or another."</p> + +<p>"I am glad it is nothing more serious; she looks a delicate girl."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Some people always look so. I believe she is strong enough; we were +always from the first led to expect a rather fragile person."</p> + +<p>This was an unwise speech of Mrs. Linchmore's, as it recalled Mrs. +Elrington at once to her husband's mind, and he asked—</p> + +<p>"Have you received any reply to the letter you wrote to Mrs. Elrington, +Isabella?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Miss Neville gave me a message to the effect that she did not +intend," said she sarcastically, "honouring our poor house with a +visit."</p> + +<p>"Did she write to Miss Neville?"</p> + +<p>"I fancy not. I think it was mentioned by Mrs. Neville, in a letter she +wrote from Ashleigh."</p> + +<p>"And Mrs. Elrington has never answered your letter?"</p> + +<p>"No. I suppose she thought the message good enough for us."</p> + +<p>There was no quivering of the lip, no tell-tale blood in her cheeks, +nothing to betray the falsehood she was telling, save her eyes, and +those she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> still bent down. She could not have met her husband's gaze.</p> + +<p>"Strange," murmured he, "that she should so long keep aloof from us. I +should have thought she would have wished to heal up old quarrels."</p> + +<p>"You know her not," was the reply. "I told you she would not come, and +implored you, almost, not to ask me to write to her."</p> + +<p>"It was my fault you wrote, and I cannot help feeling sorry at her +discourtsey; it is so different from what I should have thought she +would have done. I liked the little I saw of Mrs. Elrington, she was a +true Englishwoman. I wonder what she disliked me for. I suppose she did +dislike me?" asked he.</p> + +<p>"Yes, thoroughly. You supplanted her son."</p> + +<p>"But you never cared for him, Isabella?" and this time he waited for the +eyes to be raised to his.</p> + +<p>But they were not. Mrs. Linchmore bent lower still over her work, so +that not only the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> eyes, but the face was almost hidden. She seemed to +have made some mistake, for, with a slight hasty exclamation, she took +the scissors and cut out, hurriedly, what a few moments before she had +been so busy with.</p> + +<p>Again he repeated the question, but not sternly, only sorrowfully and +slowly, as if he almost feared the answer, or guessed what it would be.</p> + +<p>"You never cared for him, Isabella?"</p> + +<p>But the emotion or embarrassment had passed away, and although Mrs. +Linchmore did not look up to meet his gaze, now so searchingly bent on +her, she laid down her work and patted the head of the lap-dog lying at +her feet.</p> + +<p>"I liked him as I do Fido," replied she, perhaps a little mockingly. "He +was a pretty plaything."</p> + +<p>But the answer did not satisfy Mr. Linchmore. He withdrew his eyes from +her face and sighed. Did he doubt her? Alas! a strange, sad thought had +long filled his mind, and would not be chased away.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am glad you did not <i>love</i> him, Isabella," was all he said.</p> + +<p>And then he sat silent for some time. At length he spoke again, somewhat +suddenly. "To revert to Miss Neville," he said. "I feared her illness +might be caused from dulness or ennui. She is so much alone—too much +for one so young. Miss Tremlow, even, hinted at it to me the very first +day she came downstairs; but I do not see what else is to be done, with +these young men in the house."</p> + +<p>"I invited her down the other day, but she would not come."</p> + +<p>"I am glad she did not. Why did you ask her?"</p> + +<p>"You told me to yourself, Mr. Linchmore. You surely cannot have +forgotten it; and besides, we promised to treat her more as a young +friend than as a governess."</p> + +<p>"True," he replied. "I now regret we ever gave such a promise. It would +be far better for Miss Neville, for although we treat her as a friend,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +who amongst our numerous acquaintances will? They do not know her as we +do, and will simply treat her as a governess, nothing more. I neither +like Miss Strickland's apparent haughtiness, which amounts to rudeness, +or Vavasour's attentions, which almost amount to a flirtation with her."</p> + +<p>"The first is unaccountable to me; but the latter—what harm can there +be in that?" replied Mrs. Linchmore.</p> + +<p>"To Miss Neville there might be harm. She might lose her heart to him, +for she is no flirt; <i>he is</i>," said he, decidedly, and his wife could +not attempt to contradict him, "and would as soon break her heart as +not; perhaps be a little proud of it, and certainly think less about it +than he would at breaking his horse's neck in leaping a fence."</p> + +<p>"You are very uncharitable."</p> + +<p>"Not at all. My opinion is, Vavasour intends getting up a flirtation +with Miss Neville, just to pass the time away; perhaps you had better +see to it, Isabella, and try and give her a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> hint. You could easily do +it, without appearing to have noticed his attentions to her."</p> + +<p>"The very way to make her fall desperately in love with him; women +always do with those they hear abused—our hearts are so pitiful. Much +better let her do as she likes, she has plenty of sense."</p> + +<p>"As you will, Isabella; but I must not see her feelings trifled with; +there is nothing half so sad as to love without return—hopelessly."</p> + +<p>And again he turned his face, and looked sorrowfully at his wife, as if +expecting or longing for some slight mark of affection; but she gave +none, and rising slowly, he went out.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Linchmore was once more alone.</p> + +<p>The preceding conversation, at least the latter part of it, had been +entirely to her satisfaction. It must not be supposed she had been a +blind spectator to Vavasour's attentions to Amy. She had heard of the +first walk from Frances, she had seen the second, and imagined that, +perhaps,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> having remarked the looks with which, once or twice, Mr. +Linchmore had watched his attentions to herself, he had had recourse to +a ruse-de-guerre, and now flirted with the governess, as the most +harmless girl he could pick out, whilst all his looks, all his <i>petits +soins</i>, were directed and given to <i>her</i>.</p> + +<p>She laughed at the idea of outwitting her husband; not that she cared +for Vavasour, but the flirting spirit was strong and powerful within. +Old memories and associations, instead of softening had only hardened +her present life, and made her look back more regretfully to the past, +more hopelessly and bitterly to the future.</p> + +<p>"Miss Neville is certainly very beautiful," mused she, "but so quiet, so +meek; no animation about her, nothing to charm such a man as Mr. +Vavasour with." Then she wondered if she herself possessed that power.</p> + +<p>She rose up, and again stood before the glass, which reflected back her +proud, beautiful face, with the conscious haughty look, that if beauty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +had the power to charm it was hers, she need fear no rival.</p> + +<p>Then she re-arranged the flower which she had previously pinned in her +hair, and a smile, sparkling with pleasure, showed that she was +satisfied.</p> + +<p>Mr. Linchmore judged Robert Vavasour's character more justly than his +wife, although neither quite understood it. The mystery of his birth was +the shadow continually haunting Vavasour's path, and making him +thoughtless and trifling towards women. If his mother, as he believed, +still lived, where was her gentle, tender love? Why had he never felt +it? Why had she so cruelly deserted him, and left him to fight his own +way in the world, with no name but a false one? His heart hardened +against womankind. If a mother could be false to her child, what woman +could be true? What woman worth living or caring for? They were triflers +all, and to be trifled with; so he held no reverence in his heart for +them, but flirted with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> his hostess thoughtlessly, and admired her as he +would have admired any other beautiful woman; as he admired Amy, and +would have flirted with her also if she would have let him.</p> + +<p>Would his heart ever be touched by love? ever see reason to regret or +recall the rash vow he had made that no woman should ever hold a place +in his heart, seeing that in loving her he would have to plead, not only +his love, but his nameless birth.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h4>THE INTERVIEW.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span style="margin-left: 9em;">——"Earthly things</span> +<span class="i2">Are but the transient pageants of an hour;</span> +<span class="i2">And earthly pride is like the passing flower,</span> +<span class="i2">That springs to fall, and blossoms but to die."</span> +<span class="i20"><span class="smcap">Henry Kirke White.</span></span> +<br /> +<span class="i4">"Whoever looks on life will see</span> +<span class="i4">How strangely mortals disagree."</span> +<span class="i20"> <span class="smcap">Cawthorne.</span></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It was almost dusk as Frances Strickland, who had been sitting for the +last hour before the glass trying the effect of a wreath of fuschias she +intended wearing at some forthcoming party, laid the flowers on the +dressing table with a dissatisfied sigh as her maid entered the room +with candles.</p> + +<p>"At last!" exclaimed she, impatiently, "what have you been about, Jane? +I thought you would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> never come; make haste and dress me for dinner, as +I wish to try the effect of these flowers in my hair."</p> + +<p>Proud and haughty as Frances was to her equals, she seldom or ever +showed much pride to her maid, or if it did occasionally peep out, it +was instantly checked and controlled.</p> + +<p>Jane was useful to her young mistress in more ways than the mere +dressing her, and brushing her hair. She was an incessant talker, and +found a willing listener in Frances, who silently encouraged her in +repeating all the gossip and tittle-tattle of the servants' hall: as in +this way Frances flattered herself she found out with little trouble the +character as well as the sayings and doings of those around her.</p> + +<p>Jane was perfectly well aware of Frances' failing, consequently indulged +her propensity of talking to the utmost, and when she had nothing to +relate, drew somehow from her own fertile brain and lively imagination, +or added many wonderful improvements to the story already at her +fingers'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> ends. Sometimes Jane was cross, or as she expressed it—"had a +bad head-ache," and then it required all Frances' tact and ingenuity to +get her to utter a syllable; and cunningly as she thought she +cross-questioned her on these occasions, Jane's cunning equalled if not +surpassed her mistress's, as she generally contrived to guess at what +she was aiming, and either added fuel to the fire already kindled there, +or quenched it altogether.</p> + +<p>On the present occasion, Jane was especially communicative, and as she +smoothed the raven tresses of her hair, talked away to her heart's +content, now of this thing, now of that, until at length she approached +the subject nearest her own heart and that of her mistress', namely, +Miss Neville.</p> + +<p>The loss of the piece of embroidery, and the search that had been made +for it, had annoyed and irritated many of the servants, and especially +Mason, who had long had a dislike of the governess, though she had not +openly expressed it; then, Mr. Linchmore's apparent partiality for her? +Why<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> should Miss Neville come into the room just as she pleased when +Madam was dressing, and give her opinion as to how she looked, and what +she wore, even sometimes to the very ornaments themselves, throwing the +lady's maid completely into the shade, where before she had reigned +paramount, with no one's opinion or taste asked but her own. So Mason +grew jealous, and took in the end a dislike to her, as servants often +foolishly do to governesses; and only waited her time to manifest it.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hopkins' decided tone and speech in Miss Neville's favour, and the +'setdown' she gave Mason, only rooted her dislike the more firmly; if it +had not been for the governess she would not have had that; and as birds +of a feather flock together, so she had impressed upon Jane, during +their many friendly chats, her opinion of Miss Neville: that she was a +nobody, who gave herself airs, and interfered where she had no business +to, and as to the lost piece of work, there was no doubt whatever that +she suspected some of the servants, and most<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> likely meanly accused them +of taking it; otherwise, why was such a fuss made, and why had they been +questioned as to whether they had seen it?</p> + +<p>Jane readily believed all that was told her, and determined on shewing +Miss Neville on the very first opportunity she had, that she thought her +in no way better than herself, so meeting her one day accidentally in +the corridor coming upstairs, she tossed her head and pushed rudely past +her, allowing the baize door to slam to, without so much as offering to +hold it open for her to pass through.</p> + +<p>Amy gently and indignantly remonstrated with her on her rudeness, which +she saw at once was intended, and silenced the second impertinent +action, namely the answer hovering on Jane's lips; but though silenced, +Jane went away more firmly impressed and convinced that Mason was right, +and that Miss Neville was an upstart and a nobody.</p> + +<p>"The idea," said she, as she recounted the ad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>venture to Mason. "The +idea of Miss Neville's teaching <i>me</i> manners, and ordering <i>me</i> to +bridle my tongue; I'd like to see her as could make me do it, that's +all; I'll teach my lady to bridle <i>her</i> tongue, and keep <i>her</i> sauce to +herself."</p> + +<p>Mason's temper was not a passionate one; Jane's was, and vindictive too; +she felt convinced, judging from what she should do were she in Miss +Neville's place, that the latter would immediately repeat all that had +taken place to her young mistress, so she determined to be beforehand +with her, and have, as she called it, the first say; whereas Amy had +almost forgotten the circumstance, and certainly had no wish to recall +it.</p> + +<p>"Did you give my message to Mrs. Linchmore?" asked Frances, "I almost +hope you did not, as I am so much better. I intend after all going down +to dinner."</p> + +<p>There had been a long silence, uninterrupted save by the noise the brush +made as it passed through the soft dark hair.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes Miss, I did, and they all said they were sorry to hear you had such +a bad head-ache."</p> + +<p>"All!" exclaimed Frances, "I desired you to give the message to Mrs. +Linchmore. Why did you disobey me?"</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss, I'm sure it was no fault of mine that Miss Neville happened +to be in the room."</p> + +<p>"Miss Neville!" exclaimed Frances.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss Frances, I thought it would surprise you, but I know it was +her, because I saw her through a chink of the door as Mason held it +open; besides Mason says she is always there, trying to butter her +bread, as the saying is; and after I'd given the message, which I should +not have given if I'd known she had been there, I heard her and Mrs. +Linchmore say they thought you was a very perverse and disagreeable +girl; of course they didn't know I was so near, or they wouldn't have +spoke so loud."</p> + +<p>"And how dare Miss Neville have a word to say in the matter concerning +any affairs of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> mine!" said Frances, thrown off her guard by the +suddenness of Jane's announcement, and drawing her head up proudly, so +as to almost drag her hair through Jane's fingers, and totally +disarrange the long silken plait she had just completed.</p> + +<p>"Law! Miss! I'm sure I can't say," replied Jane somewhat surprised in +her turn at the extraordinary emotion she witnessed, and delighted that +so far she had succeeded beyond her hopes.</p> + +<p>"Then you ought to know; I don't believe one word of it."</p> + +<p>"It's true all the same, Miss, whether you believe it or no, and I'm +sure there's some people as is always picking other people to pieces, +and more especially those as is much above them in station; and if I +don't mistake Miss Neville thinks herself a mighty fine lady, and as +Mason says tries—though she doesn't say she manages it—to turn Mrs. +Linchmore round her thumb."</p> + +<p>A gentle tap at the door here interrupted Jane, and she hastened to open +it, but before she could do so the imperious "come in," of Frances was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +answered by the door softly opening and shutting; a light footstep +crossed the room, and Amy Neville herself stood by the table.</p> + +<p>Frances looked surprised.</p> + +<p>"This is a most extraordinary intrusion, Miss Neville," said she rising. +Then added sarcastically, "to what fortunate circumstance am I to +ascribe the pleasure of your company?"</p> + +<p>"No fortunate circumstance," replied Amy, almost as proudly, "has +induced me to come here."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps unfortunate, then," suggested Frances, in the same tone, still +standing, and never asking her visitor to sit down.</p> + +<p>"You are right," said Amy, quietly.</p> + +<p>But this quietness enraged Frances, predisposed as she was to quarrel +with her, and inwardly hating her, as she did; so she answered, +angrily—</p> + +<p>"And do you suppose I have nothing better to do than to listen to +unfortunate circumstances, related by unfortunate people; for I suppose +you are come with some absurd story. I care nothing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> for you or yours, +and have no wish to listen to anything you have to say," and turning +away, as rudely as she had spoken, Frances once more seated herself at +the table, and desired Jane, who had been looking on in astonishment, to +go on with her hair.</p> + +<p>"But you <i>must</i> listen," replied Amy firmly, her eyes flashing at +Frances' insulting tones and speech. "I have something to tell you,—an +explanation to give,—a circumstance to explain; indeed you must +listen."</p> + +<p>Frances mused.</p> + +<p>"Must listen," she repeated presently. "If that is all, pray talk on; as +to whether I answer or no remains to be seen. No one ever yet compelled +me to do aught against my will; therefore I advise Miss +Neville,—determined as she seems,—to think twice before she puts me to +the test. I must also state I am rather hurried, the dressing bell +having rung long since."</p> + +<p>And Frances carelessly wound the two long plaits Jane had plaited round +her head.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I have little to say; I shall not detain you long."</p> + +<p>"Pray begin," said Frances. "Jane be more careful, that hair-pin hurts +me. Well, Miss Neville?"</p> + +<p>But Amy answered—</p> + +<p>"What I have to say is for your ear alone; Jane cannot be present."</p> + +<p>"I have no secrets from Jane; you need have no fear of her repeating +anything she hears."</p> + +<p>"Still, what I have to say, Miss Strickland, cannot be said before her."</p> + +<p>"Really, Miss Neville, your conduct is most extraordinary, not to say +presuming and impertinent. Jane is necessary to me, I cannot dress +without her assistance. I am late as it is, and cannot send her away."</p> + +<p>"If you will allow me, I will assist you."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm sure!" exclaimed Jane, who had been listening in secret +wonderment to the fore-going conversation, and anticipating the +dismissal she was now about to receive. "Well, I'm sure!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> I'm the last +woman in the world to wish to pry into other people's secrets. Thank +God, I've none of my own to trouble me, and don't care who hears what +<i>I</i> say; and thank you, Miss Neville, for your good opinion of me," said +she, with a slight bend, and, throwing the dress she held in her hand +across the back of a chair, she marched indignantly from the room, +taking care not to close the door behind her.</p> + +<p>But Amy followed, and shut it, a proceeding that still more incensed +her, as she had fully intended hearing something, if not all, of what +passed, and learning, if possible, what secret enmity there was, or ill +feeling between the two; as, with all her cunning and quickness, for +once Jane was at fault. "Never mind," thought she, as she proceeded in +search of Mason, to whom to unburden her ill-treatment. "I've been +beforehand with you, with all your caution, Miss Neville, and I'm much +mistaken if Miss Frances likes you one whit better than I do, and that's +a precious deal, I can tell you," and Jane laughed; "though I'm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> puzzled +to know why she got on her proud horse so soon. Yes, I'm fairly puzzled; +but I'll find out yet. All those airs and graces didn't come from what I +told her. No, no; I must be awake, and keep my eyes open. I'm not so +easily deceived. Shut the door as tight and close as you will—say your +say, whisper your secret, yet, for all that, Jane will be up to it, and +fathom it out."</p> + +<p>Amy and Frances were alone.</p> + +<p>How different were the thoughts and feelings of both!</p> + +<p>Declining her companion's assistance in dressing, Frances seated herself +in an easy chair by the fire, her feet in their rich worked slippers +resting on a footstool; her small jewelled fingers playing impatiently +with a small gold heart attached to a bracelet she wore round her smooth +white arm, her eyes emitting from under their dark lashes looks of +defiance and scorn—for Frances, as I have said, cared not to hide her +feelings, or had not yet learnt the habit of doing so;—a determined<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +expression about the corners of her mouth, as if she had fully made up +her mind what course to pursue, and that neither argument nor persuasion +should induce her to abandon it.</p> + +<p>She sat looking like some empress, awaiting the victim about to be +sacrificed or made to bend to her haughty will.</p> + +<p>A faint idea as to what Amy's explanation would be arose in her mind, +how should she take it? should she remain silent, or answer it, and so +lead her on until her whole heart should be probed,—laid bare before +her? yes, she would do the latter, would penetrate into the very secret +recesses of her heart; find out what her thoughts were, and how much she +cared or did not care for her cousin, and then gradually retreat when +she had her at her mercy. "We," so she reasoned, "cannot both +triumph—one must be defeated—one must fall—and that one must be Miss +Neville."</p> + +<p>Amy stood a little apart.</p> + +<p>She, too, had a determined expression playing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> round the corners of her +mouth, and her tall, graceful figure was drawn up proudly to its full +height; yet there was softness, gentleness in the very way she stood, +one small fair hand tightly clasped round the injured wrist, as it +rested delicately on the back of the chair, as if to keep down some +strong inward emotion with its tight grasp; there was pride—there might +be a touch of haughtiness, too—for she was but a poor weak mortal, but +there was no anger, no defiance, no doggedness about Amy's looks. Her +clear dark grey eye quailed not beneath her companion's hard cold gaze, +it flashed as brightly, but there was neither malice, nor hatred, nor +revenge in it; all was soft and womanly, though had opportunity offered +or occasion required it, it might have returned scorn for scorn.</p> + +<p>The two young girls were alone.</p> + +<p>Yet both remained silent; perhaps both feared to be the first to speak, +or wished her companion might break the silence becoming every moment +more painful and embarrassing.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> + +<p>Twice Frances turned her head impatiently, but meeting Amy's steady +gaze, her eyelids dropped and again she leant back in the soft cushioned +chair, and played with the locket as though she could not rest quiet: if +her lips were silent her hands must be employed—she must appear +careless and unconcerned, and uninterested in what was to follow.</p> + +<p>Amy never attempted to move or speak. There she stood gazing at Frances, +but seemingly engrossed by other thoughts, for a close observer might +have detected a slight, almost imperceptible trembling of the under lip, +and a nervous twitching of the fair fingers of the left hand as it +rested softly on the other.</p> + +<p>At length, stooping as though to brush something off her wrapper, +Frances spoke.</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss Neville, how long is this farce to last, this silence +continue? I have already intimated my wish to be alone, and that I do +not care to be troubled with anything you may have to say; yet, hurried +as I am, you seem to take<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> little heed as to the length of time you +detain me. Have the kindness to begin and end quickly."</p> + +<p>Amy started. Her thoughts had been far away. Once again she had gone +over in thought all those pleasant, joyous days, when the world seemed +all so fair and bright, and the days had flown too quickly by; and at +night, she had slept the sleep of happiness and peace, without a thought +for the morrow, save to find or try and make it as happy as the one that +had gone before.</p> + +<p>Ah! how many days had fled since then; how many sorrows and trials had +she seen and experienced. Each day now was but a sad counterpart of the +yesterday that had been, no bright looking forward, no trembling +certainty of happiness; all seemed drear, and the future a blank to her +troubled mind.</p> + +<p>Again Frances spoke.</p> + +<p>This time her voice was firm, though she still steadily avoided meeting +Amy's gaze.</p> + +<p>"When is this wonderful explanation to take place, Miss Neville? If you +have changed your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> mind about it, pray say so at once, that I may call +Jane, and continue my dressing."</p> + +<p>"Miss Strickland," began Amy, falteringly, for Frances' cruel manner had +made her even more nervous than when she entered the room; "you must +have guessed, you must be aware that—that—"</p> + +<p>But instead of helping her, Frances laughed, and <i>that</i> gave Amy the +courage she lacked, for her cheek glowed, and her eye flashed, and +calmly and without hesitation, she went on at once.</p> + +<p>"Have patience, Miss Strickland. I will go on quickly. You saw me +yesterday talking to your cousin in the corridor, and I was led to infer +from your manner, that you imagined I had done wrong in staying to speak +with him, and I thought if I could only explain to you how accidentally +it all occurred, you would exonerate both him and me from blame and +unkind suspicion."</p> + +<p>Frances raised her head haughtily. "I have so many cousins, that I must +trouble Miss Neville to explain herself more fully, as I am unable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +either to recall the circumstance, or to remember which cousin was +honoured by Miss Neville on the occasion referred to."</p> + +<p>"Which cousin? I know but one—Mr. Charles Linchmore."</p> + +<p>"I understood Miss Neville to be a lover of truth. If you know that +Charles Linchmore is my cousin, may I ask what relation his brother can +be?"</p> + +<p>Amy was silent. Neither shame, fear, nor anger kept her so, for +presently, a torrent of words burst from her lips, and she hurried on as +if nothing could stop her; no, not even Frances' mocking gaze, or the +seemingly indifferent manner with which she listened.</p> + +<p>"Miss Strickland, why torture me thus? Think you that the change in my +position has changed my feelings, my heart, my very nature? Think you I +am a stone, or my heart dead within me, that I can stand calmly by, and +hear such cutting cruel words from you, and not feel them bitterly? How +could I look into your face the other day, or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> listen to your words, and +not feel that you were judging me harshly; it was not possible, neither +is it possible I can go on in my daily path of duty, until at least I +have attempted to clear myself of the wrong I see you think me capable +of. I have lived to see my fairest dreams vanish, and have bowed with +submission to the will of One who is wiser then I,—have neither +murmured nor fought against the burden God has seen fit to cast upon me, +though it has been, nay, is, heavy and severe; and though my spirit has +been sad and weary, cast down almost to the dust, yet I have had +strength given me to fight against all repining, unthankful thoughts, +and although not perhaps exactly satisfied with my lot in life, still I +know it might be much worse; that many others suffer more than I do." +And Amy's voice sank almost to a whisper, still and low.</p> + +<p>But Frances was in no way moved by it, and replied as hardly and +tauntingly as before—</p> + +<p>"Go on, pray, Miss Neville, or is this all you have to say?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> + +<p>"All? Ah, no! I could talk for ever. My feelings have been pent up—kept +back for days, weeks, months past. You have loosened them, and they must +have sway. I cannot restrain them now. Oh, if you had ever felt as I +have felt, you could never sit there so indifferently, and not feel some +pity for me; have I not been as tenderly and delicately nurtured? as +much love lavished on me? and yet it is all past and gone, and I am +alone in the world. There is comfort in once again being able to +talk—to tell of all that is binding my heart so tightly—burning my +brain. I have shed tears, but they have brought no relief. I have +pictured to myself happier days, such days of love and peace, but they +have vanished from before me. I have dreamt pleasant dreams, but with +the morning sun they too have disappeared, and all is cold, stern +reality. Oh, I could talk for ever if I thought it would move you to +think better of me."</p> + +<p>"You have my free permission to do so if this is what you come to ask; +only you must excuse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> my being a careless or inattentive listener, as +really your conversation interests me so little."</p> + +<p>"And are you so strangely devoid of pity, then, or is it because you do +not think me worth any? Alas! alas! when rich I was courted, flattered, +and even loved; now, as the poor governess, I am despised and deserted," +and again Amy's voice was low and plaintive.</p> + +<p>"I never had the pleasure of knowing you in those palmy days you speak +of; as a governess of course you must not expect to find much pity; it +would be just as well to leave the history of your reverses—I hate +everything sorrowful—and return to the starting point of your +conversation, my cousin."</p> + +<p>"I will," replied Amy. "I met Mr. Charles Linchmore yesterday +accidentally in the corridor, as I was returning from a fruitless search +for Fanny; he saw that I had injured my hand, and simply asked to look +at it, that was all; you came by just then; your manner—your words, +Miss Strickland, gave me the impression that you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> had misjudged me, and +I shrank from the feeling, and could not rest until I had explained how +it all happened, thinking,—but it seems I was wrong,—that your kind, +womanly feeling and pity would at once feel for me, seeing the delicate +position I occupy in this house."</p> + +<p>But Amy's words only kindled the fire already smouldering in Frances' +heart. Did they not recall to her remembrance the flower Charles had +sent her? The embroidery he had taken? The hurt she had received from +his horse? The interest he had afterwards taken in her welfare?</p> + +<p>"I know you misjudged me, Miss Strickland; do not be afraid to say +so."</p> + +<p>"Afraid!" repeated Frances, scornfully, "No, you are mistaken; do you +suppose I should consult your feelings?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied Amy, sorrowfully, "I am sure you would not; I might have +thought otherwise a few minutes ago, but now—"</p> + +<p>"Now, I hope you are convinced that whatever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> I thought on the occasion +referred to, I think still."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," replied Amy, much in the same tone she had said it to +Charles the day before, "because you are wrong."</p> + +<p>"I am not. Do you suppose I am blind, and do not see the interest <i>he</i> +takes in your welfare?"</p> + +<p>"Scarcely more so than he would show to a stranger whose wrist had been +injured partly from his own fault in saying his horse was a quiet one, +when the accident proved it to have been otherwise. Your manner, Miss +Strickland, placed me in a very awkward position. Mr. Charles Linchmore +noticed it as well as myself, and I think it irritated and annoyed him, +but I, of course, had no right to feel hurt; I will try and act +differently for the future."</p> + +<p>But Frances answered not. Slowly her brow contracted—slowly her passion +seemed to rise.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she stood up and confronted her fancied rival, hatred, revenge, +anger, by turns burning in her eyes, while at each sentence she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> uttered +she stamped her foot impatiently, as if to give emphasis to what she +said.</p> + +<p>"How dare you tell me what <i>he</i> thought of me? I don't believe a word of +it! Do you suppose I am a simpleton? a fool? and cannot see that you +care for him, perhaps love him; and would prejudice me against him, +cause disunion if you could, but it is useless—utterly useless—for I +love him, Miss Neville;—loved him long before you knew him—long before +you ever saw him,—yes, you may stare; I am not ashamed to repeat +it—loved him—worshipped him if you will. What is your love, compared +to mine, but a paltry, insignificant, nameless thing? What is your love +that it should be preferred before mine? You whom he has known only so +short a time. There is nothing in the world I would not give up for him; +home, everything: for what are they all in comparison to his love? There +is nothing I would not do to win him; nothing too great a +sacrifice,—his love would compensate for all, and more than all."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p> + +<p>Amy stood as if thunderstruck, while Frances, who had paused for a +moment, went madly on. The ice was broken,—Amy knew of her love, she +was glad of it, and cared not what she said.</p> + +<p>"You talk of pity for your feelings: what are they in comparison to +mine? You have never seen him you love, deserting, forsaking you +for another. You have never seen his love grow colder and colder, his +eye less bright when it met yours, and his smile less kind; you have +never felt the cold touch of the hand that once warmly pressed yours, or +found that your words have been spoken to careless ears, your +conversation listened to heedlessly—indifferently; when before, every +word that fell from your lips was waited for with impatient eagerness; +you have never known the bitterness of estranged love; you have never +known what it is to feel that all your deep strong love is unsought, +unvalued, uncared for, that nothing, not even all your tenderness can +recall the heart that once loved, once beat for you alone. You talk of +sorrows. What are your sorrows com<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>pared to mine? You talk of +trials; have you ever been tried like this?"</p> + +<p>Frances stopped, overcome by her emotion, and wept violently and +passionately; but her tears were caused more by the angry vehemence of +her manner than from sorrow.</p> + +<p>Who could have believed that the pale proud girl that nothing seemed to +animate, nothing seemed to rouse, had such deep strong feelings within +her? that beneath that cold, proud demeanour, fiery, unruly passions lay +sleeping, requiring but a touch to call them forth with angry violence.</p> + +<p>"Miss Strickland," said Amy, gently and pityingly placing her hand on +her arm, "believe me, I never suspected, never guessed all this, or I +should have made some excuse, some allowance for the manner in which you +spoke to us on that day."</p> + +<p>"To <i>us</i>," exclaimed Francis, as she dashed away the soft hand, "already +you talk of him so; perhaps he has already told you he loves you, and +when next you meet it will be to triumph<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> over me, and talk with pity of +her you have supplanted."</p> + +<p>"No, never! Miss Strickland," replied Amy quickly; "you wrong me, I +never could do so; pity you I certainly should; but triumph in your +sorrow! Never! your suspicion is unjust, you wrong me, you do indeed!"</p> + +<p>"And what if I do wrong you? there is no great harm in that. But I do +not judge you harshly; I know you well enough; I know you will glory in +being able to say you have supplanted proud Frances Strickland."</p> + +<p>"Again let me assure you such will never be the case; from my heart I +pity, will keep with you, if you will let me, and if he cares not for +you, strive to lead your thoughts from him, and help you to conquer your +love and learn if possible that there are other things to strive for +besides his love, things that ought never to be lost sight of."</p> + +<p>"And pray what may these wonderful things be?" asked she sarcastically.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Your own self-respect, and the esteem of those around you."</p> + +<p>"Self-respect! Esteem! Am I a child that you pretend to teach me? Did I +think myself deficient in morals I should not come to Miss Neville to +learn them."</p> + +<p>"I do not pretend to teach you, Miss Strickland, neither do I wish to +intrude my advice where I see it is not wanted."</p> + +<p>"You do well. I want neither advice nor assistance from any one. My mind +is fully made up how to act, I will enter heart and soul into it, and it +will be strange if I do not succeed; so you had best, of all my +<i>friends</i>," and Frances dwelt contemptuously on the last word, "wish me +success."</p> + +<p>"I am in total ignorance as to what your plans are; and therefore am not +able to give any opinion on the subject."</p> + +<p>"I shall be delighted to unravel them: it is but fair we should start +together in the race we are to run."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You are mistaken, Miss Strickland. There is no race to run. I shall +never strive to win the love of one who cares not for me; besides I want +it not. Mr. Charles Linchmore is,—can never be, anything to me; we are +friends; nothing more; you have deceived yourself in imagining +otherwise. I will never wilfully or deliberately deviate from the path +of duty my conscience points out as the right and safe one to follow."</p> + +<p>"Neither do I intend to; my conscience tells me Charles once cared for +me; he cannot have forgotten me, have ceased to love me altogether; his +love is only estranged for a time, not alienated for ever."</p> + +<p>"I trust it may be so, and that if he ever cared for you—"</p> + +<p>"Ever cared for me?" exclaimed Frances, "I tell you he loved me. Yes," +added she passionately, "and his love shall return. Oh! I will enter +heart and soul into it, he must—nay shall love me again. That you, meek +and passionless as you are, love him, I wonder not; but that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> should +return your love? it must not! shall not! cannot be! I will move heaven +and earth to aid me; I will humble my pride, sacrifice my ambition, all! +all! I will suffer degradation, poverty, such as you complain of, all +for him; and when at last he finds out, as he must, how I have loved +him, knows all my heart's devotion, all its deep tenderness; I feel and +know he will love me again as of old, as I know he once did. It cannot +be that I should be doomed to a life of misery, without one bright ray +to cheer the darkness of my lot, one bright spot to lighten my days."</p> + +<p>"It is a sad life," replied Amy, "the one you have pictured, and the +only one I have to look forward to."</p> + +<p>"You!" cried Frances in the same passionate tone, "you! what matters it? +Your love is but a child's love, your love is but a name. Oh, would," +and she clasped her hands eagerly together, "would I could tell +him—would he could know the value of the heart he rejects—what deep +earnest love burns there for him. And he will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> know it, he shall know +that the heart of proud Frances Strickland is all his own; then he will, +he must, despise the love of such a weak, simple girl."</p> + +<p>"I love him not," replied Amy, while her face and even neck crimsoned +with the words.</p> + +<p>"Talk not to me!" replied Frances, wildly. "I tell you it shall be so; +the day shall come when he shall spurn you from him, cast away your +love—scorn it—trample upon it. I tell you his love shall be mine, +wholly, entirely mine, and none other's. You shall never be his. You +think, perhaps, that the means to attain this end will be difficult and +impossible. I tell you if there be means on earth to accomplish it—it +shall be done. I will thwart all your fine plans; when you think +yourself most secure, I will step in like a dark cloud, and hang about +your path, hurling all your fond schemes to the ground. If he is not +mine, he shall be no other's. Go! leave me."</p> + +<p>"No, Frances Strickland, I will not, cannot<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> leave you with such hot, +revengeful feelings warring in your heart. I would have you think +otherwise than what you do before I go. You are speaking in haste and +passion and are scarcely aware of what you are saying. When the present +feelings which now agitate you pass away, cooler moments will succeed; +you will then be sorry I am gone, and that you cannot recall what you +have said."</p> + +<p>"Never! never!" cried Frances angrily and vehemently. "I will do as I +have said, I will enter heart and soul into it, and since you have dared +to love him, so I will ruin you if I can in his eyes."</p> + +<p>"Shame on you, Miss Strickland, for so far forgetting your womanly +feelings as to seek to injure one who has never intentionally done you +harm. Shame on you for encouraging such revengeful feelings and badness +of heart; for striving to render another as unhappy as you are yourself. +All womankind, if they knew it, would think ill of you, and hold you in +utter contempt. As for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> me, I scorn your words—your acts—and care +little for the premeditated evil you threaten me with. Yes, I the poor +dependant, separated from home,—mother,—friends, with none to help and +befriend me, save One who has said He will be a father to the +fatherless. Strong in his strength, and confident in my own purity of +heart, I reject your words—your threats—with scorn, and pity you!"</p> + +<p>How beautiful Amy looked, as for a moment she stood confronting Frances +with all the strong emotions she felt flashing in her soft eyes, and +chasing one another by turns over her face.</p> + +<p>If a look could have turned Frances Strickland from her purpose, surely +she would there and then have repented; but there was no sign of +wavering, no pitying expression in her eyes, and turning away without +another word, Amy left the room.</p> + +<p>As the door closed upon her, the revengeful, unpitying expression died +away from Frances' face, and burying her face in the soft crimson +cushions<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> of the chair, she wept, as only women can weep, +passionately—convulsively.</p> + +<p>After a while, she slowly raised herself and while sobs shook her frame, +murmured with difficulty.</p> + +<p>"Is it possible that I can have lost his love? Has he indeed taken it +from me and given it to that girl? My God! that I should have lived to +see it. Was ever anguish equal to mine? A drowning man catching at a +straw is an enviable fate compared to mine; for I have not a straw even +to lay hold of. To think that I should live to see myself deserted—cast +aside without a thought. Oh! if I could only cast him off as easily, and +revenge myself by weaning her love—for I know she must love him—poor +and pitiful as it is, from him; so that he might feel some of the woe I +suffer. If I could only do that. But no, I cannot—I cannot; I must love +him."</p> + +<p>Again she wept bitter, passionate tears, then went on despairingly.</p> + +<p>"I cannot have been deceived; surely he did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> love me? I cannot have +fancied it; oh! no, no; I am sure he loved me until he saw her. Oh! why +did he ever see her? Why did they ever meet? And why was I so angry and +proud with him when I found them talking together?"</p> + +<p>She stopped again. Then went on bitterly and gloomily, while she clasped +her hands tightly together over her bosom as if to check the tumult +within, and stifle the sobs that shook her.</p> + +<p>"I was proud—too proud. Yes it must be so,—he often said I was proud, +but he shall say so no longer; to him at least, I will be a different +being. Even if he never loved me, I will make him love me now—I will be +all softness, gentleness, without a sign of the burning passions I feel. +But should he speak of her?" and Frances tossed back her hair from her +forehead impatiently, "yes, even then I will smother all pride, all +angry feeling. I will win him yet, if he is to be won; no obstacle shall +stop me. He shall learn to think me warm-hearted and generous, though to +others I still seem cold and proud.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> Yes, I will rouse myself; I will no +longer despond. I will cast aside all doubts and dismal forebodings. I +will triumph over her yet, and trample her under foot; I wonder I could +be so foolish as to weep," and, hurriedly rising, she bathed her eyes, +so as to efface all trace of the emotion she had undergone, and then +once more summoned Jane to her presence.</p> + +<p>And Amy?</p> + +<p>She went at once to her own room, sad and heavy at heart, and pondered +long and deeply on all that Frances had said, and dreaded to think what +might be the end of her plots and machinations. She foresaw she would +leave no stone unturned to gain her end; and what might she not urge, +what stories invent? Her hope,—all hope of softening Frances' heart and +exonerating herself from blame, had failed utterly. The interview from +which she had hoped so much had done harm, and evidently roused angry, +jealous feelings, which Amy would believe and persuade herself there was +no foundation for.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> She would not allow, for a moment, that Charles +Linchmore had a thought for her, and as to loving her, that could not +be. Amy even felt vexed and angry, and indignant with Frances, for so +insisting upon it. She wondered what Frances would tell him, when next +they met; and could not help feeling an undefinable dread—a sensation +of coming evil. Suppose she should tell him that, though unsought, Amy's +love was his, the bare supposition of what he would think brought tears +into her eyes, but she hastily brushed them away, for Amy was not one to +give way to needless sorrow, and tried to smile and think how foolish it +was to weep, when there was yet no cause for it.</p> + +<p>Yet, as she arrived at this conclusion, Frances' evident dislike to her, +combined with her passionate, revengeful temper rose up before her; and +what might they not lead her to do; "and he," murmured Amy mournfully, +"does not know half she is capable of, and will believe anything she +says of me. How I wish we had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> never met! How I wish she had never loved +him!"</p> + +<p>Poor Amy! she scarce knew what she wished, or what to think. One moment +she was confident, at another she doubted, and trembled she scarce knew +why.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h4>DOUBTS AND FEARS.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Why so pale and wan, fond lover?</span> +<span class="i4">Prithee, why so pale?</span> +<span class="i2">Will, when looking well can't move her,</span> +<span class="i4">Looking ill prevail?</span> +<span class="i4">Prithee, why so pale?</span> +<br /> +<span class="i2">Why so dull and mute, young sinner?</span> +<span class="i4">Prithee, why so mute?</span> +<span class="i2">Will, when speaking well can't win her,</span> +<span class="i4">Saying nothing do 't?</span> +<span class="i4">Prithee, why so mute?"</span> +<span class="i20"><span class="smcap">Suckling.</span></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>"The wrist is better," was Dr. Bernard's next report of Amy; "but Miss +Neville is ill and feverish, and must be kept perfectly quiet."</p> + +<p>So there were no more lessons for some days; while Julia installed +herself by Amy's bedside as head nurse, aided by Mary; and sometimes +Mrs. Hopkins came, bringing a jelly or some nicety<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> she had prepared +with her own hands to please the invalid; Amy, therefore, was not dull, +with so many friends to cheer and take care of her.</p> + +<p>During these days Charles was restless and unhappy; was it not partly +his fault she was ill? How he accused himself of being the author of all +the mischief that had accrued from the simple fact of having allowed her +to have her own way, when he might have so easily prevented it; nor was +he in any way consoled when Julia said to him, "Well, you must confess, +Miss Neville has nerve now, and is not afraid of her own shadow; for I +have never heard her once complain of pain; she bears it like a martyr."</p> + +<p>How he envied Dr. Bernard his privilege of seeing and speaking to Amy, +and would have waylaid him at every visit if he had only dared. To ask +news of his patient would betray too evident an interest in her welfare; +so although Charles saw him come and go every day, yet he was obliged to +wait patiently, sometimes for hours,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> until he could catch sight of +Anne. Anne, who kept out of his way as much as she could, who had +determined on having nothing to do in the matter, now found herself +dragged into his confidence, whether she would or no. How she regretted +the curiosity that had induced her to join him that day in the corridor; +if it had not been for that she would had been free now, and not +troubled with the knowledge of the fact that he had certainly fallen in +love irretrievably with his sister-in-law's governess; but then he +looked so miserable and unhappy, Anne could not help pitying him, she +was too kind-hearted not to do that. So every day she gave him news of +Amy, and consoled herself with thinking things had gone too far for any +interference of hers to do any good; but, at the same time, she would be +the bearer of no kind messages, no books, no flowers; and Charles often +flew into a rage, and they parted bad friends in consequence, only to +find him awaiting her the next day as anxiously as before.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> + +<p>Anne wondered sometimes how it would all end, and whether Amy loved him +or no, and whether Frances guessed how things were going on. Anne did +not like Frances, and had often felt sorry at Charles's seeming +partiality for her, and thought how unsuited they were to make each +other happy; and yet only last year everyone had looked forward to an +engagement between them as almost a settled thing. How devoted he had +been; but then perhaps he had found out what a temper Frances had, so +proud and jealous—so imperious a will. Men did not like that, so she +concluded that during the few months that had intervened, he had thought +better of it and changed his mind. Besides, they were cousins, so there +was an excuse for his paying her more attention than he would have done +had there been no relationship between them.</p> + +<p>Amy's illness was more of mind than body; she heard old kind Dr. Bernard +say so, and knew it well herself, and tried hard and earnestly to rouse +and be herself again, but all to no purpose;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> it would not do. She had +worried and fretted, and thought, and allowed her mind to dwell too much +on the eventful interview she had had with Frances, to shake off so +easily the weight that was pressing on her mind, and sinking her +spirits. Julia was kindness itself, and did all she could to comfort and +cheer her, but then she knew nothing of Frances' unkind suspicions and +unjust opinions, or of the fear Amy felt lest she should tell Charles +what she so erroneously and determinately adhered to, namely, that her +love was his, although unsought, unasked, and unwished for.</p> + +<p>It was this fear kept Amy ill. If she could only have unburthened her +mind to Julia and told her that! But she could not, and so she lay +quiet, very quiet, and did all they wished her to do, those kind nurses; +but still she did not get well, and it was nearly a fortnight before Dr. +Bernard pronounced her better, and in a fair way of recovery.</p> + +<p>Then, as she grew convalescent, she dreaded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> the idea of meeting Charles +Linchmore again, lest he should have heard and believed Frances. How she +wished his leave had expired and he were gone, so that she might never +see him again, never hear of him, and she blushed painfully one day when +Anne happened to mention his name, to the no small astonishment of the +sharp-sighted Anne, who noted it at once, and drew her own conclusions +therefrom.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Frances had not been idle. Determined on gaining her +end, she went cunningly and cautiously to work, and while Amy was ill +the field was all her own.</p> + +<p>First, she must find out how much of Charles's heart had been given to +Amy; so, controlling her feelings by a strong effort of will, which made +her appear a little colder than she really was, and was worthy of a +better cause, she led him to talk of Amy, and wept afresh at each new +proof he gave of how much he thought of and cared for her. Still she did +not, would not despair. Like all the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> Linchmores, Charles was proud. If +she could only touch that; only rouse a jealous feeling within him, the +battle would be won.</p> + +<p>How well she remembered his hasty exit from the school-room and the +angry, jealous expression of his face. Was it not that that had first +led her to think he cared for another, and that his love was lost to +her, or nearly so?</p> + +<p>All the fears Amy was suffering and tormenting herself with were +groundless. Not for worlds would Frances have allowed Charles to think +Amy cared for him, or returned his love. No, that would take him from +her for ever, and oh! the anguish that thought cost her. So while Amy +was fidgeting and worrying herself, Frances was trying all in her power +to lead Charles to think that Amy's heart was Mr. Vavasour's, and as Amy +grew better, and able to resume studies again, so Charles became more +depressed and irritable, and more unlike his former self than ever.</p> + +<p>Amy no longer passed her evenings upstairs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> alone, but came down into +the drawing-room. Mr. Linchmore would have it so. Dr. Bernard had said +her illness was principally caused by anxiety of mind, and Miss Tremlow +had hinted her fears that the governess was too much alone for one so +young, so he mildly but gently insisted upon it, overruling Amy's +scruples and his own.</p> + +<p>This great change in her life at Brampton was viewed very differently by +those most interested in her. Frances hated it, as bringing her and +Charles on more intimate terms of friendship, and he himself hated it, +as giving Vavasour an opportunity of paying her more attention than +before.</p> + +<p>Robert Vavasour was the only one pleased with the arrangement. Knowing +nothing, suspecting nothing, of what was passing around him, he was glad +to see her, and sat down by her and told her so the very first evening +she came down, much to Charles's intense disgust, who kept sullenly +aloof, in a wretchedly bad temper, which not even his cigar or Bob could +dissipate or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> soothe, although he angrily left the room and had recourse +to both; but neither had any good effect, his mind was too thoroughly +engrossed with the governess.</p> + +<p>Another consequence of Amy's evenings being spent downstairs was that +she had little time for writing home. Often instead of the four +closely-written crossed sheets of paper, only one found its way into the +envelope, and that one sometimes scarcely filled, and hastily written. +But Mrs. Neville never complained; she fully believed that as Amy said, +so it was; not the will but the time was wanting.</p> + +<p>Sometimes there was dancing of an evening, and then Amy was expected to +contribute her share to the evening's amusement by playing the piano for +the dancers, who never seemed to tire. Sometimes her head ached sadly, +and her fingers grew quite stiff, and she stumbled dreadfully over the +notes, but no one heeded it, or seemed to mind it, and she played on +until relieved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> by Julia or Anne, who soon learned to guess the true +reason of the false notes.</p> + +<p>The tight fitting black dress and little plain collar, that had often +annoyed Anne, were now laid aside in the evening for a plain white +muslin, made high, without ornament or ribbon of any kind, confined at +the waist by a broad band. It was simple, but suited her well; and many +a proud beauty, conscious of her own loveliness, would have fallen into +the shade beside the governess in her plain white muslin.</p> + +<p>There was a dignity as well as beauty in Amy: the one attracted, the +other commanded the respect of everyone. There was something truly +feminine about her—grace in every movement, sweetness in every smile, +sad as her smiles were now; and her manner was so devoid of affectation, +yet so soft and winning, what wonder that she was loved by some, and +hated as a dangerous rival by others.</p> + +<p>Amy sat at a small table writing home, her head bent gracefully forward, +and her fair fingers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> guiding the pen rapidly over the paper, as she +added a few lines to the hastily-written note begun that morning. Her +hair—it looked almost golden by the fire-light—was plainly braided, +though the brush had scarcely been able to smooth the waving luxuriant +masses—and wound simply round a comb at the back of her small +head—'Madonna-wise,' as Charles had once said.</p> + +<p>Her naturally fair complexion—so fair, that it almost rivalled the +clear white muslin dress—was set off by a slight colour which tinged +her cheeks, caused, perhaps, by the eagerness with which she wrote; for +Amy knew full well, that the dinner over, she would have to go below, +with no chance of finishing her letter that night, for the morrow's +early post.</p> + +<p>But now her task is done; a pleasant task for her, so filled as her +heart is with love for her fond and anxious mother. A few tears +glistened in her eyes, as she sealed and directed the letter, and, "I +wish dear Mamma would write to me," fell scarcely audible from her +lips.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was nearly a month since Mrs. Neville had written; not once during +all the time of Amy's illness; but then she knew nothing of that, Amy +never mentioned it; it would have made her mother too anxious and +unhappy.</p> + +<p>How slowly the days crept by! and how anxiously every morning Amy looked +forward to the afternoon, when the postman made his appearance at the +park; yet each day she was disappointed, Mrs. Neville did not write.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Elrington wrote constantly, at her friend's earnest request and +wish, so she said. But did this satisfy Amy? No; she longed once again +to see her dear parent's handwriting; she felt an aching void at the +heart; and was most anxious and nervous, fearing she knew not what, +whilst a thousand wild suggestions filled her brain, and sad thoughts +trembled in her heart.</p> + +<p>Amy's desk was scarcely shut ere Mrs. Hopkins came in. She hesitated +half-way between the door and the table, uncertain whether to advance or +not, but Amy's voice soon assured her.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Come in, Nurse," said she, "and sit down. I am not busy; I have been +writing, but my letter is finished, so I am quite ready to talk to you, +which will be far pleasanter to me than sitting alone."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Miss; it is so long since I had a talk with you—not since +your illness; I hope you are feeling well and strong again?"</p> + +<p>"Quite, thank you; I am entirely out of the doctor's hands now, and hope +I shall not want him again for a long time. How are you and Mason +getting on? more amicably, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"No, I can't say we are; her head is filled with French nonsense. It was +a thousand pities Madam ever took her to France, she has never been the +same woman since—such airs and graces; such bends and courtesies! such +twistings of her body! and as for her waist, why it's just half the size +it was; I wonder she doesn't burst sometimes—I'm sure her face looks +red enough, and all through being squeezed so tight; but there,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> it's no +business of mine, I only wonder Madam puts up with it.</p> + +<p>"Then as to master," continued Mrs. Hopkins, "I never did see a +gentleman so altered as he is. I thought the staying at Brampton, and +having company here, would have enlivened him; but Lord bless you, Miss, +he is worse a great deal. He always was grave, like; but then he'd a +pleasant smile and good word for everybody in the house; but now—" +Nurse sighed, stroked and doubled up the corner of her apron, and looked +thoughtful.</p> + +<p>"And now?" asked Amy, enquiringly.</p> + +<p>"Now, Miss, he's quite altered, quite changed—melancholy, like. 'Tis +true he says, 'Good morning, Mrs. Hopkins;' but that's all. The butler +tells me he seldom smiles with the company; but sits and talks like a +gentleman absent in his mind."</p> + +<p>"You surely must be mistaken, Nurse," said Amy, thoughtfully, "I see no +difference."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Very likely not, Miss; but we servants see it. There's scarce anything +ever goes on amiss in a house that servants don't notice it. I don't +pretend to know why master's changed; but certain as I am sitting here, +he is changed. May-be he has something on his mind. How different his +father was. God rest his soul, poor old gentleman."</p> + +<p>"Was his father much liked? was he popular at Brampton? for all seem to +respect and love the present Mr. Linchmore."</p> + +<p>"He never lived long enough down here for people to know enough about +him to like him. He wasn't over and above fond of his lady, nor of her +doings neither—so I've heard my mother say. He was, by all accounts, a +very wild gentleman in his youth."</p> + +<p>"And old Mrs. Linchmore, his wife. Why was he not fond of her?"</p> + +<p>"She was a fearful woman!" replied Mrs. Hopkins, drawing her chair +nearer Amy's; "very handsome in her youth. Mr. Linchmore<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> married her +for her beauty, and sorry enough he was for it afterwards. That's her +picture hangs over the chimney-piece in the dining room, and a beautiful +face it has; only too proud and stormy, like, to my mind."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see her?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss. I mind her just before she died. Six months before that +happened, the housekeeper, who was a friend of my mother's, got me the +under housemaid's place here. I seem to see the lady now, tall and +straight as a needle, with such a stately step and proud look; her eyes +bright, black, and piercing as a hawk's, although she was gone forty and +more. I used to tremble whenever she looked at me, and many's the time +I've run for the life of me down the long gallery to get out of her way. +Oh! she was a fearful lady!"</p> + +<p>"How so?" inquired Amy, hoping to gain some intelligence as to why her +room was so pertinaciously kept closed.</p> + +<p>"They say, Miss," replied Nurse, glancing un<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>easily about her, "that the +house was haunted when she was alive. I can't say as ever I saw +anything; but I believe it all the same, and so did my fellow-servants, +though it was never whispered between us; certainly she was no good +christian any more than Tabitha, her maid, who had lived with her ever +since she was a girl, and knew all her secrets; and would be muttering +to herself all day long. This was a strange house then, and I don't +wonder the villagers were 'frighted to come near it."</p> + +<p>"Why so? surely a woman could do them no harm?"</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss, they said she could, and did do a deal of harm to them she +didn't like; and then there was that bad story they had about her +husband's cousin."</p> + +<p>"What was that, Nurse?"</p> + +<p>"I can't scarce tell you all the rights of it, Miss, only what I've +heard people say, as you see it happened afore my time; but 'twas all +about a cousin of her husband's, who had been adopted by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> his mother. My +old mistress was fearful jealous of her, as well she might be if all +accounts was true about her gentle, loving ways. But there, they didn't +save her from being suspected by Mrs. Linchmore of carrying on at a +shameful, scandalous rate with her husband, Mr. Linchmore. Poor young +lady! She disappeared one night, and 'twas given out that she had fled +from the Park to hide her shame. But there, people ain't blind; and then +she never came back again, and so the villagers whispered 'twas a darker +deed than that took her away so sudden."</p> + +<p>"But what did Mrs. Linchmore's husband say?"</p> + +<p>"He and his wife had fine words about it, Miss, and he went off soon +after and left her for good. But there worse than that happened; for his +poor mother, her as adopted Miss Mary—that was the poor young lady's +name, Miss—broke her heart about it all, and died. She was a nice, good +old lady, and very fond of Miss Mary, and on her death-bed she told my +mother she died believing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> the young lady innocent; and no one was ever +to believe anything else until they saw Miss Mary again, and then all +wou'd come right, and everybody hear the truth. But there, we never did +hear the truth, for we never saw Miss Mary again; so it was just as well +the old lady was took when she was, and went so happy and peaceful."</p> + +<p>"But her daughter-in-law, your old mistress, what became of her? I think +she died suddenly, did she not?"</p> + +<p>"Very, Miss Neville. She would have no one but Tabitha to wait on her +when she was ill; but none of us cared much about that; and they used to +abuse one another terrible sometimes. It was a long time before she'd +see the doctor, and then she wouldn't take his medicine; we found all +the bottles ranged like a regiment of soldiers in the cupboard after +she died—not even the corks out of them, or a drop of medicine taken. +When she got worse she wouldn't lay in the bed, but had the mattress +moved off on to the floor. She died<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> that very night quite sudden, for +none of us thought her so bad as that, not even the doctor; but there, +he was quite a young man, and I mind well his coming in the morning. She +hadn't been so well the evening before, so he came quite early, as I was +cleaning down the hall. I went upstairs with him, and knocked twice at +my mistress's door, but nobody answered; so the doctor opened it, and +went in, and I followed, terribly frightened, but so curious like, I +couldn't keep back anyhow."</p> + +<p>Nurse paused, and then sunk her voice almost to a whisper as she went +on,</p> + +<p>"Oh! what a terrible sight we saw. My mistress was quite dead; one of +her hands clutching the bed clothes, the other thrown above her head, +and closed so tight, it looked as though the nails were buried in the +flesh. Her eyes were wide open, and a frightful look her face had, as +though she had died in torments.—She was an awful corpse;" and Nurse +shuddered, and her hands trembled as she stirred up the fire.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But where was Tabitha? How was it she had not called for anyone?"</p> + +<p>"She was lying by the side of the bed on the floor, and at first I +thought she was dead, too; but she came to life again when we carried +her into the open air, and a scared look she had when she opened her +eyes; but it was weeks before she got well again, and then she left, and +none of us felt sorry, I can tell you."</p> + +<p>"Did she give you no account of the lady's death?"</p> + +<p>"The doctors said she died in a fit, but we all knew her end was +something awful, for one of the maids who had been put to sleep in a +room near, in case she might be wanted, told us she heard in the dead of +the night an awful noise in Mrs. Linchmore's room—it woke her; and then +a loud talking; as if my mistress was angry about something, and +presently a loud scream and laughter; and then she was so frightened she +dropped off insensible, like, and didn't come to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> herself until she +heard us all astir with Tabitha in the morning."</p> + +<p>"Where was Mr. Linchmore?"</p> + +<p>"He was away abroad somewhere with his two little boys; and didn't get +here till three or four days after her death. We all thought he would +shut up the house and go abroad to foreign parts again, as he had done +for years past; but no, he had it all fresh painted and papered; all +except his wife's two rooms,—there's a dressing-room adjoining, but +only the one door for the two—he never went near them again I believe, +but can't say for certain, as I married and left the place. My mistress +was buried in great state, ever so many carriages and grand folks,—some +of them from London,—and a mighty lot of beautiful feathers nodding and +bobbing over the hearse; but for all that we wern't sorry to lose her, +we all feared her, and though a crowd assembled in the churchyard, 'twas +out of curiosity, many of the villagers never having seen such a grand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +funeral before; there wasn't, so I heard my old man say, a wet eye +amongst them, not even the master's, and as for the company of mourners, +Lor' bless you, Miss, they laughed and joked over their luncheon +afterwards as though they had been to a wedding."</p> + +<p>"Has Mrs. Linchmore's room never been occupied since her death?"</p> + +<p>"Never, Miss, that I know of. I don't think my old master ever went into +it again; my present master don't seem to love it neither, and as for +Madam, she says it's the worst room in the house; all old fashioned and +gloomy."</p> + +<p>"I should like to see the room some day, Nurse, will you show it to me?"</p> + +<p>"I, Miss? I wouldn't go into it for any money. John at the lodge says +he's seen a queer sort of light there lately; bright and blue, like. +Half the maids in the house are talking about it; and go about in +couples to turn the beds down. But he only saw it once, and then for +only half a minute, so perhaps it was his fancy."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is the door kept locked?"</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't like to go to sleep if it wasn't. Yes, Miss, the key's kept +down in my room below. I couldn't bide comfortable in bed with it in my +room above stairs, at night. No, I was mortal afraid of the old lady +when she was alive, and couldn't face her dead anyhow, and she such an +awful corpse too."</p> + +<p>Just at this moment Anne, who had entered the room unperceived, clapped +her hands. Nurse nearly dropped off her chair with fright; even Amy was +startled.</p> + +<p>"Now, that serves you right!" exclaimed the intruder, "for talking about +such horrible things. Mrs. Hopkins, let me put your cap straight; now +don't tremble so, and shake your head, or I shall put it on awry,—there +that will do; and now come away, Miss Neville; who would have believed +you were so superstitious? Imagine Miss Tremlow's astonishment when she +hears it. 'Miss Bennet,' said she, just now, 'if you are going +upstairs do let Miss Neville come down with you;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> and open the door +<i>ve—ry—gent—ly</i>, as I dare say she is busy writing home.' Instead of +which my gentleness nearly frightened you into fits, and instead of +writing you are listening to all kinds of horrors."</p> + +<p>"What a mad young lady she is," soliloquised Mrs. Hopkins, as the two +girls left the room together, "I declare for the moment I thought it was +my old mistress herself; she used to clap her hands just that way when +she was vexed. I'll go below, it's lonely here now Miss Neville's gone. +She's a sweet young lady and deserves a better husband than that Mr. +Vavasour, who John says is hankering after her, and makes eyes when +Madam isn't looking. There's no good in a man as keeps company with two +young women at once, and one of them married too, he ought to be ashamed +of himself; but there, I suppose it's only what the gentry call +flirting. Ah! well, for my part I don't like it; and how Miss Neville's +mother would vex if she knew it. I musn't forget her letter neither, +but'll put it with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> the rest for the post; and that reminds me I never +gave her the one that came for her this afternoon, but I'll lay it on +her dressing table, she'll be sure to see it when she goes to bed. Poor +dear! I suppose she'll be kept up pianning it till her fingers are most +ready to drop off."</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h4>THE WARNING.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Oh! life is like the summer rill, where weary daylight dies;</span> +<span class="i2">We long for morn to rise again, and blush along the skies;</span> +<span class="i2">For dull and dark that stream appears, whose waters in the day,</span> +<span class="i2">All glad, in conscious sunniness, went dancing on their way.</span> +<span class="i2">But when the glorious sun hath 'woke, and looked upon the earth,</span> +<span class="i2">And over hill and dale there float the sounds of human mirth;</span> +<span class="i2">We sigh to see day hath not brought its perfect light to all,</span> +<span class="i2">For with the sunshine on those waves, the silent shadows fall."</span> +<span class="i20"> <span class="smcap">Caroline Norton.</span></span> +</div></div> + + + +<p>Frances Strickland was seated at the piano, singing, when Anne and Amy +entered the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"I wonder who asked or persuaded her to sing, for she always requires an +immense amount of pressing. However, so much the better for you, as she +will, I doubt not, remain perched on the music-stool half the night," +said Anne.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> + +<p>Amy sat down in her usual place, near the window, so as to be almost +hidden by the heavy drapery of the curtain, and mechanically her eyes +wandered in search of Mr. Linchmore, as her thoughts dwelt on Mrs. +Hopkin's words, "Master has something on his mind."</p> + +<p>Was it so? Was it possible? and if so, why was he unhappy? Young and +inexperienced in the ways of the world, Amy had no suspicion of the real +cause of Mr. Linchmore's sadness; in fact, as she told Mrs. Hopkins, she +had not remarked it. Why should he be changed? What should he be sad +about?</p> + +<p>Often, in after days, Amy wished she had never found out the dreadful +cause of this alteration.</p> + +<p>Mr. Linchmore held a book in his hand, but his eyes had wandered from +its pages. Amy followed their direction.</p> + +<p>At the farthest end of the room sat Mrs. Linchmore, and by her side Mr. +Strickland. Listlessly she sat, and listlessly she appeared to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> be +listening to her companion's words, although he seemed to be exerting +himself in an unusual manner to please her, not a yawn, or symptom of +fatigue about him. They seemed to have changed places, the weariness all +on her part; she was evidently inattentive and absent.</p> + +<p>Robert Vavasour leant against the back of the sofa on which she sat; +like Mr. Linchmore, he held a book in his hand. Was he reading it? No. +Impossible! the leaves were turned over carelessly, and at random, two +or three together, not one by one.</p> + +<p>A little farther off sat Anne, laughing and chatting merrily with Mr. +Hall, while he was bending low, and speaking, in a soft, subdued voice, +such things as only those who love know how to speak—Anne looking pert, +and trying to appear indifferent to his words.</p> + +<p>"He loves her!" thought Amy, as she watched them, "and she? yes, I think +she does, or will love him too. How happy she looks, not a cloud to +darken her bright path; everything is smooth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> for her, and appears in +gay, golden colours. Happy Anne! May the light that sparkles in your +eyes never be quenched, nor your merry laugh be chased away by the sad, +sorrowful look that tells of the heart's best hopes faded away, and +bright days gone never to return."</p> + +<p>Again Amy looked towards Mrs. Linchmore. Robert Vavasour had taken the +vacant seat by her side. Alfred Strickland was gone.</p> + +<p>How different she appeared! No longer listless or inattentive, her face +was brightened by smiles. She was all animation, talking and laughing +almost as merrily as Anne.</p> + +<p>How sad it is to see those we love smiling on others as they never smile +on us, or whilst our hearts are overcharged with sorrow and heaviness, +theirs are careless and unconcerned, insensible to our misery, if not +even mocking our anguish. Then it is that in bitterness of heart we +could lie down and die, or at least weep drops of agony, to think that +our love could be so lightly valued, or we ourselves so neglected and +forsaken.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Linchmore knew her husband's eyes were watching her, knew, too, +partly the agony of his heart, yet she trifled on, caring little for the +feelings of him whose slightest wish she should have studied to please, +and striven to obey.</p> + +<p>Mr. Linchmore closed his book. It accidentally fell to the ground. His +wife,—whose attention had been seemingly engrossed by Robert Vavasour, +nevertheless watched her husband uneasily. When would his patience be +exhausted? When would his pride take the alarm? Now! thought she, as she +started at the slight noise the book made as it reached the ground. +Calling to remembrance her husband's previous suspicions, she asked Mr. +Vavasour to beg Miss Neville to play for a dance.</p> + +<p>He was at Amy's side as Mr. Linchmore rose from his chair. Very stiffly +she received him.</p> + +<p>"Does Miss Neville intend retiring from observation all night? It was +with some difficulty I found her out in this out of the way corner."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p> + +<p>"This is my usual seat when I am not required to play. I should have +thought Mr. Vavasour had seen me here too often to have searched for me +elsewhere."</p> + +<p>"You are right, I did not look for you elsewhere. What I meant to say +was, that I wished you would take a seat somewhere, where one might +catch a glimpse of you, instead of beneath the shade of this detestable +window curtain. Have I got into a scrape by so wishing?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," replied Amy.</p> + +<p>"You think too little of self, Miss Neville. Look at Miss Strickland, +who always plants herself in the most prominent position, so that no one +can fail remarking her the moment they set foot into a room."</p> + +<p>"Do you not think it is rather her beauty strikes the eye of a +stranger?"</p> + +<p>"It may be so. I do not admire her."</p> + +<p>"Not admire her?" exclaimed Amy, "I must condemn your bad taste, surely +everyone must think her beautiful."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Because everyone thinks so, is that a reason why I should?"</p> + +<p>"No, but most men admire beauty. It seems so strange you should not."</p> + +<p>"I have the bad taste not to care about mere beauty such as Miss +Strickland's; she is too proud, and, if I mistake not, her temper is +none of the sweetest; no, I shall not choose my wife for her pretty +face."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you seek a miracle of perfection, mind and face both."</p> + +<p>"No miracle, Miss Neville, for I have seen both."</p> + +<p>He looked at her so earnestly, that Amy felt confused, while Charles, +who savagely watched them at a distance, felt as surly as a bear, and as +miserable as he well could be. He could stand it no longer.</p> + +<p>"Miss Neville," said he approaching them, "Has Vavasour given you Mrs. +Linchmore's message?"</p> + +<p>"No. I quite forgot it," replied he, "It was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> something about dancing +wasn't it? but I for one don't care a rush about it."</p> + +<p>"Because you do not, is no reason why others should not," retorted +Charles, turning on his heel.</p> + +<p>"The next time a message is entrusted to Mr. Vavasour," said Amy rising, +"I hope he will not forget to deliver it. I will ask Mrs. Linchmore if +it is her wish I should play."</p> + +<p>"Stay, Miss Neville, I can answer the question She does—but—"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, I need no further commands," replied Amy proudly.</p> + +<p>As they left the recess, Alfred Strickland,—who sitting close by had +overheard almost every word,—turned lazily round on the sofa.</p> + +<p>"Well done for the schoolmistress!" muttered he, "by Jove! how she +snubbed Vavasour. That last was a settler!"</p> + +<p>Robert Vavasour leant over Amy as she arranged the music and commenced +playing.</p> + +<p>"You misjudge me, Miss Neville; but I hope a time will come when you +will think better of me."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I do not think badly of you," replied Amy as he turned away.</p> + +<p>"Thoroughly snubbed! old fellow, eh?" said Alfred Strickland, as +Vavasour passed the sofa where he still sat, "never mind, cheer up! and +better luck next time!"</p> + +<p>"Did you speak, sir?" exclaimed Vavasour fiercely.</p> + +<p>"No, no, nothing of any consequence. It's chilly, don't you find it so?"</p> + +<p>"Very," replied Robert, as he passed on.</p> + +<p>Had Mr. Linchmore, as Mrs. Hopkins said, anything on his mind, or was he +blind to all that was passing around him? Partly so; he had seen +Vavasour's flirtation with his wife with uneasiness and displeasure, +determined in his own mind to put a stop to it; but the scene suddenly +changed. Miss Neville appeared, and he immediately transferred his +attentions to her, or certainly a great part of them.</p> + +<p>For a short time Mr. Linchmore was puzzled, but ere long he set him down +as that most selfish<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> of human beings, one who systematically storms a +woman's heart until it succumbs to him, and is all his own, when +gradually and quietly he releases himself from his victim, and leaves +her heart to break or recover as best it can.</p> + +<p>A female flirt is bad enough, but there are oftentimes excuses to be +made for her. She becomes so from the force of circumstances, from undue +admiration or a natural love of it; from some secret sorrow, or unhappy +home, made so by a husband's desertion, something there must be to urge +her on.</p> + +<p>But how many men glory in and boast of their conquests, and tell of the +many hearts they have broken. How sad is the idea of some young girl, +just entering life, made the sport of one of these. She surrenders her +truthful, guileless heart, in all its first strong love, to him who she +truly believes is all her young fancy ever pictured in her brightest +dreams—all that is good and noble.</p> + +<p>Too late she finds out her mistake, too late knows she has been +deceived, and her heart<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> trifled with. She becomes in her turn a flirt, +and her heart hard and callous. The world is no longer in her eyes the +bright world it was, but a hollow, heartless pageant.</p> + +<p>Mr. Linchmore liked Amy. Should such be her fate? Should he sit quietly +by and see her heart thus sacrificed, her peace of mind so destroyed? +God forbid! If he had the power to prevent it; it should never be. So he +watched her and Mr. Vavasour narrowly, determined to warn her himself.</p> + +<p>The grand piano Amy played on was so placed as to command a view of the +dancers, as they flitted past her. Robert Vavasour, although he said he +cared not a rush for it, was flying along in a waltz with Mrs. +Linchmore. Somehow Amy did not like seeing him so soon with her again, +she felt sorry; and her eyes involuntarily sought Mr. Linchmore, but she +had not far to look, he was close beside her; and placed a chair as she +finished playing.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You must be tired, Miss Neville," he said kindly.</p> + +<p>"No; I am so accustomed to play, that I think the dancers would get +tired before I should."</p> + +<p>"My wife never tires."</p> + +<p>"How beautiful she looks to-night!" said Amy.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Linchmore was always well dressed; this evening, perhaps, more +simply than usual. A rich white silk dress, fitting her to perfection, +with a few scarlet roses in her hair and bosom.</p> + +<p>"She grows more beautiful every day," replied he, sorrowfully. "Are you +fond of gaiety, Miss Neville?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so, or fancy I should be. I have seen little of it; but it +must be so pleasant to thoroughly enjoy oneself."</p> + +<p>"I doubt if very many feel it to be thorough enjoyment; even balls and +parties have their cares; but you would hardly think so to listen to the +talking and merriment around."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p> + +<p>Anne, at this moment, played a galop, and again Robert Vavasour whirled +past with his hostess.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Vavasour dances well," was all the remark Mr. Linchmore made. "You +appear well acquainted with him, Miss Neville. Is he an old +acquaintance?"</p> + +<p>"No. Oh, no!" replied Amy, hurriedly and confusedly.</p> + +<p>"He is a man who soon ingratiates himself with the fair sex. Of a proud, +reserved nature, a word from his lips is of more weight with them than +half the good deeds of a better man. He is a man who could humbug the +wisest, and flirt with the silliest; and without the slightest intention +of losing his own heart, or becoming entangled himself. He is not a +marrying man; and for that simple reason every girl will try to win his +heart; or will fall into the snare he sets, believing that she is the +chosen one, and that his iron will and heart has succumbed to her; and +be naturally proud of her supposed conquest, until<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> she finds out her +mistake, as most assuredly she will."</p> + +<p>"I have warned her," thought Mr. Linchmore, as he left her, nor stayed +to see the effect of his words.</p> + +<p>While Amy inwardly murmured, "I shall never fall into the snare."</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h4>MISGIVINGS.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Gay fowlers at a flock of hearts;</span> +<span class="i2">Woodcocks to shun your snares have skill,</span> +<span class="i2">You show so plain, you strive to kill.</span> +<span class="i2">In love the heartless catch the game,</span> +<span class="i2">And they scarce miss, who never aim."</span> +<span class="i20"><span class="smcap">Green.</span></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>How often it happens that in realising our fondest hopes, we experience +not the happiness we expected.</p> + +<p>Each and all of us, at some unhappy period of our lives, have been led +to exclaim, "Ah! if this state of uncertainty were but at an end, this +suspense over. Let the worst come, we are prepared for it: it cannot +make us more miser<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>able than we are." Yet fortified as we deem ourselves +against the worst, braced up as it were, and prepared for aught that may +happen; how feeble we are, at the very best, when the ruin, sickness, +death of those we love, or whatever sorrow it may be, overtakes us; how +often—always—unequal to bear the blow. Then we sigh for our former +state of uncertainty; it was bliss compared to our present grief, when, +fancying ourselves prepared for the worst, gentle hope filled our +hearts, and bade us look trustfully onwards for bright smiles, wreathed +with roses; where, alas! we found only tears beneath a crown of thorns.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">"Such is life;</span> +<span class="i4">The distant prospect always seems more fair;</span> +<span class="i4">And when attained, another still succeeds,</span> +<span class="i4">Far fairer than before,—yet compassed round</span> +<span class="i4">With the same dangers and the same dismay;</span> +<span class="i4">And we poor pilgrims in this dreary maze,</span> +<span class="i4">Still discontented, chase the fairy form</span> +<span class="i4">Of unsubstantial happiness, to find,</span> +<span class="i4">When life itself is sinking in the strife,</span> +<span class="i4">'Tis but an airy bubble and a cheat."</span></div></div> + + +<p>Thus it was with Amy Neville. She had been uneasy and unhappy at not +hearing from her mother; evil forebodings had filled her heart, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> all +kinds of imaginary fancies her brain. She had sighed again and again but +for one short letter of explanation, clearing away her mother's +mysterious silence, and lifting the veil that seemed to hang so gloomily +and heavily between her and her home.</p> + +<p>It came. It had arrived the evening before. It was the letter Mrs. +Hopkins had forgotten to give her, and had placed on her dressing table, +and there Amy found it on retiring for the night.</p> + +<p>How eagerly she seized and perused its contents, read and re-read every +word of it, till her eyes ached and swam with tears, and she could no +longer trace the handwriting on the sheet of paper. Then wearily she +crept to bed, and placing the letter beneath her pillow, so as to be +able to read it again the first thing in the morning, fell into a +troubled sleep, with but one thought at her heart, and that one, that +her beloved parent had been ill,—very ill.</p> + +<p>The letter was from Mrs. Elrington, assuring<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> her that although Mrs. +Neville had been seriously ill, all danger was over now, and the invalid +in a fair way of recovery; yet Amy, whose eyes were heavy with recent +tears and unrefreshing rest, could scarcely reconcile to herself that it +was so, and how her heart beat as she read an account of her mother's +sufferings. How gladly would she have watched by the sick bed, and +ministered to her relief. How gladly have shared with Mrs. Elrington in +the kind attentions and unremitting care she knew she had bestowed on +her good and gentle parent.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Elrington's letter was kindly and thoughtfully worded, well +calculated to soothe and tranquillise an anxious daughter's heart.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Neville, she said, had certainly been very ill, though not in any +immediate danger. It had been her express wish throughout that Amy +should not be told of her illness, as there was no necessity for her +incurring an expensive journey at such an inclement season of the year; +"and," continued Mrs. Elrington, "your mother rightly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> judged that had +you known she was ill, your anxiety would have been great if not allowed +to share in nursing her. Thank God, she is able to leave her room, and +now reclines on a sofa in the little parlour, and is gradually regaining +her usual strength, though we must not expect her to become well all at +once; but I hope in a few weeks she will be able to occupy her usual +seat as of old, in the easy chair by the fire-side, which said chair +Sarah is very busy making a new chintz cover for, in readiness for the +invalid, and in honour of the day when she first sits up. So dear Amy," +concluded Mrs. Elrington, "you must keep up your spirits and your roses, +or your mother will outvie you in both when you see her again, and be +sure that I will send for you at once, should she not go on as well as +we could wish."</p> + +<p>And with this letter Amy was obliged to rest satisfied, though for many +days after that she grew nervous and restless as the hour for the post +drew near; and could scarcely control the impatient desire she felt to +walk half way down the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> road to Standale to meet the postman. Once she +did walk down.</p> + +<p>Though now approaching the end of January, it was quite like a November +day—foggy, with a thick drizzling rain falling, yet Amy heeded it not, +but walked quickly on, wrapped in a thick seal-skin cloak. She passed +through the village and reached the turnpike gate. Here at the cottage +door stood William Hodge.</p> + +<p>"A nasty damp day, Miss," said he, touching his hat civilly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Amy, "quite a change from the cold, frosty, snowy weather +we have had."</p> + +<p>"We shall have more rain yet, I'm thinking."</p> + +<p>"I hope not. How are Mrs. Marks and her husband?"</p> + +<p>"Well. Very well, thank'ee, Miss."</p> + +<p>"Are they from home, that you have charge of the Gate?" asked Amy, +surprised at seeing a stranger.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Marks is, Miss, and that's why I'm here.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> I'm keeping house with +her husband while she's away. Her mother's took very bad."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to hear that; but I hope it is nothing serious?"</p> + +<p>"Well I don't expect anyhow she'll get over it, Miss, she ought to be +dead by this time, and if she isn't I can't bide here no longer, I must +be turning about home. Mrs. Marks promised fairly enough to bide only a +week, and it's near upon three by my calculations. She's going to bring +back a sister along with her, one that's dazed," and he tapped his +forehead with a knowing look.</p> + +<p>"A sad charge," replied Amy, "and one rather unsuited to Mrs. Marks."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that, Miss. Yer see neighbours think Jane wouldn't be so +bad if she worn't humoured, and she ain't likely to get much of that +down here. To my thinking Mrs. Marks is just the right sort to cure her; +she'd racket any poor body to their senses, if 'twas possible."</p> + +<p>"Has Mrs. Marks' sister always been in such a sad state?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> + +<p>"All as I can tell yer, Miss, is, she worn't born so, it's comed on her +since, and when I've said that I've said all I do know about it. Her +mother comed down years ago now to Deane,—that's my home, Miss,—with +three daughters. Mrs. Marks was one of 'em, she married off, and came +down here with her husband. Then t'other one she married too, but as for +Jane, she never had no chance of a husband, for who'd marry a 'dafty,' +Miss? They was pretty close people, and never wagged their tongues with +nobody, so nobody knew nothing at all about them nor where they comed +from; only folks make a guess at things somehow; and down at Deane they +thinks they comed from Stasson, a place none so far from this neither; +and more than that Miss, that Jane was the reason why they comed so +sudden and secret, like; but there, if they thought the sight of a new +place 'ould cure Jane they was mighty mistaken, for from that day to +this she've never been no good at all to them, and to my thinking never +will be."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's a sad story, indeed," replied Amy.</p> + +<p>"You may depend upon it, Miss, if we knew the rights of it, it's a +<i>bad</i>, as well as a sad story, but there, I've no call to say so. For +certain, Miss, there's a something very strange and mysterious 'bout +Jane. Perhaps the Brampton folks'll turn out more cute than the Deane +ones, and find out what 'tis. It's on my mind, and has been scores of +times, that Jane's mortal afeard of summut or other."</p> + +<p>Amy smiled at Hodge's suspicions, and passed on.</p> + +<p>Marks did not make his appearance, fond of a gossip as he was, and of +saying good-morrow to everyone who passed through the 'pike. Probably +the "Brampton Arms" was too strong a temptation, and,—as Hodge had +predicted it would be,—he was taking his swing there while he could, +though three weeks was rather a long time to be intoxicated; but then +there was the better chance of his being sober when Mrs. Marks did +return, and he should begin to try the effect of the "charm."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> + +<p>On Amy went. The road seemed quite deserted, not a soul to be seen, even +the donkeys which usually grazed along the hedges were nowhere.</p> + +<p>As Amy walked on her thoughts unconsciously wandered towards Jane and +the strange account Hodge had given of her, and anxious as she was about +her mother's letter, her mind was almost as much occupied now with Mrs. +Marks' sister. She and the letter seemed irretrievably mixed up together +in hopeless confusion. The fact was, Hodge had excited Amy's curiosity +without being able to satisfy it in the smallest degree, so she was +making innumerable conjectures at the truth, all more or less improbable +when they came to be analysed. <i>Would</i> the Brampton people be more +clever than the Deane ones, and find out what seemed such a puzzle, and, +as Hodge said, mystery to everyone? There was Mrs. Taylor, the village +chatterbox, she surely would ferret it out, and what a wonderful tale +she would make of it. Amy thought she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> would call at her cottage some +day and broach the subject, and hear what she had to say about it. It +could do no harm to hear what the village gossip said of poor crazy Jane +and her sorrowful story.</p> + +<p>As she arrived at this conclusion, a horseman came in sight. It was +Charles Linchmore. He was almost close by ere he recognised her. Then he +drew rein.</p> + +<p>"Miss Neville!" he exclaimed, in surprise, "surely after your illness it +is hardly prudent for you to be out on so damp a day."</p> + +<p>"It will not harm me," replied Amy.</p> + +<p>"Are you going much further? You will find it very dirty walking. Would +it not be wiser to return home?"</p> + +<p>"No, I think not, as least not just yet; I am too anxious to remain at +home. The walk will do me good."</p> + +<p>"I doubt that last assertion very much. It can do no one good being out +in such weather," and dismounting, he walked by her side.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why did you venture?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I? Oh, nothing brings me to grief. I am a soldier, and ought to rough +it."</p> + +<p>"Are ladies in your opinion so fragile that a slight shower will wash +them away?"</p> + +<p>"This is not a slight shower, Miss Neville, but a nasty, misty rain, +that does a deal more damage than a heavy down-pour."</p> + +<p>"I do not agree with you. The one is certainly disagreeable, but the +other thoroughly drenches, and is more than disagreeable—it makes one +out of temper."</p> + +<p>"I have thought more than once that that latter assertion of yours is +with you an impossibility."</p> + +<p>"Ah! you were never more deceived. I am feeling vexed now," replied Amy.</p> + +<p>"Now?" returned Charles.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I have been terribly anxious all day, and it vexes me to hear +anyone say I should return home, when I have come out purposely to get +rid of my weariful thoughts. I know such a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> damp mist as this will never +harm me half as much as they would."</p> + +<p>Charles waited, hoping she would say more, but she did not, so he broke +the silence.</p> + +<p>"I have been to see Grant," he said.</p> + +<p>"I trust there has been no more fuss with the poachers?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied he carelessly, "but it seems they expect an attack +to-night, that is, they are going out in expectation of something of the +kind."</p> + +<p>"Of a fight with the poachers?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; they had scent of them last night, but did not come up with any. +To-night they hope for better luck, and Grant and a lot of the game +watchers are going in quest."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me such a sad way of risking one's life," said Amy.</p> + +<p>"Property must be protected, Miss Neville. None of these fellows going +out to-night go with the idea of losing their lives."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not; but look at the fate of poor Susan's husband."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You mean the man who was shot? That is a bad spoke to put in the wheel +of your argument, as his sad end has only urged on those who are left to +annihilate such a set of ruffians. I have half made up my mind to join +in the night expedition."</p> + +<p>"You!" exclaimed Amy hastily, "pray do not think of such a thing," and +then fearing she had said too much—betrayed too deep an interest in his +welfare, added, "every one would think it foolish!"</p> + +<p>"Would you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I? oh yes! of course I should, and besides, every one would be so +anxious. What would Mrs. Linchmore say?"</p> + +<p>"My brother's wife's opinion is naught to me. Would <i>you</i> be anxious, +Miss Neville?"</p> + +<p>"I shall be anxious for all those who put their lives in jeopardy +to-night," replied Amy, coldly, "And now as I see nothing of the +postman, I think I will turn back."</p> + +<p>"Are you expecting a very important letter?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> asked he, harshly, his +jealousy creeping to the very tops of his fingers. Surely it must be +some one she cared very much about, to induce a walk in such weather.</p> + +<p>"My mother is ill," replied Amy.</p> + +<p>The words were simple enough, but he fancied they were spoken in a +reproachful tone; or otherwise his suspicions at an end, he was ready to +accuse himself. Disarmed at once, he was too generous not to make the +one atonement in his power. Springing on his horse, he exclaimed,—</p> + +<p>"I will fetch the letter for you, Miss Neville," and was out of sight in +a moment.</p> + +<p>Amy turned, and retraced her steps homewards, thinking he would soon +overtake her, as it was past four o'clock, and the postman always +reached the Park by half-past, so that he must of necessity be some way +on his road when Charles would come up with him. But no, she walked on, +reached the turnpike, and next the village; and then she loitered, went +on slowly, and at length stopped and looked back. Still no signs of +him.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> + +<p>She went on more slowly still, through the village, and at last, delay +as she would, reached the park gates; then an anxious, restless +expression came over her face, she began to feel nervous, as she always +did now when the chance of meeting or seeing Frances Strickland +presented itself, with ever that one fear at her heart, that she should +know or find out Charles Linchmore was doing her any act of kindness, +however simple, and in revenge, tell him what she suspected and accused +her of.</p> + +<p>Amy hesitated ere she entered the park. Should she retrace her steps? +She turned as if to do so, then the thought came across her, what if he +should think she wished him to walk home with her? Hurriedly she went +through the gate, and tried to shake off the fear she felt of being seen +with him, but the very speed she walked at now, showed she could not, +while, instead of walking up the long avenue, she struck across the +park.</p> + +<p>But all to no purpose, for just as she emerged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> again into the drive, +close to the house, a horse's hoofs rang out over the ground, and +Charles Linchmore came up with her, his horse bespattered with mud, as +though he had ridden hard and fast.</p> + +<p>"Here is your letter, Miss Neville," said he, "I almost feared I should +miss you, and that you would have reached home," and again he +dismounted, so that there was no chance of escape, or of hurrying on.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry you should have had so much trouble on my account, Mr. +Linchmore, thank you very much for my letter," and her eyes brightened, +as at length she recognized her mother's hand writing on the envelope.</p> + +<p>"I am fully repaid by seeing the pleasure the sight of the letter gives +you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is my mother's writing, so she must be better."</p> + +<p>"You would have had it sooner, but there had been some accident or delay +with the train, I did not stop to hear what. It had not arrived long +before I got there."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Had you to go all the way to Standale? How very kind of you!"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. It was just as well you turned back," and he pointed +smilingly at the muddy state of his boots.</p> + +<p>"I think it very kind indeed of you," replied Amy again, and then wished +she had never said it, because he looked so more than pleased.</p> + +<p>They were close to the house now; to the windows of which Amy dared not +raise her eyes, but hurriedly wished him "good-bye."</p> + +<p>"I will get your letters for you every day, Miss Neville," he said, as +he pressed her hand rather warmly in his.</p> + +<p>"No, no. Do not think of it for a moment," she said, and passed on.</p> + +<p>That evening, when Amy took her pupils down stairs, she found on +entering the drawing-room, all the ladies clustered around Mrs. +Linchmore.</p> + +<p>"Such a piece of work, Miss Neville," said Anne, advancing from the +circle, and going over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> to her, "here are all the men wild to go on a +poaching expedition—so fool-hardy, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"What does Mr. Linchmore say to it?"</p> + +<p>"He's going too, I believe. It is all that abominable Charles's doing; +he came home with some fine story or another Grant had told him, and +sent all the rest mad. I call it downright folly."</p> + +<p>"I met Mr. Charles Linchmore this afternoon," replied Amy, "and he +mentioned his intention of going with Grant, but I thought little of it +then, as I fancied it would most likely fall to the ground when the time +for action came."</p> + +<p>"You were wrong, then. For the plan was seized on with avidity as soon +as proposed, but I am surprised at Mr. Linchmore, I did not for one +moment think he would have seconded it. As for Charles, any hairbreadth +danger pleases him. I do not believe he has ever been in a real fight, +so he thinks to try a mock one."</p> + +<p>"I hope it may simply prove such," replied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> Amy, "but the last was +anything but a mock fight; I do not think you were here at the time, but +I dare say you may have heard of it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and it is just that that makes us all fearful; as to Frances, she +is just wild about it, I know, but to look in her face you would think +her a piece of adamant, for aught you can find written there. I wish +Charles would give it up; I think if we could only get him to throw cold +water on it, the rest would soon follow his example. Do you mind helping +me to try, Miss Neville?" asked Anne, knowing full well in her own heart +that Amy's voice would have its full weight with one of the gentlemen at +least.</p> + +<p>But Amy declined. She felt she dared not so brave Frances; and Anne, +after expressing her belief in her unkindness, left her.</p> + +<p>Frances' face did look like adamant, so still and set; and yet she was +feeling at her heart, more perhaps than any one there present in that +large room. Would her voice have any weight with Charles? Would he stay +behind if she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> asked him? While a chill fear crept over her as the +thought flew through her of what might happen if he went; might not his +fate be that of the man they had spoken of so recently? might he not be +brought home even as he was—lifeless—and she never see him more? and +then what would life be worth to her? As she watched him in the circle +round Mrs. Linchmore, laughing and joking, and turning the fears of +those near him into ridicule, she felt that now he was so near danger he +was nearer and dearer to her heart than he had ever been before. He +should not, must not go, if she could prevent it.</p> + +<p>Presently he moved away from the rest. She went and joined him.</p> + +<p>"Charles," she began, "are you really in earnest?"</p> + +<p>"About what, Frances?"</p> + +<p>"Determined on this expedition in spite of all opposition?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I am. What made you think otherwise?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I thought you might have been persuaded to stay."</p> + +<p>"Then you thought wrong, cousin," said he, laughingly.</p> + +<p>"It is surely no laughing matter, when we are all so anxious."</p> + +<p>"It is that very circumstance makes me laugh. We must not show craven +hearts just because women cry and sob."</p> + +<p>"But we are not doing anything of the kind."</p> + +<p>"At heart some of you are."</p> + +<p>"I am not for one," replied she, indignantly annoyed that he should +suspect her.</p> + +<p>"Then why ask me to stay?"</p> + +<p>"Because you were the one who started the expedition; and if you say +nay, all the rest will."</p> + +<p>"And think me a fool for my pains. No, Frances, what needs—must. I +shall not draw back now, it is not my way, as you know; I am sorry for +you, if any one is going you particularly care about. I'd have my eye on +him if I knew who he was, but I don't."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> + +<p>This to her? Frances could have wept with vexation. Was it possible he +did not see it was for himself she was anxious? Perhaps she did look a +little reproachfully as she replied, somewhat sorrowfully,</p> + +<p>"No one is going I care about. Only take care of <i>yourself</i>, Charles."</p> + +<p>At another moment the words might have struck him, and perhaps sent +conviction into his heart; but now?—</p> + +<p>"Then do as I told my brother's wife just now," he replied; "have supper +ready for us by the time we come back; I'll answer for our doing justice +to it."</p> + +<p>"Can you think of nothing but eating and drinking?" she asked, bitterly +and yet could have thrown herself on her knees, and implored and +besought him to stay. Ah! if only in days gone by she could have allowed +her warmer nature to have had play, have crushed out her pride and +stubbornness, things might have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> been different between them, and she +have been dearer to him; now she was his cousin, nothing more, and with +no thought of what she was suffering, he turned away without any reply, +rather annoyed at her words than otherwise.</p> + +<p>A few moments later he joined Amy.</p> + +<p>"I trust you do not give me credit for being such a sinner as the rest +of your sex do? or throw all the onus of this expedition on me, Miss +Neville?"</p> + +<p>"Every one seems to think it originated with you."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it did; but then every one need not follow in my footsteps. +Surely I am not answerable for any one but myself?"</p> + +<p>"It seems," replied Amy, evading his question, "to have thrown a damp on +every one's spirits. I suppose it must be undertaken now?"</p> + +<p>"If you had said the last words to me to-day, Miss Neville, it might +have been different."</p> + +<p>Then, as she made no reply, he added, "You do not ask me to stay."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I would do so, if I thought you could retreat honourably."</p> + +<p>"And you do not think so? You do not blame me for going?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. Things have proceeded too far. You must go. I am only +sorry to see so many sad faces."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Miss Neville, those are my own feelings entirely. I am in no +way to blame for the actions of others, and should have gone myself, +whether or no. Good-bye.—God bless you!" he added, softly, as he held +her hand in his.</p> + +<p>It was only for a moment; even Frances could not have found fault with +the length of time he held it, and Amy scarcely felt the pressure of his +fingers; yet she felt and saw the mark his ring had made as his hand +clasped hers so tightly; felt and thought of it for many days after +that.</p> + +<p>Nearly all the gentlemen passed out after Charles. Robert Vavasour +hesitated as he drew near the spot where Amy sat; but she did not look +up from the book she held in her hand;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> and, after a moment's delay, he, +too, went out, and most of the ladies followed.</p> + +<p>"Are you not going Alfred?" asked his sister, advancing towards an easy +chair, near the fire where he had made himself especially snug.</p> + +<p>"What's all the row about?" said he.</p> + +<p>"You know as well as I do. What is the use of pretending ignorance? Are +you going or no?"</p> + +<p>"Have they all been such fools as to go?"</p> + +<p>"Most of them have."</p> + +<p>"What a confounded shame not to let a man enjoy a quiet evening. I +suppose I must go with the rest, but it is a deuced bore all the same."</p> + +<p>"You think everything a bore that entails a little trouble."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do. That fellow Charles ought to know better than to drag us out +against a rascally set of low ruffians."</p> + +<p>"Don't work yourself into a rage," said his sister, "it is not worth +while."</p> + +<p>"No, of course not," replied he, yawning and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> closing his book. "Well I +suppose I must be off, so here goes."</p> + +<p>"I ought to have been born the man, not you," said Frances, +contemptuously.</p> + +<p>"With all my heart," said he, "and what an easy life I would have had of +it."</p> + +<p>"I do not find my life such a very easy one. You had better make haste +if you are going. There, they have opened the hall door."</p> + +<p>"I'll owe Charles a grudge for this," said he, rising slowly, and +seemingly in no hurry to be off, "turning us all out on such a damp, +dirty night. As black as pitch too," said he, as he reached the hall, +and glanced through the half-opened door.</p> + +<p>His sister helped him on with his great coat, he grumbling all the +while, and vowing they ought to go to bed, instead of going out on such +a fool's errand, risking their lives for sheer humbug, as far as he +could see.</p> + +<p>His sister listened in silence, and then said suddenly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"Take care of Charles, Alfred, will you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," he replied; "and who will take care of me, I should like to +know? I may get a sly dig in the ribs, while looking after my +neighbours."</p> + +<p>"No, no, you will be safe, but he is so rash and foolhardy. Do take care +of him Alfred, promise me you will?" and she laid her hand entreatingly +on his arm as she spoke.</p> + +<p>He looked surprised as he heard her words and noticed the action, and +turning round, caught a glimpse of her pale face.</p> + +<p>"Well, don't look like that, Frances; I'll make no promises, but I'll +try and do the best I can for you. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>And he, too, was gone. They were all gone, and Frances turned again into +the drawing-room, where Amy still sat apparently so quiet and still, but +inwardly listening intently to the last foot-fall; the last faint echo of +one voice. Now she lost it,—again it reached her ear—was gone!</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h4>A DARK NIGHT.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"The moon had risen, and she sometimes shone</span> +<span class="i2">Through thick white clouds, that flew tumultuous on,</span> +<span class="i2">Passing beneath her with an eagle's speed,</span> +<span class="i2">That her soft light imprison'd and then freed:</span> +<span class="i2">The fitful glimmering through the hedgerow green</span> +<span class="i2">Gave a strange beauty to the changing scene;</span> +<span class="i2">And roaring winds and rushing waters lent</span> +<span class="i2">Their mingled voice that to the spirit went.</span> +<span class="i4">To these she listen'd; but new sounds were heard,</span> +<span class="i2">And sight more startling to her soul appear'd;</span></div></div> + +<hr class="tb" /> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">And near at hand, but nothing yet was seen."</span> +<span class="i20"><span class="smcap">Crabbe.</span></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>Amy felt oppressed in spirit as the last sound of Charles' voice reached +her ear, nor dared she question her heart wherefore she had listened for +it, why she had strained every nerve to catch its sound. Was she +allowing a warmer feeling to enter her heart than she had hitherto +entertained? Was she beginning to care more for him than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> she ought? No; +she would not allow it. She merely felt grateful for his kindness, that +was all, for he <i>was</i> kind to her, there was no doubt of that, and her +heart could not but be touched by it, so lonely and so uncared for as +she felt; so utterly alone in that large house.</p> + +<p>Had he not on that very day ridden several miles for her pleasure? and +had he not offered, nay promised, to fetch her letter every day? and she +had been obliged to give him but cold thanks for his kindness, and still +colder looks, when her heart was all the while longing to tell him how +more than grateful she felt. Even but a few moments ago, she knew she +had been cold to him; but it could not be helped. It could not be +otherwise, it must ever be so between them. And yet as she recalled his +last words, and the fervent "God bless you," she thought that had she +not been a governess, he might have loved her. Now, it could never be.</p> + +<p>She grew restless; the quiet stillness around her became oppressive, +most of those who were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> left having retired into the drawing-room; so +when the children had said good night she took them up to bed herself, +and as each little one knelt down, she joined earnestly in the simple +prayer that "God would bless dear Papa and Mamma, and all their +relations and friends."</p> + +<p>Mary did not put them to bed, one of the other servants did the office +for her. Amy enquired where she was, and whether she was ill?</p> + +<p>"No, Miss, not ill," replied the girl, "only worrying herself."</p> + +<p>"About what? I trust she is in no trouble."</p> + +<p>"Well, you see her father's gone out against the poachers to-night."</p> + +<p>"True," replied Amy. "Poor girl! I quite forgot her interest in the +matter."</p> + +<p>"She's most worrying and fretting herself to death about it, and all to +no good, as we all tell her, but she won't listen to none of us."</p> + +<p>"Words are poor comfort in such cases."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss; and what's worse, I believe they've threatened to do for +him, her father—I mean."</p> + +<p>"That may be mere idle report; there is no authority for the rumour."</p> + +<p>"Except the words of the man that was hung, Miss."</p> + +<p>"Poor wretched criminal! Do not let us talk or dwell on such scenes. I +will go and see Mary, if you will show me the way."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I will, Miss, and I'm sure it will do her good. She's in her own +room."</p> + +<p>And, guided by the other, Amy went.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hopkins sat by the side of the bed on which Mary lay, worrying and +fretting herself to death, as her fellow-servant had said, and refusing +to be comforted or calmed.</p> + +<p>"Ever ready to do any one an act of kindness, Miss Neville," said Mrs. +Hopkins, as she rose on Amy's entrance. "This is sad work."</p> + +<p>"Yes; it is an anxious time for all of us, but it is surely not wise to +give way to imaginary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> evils, which after all may only exist in our own +brains and foolish fancies."</p> + +<p>"No one knows," sobbed Mary, "how I love my father."</p> + +<p>"We all believe it, Mary. Do you know that your mistress's husband is +also gone with the rest?"</p> + +<p>"No one has threatened his life, like they have my father's."</p> + +<p>"But will your crying remedy that? Will it not make things a thousand +times worse, by making you too ill to see him when he does return?"</p> + +<p>"He may never return, Miss, never!" sobbed Mary afresh.</p> + +<p>"It's of little use talking, Miss," said Mrs. Hopkins, "she will cry and +worry; and nothing will stop her that I can see. She will be sorry and +ashamed enough to-morrow when she thinks of it."</p> + +<p>"I think she should hope the best, and not so readily look forward to +the very worst that can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> happen. Try and think that there is a good and +kind Providence watching over us all, Mary."</p> + +<p>"I do. But it's no use Miss—no use."</p> + +<p>"Here drink this, Mary," said Mrs. Hopkins, handing her some +salvolatile, "It's no use talking, Miss, we must dose her."</p> + +<p>"I believe it is the best plan," replied Amy, half smiling; then as the +girl sat up to drink it she added, "If you must cry, Mary, why not go +down below? you can cry just as well there, and watch for the men's +return."</p> + +<p>"Oh! I daren't, I daren't—" she said.</p> + +<p>"Her father will be quite frightened when he does see her face," said +Mrs. Hopkins, as she bathed her forehead with cold water, "and as for +her, she won't be able to open her eyes to look at him they're that +swelled."</p> + +<p>Amy seeing her presence could do no good, left, and went to the +school-room, intending to spend the rest of the evening in writing home, +but she found the attempt useless, so she closed her desk and put away +her pen in despair. Read<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>ing was better than writing, she would fetch a +book. She glanced at the bookshelves Charles had made and put up for her +but a few short months ago. He was nothing to her then; simply Mr. +Linchmore's brother, but now?—Again she grew restless. Why would her +thoughts so often wander towards him? He could never be more than a +friend, never! She would go below. The gloom and solitariness of the +room struck her more forcibly than it had ever done before, and she grew +nervous and timid and stole away to the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>When she entered it, she was surprised to find how soon things had +resumed their usual course. Mrs. Linchmore was at the piano singing, +Anne at a game of drafts, every one chatting and laughing as though +nothing had occurred to disturb their hearts, Amy could hear the rattle +of the bagatelle balls quite plainly in the inner room from where she +sat, and the sound jarred upon her nerves. Surely Frances could not be +one of the players, for Amy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> well knew how anxious she must be; and she +crossed the room to where Julia had taken up her position by the fire, +and looked in as she passed the arch which divided the two rooms. No, +Frances was not playing—was not even there.</p> + +<p>"I feel entitled to roam about at will," said Amy, seating herself by +Julia, "as so few of the gentlemen are here, and I think you look +lonely. Are you anxious, Miss Bennet?"</p> + +<p>"Very."</p> + +<p>"I wonder what time they will be home?"</p> + +<p>"It may be early, it may be late. Can you imagine how my cousin is able +to sit there and sing to those boobies?" and she pointed to where Mrs. +Linchmore sat, with one or two young men as listeners.</p> + +<p>"Some people are able to control their feelings better than others," +replied Amy.</p> + +<p>"You are always ready to think kindly of everyone, Miss Neville; but +there is no excuse for her; she is in no way put out; her voice is as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> +clear as a bell, and to hear the way in which she is singing that +mournful, pathetic song, you would imagine her to be a woman of deep +feeling, when in reality she has none, not even for her good, kind +husband."</p> + +<p>"Mary, the children's maid, is fretting herself to death upstairs," +replied Amy, anxious to change the subject.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with her?"</p> + +<p>"Her father is the gamekeeper, Grant."</p> + +<p>"And her lover one of the game watchers, I dare say."</p> + +<p>"No, I think not, at least I heard no whisper of it."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not; but girls don't fret to death for their fathers; they must +die in the course of nature, but a lover is not easily replaced."</p> + +<p>"I never heard you speak so unkindly," replied Amy.</p> + +<p>"No, you must not mind it; I am not myself to-night. I feel out of +spirits, and could have a good cry, like that foolish old Miss Tremlow +did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> just now; I marshalled her off to bed, for if anything was to +happen she would send us all crazy."</p> + +<p>"I see Mr. Hall has not gone with the rest."</p> + +<p>"No. And much as Anne talks about men being brave and fearless in +danger, I am certain she is glad of it."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she has not found out that she cares for him?"</p> + +<p>"Many women, when it is too late, find out they care for a man. Look at +Frances, for instance."</p> + +<p>"What of her?" asked Amy nervously.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, only I fancy she is <i>au désespoir</i>," said Julia carelessly.</p> + +<p>"I do not see her anywhere."</p> + +<p>"No, you would not, when her feelings are such that she can no longer +hide them. Then she hides herself."</p> + +<p>It was even so. Frances had hidden herself away in the library; she +could no longer sit in the glare of the many lamps, and listen to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +laughing and talking going on around; and not only listen, but be +obliged to talk herself. It was too much, she could not do it. Instead +of trying, like Amy, to shake off the gloom that oppressed her, she +nursed it, and sat alone, sullen and miserable.</p> + +<p>Had not her voice failed to persuade Charles to stay; failed to win one +kind word from him? Had he not, the rather, heartlessly mocked at her +anguish? Had he not left her and gone over to Miss Neville, and given +her his last parting words, the last clasp of his hand? When, if he had +cared for her, every moment would have been precious to him, even as it +was to her. How she wished she could hate him? But still the cry of her +heart was "He shall not love her."</p> + +<p>It was true she was advancing slowly, very slowly; but still, to advance +at all, was better than making no progress, to feel that Amy was having +it all her own way, and she without the power of preventing her, doomed +to sit quietly and look on at the wreck of all her hopes of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> happiness. +But that last should never be, and her eye flashed more brightly as she +thought that not one single opportunity had she lost of loosening the +hold Amy seemed to have over Charles's actions, the interest she had +created in his breast.</p> + +<p>Ever on the watch, and restless when Charles was absent, lest he should +meet with her rival, and she not be there to prevent his joining and +walking with her, her life was one perpetual state of disquietude and +excitement.</p> + +<p>He should never find out Amy loved him. Never! never! So Frances sat on +in the gloom of the one small lamp, and thought such thoughts as these; +and bitter enough they were to her. How she hated to see Amy enter the +drawing-room each night, and more especially this last evening, when +instead of sullenly standing aloof, as he had once or twice done, +Charles had joined her. Had they met without her knowledge, and had she +won him over to her again, sent all the jealous suspicions which Frances +had instilled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> into his mind, to the winds? Oh! if it should be so? She +sprung from the chair, and walked up and down the room, in utter +desolation of heart.</p> + +<p>And so we must leave her, and return to Amy.</p> + +<p>The evening had worn on. It was growing late. Twice the butler had +himself come in and replenished the fire. Was he also anxious? Amy +thought so, as she watched his face, and noted how he loitered about the +room, and was in no hurry to be gone; but glanced round gravely, as he +went slowly out, and again, a few moments after, entered it once more, +looked to the lamps, and a number of other things there was no occasion +for.</p> + +<p>Still the hours crept slowly on; again her thoughts were with the +absent, again they wandered into the park. There, far away, was one +coppice she knew right well; so thick the bushes, so close the shade, +she could almost fancy she was there, so vividly did it come before her. +Surely it would be there the poachers would be,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> there the affray would +take place, there they would watch and meet with them.</p> + +<p>Each hour now seemed to drag more slowly than the last, the minutes were +hours to her impatient fancy; while the noise of the company, the noise +of the piano grew intolerable. Oh! if she could go out into the park, +and learn what was doing; even if not near, she could still hear if a +shot were fired, and that would be something gained; but then she might +be missed—might be enquired for? No. It would never do to be found out +alone in the grounds, on such a night. Was all the game in the world +worth the misery of such thoughts as these? Oh! the agony of +waiting—and waiting for what?</p> + +<p>Amy trembled, and a slight shudder passed through her; her anxiety was +growing past control.</p> + +<p>The music was still playing, surely she would not be missed; and rising +softly she passed into the hall. Should she go into the library, where +Frances still moodily paced up and down? No,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> she would hear nothing +there. On into the billiard-room she went.</p> + +<p>There was no lamp alight, she was glad of it; all was darkness, save for +the flickering of the fire in the grate. She drew near, and tried to be +patient and hope for the best; but it would not do, her thoughts would +turn to <i>one</i>.</p> + +<p>As she grew accustomed to the gloom, each object became dimly visible. +There was the table; it was but yesterday all those who were now absent +had played on it. Would they ever meet there again? How well she +remembered seeing Charles Linchmore; it was not so long ago, she could +almost fancy she was passing by the door now—waiting for Fanny, who had +rushed to Papa on some fruitless errand—and that she saw his form as he +leant across the table; but no, he might never play there again, nor +ever live to return home.</p> + +<p>She could bear it no longer, but went over to one of the windows, passed +behind the curtain, drew back the shutter, opened the window softly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +and looked out. The rain had passed away, and the moon shone brightly +enough when the thick clouds that were hurrying across it would allow. +It was not a very cold night, at least Amy did not feel the cold even in +the thin light dress she wore; her eyes were fixed on the one part of +the Park where she guessed they must be; her ears straining to catch +every sound. But none came. All was silent and still.</p> + +<p>How long she stood she never knew, she was aroused from her thoughts by +a dull, distant sound. She listened intently.</p> + +<p>It came from the other side of the park. Her fears had deceived her. +They were coming at last. It must be them. Relieved at last, she drew +back from the window, then returned again, but stood further in the +shade. They must pass by. She would stay and see them.</p> + +<p>The sound she had heard became more distinct, then faded away with the +wind which blew in gusts through the leafless trees, then grew nearer +still.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> Strange no voices reached her ear,—now—yes, it was near enough +for her to distinguish the heavy tread of men's footsteps.</p> + +<p>Nearer and nearer they came.</p> + +<p>It was no tread of many feet, but the dull heavy tramp of footsteps +treading in unison together. It could not be they; they would not walk +like that; so silently, so strangely.</p> + +<p>Still Amy waited and watched—a heavy fear slowly creeping over her +heart, and almost staying its beatings.</p> + +<p>They came nearer still; yes, onwards they came round the turn of the +drive as it swept up to the house; they passed it, and now their dark +forms came slowly but surely on in the varying moonlight, with still +that one dreadful tread. They were close by; passed under the window +where she stood. What was that dark object they carried so fearfully, so +carefully?</p> + +<p>Amy moved away from the window, reached the door of the room, and stood +in its deep shade<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> like a statue of stone, every nerve strained, every +pulse beating almost to bursting.</p> + +<p>The servants had heard it then, or had they like Amy been watching? +There stood the grey-headed butler; how ominous was his face, how grave +the faces of those men near him, all waiting, all dreading—what?</p> + +<p>Mr. Linchmore was the first to enter; a painful, anxious expression on +his face.</p> + +<p>"Thank God!" exclaimed the old butler, as he saw him; he had been +anxious for his master, whom he had known as a boy. Were his fears then +at rest? No; he was again about to speak, when,—</p> + +<p>"Hush!" Mr. Linchmore said. Then to those behind, "tread softly," and +again, "where is your mistress?"</p> + +<p>He passed quickly on, almost brushing Amy's dress, as she stood so white +and still in the shade, looking on, watching, noting everything.</p> + +<p>The other half of the hall door opened; on they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> came, those dark forms, +and others with them, steadying them, clearing the way for them as they +went.</p> + +<p>They bore a litter, but the form that rested so motionless on it could +not be seen, a cloak covered it.</p> + +<p>One man stood quite close to Amy as he held open the door for the rest +to pass through. She touched his arm gently. She tried to speak, but her +tongue refused to utter those anxious words. But there was no need; he +looked in her face and understood the mute anguish, the agonised look of +her eyes.</p> + +<p>"It's only one of the young gents, Miss. Mr. Vavser I think they calls +'im."</p> + +<p>It was not Charles Linchmore, then. The reaction was too great. As they +bore the litter on past her up the staircase, she uttered no cry, but +her slight form trembled for an instant—wavered—and the next fell +heavily almost at Charles' feet, as he hastily entered the hall.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h4>GOING AWAY.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Our faults are at the bottom of our pains;</span> +<span class="i2">Error in acts, or judgment, is the source</span> +<span class="i2">Of endless sighs; we sin, or we mistake."</span> +<span class="i20"><span class="smcap">Young.</span></span> +<br /> +<span class="i2">"It is not granted to man to love and to be wise."</span> +<span class="i20"><span class="smcap">Bacon.</span></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>For a moment Charles stood mute with amazement, the next he bent over +the poor prostrate form, and lifted it tenderly in his arms.</p> + +<p>"Bring her in here," said a voice, while a hand was laid on his arm, and +he was impelled with gentle force into the library. There he laid Amy on +the sofa, and kneeling by her side, took the small lifeless hand in his, +and pressed it to his lips and forehead; then gently pushed the soft +fair<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> hair off her face, and as he did so felt the marble coldness of +her cheek. Then a strange fear crept over him: he rose, and bent his ear +close to her mouth; but no gentle breathing struck his ear. All was +still and silent, even his loving words and the endearing names he +called her, failed to bring back life, or restore warmth to that still +and apparently lifeless form.</p> + +<p>He turned his face, now blanched almost as white as the one he was +bending over, to Frances, for it was she who had asked him to bring Amy +there, and now stood by the door so despairingly, watching his every +action, listening to his words; those loving, cruel words which told how +completely, how entirely his heart was another's. If he could but have +seen into her heart, how averse he would have been to ask her assistance +for Amy! How much misery might have been spared him.</p> + +<p>"Is she dead?" he asked, fearfully.</p> + +<p>"Dead!" exclaimed Frances. "No, she has only fainted."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I never saw any one look so like death," he said softly, as he again +took her hands and chafed them in his.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not. I dare say your experience is not very great?"</p> + +<p>"Can nothing be done for her? must she die like this?"</p> + +<p>"A great deal might be done for her," replied Frances, advancing, "but +nothing while you bend over her in that way. I will soon bring her +to, if you will only let me come near."</p> + +<p>"Then why in the name of fortune don't you begin to try something? For +God's sake, Frances, do rouse yourself a little from that cold marble +nature of yours, and throw a little warmth and feeling into your +actions."</p> + +<p>She took no notice of his hasty, almost angry words.</p> + +<p>"Could you fetch me some Eau-de-Cologne?" she asked. "Go quietly," for +he was rushing off in desperate haste, "it is as well no one suspects or +knows of this, and bring a glass of water also."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Dead!" thought Frances, as she gazed at the pale inanimate form, "I wish +she was; how I hate her; but for her none of these dreadful thoughts +would enter my head. Am I not a murderess, wishing her dead? and it is +all her fault, all; she has taken his love from me, and in taking that, +has made me wicked, and put all these cruel revengeful feelings in my +heart."</p> + +<p>She bathed her with the Eau-de-Cologne Charles brought, even dashed some +of the cold water into her face; but all to no purpose; not a sign; not +a movement of returning life gave Amy; the shock had been too great; she +lay as dead.</p> + +<p>As Charles stood and watched all the efforts Frances made, as he +thought, so indifferently, he grew impatient.</p> + +<p>"Where is Anne? or Mrs. Hopkins?" exclaimed he, "confound that woman! +she's never in the way when she's wanted," and he was for darting off +again, only Frances restrained him.</p> + +<p>"Do not call either of them," said she, "even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> you must not remain here +when Miss Neville returns to consciousness."</p> + +<p>"I shall stay, whatever happens," he replied, decidedly.</p> + +<p>Had he made up his mind to tell Amy he loved her?</p> + +<p>"She would not like it," she replied, "would any woman like to think +such a secret was found out?"</p> + +<p>"What secret?"</p> + +<p>"That of her love for him."</p> + +<p>"For him! For who?"</p> + +<p>"I thought you knew," replied Frances, quietly.</p> + +<p>Too quietly, for her apathy maddened him, and he exclaimed angrily.</p> + +<p>"For God's sake, Frances, speak out, you'll drive me mad with your cold +replies and words!"</p> + +<p>"Hush! Go away, she is coming to."</p> + +<p>"I will not stir!" he replied, "until you tell me why she fainted."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She saw them bring Mr. Vavasour into the hall, and—"</p> + +<p>"How could she tell it was him?" he asked, suspiciously, with a +half-doubt on his mind.</p> + +<p>"I do not ask you to believe me," replied Frances haughtily, "you asked +me to answer you, and I have done so."</p> + +<p>"Not my last question."</p> + +<p>"I should have thought a lady's word would have been sufficient; but as +it is not so, you had better ask Joe, that man that comes here sometimes +with Grant. I heard him tell Miss Neville it was Mr. Vavasour that had +been killed, and then—"</p> + +<p>"Then?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"She fainted."</p> + +<p>Whatever Charles thought, he said not a word; a determined, despairing +expression stole over his face; he looked hard at Frances as if he would +read her very soul, but she returned his look, and flinched not. +Presently a faint colour returned into Amy's face; he moved away, placed +the glass<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> he still held on the table, and said slowly, for even the +tone of his voice had altered, and was unsteady and husky,</p> + +<p>"Tell her <i>he</i> is not dead,—not much hurt, even—"</p> + +<p>And without a look, or even a glance at Amy, he went with a slow, +uncertain step across the room. As he reached the door, Amy moved +slightly and sighed, but ere she opened her eyes, the door had closed on +his retreating form, and he was gone.</p> + +<p>"Are you better now?" asked Frances kindly. She could afford to be kind +now she thought the field was won, and Charles' heart turned from her, +she hoped for ever.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, yes," said Amy, confusedly, and striving to collect her +thoughts. "How came I here? Who brought me?"</p> + +<p>"Do not talk just yet, you are scarcely equal to it. One of the men +carried you in here."</p> + +<p>"One of the men? No one else saw me, then?"</p> + +<p>"No one."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then it could not have been Charles Linchmore's voice she had heard, as +she lay only half-restored to consciousness? Nor his form she had dimly +seen retreating through the half open door, as she opened her eyes? She +must have fancied it.</p> + +<p>"I was so shocked, Miss Strickland," began Amy, trying to make some +apology for her fainting, "and you know I am not very strong yet, and—"</p> + +<p>"Do not make any excuses, Miss Neville; the sight was enough to frighten +anyone. I felt sick myself, but there was not much occasion for it, as I +have ascertained Mr. Vavasour is not much hurt; but I thought, as you +did, he was dead."</p> + +<p>Amy made no reply, she was too truthful to do so. It was best Miss +Strickland thought <i>that</i> the reason and cause of her faintness.</p> + +<p>"Had you not better remain a little longer?" continued Frances. "There +is little chance of any one coming in here; and they will be all at +supper presently."</p> + +<p>But no—Amy felt well enough to go; longed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> to get away to the quiet of +her own room, and went.</p> + +<p>Dr. Bernard, hastily aroused from his sleep, came and stayed all night +at the Park. He corroborated Charles's opinion: Mr. Vavasour's was but a +slight wound. The faintness and insensibility that had alarmed them so, +proceeded more from the effects of a severe blow on the head, which had +stunned him for the time being. In a few days, with a little quiet +nursing, he would be all right again; so the excitement and fears of +everyone tamed down, and the supper prepared at Charles's suggestion was +partaken of heartily by everyone but himself, and he was nowhere.</p> + +<p>Two of the poachers had been overpowered, after a desperate resistance, +and taken; but the rest, all armed with sticks, or some other weapon of +defence, had succeeded in getting clear away, though not without +injuring, not only Robert Vavasour, but two of the night watchers also. +One man kept his bed for weeks afterwards, and was unable even to appear +and give evidence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> against the two men who had been taken; one supposed +to be the man who had fired the shot, either purposely or accidentally, +that had wounded Robert, while at the same moment a severe blow from +some murderous weapon felled him to the earth, and in the confusion +which this occasioned the rest got clear away, though not without a +suspicion that some of them had been disabled by the shower of blows +with which they were assailed; they proved themselves, as Charles and +others had hinted they were, a desperate set of ruffians, whom the +recent violent death of one of their band had in no wise alarmed, but +the rather made them thirst to revenge it.</p> + +<p>Charles Linchmore was up betimes the next morning, and away across the +park long before any of its inmates save the servants were stirring. He +had passed a sleepless night. At one time Amy's love for Vavasour +appeared as clear as day; the next he doubted, and could not make up his +mind that it was indeed so. Morning found him still unreconciled to the +thought, still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> undecided. Frances might have been mistaken; he would +seek Joe, and find out what had been told Amy. It was impossible the man +could have any interest in telling him a lie.</p> + +<p>He had not far to walk, Joe met him at the lodge gate, where he was +evidently detailing to the man and his wife who kept it, an exaggerated +account of the last night's affray.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Joe," began Charles, "how are you and the rest after last +night's work? and where are you off to now?" as Joe touched his cap, and +was proceeding onwards.</p> + +<p>"Up to the house, Sir. The Master bade me bring news this morning of the +two men who got hurt, Sir."</p> + +<p>"Well, how are they?"</p> + +<p>"There ain't much the matter with one, Sir; but Jem's awful bad, his +head swelled most as big's two, Sir. Mr. Blane—the village +doctor—wouldn't give much for his life, I reckon."</p> + +<p>"Your Master will be sorry to hear it. And now, Joe, I want a word with +you. How came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> you to tell one of the ladies last night that Mr. +Vavasour was dead?"</p> + +<p>"Please, Sir, I couldn't help it; the lady did look so kind of +beseeching at me, and tried to speak; but, poor lady, she was that bad +at heart she couldn't say a word. I could no more refuse nor tell her, +Sir, I should have been afeard to; unless I'd had a heart as hard as a +<i>haythen's</i>, and I hadn't, Sir, so just out with the news, and—"</p> + +<p>"That will do; be more cautious in future."</p> + +<p>And away went Charles with still faster strides than before; half over +the park and then home again, and up to his room, where he thrust his +things hastily into his portmanteau; it was but a few minutes' work, and +then he was off downstairs again. Here he met Anne.</p> + +<p>"Why Charles," said she, "where have you been all the morning? We have +finished breakfast. What a lazy creature you are!"</p> + +<p>"I am going to make a start of it," replied he. "I am off to join +again."</p> + +<p>"Going back to your regiment!" exclaimed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> Anne in amazement at the +sudden announcement. "When?"</p> + +<p>"Now, this moment."</p> + +<p>"What will Isabella think? How surprised she will be!"</p> + +<p>"No, not a bit of it, she is too accustomed to my sudden movements, and +scarcely volunteered a remark when I told her."</p> + +<p>"But your leave is only half expired?"</p> + +<p>"Isn't it?" he replied, as if he had never thought at all about it. +"Well, so much the better, I can knock about abroad for a short time. +Good-bye."</p> + +<p>Anne looked in utter bewilderment, until she suddenly caught sight of +the sorrowful, despairing expression of his face. What had happened?</p> + +<p>"Don't say good-bye like that, Charley," said she, her kind heart roused +at once at the sight. "Something has vexed you. Can I help you in any +way? I am ready and willing, if you will only tell me how."</p> + +<p>"No. I am past help, Anne," and he dashed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> away a tear which had started +at the sound of her kind voice, and then added bitterly—"I am a fool to +care so much about it!"</p> + +<p>"About what, Charles? Do tell me, I am certain I could help you."</p> + +<p>She pitied him entirely, and would have braved a dozen Mrs. Linchmores +to have seen the old happy, merry expression on his face again.</p> + +<p>"You have always been kind, Anne, and so I do not mind telling you, what +I dare say you have seen all along, although I've been such a blind fool +to it! It's no fault of hers, Anne,—but—but she loves another."</p> + +<p>"Impossible! I don't believe it!" said Anne, hastily, forgetting all her +wise resolutions of never helping him to find out Amy cared for him.</p> + +<p>"Nor I, for a long time," and he thought of the long sleepless hours he +had passed in pacing up and down his room. "But it is so."</p> + +<p>"How did you find it out? Did she tell you?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No; but some one else did, little suspecting the interest I had in the +matter. I could not believe, at first, that all my hopes were to be +dashed aside at once in that way. I could have sworn she took an +interest in me, but there I have convinced myself and—and—I am a +miserable wretch, that's all, with my eyes wide open to my dreadful +fate. Bid her good-bye for me, Anne. I could not trust myself to do so +without showing her I love her. Thank you for all your kindness." And he +wrung her hand. "Where is Frances?"</p> + +<p>Frances! What had she to do in the matter? Anne's curiosity was roused, +and for once rightly, and in a just cause. She had long thought Frances +bore no good feeling towards Miss Neville; perhaps she was jealous of +her, for it was certain Amy had supplanted her in Charles's +affection;—if he ever had any for her. Ah! that was it. It was all as +clear as day to Anne now. But if it was as she suspected, Charles was, +indeed, a fool to believe it; she was certain if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> she were in his place +she would not, but then men were so easily convinced of a woman's +falseness; but how could he look in Amy's eyes and believe it? Miss +Neville a flirt? Impossible! But then Anne suddenly recollected how she +had thought so herself, simply because she and Robert Vavasour had +walked home together. No, after all she could not blame Charles so much, +perhaps she should have thought the same. At all events, she determined +to watch Frances closely when she gave her his message.</p> + +<p>"Charles wants to speak to you, Frances; he is in the dining-room." And +Anne fixed her eyes full on her face as she spoke.</p> + +<p>But Frances was gaining experience every day; learning to attain a +self-possession and control equal to any emergency.</p> + +<p>Only a faint—very faint, colour tinged her cheeks as she replied,</p> + +<p>"Charles must wait until I have finished reading this chapter; I am too +interested to leave off in the middle of it."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh! very well. I will tell him so; but you will miss shaking hands with +him, as he is going away."</p> + +<p>This time Anne succeeded. Frances' face expressed the utmost +astonishment, while her cheeks paled to an almost marble whiteness.</p> + +<p>"Going away!" she gasped. "How? When?"</p> + +<p>"How? By the train I suppose. When? Now this moment. You had better come +at once if you wish to see him."</p> + +<p>She followed Frances to the dining-room, and stood at the window while +she went up to the fire where Charles stood. Anne watched them.</p> + +<p>He turned his face, still with the same gloomy, despairing expression, +towards Frances and said a few words. What were they to cause her pale +face to flush so hotly, while a proud, triumphant look shone brightly in +her eyes? Anne would have given worlds to have heard them, certain as +she was they contained some clue to the mystery shrouding his hasty +departure.</p> + +<p>They were said, those few words, and he moved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> towards the door. Frances +followed him after an instant's thought, and arrested his footsteps, +slow and uncertain as they were. Anne could hear quite plainly now.</p> + +<p>"One moment, Charles. I am so sorry you are going," said Frances.</p> + +<p>"Never mind," he replied, "it is best I should go."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so. I suppose you must go?"</p> + +<p>"You know I must. You best of all others," he replied, sternly.</p> + +<p>"Alas! yes," was the reply.</p> + +<p>The next moment he was whirling rapidly past the window in a dog cart; +with Bob seated on the cushion at his side, instead of running at the +horse's heels as he usually did. "The only living creature who cared for +him," as Charles had once said to Miss Neville; become doubly dear now +she had proved faithless. Bob nevertheless seemed uncomfortable in his +exalted post, and did not approve seemingly of his new position in +society; for while his Master cast not a glance behind him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> saw not +Anne's sympathising face at the window or Frances' tearful one; he +seemed to give a wistful side-look—as well as the jolting of the cart +on the hard gravel would allow—at the comfortable home he was leaving +for the Barrack yard, and his old surly companions of the canine species +he had so often fought and won many a hard earned battle with, for Bob, +though not a savage dog, never allowed a liberty to be taken with him +without resenting it.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h4>JANE.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Oh, memory, creature of the past!</span> +<span class="i4">Why dost thou haunt me still?</span> +<span class="i2">Why thy dark shadow o'er me cast,</span> +<span class="i4">My better thoughts to chill?</span> +<br /> +<span class="i2">I spread my fingers to the sun,</span> +<span class="i4">No stain of blood is there;</span> +<span class="i2">Yet oh! that age might see undone,</span> +<span class="i4">The deeds that youth would dare!"</span> +<span class="i20"><span class="smcap">Anon.</span></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>Mrs. Marks had returned home. Her mother was dead, and she had brought +back Jane as she had threatened, much to Matthew's intense disgust. He +was afraid of his wife's tongue, but had been so long accustomed to hear +it going, that he could not understand a woman who could keep hers +quiet, and sit the whole day long by the fire-side, scarcely saying a +word, in his own favourite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> corner too,—seldom lifting her eyes from +her knitting. As he watched the progress of the socks she was making, he +vowed in his own mind never to wear them when they were finished, +believing as many of the ignorant in his class of life do, that they +would be bewitched, and cause him to meet with some harm, perhaps fulfil +Goody Grey's prophecy that some one in the cottage was going to die.</p> + +<p>He found it more difficult than ever to resist the temptation of going +to the "Brampton Arms," now that his home was even more uncomfortable +than it used to be. How could he seat himself at the other corner of the +fire-side, and smoke his pipe, with his sister-in-law's eyes so +constantly and intently fixed on him? Matthew longed to see Goody Grey +to ask for a new charm to spirit away Jane and her unholy presence, +which was a constant irritation to him. Meanwhile he had twice tried the +effect of the charm and each time apparently without the slightest +success; as not only had Mrs. Marks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> eyes, but her tongue also, flashed +ten thousand furies at his extraordinary silence, while Jane, to whom +during the storm he looked for sympathy, sat perfectly heedless, and +mindful only of her dreadful knitting.</p> + +<p>William Hodge was still with the Marks', when he heard of the poaching +affray and its consequences. His mind was at once filled with alarm, and +he determined on going into Standale. What if his son should be one of +the men taken, and now lodged in the jail there?</p> + +<p>Hodge kept very quiet at first, and talked it over with Mrs. Marks,—who +had returned a few days after,—and at length made up his mind to go to +the town and gain a sight of the two men; but this was easier said than +done, he had to wait quietly until they were brought up before the +magistrates; when he returned to the cottage with the satisfactory +intelligence that neither bore the slightest resemblance to his son Tom. +Still he was more certain than ever that Tom was down there, for on +mentioning his name casually to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> landlord of the inn where he had +put up, a man seated in the bar had turned round suddenly, eyed him +keenly, and asked him to join him 'in a glass.' This, Hodge, who had his +wits about him, was not slow to do, and both played at cross questions +with the other, and tried to find out where each came from, and where +bound to; but each proved a match for his fellow in cunning and +sharp-sightedness, and they parted mutually dissatisfied, certain in +their own minds that each could have revealed something of interest in +which they both took part, had he so willed it.</p> + +<p>A few days after Hodge's return, as he was going across the fields, he +again met with his acquaintance of the inn, who passed him close by +without renewing their former intimacy, indeed, without a word or +greeting of any kind, as though they were strangers, and now met for the +first time. Hodge thought he must have been mistaken in his man; but +no—a second and yet a third time, he met him on different days; and now +Hodge was convinced he was right—they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> had met before; but why this +apparent forgetfulness on his part? Why this perpetual crossing of his +path? Hodge grew uneasy, perhaps the man was employed as a spy to watch +him? If it was so, there was nothing for it but to return home; but the +thought of his wife's sorrowful face, as he should tell her of his +fruitless search, deterred him, and he waited yet another day, hoping +that a few hours might disclose his son's whereabouts, and unravel the +mystery of his absence; but no, the days crept on, and still found him as +far from the clue as ever, while he never stirred from the cottage +without seeing his mysterious friend, or it might be enemy, either close +by or in the distance, too far off to distinguish his features; but +there was the unmistakable slouching walk, awkward gait, and +broad-brimmed hat.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Marks, Ma'am," said Hodge one day, when they were alone, with only +Jane in the chimney-corner for company, and she was supposed to be just +nobody, "I've come across that man again, and I don't like the look +things are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> taking—I think they look sort of queer. I never done no +harm to nobody, why should this chap follow me about like a dog? I'm +beginning to think he's a kind of spying to find out what my business is +down here, leastways, I can't see what else brings him so often in my +road."</p> + +<p>"Why not up and ask him, like a man?" exclaimed Mrs. Marks.</p> + +<p>"Well, Ma'am, you see, that's just what I would like to do. Many's the +time I've had it in my heart; but somehow I'm afeard to."</p> + +<p>"Afraid! Well, Mr. Hodge, I thought you'd more pluck. I know there's few +men would frighten me, if I was in your place. Good Lord! what's the +world coming to when all the men's so chicken-hearted!" said she, +indignantly.</p> + +<p>"And the women so uppish!" retorted Hodge, somewhat angrily. "I wouldn't +be afraid to knock him down with one blow of my fist," and he stretched +out his strong muscular arms, and clenched his knuckles, "if he came to +me openly and insulted me; but it's this underhand way of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> going to work +that bothers me. I'd like to pick a quarrel with him, Ma'am, that I +would, and bad luck to his walks for the future, if I did; that's all!"</p> + +<p>"If those are your opinions, William Hodge, I'm sorry I spoke. I've +never set eyes on the man myself; but I think you're over-suspicious, +maybe."</p> + +<p>"Not a bit too much so. What for should he come across me wherever I go. +I saw him the other night as Matthew and I came home. It was broad +moonlight, and he was hidden away under the shade of the trees, just +before you come to the mile-stone; but I saw him for all that, and so I +do most every time I set foot outside the cottage. What the devil can he +want with me? and why was I such a born fool as to tell my real name?"</p> + +<p>"That's it," said Jane, from the chimney-corner, as if talking to +herself. "It's the devil puts all the badness into our hearts."</p> + +<p>"Don't mind her," said Mrs. Marks, seeing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> Hodge looked startled. "She +understands nothing, and is only talking to herself. And now what do you +mean to do?"</p> + +<p>"I must go home agin, as wise as I was when I came."</p> + +<p>"And without a word of Tom? Why Mrs. Hodge will nigh break her heart."</p> + +<p>"It can't be helped. I've done all I can. You see, I've been thinking +this man may be a kind of spy of the Squire's, and on the look-out for +Tom, and if so, I may do him more harm than good by staying here. Who +knows? perhaps he's guessed I'm Tom's father, and so thinks, by dodging +me, to catch him, so, you see, I'd best be on the road home; he won't +learn nothing there, save a cracked crown, if he comes that way +meddling."</p> + +<p>"I tell you what it is," said Mrs. Marks, "you go along home, and leave +me to ferret it all out. I've never said nothing all this time you've +been racking your brains, and walking about most over the whole country, +till I should think you knew<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> every stone and stick in it. I warrant a +few weeks don't go over my head before I get at the bottom of it all. +You men think yourselves mighty clever; but, after all, there's nothing +like getting a woman to help you over the stile."</p> + +<p>"Well, Mrs. Marks, I believe you're most right. It's certain I couldn't +leave the business in better hands. I know you'll do the best you can +for me."</p> + +<p>"Of course I will, there's my hand on it. And now just point out this +chap in the wide-awake, and I'll be bound to say I'll find out every +secret concerning him. And if he knows anything about Tom, why I'll find +that out, too; so just rest easy in your own mind, and keep quiet, and +bid Mrs. Hodge do the same; and take my advice, and be off home +to-morrow—you won't do no good down here, only harm."</p> + +<p>And home Hodge went.</p> + +<p>A few days after his departure, as Matthew was lounging at the turnpike +gate, who should pass through but Goody Grey. As she came in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> sight at +the turn of the hill, Matthew began to prepare his thoughts as to what +he should say to her. She would be sure to ask about the success of the +charm; he felt proud at the idea of being able to tell he had not added +to the number of stones in the box, but on the contrary two had been +thrown away. What a fortunate thing for him Mrs. Marks was out, he could +talk to Mrs. Grey without a chance of her shrill voice calling him and +bidding him attend to his business, and not be gossiping out there.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Mrs. Grey," began he, taking up a position so as to +command a view of the whole road by which the enemy, in the shape of his +wife, should first come in sight on her way home.</p> + +<p>"The same to you," replied she civilly, and was passing on, when—</p> + +<p>"I've tried the charm, Ma'am," said Matthew, mysteriously.</p> + +<p>"The what?" asked she sharply.</p> + +<p>"The charm, Mrs. Grey. The box with the gravel in it, that you give +me."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p> + +<p>"True, I had forgotten. What was the result?"</p> + +<p>"If you mean what good did it do, why then it just did no good at all," +said Matthew, sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>"How often have you tried it?"</p> + +<p>"Twice, Ma'am, I'm proud to say; and a hard matter I found it, going so +nigh the Public, that I could most smell the baccy, and hear the drawing +of the beer; but there I stuck to the 'structions yer give me, and +turned back home agin, but only to hear my wife's tongue going faster +and sharper than ever."</p> + +<p>"I dare say, at first, it may be so; but persevere, and in the end your +wife will be silenced."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could think so," he replied; "but I'm afraid, Ma'am, her +tongue have been going so long now, that nothing 'cept a miracle won't +stop it."</p> + +<p>"Is Mrs. Marks at home?"</p> + +<p>"No, Ma'am, she's out. And that's another<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> thing bothers me, she's taken +to going out all hours now, no matter what kind of weather 'tis. It's a +puzzle to me where she goes to, tramping about in the mud."</p> + +<p>"Well, I cannot help you there," replied Goody Grey, "her tongue I might +stop, but not her actions, you must look to those yourself."</p> + +<p>"And so I mean to, Mrs. Grey, so I <i>will</i>," said Matthew, determinately. +"I only thought so this very day, as I was leaning on this very gate, +just before I saw you."</p> + +<p>"It is a wise resolution, but fools see wisdom or learn it sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Don't you begin that old story agin, Ma'am, nor say one word about the +trees that's going to fall; for I can't abide it, and don't want to know +nothing about what's going to happen. Death's near enough for us all, +but we don't want to be knowing when he's going to knock us up."</p> + +<p>"Where there's a storm there's sure to be a wreck," said she.</p> + +<p>"Stop there, Ma'am," replied Matthew, "and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> don't be after looking that +way at the cottage. What do yer see?"</p> + +<p>"I saw the face of a woman at the window."</p> + +<p>"No, that yer couldn't," replied he, "Mrs. Marks is out!"</p> + +<p>"Are you sure she is out?"</p> + +<p>"Lord save yer, Mrs. Grey, in coorse I am. Didn't I watch her out? and +wouldn't I have heard her voice calling out after me, long afore this," +and Matthew grinned at the very idea.</p> + +<p>"Who was it then?"</p> + +<p>"Yer couldn't have seen no one. There's only crazed Jane in the place, +and she don't never move out of the chimbly corner for no one. She's no +curiosity, like Mrs. Marks says I have."</p> + +<p>"Who is crazed Jane? Where does she come from? and what does she in your +cottage?"</p> + +<p>"Just nothing save to be knitting all day long, and follering me about +with her big eyes. She's my wife's sister, yer see, and is living with +us, she don't need no charm to keep her tongue quiet. She's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> just the +only woman I ever met as could, saving yer presence, Ma'am; and is every +bit as knowing as yerself, and could tell yer a deal if yer liked."</p> + +<p>"About what?"</p> + +<p>"About whatever yer liked to ask her. It's my belief she could tell the +weather just every bit as well as yerself. If yer'd lost anything she'd +know where to clap eyes on it again, just as yer did the bit of copper +t'other day, and a deal of other things as don't cross my mind now."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it! I don't believe it!" exclaimed Goody Grey fiercely. +"If I did—I'd tear her very heart out, if she didn't tell me."</p> + +<p>And she passed on, leaving Matthew horrified at her words. He watched +her all the way down the road, which she traversed with a quick, hasty +step, striking her staff defiantly into the ground as she went, until +the turn of the road took her out of his sight.</p> + +<p>"What a fearful body she is!" thought he, as he turned into the +cottage.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span></p> + +<p>But there his horror and astonishment was still further increased at +finding crazed Jane lying in a heap on the floor.</p> + +<p>At first he was for rushing to her aid; but on second thoughts, he +reached his hat off the peg, and darted out of the cottage. There taking +to his heels he ran as fast as his legs could carry him along the road +Goody Grey had taken.</p> + +<p>"For the love of Heaven!" said he overtaking her, "come back!"</p> + +<p>"Come back!" exclaimed she, "and what for should I come back?"</p> + +<p>"To take away the curse and witcheries yer've put upon Jane; or she'll +die."</p> + +<p>"What are you raving about? What have I to do with Jane and her curses?"</p> + +<p>"Yer know well what I mean, Ma'am; yer've most killed her with yer evil +eye. I know yer're a fearful 'ooman, and a wise 'un too, but for the +love of Heaven don't leave her like that, but come back."</p> + +<p>"You're a fool!" replied Mrs. Grey, "I've no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> more power over her than a +fly," and she passed on, bidding him seek his wife's help.</p> + +<p>And again Matthew started off faster than before to find Mrs. Marks, +with an inward malediction on Goody Grey.</p> + +<p>He was scarcely out of sight ere she halted;—hesitated—then turned +back with rapid steps towards the cottage.</p> + +<p>Jane had fallen near the window from which Goody Grey had seen her +gazing, and lay almost under it, so as to be entirely concealed from the +broad glare of its light. She lay on her side with one arm across her +face. Her visitor gently moved away the arm, and looked at her. It was +but a momentary glance, and the fainting woman rested, as I have said, +away from the light. Was it this made Goody Grey fail in recognizing +her? or was it the sharp, pinched features, and worn haggard face, with +those deep furrows ploughing it so roughly in every direction.</p> + +<p>Filling a jug with water, Goody Grey lifted Jane, and tried to force +some down her throat,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> then dashed the rest over her face and forehead, +but her efforts at restoring life were useless, and after a few more +ineffectual attempts she left her, and went and seated herself by the +fire, thinking perhaps it would be but neighbourly to remain and await +Mrs. Marks's return.</p> + +<p>Not many minutes elapsed ere Jane opened her eyes, and the first object +they rested on was the old woman's face and figure, as she sat looking +at the fire, her profile fully marked out, and apparent to Jane's gaze, +whose face assumed a terrified, horror-stricken look, as she almost +glared at her, seemingly too fascinated or frightened to look away.</p> + +<p>Evidently Jane's memory served her better than Goody Grey's did, for she +recognized her, although the old woman did not, and after a minute or +two she sat up on the floor, and clasping arms round her knees, buried +her face in them and groaned aloud.</p> + +<p>Goody Grey started and turned at the sound, then rose and went over to +her.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Are you better?" she asked kindly, "you've had a long faint."</p> + +<p>Jane made no answer, only moaned and shivered from head to foot.</p> + +<p>"You are too cold to drink this water. Is there no brandy anywhere that +I can get you? Try and get up, and I will help you over to the fire."</p> + +<p>It was astonishing to hear the gentle, almost soft, sweet voice with +which she spoke, so different from her usual harsh, sharp manner. But +the more gentle she was, the less Jane seemed to like it, never raising +her head or answering a word, but moaning and rocking herself backwards +and forwards as she sat; and Goody Grey, seeing words or deeds, however +well meant, were alike wasted upon her, rose to go; saying as she did +so,—</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry to see you so sullen, woman. Have you never a word of thanks +to give me?"</p> + +<p>But Jane continued silent as before.</p> + +<p>"Well, well," she muttered, in something of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> her old, impatient, sharp +voice, as she stepped across the threshold of the door. "That fool said +she was a 'dafty.'" Then in a milder, almost sorrowful tone, she added +"it is better to be crazed than broken-hearted."</p> + +<p>Jane raised her head as she caught the last sound of Goody Grey's voice; +then, as the last foot-fall died away, she got up stealthily, and closed +and bolted the cottage door.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h4>THE CONSERVATORY.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"All other ills, though sharp they prove,</span> +<span class="i2">Serve to refine and perfect love:</span> +<span class="i2">In absence, or unkind disdaine,</span> +<span class="i2">Sweet hope relieves the lovers' paine:</span> +<span class="i2">But, oh, no cure but death we find</span> +<span class="i4"> To sett us free</span> +<span class="i4"> From jealousie,</span> +<span class="i2">Thou tyrant, tyrant of the mind.</span> +<br /> +<span class="i2">False in thy glass all objects are</span> +<span class="i2">Some sett too near, and some too far;</span> +<span class="i2">Thou art the fire of endless night</span> +<span class="i2">The fire that burns, and gives no light.</span> +<span class="i4"> All torments of the damn'd we find</span> +<span class="i4"> In only thee,</span> +<span class="i4"> O jealousie!</span> +<span class="i2">Thou tyrant, tyrant of the mind."</span> +<span class="i20"><span class="smcap">Dryden.</span></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>January had drawn to an end, and with Charles Linchmore had gone all the +visitors from Brampton, save the Stricklands and Bennets, and they being +cousins remained on, as Mrs. Linchmore said it would be wretchedly dull +to be entirely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> deserted when Robert Vavasour was too weak to be moved, +and kept her and Mr. Linchmore tied to Brampton. This plan appeared to +please everybody but Frances, who seemed to require a great deal of +persuasion before she would consent to remain, though at heart she was +only too glad to stay; but Julia and Anne acquiesced at once.</p> + +<p>Robert Vavasour's illness was of longer duration than was at first +expected; even when the pain from the severe blow on the head abated, +there was still the wound in his leg with the inflammation attending it, +so that he could not leave his room for some few weeks after Charles's +departure, and then only to come down of an evening and recline on a +sofa in the dining-room, where all in turn tried, or did their best +endeavours to amuse him, save one—Miss Neville.</p> + +<p>As he lay there, evening after evening, with nothing better to do than +watch those around him, he soon became aware that his eyes and thoughts +were ever constantly with the governess,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> He watched her with no common +interest. He who had vowed his heart should never soften towards any +woman now found himself listening eagerly to catch the faintest sound of +her voice, or the outline of her figure reflected in the glass as she +moved across the room. As he noted her quiet ways, so different from the +haughty Frances, or the bustling Anne, or the numbers of other girls he +had known, he grew more in love with her than he liked to acknowledge to +himself, and determined she should be his if she was to be won. If she +loved him what to her would be the shade and mystery of his birth; for +he would make no secret of it, but tell her all he knew, all that made +him so reserved, and at times impatient.</p> + +<p>Mr. Linchmore was wrong in the opinion he had given Amy of his +character, for, although Robert Vavasour was ready to flirt with every +girl or woman in the room, his hostess included, yet he had long felt +Miss Neville was not to be so trifled with; she was superior to them +all. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> being to be reverenced and loved with all a man's heart. She +must be his wife—if she so willed it—and if she did not, none other +ever should. How he chafed with impatience at being obliged to lie so +utterly useless and idle, when he would have given worlds to be at Amy's +side pouring soft nothings—as men only know how to—into her ear and +striving to win her love and make her his own.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Anne watched Frances as the spider watches the fly, but as yet +had found out nothing likely to unravel the mystery shrouding Charles's +hasty departure. She had sought out Amy almost immediately, and +delivered the message and hurried adieux entrusted to her; had noted the +agitation vainly attempted to be suppressed, the quick flushing of the +face and trembling of the lips before the studied words came slowly +forth expressing her thanks at his kindness in remembering her. Anne's +heart opened to her, even as it had done but a short half-hour earlier +to her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> cousin; and she pitied Miss Neville, and was more than half +tempted to tell her all she knew—all he had said—but there was a +something in Amy's manner that day which forbade Anne's communication; +and she remained silent, yet waiting and watching ready to seize the +very first opportunity of discovering and unravelling the plot, which +seemed so persistently to baffle her; and then not only could she make +two people happy, but what pleasure in being able to defeat Frances! +What a triumph it would be!</p> + +<p>Frances went on silently and secretly. Her wishes were only half +fulfilled. The end was yet to be worked out.</p> + +<p>She felt Anne suspected her the moment Charles drove away from the door; +but what signified that? What could the simple Anne Bennet do? She was a +mere worm in her path. A nobody. Still Frances was more cautious than +ever and more wary. Anne was to be avoided, not openly, but secretly, +while others of far more consequence were to be gained over, so as to +drag<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> Amy more completely into the snare, from which there was to be no +escape.</p> + +<p>There was no need to urge Robert Vavasour on now. Frances saw plainly +enough that he was ready to sacrifice everything and anything to gain +Amy's love; and she must be his wife; even if it broke her heart.</p> + +<p>He was better now, able to walk about again, and generally devoted part +of the evenings to Amy. Poor Amy! who saw not his love—wanted it +not—yet felt grateful at his kindness in talking to her when nobody +else did; besides, did it not keep him away from Mrs. Linchmore, with +whom she could not bear to see him, fancying Mr. Linchmore always looked +sad and dejected while he was at her side. Little did Amy think that +while there was no fear of her losing her heart, Mr. Vavasour was fast +becoming enslaved to herself for ever.</p> + +<p>It was true Mr. Linchmore did not like Vavasour's attentions to his +wife, but he liked his attentions and devotion to his governess far +less.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> He felt his warning had been of no use, and that Miss Neville was +falling into the snare he had essayed to lead her from. As he sat one +evening resolving it all over in his mind for the twentieth time, +Frances joined him.</p> + +<p>There was no knowing how soon they might be interrupted, so she went to +the point at once without hesitation.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Vavasour has quite recovered from his recent illness, and appears +to be making up for lost time in Miss Neville's good favour."</p> + +<p>"He will hardly make good his footing there," replied Mr. Linchmore. +"Miss Neville is too sensible a girl to be won over by a little fulsome +flattery, however adroitly administered."</p> + +<p>"But there seems more than flattery here; at least, I hope so."</p> + +<p>"Why should you hope it?"</p> + +<p>"For Miss Neville's sake, as I think—nay, am sure he is winning her +heart."</p> + +<p>"Impossible!"</p> + +<p>"He does not think it so impossible, otherwise<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> he would not be so +devoted; men never are when the one object is proved to be +unattainable."</p> + +<p>"I trust you are mistaken, Frances. For if she loves him he will break +her heart," replied Mr. Linchmore, sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>"It is you who are mistaken. That she loves him I am certain, or she +would never have fainted like dead when she heard he was wounded; and as +for him, I believe he loves her with all his heart, only he is afraid to +tell her so. At all events, her fate rests in your hands, to make or mar +as you please." And having said all she wished, Frances left him to +dwell and ponder on it as much as he liked.</p> + +<p>Was it so? Did Miss Neville's fate, indeed, rest in his hands? If so, +then, he must no longer remain inactive, but must bestir himself. He +looked around, but during his conversation with Frances, short as it +was, Miss Neville had disappeared. As Frances and the rest adjourned +into the billiard-room for a game he again sought Amy; surely she had +not gone with the rest?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> No; there she sat alone in the inner +drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"You are almost in total darkness, Miss Neville," said he, drawing a +chair near her, as she sat within the shade of the alcove or arch +dividing the two rooms.</p> + +<p>The fire burnt low in the grate, while the lamps were all out save one, +which threw a strange, fitful light every now and then across the room.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Linchmore likes this room kept dark; she says it is sometimes +pleasant to come into, and a relief to the eyes after the brilliant +glare of the other rooms," replied Amy.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she is right; it certainly is a pleasant rest for the eyes +after the intense glare of the many lamps out there."</p> + +<p>"Yes; and then one is almost sure of being quiet and alone late in the +evening, as no one cares for this dull room then; the lamps are never +trimmed after being once lit, but are allowed to die out as they like."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Slowly, like the hopes of our hearts."</p> + +<p>Amy looked up surprised.</p> + +<p>"It is best to have no hopes," she said.</p> + +<p>"That would be contrary to human nature. We all hope, even the most +satisfied mortal, and sometimes our hopes last a life time, and only +fade with our lives."</p> + +<p>"It is true; but perhaps our hopes, if realised, would only render us +miserable. It is best after all to go hoping on."</p> + +<p>"It is best," he replied, quietly.</p> + +<p>Amy thought what a strange mood Mr. Linchmore was in. Why did he speak +and talk so gloomily? Had Mr. Vavasour vexed him again by devoting +himself too much to his wife? or she been flirting more than usual?</p> + +<p>This inner room they now sat in was not so large as the drawing-room, +part of it being taken off for the conservatory, which ran its entire +length, and then adjoined the drawing-room at the point where the arch +which separated the two rooms terminated. In the day time the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> smaller +room was the prettiest and most cheerful, as the windows at the end +commanded a fine view of the magnificent woods and country beyond, with +the lawn sloping down in front almost to the banks of the lake, whereas +the view from the drawing-room on that side was entirely concealed by +the conservatory.</p> + +<p>As Mr. Linchmore silently revolved in his mind how he should begin about +Mr. Vavasour; how broach the subject so as to find out how far her heart +had been won—or as he thought, lost—thrown away on so unworthy an +object; given to one who neither cared for or valued the rich treasure +he had won, and Amy sat in silent wonderment as to what he would say +next; the rustle of a silk dress was heard, and in another moment two +forms were indistinctly seen through the flowering shrubs and exotics of +the conservatory.</p> + +<p>Amy's breath was hushed, her very pulse was stilled, as she +distinguished Robert Vavasour and Mrs. Linchmore.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></p> + +<p>Yet why should they not have separated from the rest? There was nothing +so very strange in it. But Amy felt as if some impending calamity hung +over her, or was near, and she without the power of averting it; and +would have given worlds to have turned and fled. Brave as she was, she +felt a very coward now, and would have warned them how near they were to +others if she could; but it could not be, the windows were closed, no +sound might reach them.</p> + +<p>And now Mr. Linchmore's eyes were fixed in the same direction. He had +seen them, too.</p> + +<p>Amy rose as if to go. She would leave him and join them, come what +would, but—</p> + +<p>"Sit still, Miss Neville," he said, sternly, and in a tone that +compelled obedience, and Amy sank down again without a word; in dread +and fear; feeling more utterly helpless than ever to avert the coming +storm her heart suggested.</p> + +<p>Once more she looked through the evergreens and tall dark plants. They +were still there, close<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> to one of the doors now, and almost opposite. +He gathered and offered a flower.</p> + +<p>That she received it with a flush of pleasure, could be surmised by the +gentle bend of the proud head, and the soft smile which could almost be +distinguished flitting across her features.</p> + +<p>They came nearer still. Oh! when would they go away? What could interest +them so deeply, and why did he look so earnestly in her now averted +face? What could he be pleading that she would not—did not wish to +grant?</p> + +<p>She has turned her head towards him now, and is looking down on the +ground as though loath to meet his gaze—is speaking—has granted his +request, whatever it is, and he has seized her hand and is kissing it +again and again.</p> + +<p>A hasty, passionate exclamation from Mr. Linchmore, as he suddenly +sprang to his feet, and in another moment would have dashed into the +conservatory, shivering the slight glass door into a thousand fragments, +but Amy threw herself in his path.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, stay, stay!" she said. "Don't go, please don't!"</p> + +<p>"Away!" he said. "Out of my way! He shall rue this deeply!" and he tried +to shake her off, but in vain; she clung more firmly to him than before, +beseeching him to stay.</p> + +<p>"Don't, don't go," she continued, imploringly. "I must not let you go! +Pray, pray, listen to me; you will be sorry if you don't. Oh! Mr. +Linchmore, be advised. You cannot tell why he has taken her hand."</p> + +<p>"Villain!" he muttered, between his clenched teeth. "Scoundrel!"</p> + +<p>"No, no! you are mistaken," said Amy, hurriedly, "indeed you are. How +can you guess at anything? He may be entreating her good will, may be +telling her of his love for another. Oh! Mr. Linchmore, be yourself +again; don't give way to this sudden anger until you are certain you are +right, and you may be wrong. Believe me, you <i>are</i> wrong. Oh, don't harm +him, pray don't!" and Amy's eyes filled with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> tears, as she felt she +could urge nothing more; was powerless if he would go.</p> + +<p>But as her voice grew hushed, and she relaxed her hold, he turned and +said,</p> + +<p>"Miss Neville, you love this man?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no, no!" replied Amy, now fairly sobbing.</p> + +<p>"Then why this interest in him? Why seek to palliate his conduct, base +as I believe it to be?"</p> + +<p>"I would not, if I thought it base, but—but I do not. I am but a poor +ignorant girl, but I implore you, for your wife's sake—your own sake, +do nothing rashly."</p> + +<p>"I will not. I am calm again—as calm as you wish; but this must be +sifted to the very core, must be explained till all is as clear as the +moon, which shines so brightly through that half-darkened window. No +half measures will satisfy me. I must not only be convinced, but feel +so. You say he is pleading his love for another—entreating <i>her</i> good +will in his behalf. Be it so. Then who is this other?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p> + +<p>He was quiet now, very quiet; with a firm, gloomy determination from +which there could be no escape, no loophole to creep out of. All must be +as clear as day. He had stood his wife's heartless conduct too long, he +would stand it no longer. No half measures, as before, would now satisfy +that angry husband, with the demon jealousy roused in his heart—that +stern yet loving heart.</p> + +<p>Alas! this jealousy, what mischief it causes. What hearts it sunders and +wounds with its fierce stabs; and how powerless are most to rise above +it or shake off its strong iron grasp. If once allowed to enter our +hearts it is an enemy difficult to contend with; still more difficult to +get rid of, for although only a small corner may be taken possession of +or unwillingly granted it at first, yet in time what a much larger +portion becomes its share.</p> + +<p>"Who is this other?" again asked Mr. Linchmore, more gently.</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell," replied Amy.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am willing to believe, Miss Neville, it is as you say; but there must +be no more trifling or prevarication, matters have become too serious +for that. This other you speak of. Who is she? I <i>must</i> know; and if +this man's heart is capable of love, and she loves him," and he looked +fixedly at Amy, and spoke more slowly as if wishing her to weigh well +every word, "then let her be his wife; if she wills it so; but—it will +be to her sorrow."</p> + +<p>"You cannot tell that," replied Amy, seeing he waited for her to speak. +"He may love her with all his heart."</p> + +<p>"He may. But what is all his heart when he is so ready to trifle with +others? Miss Neville," and his voice was still more gentle, and very +pitying in its tone; "you are alone, perhaps feel alone in this house, +and are young, very young to be so thrown upon the world, which you find +a cold and desolate one, I have no doubt. <i>He</i> has been ever kind and +courteous. I fear too much so, and I do not wonder he has created an +interest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> in your heart, and at last won it. But he must not be allowed +to trifle with it while I stand by. No. It shall never be!"</p> + +<p>"Oh! Mr. Linchmore!" exclaimed Amy, now indeed feeling utterly desolate +at this continued accusation, and belief in her love for Robert +Vavasour.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" he rejoined, gently placing his hand on her soft hair, as she +sat with her face bowed in her hands. "Poor girl; poor desolate young +creature; your happiness shall be my first care, you shall no longer +feel alone; there is no need to tell me anything. I know all that your +heart cannot speak, even to your fainting when you saw him brought home +the other evening."</p> + +<p>Amy's sobs burst out afresh; she felt totally unable to stay them or +convince Mr. Linchmore he was mistaken.</p> + +<p>"Well, well," he continued with a sigh, "it cannot be helped now, things +must take their course; but with him I <i>will</i> have a reckoning," and the +old stern look once more flitted across<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> his face. "But fear not, Miss +Neville; for the sake of your love for him, I will be calm and control +my anger."</p> + +<p>"You will not tell him I care for him—love him, Mr. Linchmore? Oh! no, +no, you could not do so!" said Amy, with fear.</p> + +<p>"I will not; that must rest with you alone, with that I can have nothing +to do, your future happiness must be made or marred by yourself alone. +You need have no fear, but trust; only trust in me, Miss Neville."</p> + +<p>"And I shall see him, shall speak to him myself—alone?"</p> + +<p>"You shall do so. He shall hear no word of your love from me."</p> + +<p>"You promise it, Mr. Linchmore," said Amy, now for the first time +raising her eyes to his.</p> + +<p>"I promise it, Miss Neville, most faithfully."</p> + +<p>"Thank you! thank you; then all will be right."</p> + +<p>"I wish, oh! how I wish it could be otherwise," sobbed Amy, as he left +her; "but I must not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> murmur, I must be thankful,—thank God it is no +worse than it is; but how can he think that I love him?"</p> + +<p>Amy felt utterly miserable. Did she deny Vavasour's being the cause of +her fainting, would not Mr. Linchmore naturally enough wonder what had +been the occasion of it? or perhaps in the end guess of her love for his +brother, even as he had supposed it to be for Mr. Vavasour? No, rather +let him think anything than that! a thousand times rather.</p> + +<p>Mr. Linchmore had promised she should see Mr. Vavasour—there was some +comfort in that; she could appeal to him, he would be reasoned with, +would listen and believe her even if he loved her—if?—Amy began to +think there was no need of a doubt, and that it was true he loved her. +Why should Mr. Linchmore be deceived? All the latter's warnings, and Mr. +Vavasour's kindness were accounted for now; but love her as he would, +she could not be his wife. No—even if she had never had a thought for +another,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> it could not have been, and now?—now she would never be any +man's wife.</p> + +<p>Alone? Yes, hopelessly alone. Alone with that one secret love in her +heart, that no one must know or guess at, not even her mother. Yes, it +was hard, very hard. Was she not striving hard to forget him? Perhaps +she would die in the struggle, she felt so hopelessly unequal to face +the storm; perhaps it was best she should die. But then her mother? Yes, +she must live for her, and forget him. It would not be so difficult, +seeing he loved her not, would perhaps never see her again. She was glad +<i>he</i> had not known of her fainting. And who could have told Mr. +Linchmore? Was it Frances?</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h4>LOOKING FOR THE "BRADSHAW."</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"Yet though my griefe finde noe redress,</span> +<span class="i4">But still encrease before myne eyes,</span> +<span class="i4">Though my reward be cruelnesse,</span> +<span class="i4">With all the harme, happs can devyse,</span> +<span class="i4">Yet I profess it willingly</span> +<span class="i4">To serve and suffer patiently.</span> +<br /> +<span class="i4">There is no griefe, no smert, no woe,</span> +<span class="i4">That yet I feel, or after shall,</span> +<span class="i4">That from this minde may make me goe,</span> +<span class="i4">And whatsoever me befall,</span> +<span class="i4">I do profess it willingly,</span> +<span class="i4">To serve and suffer patiently."</span> +<span class="i20"><span class="smcap">Wyat.</span></span> +<br /> +<span class="i4">"I am two fools, I know,</span> +<span class="i4">For loving and for saying so."</span> +<span class="i20"><span class="smcap">Donne.</span></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>Amy was not the only one who wept that night; Frances also did so at +heart, for very anger and vexation.</p> + +<p>She had missed Mr. Linchmore almost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> immediately after she had sought +Miss Neville; had suspected why he had done so, and managed to overhear +almost every word of the latter part of their conversation, and when Amy +went so sorrowfully out of the inner drawing-room Frances walked +straight over to the fire, and seated herself in the easy chair where +Amy had only a few minutes before sobbed out her very heart, almost.</p> + +<p>Frances had good cause for tears and anger, feeling she was being foiled +and defeated when the end was almost won. Her conversation with Mr. +Linchmore had been a false move, she had urged him on too quickly; but +for that, he never would have seen his wife and Mr. Vavasour, and all +would yet have been well; now all was going on wrong—utterly wrong.</p> + +<p>That Robert Vavasour would propose for Miss Neville was certain. That +Miss Neville meant to refuse him was certain, too. The first she had +fully calculated upon, but not the latter. She had intended the first to +take place only when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> Amy had been so hopelessly entangled that she +could not escape, could not say no, and now to be defeated at the very +moment of victory, was almost more than her proud spirit could brook.</p> + +<p>Was all her plotting to be of no use? all to be lost? and to be lost +now? Now that the end was all but attained, and it wanted but one final +stroke for Amy to be lost to Charles for ever!</p> + +<p>A dull, heavy despair was fast creeping over her spirits; what could be +done now? Oh! for some one to aid her! What if she spoke to Robert +Vavasour, and urged him on to make Amy his at all hazards; she felt +certain he loved her with all his heart. Suppose she told him of Amy's +secret, and apparently hopeless love for her cousin, as the true reason +why she would refuse to listen to his suit. But then again, he might be +too proud to marry a woman whose heart was another's, on the mere +dangerous chance of being able to win it in the end, and if he should +think so and give her up? might not Charles hear of it and return, and +then all her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> hopes be dashed to the ground, just as they seemed on the +point of being accomplished?</p> + +<p>Frances sat moodily by the smouldering fire, tapping her foot +impatiently on the ground in utter vexation of spirit, her heart aching +and her temples throbbing with the anguish of her thoughts. She had a +strong ruthless will; but how to make others bend to it? How bring them +under the influence of it? She chafed with angry vexation; no rest had +she that night; but lay restlessly tossing about the bed, when at last, +utterly worn out, she threw herself impatiently on it. It was the first +drawback she had had in the task she had set herself to accomplish. If +Robert Vavasour would only defer his proposal to Miss Neville for one +day? Give her time to think of some fresh stratagem! But no. Mr. +Linchmore had willed it otherwise. Had she not heard him tell Miss +Neville he would have an explanation from Mr. Vavasour of what he had +seen in the conservatory; and that Frances knew right well could lead +but to one result: a repetition of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> his conversation with Mrs. +Linchmore, disclosing his love for her governess.</p> + +<p>As Frances drew up her blind in the morning, almost hating the winter's +sun as it streamed in at the window, she knew a few short hours would +decide Amy's fate and hers. A reprieve she could not hope for: it was +simply impossible. Still she did not give up all hope; a trifle might +yet turn the tide of events in her favour; so she went downstairs to +breakfast, her head filled as much as ever with schemes and plots. How +it beat with renovated hope as she heard that Mr. Linchmore had been +suddenly called away on business early that morning. How she wished it +might last for days!</p> + +<p>The studies did not progress very happily that morning, although Amy set +herself resolutely to work, and strove to drive away the troubled +thoughts that crowded into her brain. But they would come back do what +she would. How many false notes were played by Fanny, without being +noticed, at her morning's practising; and mis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span>takes made by Edith at her +French reading without correction. Every moment Amy expected and awaited +a summons from Mr. Linchmore; but none came; and as the morning wore on, +she grew restless and impatient.</p> + +<p>The afternoon drew on, and Amy grew still more anxious; could settle +herself to nothing; but sat and watched the sun as it sunk lower and +lower, and wondered at the reason of the delay. Mary entered with a +letter. It must be later than she thought, almost half-past four, and +still no summons.</p> + +<p>She drew near the fire-light, and opened her letter. It was from +Ashleigh, and as if to verify the old adage that troubles never come +alone, her mother was worse, and Mrs. Elrington asked Amy to return home +for a week, as she thought the sight of her daughter might rouse and +cheer the invalid. It was the apathy and apparent want of energy the +medical man feared, nothing else; and it was thought Amy's presence +might dissipate it.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span></p> + +<p>All minor troubles were now swallowed up in this; with tearful eyes Amy +sought Mrs. Linchmore and obtained the wished-for leave. This time there +was no regretful tardiness in granting it, no unwillingness expressed.</p> + +<p>"Pray go as soon as you like, Miss Neville," she said, "and do not hurry +back on the children's account, a week or so will make no difference to +either them or me."</p> + +<p>Amy felt grateful for her kindness in so readily granting her request, +although the words themselves were somewhat stiffly spoken; but her +thoughts were so entirely engrossed by her mother's illness and the +feeling of being so soon at home again, they could not long dwell on +anything else; all were trifles compared to that.</p> + +<p>"I will not say good-bye," added Mrs. Linchmore, "as we shall meet again +in the drawing-room this evening."</p> + +<p>But Amy excused herself. She had so much to do, and to think of. There +was her packing not begun even.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then I will make my adieux now. I trust you will find Mrs. Neville +better, or at all events mending. I fear you will not see Mr. Linchmore; +he was called away early this morning to attend the death bed of a very +old friend of his, and had to start at a minute's notice; but I will +desire the carriage to be ready for you at any hour you like to name, or +you can send word by Mary."</p> + +<p>Mr. Linchmore was away then; hence the reason of his not having +fulfilled his promise. Amy was glad of the reprieve, perhaps before her +return, things might wear a different aspect; at all events, her heart +felt lighter, and she went to her room with a less weight on her +spirits.</p> + +<p>"Where is your governess?" asked Frances, entering the school-room soon +after Amy had left it to seek Mrs. Linchmore.</p> + +<p>Fanny was nursing her doll, and scarcely deigned to look up as she +replied, "She is busy packing."</p> + +<p>"Packing!" exclaimed Frances in bewilderment. "Packing! and for what?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span></p> + +<p>"To go away," was the curt answer.</p> + +<p>Go away. Another step backwards in the wheel of fortune.</p> + +<p>"She is not going for good?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh! no. Only for a week. Are you not sorry, cousin? I am," said Fanny, +in somewhat of a saucy tone. The child still remembered the "Holy Work:" +thought of her hurt arm.</p> + +<p>"Very sorry," replied Frances sincerely enough. What could she be going +away for? but anxious as Frances was, she disdained to ask the children, +but sat down and awaited quietly Miss Neville's coming.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span></p><p>Amy went on steadily with her packing, which, with Mary's help, was soon +finished, and then went down to the library to look at the "Bradshaw," +and find out which was the very earliest train by which she could start +on the morrow. But it was not on the table. She turned over the books +one by one, removed the inkstand and papers, but her search was +fruitless. It was gone.</p> + +<p>As she stood undecided what to do next, Robert Vavasour came forward; +she had not noticed him in the dim uncertain twilight.</p> + +<p>"Can I assist you, Miss Neville?" he asked. "What is it you look for?"</p> + +<p>"I was looking for the 'Bradshaw,' which is usually kept on this table; +but it is gone."</p> + +<p>"It is here," he replied, taking it off a chair, where it had been +hastily left by Mr. Linchmore in the morning. "Allow me to find out what +you wish, this book is a puzzle to most people."</p> + +<p>Amy explained her wishes. "You are going away?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes; but only for a short time, a fortnight at the furthest."</p> + +<p>"It is a long time—to me," he said, gently; then lit the taper, and +busied himself with pen, ink, and paper, and the 'Bradshaw;' while Amy +stood by, wishing she had not come down, but had sent Mary, or one of +the children instead.</p> + +<p>After dotting down the times of the trains as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> they arrived and left the +different stations, he closed the book; still he did not look up, or +give her the memorandum.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Amy, "that will do very nicely."</p> + +<p>"You cannot leave the Standale station before the 9.10 train," he said +presently, "that is express, and will take you with less delays on the +road than any other, and will only detain you some twenty minutes or so, +when you join the ordinary train. I will write this time table out +better and more clearly for you, and let you have it before you start."</p> + +<p>"Do not take that trouble. What you have written will be quite guide +enough for me. Good-bye, Mr. Vavasour," and she held out her hand.</p> + +<p>He hesitated a moment, then took it in both his, and held it fast.</p> + +<p>"I cannot say good-bye, Miss Neville." All the love he felt for her was +welling up into his heart, and striving to be heard. He must speak. "I +cannot let you go thus," he said, "had you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> remained it would have been +otherwise, and I would not have opened my heart to you yet; but, as it +is, I cannot help myself. Miss Neville, I never loved any woman till I +saw you—never thought I could do so. I had but a poor opinion of your +sex. Had not my mother deserted me, and was not that enough to fill my +heart with hatred and bitterness? There is a mystery shadowing my birth, +which seems to me to be growing darker and darker every day. I have no +claim even to the very name I bear, and cannot tell you who my parents +are; perhaps this silence is better than the knowledge that they live, +and are ashamed to own me. I thought I was too proud to ask any woman to +overlook that, and vowed I never would; but then I trifled with them +all, even with you. Do you remember the flower I sent by Fanny? how many +a sleepless night has the remembrance of that folly cost me? But, +knowing all I have now told you, all that at times drives me to the +solitude of my lonely home, and distracting thoughts, will you come<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> and +comfort me,—pity me—love me? Amy, I love you with all my heart. Will +you be my wife?"</p> + +<p>He could not see her face, the light was too uncertain, and she stood in +the shade; but he felt that she trembled as she withdrew her hand from +his.</p> + +<p>Yes, it was even so. Amy was quite prepared when he began, to say she +did not love him; but he claimed her pity, and her woman's heart felt +for him at once.</p> + +<p>"Will you let me love you, care for you, Amy, as never woman was loved +or cared for before? Speak to me, Amy, say one word—one word of hope."</p> + +<p>But Amy could give none. "I am sorry," she replied, falteringly, +"believe me, deeply sorry; but hope? Alas, Mr. Vavasour, I can give you +none."</p> + +<p>"You do not love me?" he asked, sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>"I like you, have always liked you. You have been so kind to me, the +only one almost who has;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> and I have felt grateful for that—it would be +strange if I were not; but I do not love you," she said softly, fearing +the pain she was causing.</p> + +<p>"I have been premature in asking your love, I know. I have had so little +opportunity of winning it, how could I expect you would love me with +scarcely any wooing at all. May I ask you one question, Miss Neville? I +feel I have no right to ask it, and it may be a death-blow to my hopes?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Amy. How could she refuse, and he so sad and +heart-broken.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me; but has another claimed your love?"</p> + +<p>"No. No other has ever spoken to me of love, or loved me," she said +sadly.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Miss Neville. Then I will—must hope. Why should I not win +your love, when I love you so very dearly; how dearly you know not? I +will wait patiently; but strive to win you I must. In my dreary, sad +life it is the one bright star to lead me on to better things.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> I have +trifled away life—hated it at times; but now I will begin to live. You +are going home, Miss Neville, let this tale of my love be as if it had +never been. I will be content to take my chance with others; let us be +friends again, as hitherto. I promise no word of love shall ever pass my +lips. When you know me better, and, perhaps, judge me better than you do +now, then once again I will ask you to be my wife; and then, if you +reject me—well. Then we must never meet again; but while your heart is +free I must hope. Shall it be so?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Alas! what could she say? She could not tell him her love was another's +unasked and unsought for, when she was striving to shut it out of her +heart for ever. She could only murmur that she did not love him, and +could give no hope. While he, thinking her love yet unwon, believed it +might be his in the end, and that he had told her of his love too soon.</p> + +<p>"You will not refuse my request, Miss Neville, will you?" he asked, +sorrowfully.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I do not like to refuse," she replied, "and yet I doubt if I ought to +grant it. It will only make both you and me unhappy, because it can lead +but to the same result as now."</p> + +<p>"I dare not think so," he said. "Surely God will be more merciful than +to leave my life an utter blank. No mother's love have I ever known; +mine has been, and is a dreary, unloved lot. Is it a wonder my heart +clings to you, loves you so madly? and yet you will not even let me try +and win you; but would shut out all hope. If you loved another; +then—then indeed I would not plead; but, as it is—it is scarcely kind, +Miss Neville; forgive me for saying so."</p> + +<p>"Believe me, I do not wish to be unkind," faltered Amy. "I think my +decision would have been the kindest in the end. But enough; it shall be +as you wish, only you must not blame me hereafter."</p> + +<p>"Neither now nor ever!"</p> + +<p>And so they parted, both sorrowful at heart, both feeling the future +which seemed to loom so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> gloomily for each; neither daring to look +beyond the shadow even now flitting across their path.</p> + +<p>Little did Frances Strickland think while loitering in the school-room +awaiting Amy, that the very meeting she had come to prevent had taken +place.</p> + +<p>Just as she was growing impatient, and wondering at the unwonted delay, +Miss Neville entered.</p> + +<p>"I have been waiting to make my adieux," she said, "having heard you +were going away, and I did not like you should go without a word of +farewell."</p> + +<p>Amy was quite unprepared for this, and looked her surprise.</p> + +<p>"Do we part friends, Miss Neville?"</p> + +<p>"I can scarcely say yes," replied Amy, "our acquaintance has been but +short, and—and—you have never liked me, Miss Strickland; if you +recollect you almost told me so once."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you have not forgotten that stormy interview. But I was angry and +passionate. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span> have regretted what I said then ever since. Even you must +know I never carried out my threats."</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell," replied Amy. "I know I feared them, and the thought of +what you had threatened—the shame—made me ill. No, Miss Strickland, we +can never be friends."</p> + +<p>"And why not?"</p> + +<p>There was a slight touch of hauteur in her tone, do what she would to +hide it. Amy saw it, and felt more than ever convinced Miss Strickland +did not like her; never would like her. Why should she so persistently +wish to be friendly now, after all her anger and rudeness Amy could not +divine, but she suspected Frances, and thought some motive lay hidden +deep in her heart. She answered coldly,</p> + +<p>"Our paths in life lie so very wide apart, that being friends is simply +impossible."</p> + +<p>"Not so," replied Frances. "Our lives may be nearer knit together than +you think; you will not be always teaching."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span></p> + +<p>"As yet I see no reason to think otherwise, and as I think I told you +once before, I am reconciled to it, or I trust nearly so." And Amy felt +she was growing more ungracious every moment.</p> + +<p>Perhaps Frances saw it too, for she held out her hand as she said, "Do +we, or rather are we to part friends, Miss Neville?"</p> + +<p>"I do not wish we should part as enemies. Good-bye, Miss Strickland." +She wished she could thank her for coming, but she could not.</p> + +<p>"Well, good-bye, I think you will be sorry some day for refusing my +friendship. I suppose you will not come down this evening; so this is a +final leave-taking."</p> + +<p>She turned as if to go, then stopped. Her anger at Amy's refusal got the +mastery over her wise resolutions, and her eyes flashed fire as she +said,</p> + +<p>"There can be no middle course, Miss Neville; if you will not have me as +a friend, I can be a bitter enemy."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I know it," replied Amy, "and cannot help it."</p> + +<p>"Very well, then, I bid you beware! We shall see which is defeated. You +or I. I will be relentless."</p> + +<p>And she passed out.</p> + +<p>"Why do you look so sad, Miss Neville?" said little Fanny, creeping up +close to her, "I am glad you don't like her, because I know she can't +bear you."</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Fanny. She says she does, or rather did."</p> + +<p>"But that's a story. Only see her eyes when she went away!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Fanny; but that was my fault. I fear I was not wise to brave her; +but then it could scarcely have been otherwise. I could not like her."</p> + +<p>"I know I don't!" replied the child, "and am glad no one does. She +nearly pinched Edith's arm a minute ago like she did mine, because she +told her Uncle Charles put up those book shelves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> for you; and oh! she +looked so angry. She's just like the dog in the manger. Isn't she?"</p> + +<p>Ah! Had there been no such person as Uncle Charles in the world, these +two young girls might have been friends. But as it was; that was the +sore point which kept their hearts, the one so distant; the other so +revengefully inclined. Frances, who nursed and encouraged her love, knew +it was so: while Amy, who dared not think of or allow her love, tried to +imagine a hundred other reasons as the true cause of her dislike.</p> + +<p>The children were up betimes in the morning to take a tearful farewell +of their governess; Fanny crying heartily and aloud, until severely +rated by Anne Bennet, who, with her sister Julia, was also there bidding +good-bye while Amy's boxes were being stowed away in the carriage.</p> + +<p>"I can't help crying," said Fanny, when rebuked, "indeed I can't! so +it's of no use, Cousin Anne."</p> + +<p>"Then cry to yourself, child; or stay, here is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> my hankerchief to stuff +into your mouth; your noise is enough to scare an inmate of Bedlam, and +nearly drives us all crazy. Good-bye, Miss Neville; you will write to +me, won't you? A long letter, mind, when you are settled at home."</p> + +<p>"I have promised your sister a letter," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"Just like my luck. I ought to have asked you sooner. But I shall write +to you all the same. I dare say I shall have lots of news that Julia +will know nothing about."</p> + +<p>Then the carriage drove away, and Amy wondered why Mr. Vavasour had +never given her the time-table as he had promised, and felt a little +disappointed at his forgetfulness; either he did not care for her so +much as she had imagined, or he felt her going away too deeply; at all +events his now appearance made her feel sad. She had learned to like +though not to love him.</p> + +<p>But when she reached the Standale Station, and the carriage steps were +being let down; the first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> person she saw was Mr. Vavasour, awaiting her +at the door.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Vavasour! you here?" she exclaimed, involuntarily, and perhaps with +a slight welcome of gladness in the tone.</p> + +<p>"Yes; why not? Did you suppose I would let you go alone, and uncared +for? The train will be here in another moment; I almost feared you would +be late."</p> + +<p>Then he went away for her ticket, and presently she was leaning on his +arm as they walked along the platform. It seemed like a dream.</p> + +<p>"Here is the time-table, Miss Neville," he said, as soon as she was +seated in the carriage, "I think you will be able to understand it, and +you must allow me to lend you this railway rug, it will be of use to +you, both going and returning, and I shall not require it," and he drew +it over her feet as she sat, "I wish you a safe journey, though I fear +it will scarcely be a pleasant one; I trust you will find Mrs. Neville +better. God bless you."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was a banging of doors, the whistle sounded, and she was carried +away out of his sight, feeling she had been more cared for and thought +of during those few minutes than she had ever been before in all her +life; yet his last three words stirred her heart strangely, bringing as +they did that last sad evening of Charles Linchmore's stay at Brampton +vividly before her, when he had held her hand, and softly said the same +words.</p> + + + + +<p class="center">END OF VOL. II.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">T. C. Newby</span>, 30, Welbeck Street, Cavendish Square, London.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + +<p class="center"> +<big><b>WILSON'S,</b></big><br /> +PATENT DRAWING-ROOM<br /> +<big>BAGATELLE AND BILLIARD TABLES,</big><br /> +<small>WITH REVERSIBLE TOPS.</small><br /> +<small>Circular, Oblong, Oval, and other Shapes, in various Sizes</small><br /> +<small>FORMING A HANDSOME TABLE.</small><br /> +</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 670px;"> +<img src="images/ad1.jpg" width="670" height="400" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p class="center">Prices from 5 to 25 Guineas. Prospectus Free by post.</p> + + +<p class="center"><big><b>WILSON AND CO., PATENTEES,</b></big><br /> +<small>Cabinet Makers, Upholsterers, House Agents, Undertakers, &c.,</small><br /> +<small>18, WIGMORE STREET (Corner of Welbeck Street), LONDON, W.; also at the</small><br /> +<small>MANUFACTURING COURT, CRYSTAL PALACE, SYDENHAM.</small></p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p class="center"> +In 1 Vol. Price 12s.<br /> + +<big><b>ON CHANGE OF CLIMATE,</b></big><br /> + +<small>A GUIDE FOR TRAVELLERS IN PURSUIT OF HEALTH.</small> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">By</span> THOMAS MORE MADDEN, M.D., M.R.C.S. <span class="smcap">Eng.</span></p> + +<blockquote><p>Illustrative of the Advantages of the various localities resorted to by +Invalids, for the cure or alleviation of chronic diseases, especially +consumption. With Observations on Climate, and its Influences on Health +and Disease, the result of extensive personal experience of many +Southern Climes.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">SPAIN, PORTUGAL, ALGERIA, MOROCCO, FRANCE, ITALY,<br /> +THE MEDITERRANEAN ISLANDS, EGYPT, &c.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>"Dr. Madden has been to most of the places he describes, and his book +contains the advantage of a guide, with the personal experience of a +traveller. To persons who have determined that they ought to have change +of climate, we can recommend Dr. Madden as a guide."—<i>Athenæum.</i></p> + +<p>"It contains much valuable information respecting various favorite +places of resort, and is evidently the work of a well-informed +physician."—<i>Lancet.</i></p> + +<p>"Dr. Madden's book deserves confidence—a most accurate and excellent +work."—<i>Dublin Medical Review.</i></p> +</blockquote> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p class="title"> +<small>THE</small><br /> +<br /> +<big>GENERAL FURNISHING</big><br /> +<br /> +<small>AND</small><br /> +<br /> +UPHOLSTERY COMPANY<br /> +<br /> +(LIMITED),</p> + +<p class="center"> +F. J. ACRES, MANAGER,<br /> +<br /> +24 and 25, Baker Street, W.<br /> +<br /><br /> +<small>The Company are now Exhibiting all the most approved Novelties of the<br /> +Season in</small><br /> +<br /> +<big>CARPETS, CHINTZES,</big><br /> +<br /> +MUSLIN CURTAINS,<br /> +<br /> +<small>And every variety of textile fabric for Upholstery purposes constituting<br /> +the most recherché selection in the trade.</small></p> + +<hr class="full" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/ad21.jpg" width="150" height="50" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p class="center"> +<big><b>TEETH WITHOUT PAIN AND WITHOUT SPRINGS.</b><br /> +<br /> + +OSTEO EIDON FOR ARTIFICIAL TEETH,<br /> +EQUAL TO NATURE.</big></p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center">Complete Sets £4 4s., £7 7s., £10 10s., £15 15s., and £21.<br /> +<br /> +<small>SINGLE TEETH AND PARTIAL SETS AT PROPORTIONATELY<br /> +MODERATE CHARGES.</small></p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center">A PERFECT FIT GUARANTEED.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/ad22.jpg" width="250" height="100" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p class="center">London:<br /> +27, HARLEY STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE, W.<br /> +134, DUKE STREET, LIVERPOOL.<br /> +<small>65, NEW STREET, BIRMINGHAM.</small><br /></p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">City Address:</span><br /> +64, LUDGATE HILL, 64.<br /> +<small>(4 doors from the Railway Bridge).</small></p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><small>ONLY ONE VISIT REQUIRED FROM COUNTRY PATIENTS.</small></p> + +<blockquote><p>Gabriel's Treatise on the Teeth, explaining their patented mode of +supplying Teeth without Springs or Wires, may be had gratis on +application, or free by post.</p></blockquote> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The Toilet.</span>—A due attention to the gifts and graces of the person, and +a becoming preservation of the advantages of nature, are of more value +and importance with reference to our health and well-being, than many +parties are inclined to suppose. Several of the most attractive portions +of the human frame are delicate and fragile, in proportion as they are +graceful and pleasing; and the due conservation of them is intimately +associated with our health and comfort. The hair, for example, from the +delicacy of its growth and texture, and its evident sympathy with the +emotions of the mind; the skin, with its intimate relation to the most +vital of our organs, as those of respiration, circulation and digestion, +together with the delicacy and susceptibility of its own texture; and +the teeth, also, from their peculiar structure, formed as they are, of +bone or dentine, and cased with a fibrous investment of enamel; these +admirable and highly essential portions of our frames, are all to be +regarded not merely as objects of external beauty and display, but as +having an intimate relation to our health, and the due discharge of the +vital functions. The care of them ought never to be entrusted to +ignorant or unskilful hands; and it is highly satisfactory to point out +as protectors of these vital portions of our frame the preparations +which have emanated from the laboratories of the Messrs. Rowlands, their +unrivalled Macassar for the hair, their Kalydor for improving and +beautifying the complexion, and their Odonto for the teeth and gums.</p> +</blockquote> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p class="title">NEW NOVELS IN THE PRESS.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<h3 class="center"><small>In Three Vols.</small><br /> + +THE MAITLANDS.</h3> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<h3 class="center"><small>In Three Vols.</small><br /> + +TREASON AT HOME.<br /> + +<small>By MRS. GREENOUGH.</small></h3> +<hr class="full" /> + + + + +<h2>BEDSTEADS, BEDDING, AND BED ROOM<br /> +FURNITURE.</h2> + +<p class="center">HEAL & SON'S</p> + +<p class="center">Show Rooms contain a large assortment of Brass Bedsteads, suitable both +for home use and for Tropical Climates.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>Handsome Iron Bedsteads, with Brass Mountings, and elegantly Japanned.</p> + +<p>Plain Iron Bedsteads for Servants.</p> + +<p>Every description of Woodstead, in Mahogany, Birch, and Walnut Tree +Woods, Polished Deal and Japanned, all fitted with Bedding and +Furnitures complete.</p> + +<p>Also, every description of Bed Room Furniture, consisting of Wardrobes, +Chests of Drawers, Washstands, Tables, Chairs, Sofas, Couches, and every +article for the complete furnishing of a Bed Room.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p class="center">AN</p> + +<p class="center"><big>ILLUSTRATED CATALOGUE,</big></p> + +<blockquote><p>Containing Designs and Prices of 150 articles of Bed Room Furniture, as +well as of 100 Bedsteads, and Prices of every description of Bedding</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">Sent Free by Post.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p class="title"> +<big>HEAL & SON,</big><br /> +BEDSTEAD, BEDDING,<br /> +<small>AND</small><br /> +BED ROOM FURNITURE MANUFACTURERS<br /> +<br /> +<small>196, TOTTENHAM COURT ROAD</small>,<br /> +<small><span class="smcap">London. W.</span></small></p> + +<hr class="full" /> +<p class="center">NOW READY.</p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center">In Three Vols.</p> +<p class="center"><big>THE NAVAL LIEUTENANT.</big></p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By</span> F. C. ARMSTRONG,</p> + +<p class="center">Author of "The Two Midshipmen," "The Medora," "The<br /> +Lily of Devon," "The Queen of the Seas," &c.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + + +<p class="center">IN THE PRESS.</p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center">In Three Vols. Price 31s. 6d.</p> +<p class="center"><big>AN OLD MAN'S SECRET.</big></p> + +<p class="center">A Novel.</p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By</span> FRANK TROLLOPE,</p> +<p class="center">Author of "A Right-Minded Woman."</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + + + +<p class="center">NEW WORKS IN THE PRESS.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p class="center">I.<br /> + +<small>In One Vol. Price 10s. 6d.</small><br /> + +<big>THE ADVENTURES OF A SERF WIFE</big><br /> + +AMONG THE MINES OF SIBERIA.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p class="center">II.<br /> + +<small>In Three Vols. Price 31s. 6d.</small><br /> + +<big>AN OLD MAN'S SECRET</big><br /> + +<small>A Novel.</small><br /> + +<big>By FRANK TROLLOPE,</big><br /> + +<small>Author of "A Right-Minded Woman."</small></p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p class="center">III.<br /> + +<small>In Three Vols. Price 31s. 6d.</small><br /> + +<big>TREASON AT HOME.</big><br /> + +<small>A Novel.</small><br /> + +<span class="smcap">By</span> MRS. GREENOUGH.<br /></p> +<hr class="full" /> + + +<p class="center"><big><b>J. W. BENSON,</b></big></p> + +<p class="center">WATCH AND CLOCK MAKER, BY WARRANT OF APPOINTMENT, TO<br /> +H.R.H. THE PRINCE OF WALES,</p> + +<blockquote><p>Maker of the Great Clock for the Exhibition, 1862, and of the +Chronograph Dial, by which was timed "The Derby" of 1862, 1863, and +1864, Prize Medallist, Class XXXIII., and Honourable Mention, Class XV, +begs respectfully to invite the attention of the nobility, gentry, and +public to his establishment at</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL,</p> + +<blockquote><p>Which, having recently been increased in size by the incorporation of +the two houses in the rear, is now the most extensive and richly stocked +in London. In</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">THE WATCH DEPARTMENT</p> + +<blockquote><p>Will be found every description of Pocket Horological Machine, from the +most expensive instruments of precision to the working man's substantial +time-keeper. The stock comprises Watches, with every kind of case, gold +and silver, plain, engine-turned, engraved, enamelled, chased, and +jewelled, and with dials of enamel, silver, or gold, either neatly +ornamented or richly embellished.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 48%;"> +<p class="center"><big>BENSON'S WATCHES.</big></p> + +<blockquote><p>"The movements are of the finest quality which the art of horology is at +present capable of producing."—<i>Illustrated London News</i> 8th Nov., +1862.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">33 & 34, <span class="smcap">Ludgate Hill</span>, London.</p> + + +<p class="center"><big>BENSON'S WATCHES.</big></p> + +<blockquote><p>Adapted for every class, climate, and country. Wholesale and retail from +200 guineas to 2½ guineas each.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">33 & 34, <span class="smcap">Ludgate Hill</span>, London</p> + + +<p class="center"><big>BENSON'S WATCHES.</big></p> + +<blockquote><p>Chronometer, duplex, lever, horizontal, repeating, centre seconds, +keyless, astronomical, reversible, chronograph, blind men's, Indian, +presentation, and railway, to suit all classes.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">33 & 34, <span class="smcap">Ludgate Hill</span>, London.</p> + + +<p class="center"><big>BENSON'S WATCHES.</big></p> + +<p class="center">London-made levers, gold from £10 10s., silver from £5 5s.</p> + +<p class="center">33 & 34, <span class="smcap">Ludgate Hill</span>, London.</p> + + +<p class="center"><big>BENSON'S WATCHES.</big></p> + +<blockquote><p>Swiss watches of guaranteed quality, gold from £5 5s.; silver from £2 +12s. 6d.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">33 & 34, <span class="smcap">Ludgate Hill</span>, London.</p> + + +<p class="center"><big>Benson's Exact Watch.</big></p> + +<p class="center">Gold from £30; silver from £24.</p> + +<p class="center">33 & 34, <span class="smcap">Ludgate Hill</span>, London.</p> + + +<p class="center"><big>Benson's Indian Watch.</big></p> + +<p class="center">Gold, £23; silver, £11 11s.</p> + +<p class="center">33 & 34, <span class="smcap">Ludgate Hill</span>, London.</p> +</div> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 48%;"> +<p class="center"><big>BENSON'S CLOCKS.</big></p> + +<blockquote><p>"The clocks and watches were objects of great attraction, and well +repaid the trouble of an inspection."—<i>Illustrated London News</i>, 8th +November, 1862.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">33 & 34, <span class="smcap">Ludgate Hill</span>, London.</p> + + +<p class="center"><big>BENSON'S CLOCKS.</big></p> + +<blockquote><p>Suitable for the dining and drawing rooms, library, bedroom, hall, +staircase, bracket, carriage, skeleton, chime, musical, night, +astronomical, regulator, shop, warehouse, office, counting house, &c.,</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">33 & 34, <span class="smcap">Ludgate Hill</span>, London.</p> + + +<p class="center"><big>BENSON'S CLOCKS.</big></p> + +<blockquote><p>Drawing room clocks, richly gilt, and ornamented with fine enamels from +the imperial manufactories of Sèvres, from £200 to £2 2s.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">33 & 34, <span class="smcap">Ludgate Hill</span>, London.</p> + + +<p class="center"><big>BENSON'S CLOCKS,</big></p> + +<blockquote><p>For the dining room, in every shape, style, and variety of bronze—red, +green, copper, Florentine, &c. A thousand can be selected from, from 100 +guineas to 2 guineas.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">33 & 34, <span class="smcap">Ludgate Hill</span>, London.</p> + + +<p class="center"><big>BENSON'S CLOCKS,</big></p> + +<blockquote><p>In the following marbles:—Black, rouge antique, Sienne, d'Egypte, +rouge vert, malachite, white, rosée, serpentine, Brocatelle, +porphyry, green, griotte, d'Ecosse, alabaster, lapis lazuli Algerian +onyx, Californian.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">33 & 34, <span class="smcap">Ludgate Hill</span>, London.</p> +</div> + +<div style="clear: both;"></div> + +<p class="center"><big>THE HOUSE-CLOCK DEPARTMENT,</big></p> + +<blockquote><p>For whose more convenient accommodation <span class="smcap">J. W. Benson</span> has opened spacious +show rooms at Ludgate Hill, will be found to contain the largest and +most varied stock of Clocks of every description, in gilt, bronze, +marbles, porcelain, and woods of the choicest kinds.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">In this department is also included a very fine collection of</p> + +<p class="center">BRONZES D'ART,</p> + +<blockquote><p>BENSON'S ILLUSTRATED PAMPHLET, free by post for three stamps, contains a +short history of Horology, with prices and patterns of every description +of watch and clock, and enables those who live in any part of the world +to select a watch, and have it sent safe by post.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center"><big><b>33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, E.C.</b></big></p> + + +<hr class="full" /> +<p class="center">NOW READY.</p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center">In Three Vols.</p> +<p class="center"><big>THE NAVAL LIEUTENANT.</big></p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By</span> F. C. ARMSTRONG,</p> + +<p class="center">Author of "The Two Midshipmen," "The Medora," "The<br /> +Lily of Devon," "The Queen of the Seas," &c.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + + +<p class="center">IN THE PRESS.</p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center">In Three Vols. Price 31s. 6d.</p> +<p class="center"><big>AN OLD MAN'S SECRET.</big></p> + +<p class="center">A Novel.</p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By</span> FRANK TROLLOPE,</p> +<p class="center">Author of "A Right-Minded Woman."</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + + +<h2>THE FURNISHING OF BED-ROOMS.</h2> + + +<blockquote><p>HEAL and SON have observed for some time that it would be advantageous +to their Customers to see a much larger selection of <span class="smcap">Bed-room Furniture</span> +than is usually displayed, and that to judge properly of the style and +effect of the different descriptions of Furniture, it is necessary that +each description should be placed in a separate room. They have +therefore erected large and additional Show-Rooms, by which they are +enabled not only to extend their show of Iron, Brass, and Wood +Bedsteads, and Bed-room Furniture, beyond what they believe has ever been +attempted, but also to provide several small rooms for the purpose of +keeping complete suites of Bed-room Furniture in the different styles.</p></blockquote> + +<blockquote><p>Japanned Deal Goods may be seen in complete suites of five or six +different colours, some of them light and ornamental, and others of a +plainer description. Suites of Stained Deal Gothic Furniture, Polished +Deal, Oak, and Walnut, are also set apart in separate rooms, so that +customers are able to see the effect as it would appear in their own +rooms.</p></blockquote> + +<blockquote><p>The Stock of Mahogany Goods for the better Bed-rooms, and Japanned Goods +for plain and Servants' use, is very greatly increased, the whole +forming as complete an assortment of Bed-room Furniture as they think +can possibly be desired.</p></blockquote> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap"><big>HEAL and SON'S</big></span></p> +<p class="center">ILLUSTRATED CATALOGUE OF</p> +<p class="center"><big>BEDSTEADS, BEDDING</big>,</p> +<p class="center"><small>AND</small></p> +<p class="center"><big>BED-ROOM FURNITURE,</big></p> + +<p class="center"><small>Sent free by Post.</small></p> +<p class="center">196, 197, 198, TOTTENHAM COURT ROAD.</p> + + + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's It May Be True, Vol. II (of III), by Mrs. Wood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IT MAY BE TRUE, VOL. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license + + +Title: It May Be True, Vol. II (of III) + +Author: Mrs. Wood + +Release Date: March 18, 2012 [EBook #39192] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IT MAY BE TRUE, VOL. II (OF III) *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Sue Fleming and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: There were a number of printer's errors + within the text which have not been altered. + + + + + IT MAY BE TRUE. + + + A NOVEL. + + + IN THREE VOLUMES. + + + BY + MRS. WOOD. + + + VOL. II. + + + London: + T. CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER, + 30, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE, + 1865. + + [THE RIGHT OF TRANSLATION IS RESERVED.] + + + + + IT MAY BE TRUE. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +NEWS FROM HOME + + "The smith, a mighty man is he, + With large and sinewy hands; + And the muscles of his brawny arms + Are strong as iron bands. + His hair is crisp, and black, and long; + His face is like the tan; + His brow is wet with honest sweat; + He earns whate'er he can; + And looks the whole world in the face, + For he owes not any man." + + LONGFELLOW. + + +It was just sunset as Matthew the pikeman went out to receive toll from +some one passing, or rather coming quickly up to the gate. + +It was market day at Brampton, so Matthew had to keep his ears open, and +his wits about him, for generally he had a lazy post, with scarcely half +a dozen calls during the day. + +A spare thin man was the occupier of the light cart now coming fast +along the road; who as he drew near the gate threw the pence--without +slackening his horse's pace--at least a foot from where the other was +standing. + +"There's manners for you!" said Matthew, stooping to look for the money, +"chucks the ha'pence to me as though I was a thief. Hates parting with +'em, I 'spose." + +"Or hates touching you with the ends of his fingers," said a voice at +his side. + +"Good evening to yer, Mrs. Grey," said he, civilly rising and looking +up, "Well, I'm blessed if I can find that last penny," and he counted +over again those he held in his hand, "I'll make him give me another, +next time I sets eyes on him, I know." + +"What's this?" said Goody Grey, turning something over with her stick. + +"That's it, and no mistake. Why I'd back yer to see through a brick +wall, Ma'am." + +"There!" said she, not heeding his last remark, and pointing out the +cart going slowly up a neighbouring hill, "he's too proud to shake hands +with his betters, now. Pride, all pride, upstart pride, like the rest of +the fools in this world. And he used to go gleaning in the very fields +he now rides over so pompously." + +"Can yer call that to mind, Mrs. Grey?" asked Matthew, eyeing her keenly +and searchingly. + +"Call it to mind! What's that to you? I never said I could, but I know +it for a truth." + +"Folks say there's few things yer don't know," replied Matthew, somewhat +scared at her fierce tone. + +"Folks are fools!" + +"Some of 'em; not all. Most say yer knows everything, and can give +philters and charms for sickness and heart-ache and the like." + +"Folks are fools!" repeated she again. + +"Well I know nothing, nor don't want to; but," said he, dropping his +voice to a whisper, "if yer could only give me a charm to keep _her_ +tongue quiet," and he pointed with his thumb meaningly over his +shoulder in the direction of the cottage, "I'd bless yer from the bottom +of my heart as long as I live." + +"What blessing will you give me?" + +Matthew considered a moment, as the question somewhat puzzled him. Here +was a woman who had apparently neither kith nor kin belonging to her, +one who stood, as far as he could see, alone in the world. How was he to +give her a blessing? She had neither children, nor husband to be kind or +unkind to her; she might be a prosperous woman for aught he or the +neighbours knew, or she might be the very reverse. She never seemed to +crave for sympathy from anyone, but rather to shun it, and never allowed +a question of herself on former days to be asked, without growing angry, +and if it was repeated, or persisted in, violent. + +Presently Matthew hit upon what he thought a safe expedient. "What +blessing do yer most want?" he asked cunningly. + +"None! I want none." + +"I'll give yer one Ma'am all the same. Most of us wish for something, +and I'll pray that the one wish of yer heart, whatever it is, yer may +get." + +"How dare you wish me that?" she said in a fierce tone, "how dare you +know I've any wish at all?" + +"'Cos I do. That's all," replied Matthew sullenly. + +"Who told you? Speak! Answer!" + +"Good Lord! Mrs. Grey, ma'am; how you scare a man. Who should tell me? I +don't know nothing at all about yer; how should I? All I know is that +most folks has wishes of some kind or another; nobody's satisfied in +this world, and in course you ain't, and so I just wished yer might be, +that's all; there's no great harm in that, is there?" + +"I told you folks were fools; but I think you are the biggest fool of +the lot." + +"Come, come, don't let's have words. I didn't mean to vex yer, you're a +lone woman with not a soul to stand by yer, and the Lord knows what +you've got on yer mind." + +Then seeing her eyes flashed again he hastened to change the subject. + +"It's a fine evening, anyhow," said he. + +"We shall have rain." + +"Rain!" and Matthew looked up overhead, but not a vestige of a cloud or +sign of a storm could he see. + +"Yes, rain, heavy rain, like the weeping of a stricken, woeful heart." + +And she was passing on; but Matthew could not let her go so; he must +have the charm, even at the risk of offending her again. He had thought +of it for days past, it was the one wish of his heart; he had longed and +sought for this opportunity and it must not slip through his fingers +thus, so he said meekly, but still rather doubtfully, + +"Well it may be going to rain; yer know a deal better than I do, and I +won't gainsay yer? we shall know fast enough afore night closes in. And +now Mrs. Grey will yer give me the charm?" + +"You don't need any charm." + +"Can't be done without," said he decidedly. "I've tried everything else +I know of, and it ain't no use," said he despairingly. + +"Well," said Goody Grey, after a moment's consideration, "do you see +this box?" and she took a small box out of her pocket and filled it with +some of the fine gravel from his garden, whilst Matthew looked eagerly +on as if his life depended on it. "When next you are on your road to the +Brampton Arms, and are close to the yew tree which grows within a +stone's throw of the door, _turn back_, and when you reach home again +take the box out of your pocket and throw away one of the stones, and +don't stir forth again, save to answer the 'pike, for the rest of the +evening." + +"And then?" questioned Matthew. + +"Then there's nothing more to be done, except to sit quiet and silent +and watch your wife's face." + +"Where I shall see ten thousand furies, if I don't answer her." + +"You are a man, what need you care? Do as I bid you every time you are +tempted to go to the Public-house; never miss once until the box is +empty. Then bring it back to me." + +"And suppose I miss. What then?" + +"How do you mean?" + +"Why; what if when I finds myself so near the door of the Public--you +see, ma'am, it's a great temptation--I turns in and gets a drop afore I +comes home?" + +"Then you must add another stone instead of taking one away, and don't +attempt to deceive me, or the charm will work harm instead of good." + +Deceive her; no. Matthew had far too much faith in the charm to do that; +there was no occasion for her fears. + +"And is this the only charm you know of?" he asked. + +"The only one. When the box is empty the cure is certain; but remember +the conditions, a silent tongue and not a drop of drink; the breaking of +either one of these at the time when the charm is working, and a stone +must be added." + +"The box'll never be empty in this world," said he, with a deep sigh; +"but I'll try. My thanks to yer all the same, ma'am." + +"You can thank me when you bring back the box. How is Mrs. Marks?" + +"Pretty tidy, thank yer," but he looked crestfallen, notwithstanding his +assertion. "I never know'd her ill; she's like a horse, always ready for +any amount of work, nothing knocks her up." + +"Sometimes the trees we think the strongest, wither the soonest," said +Goody Grey passing on, while Matthew leant against the gate and counted +the stones in the box. + +"There's eight of them," said he. "I wish it had been an uneven number, +it's more lucky. Eight times! More than a week. It'll never be +empty--never!" then he looked up and watched Goody Grey almost out of +sight, and as he did so her last words came across him again. + +What did she mean by them? Did she mean that his old woman was going to +die? Then he considered if he should tell her, and whether if he did +she would believe it, and take to her bed at once, and leave him in +quiet possession of the cottage and his own will; somehow his heart +leaped at the thought of the latter, although he shook his head sadly +while the former flashed through him. + +"There's mischief abroad somewhere, Mrs. Marks," said he, entering the +cottage. + +"Was when you was out," retorted she; "but it's at home now, and likely +to remain so for to-night." + +"Who was talking of going out? I'm sure I wasn't. I never thought onc't +of it, even." + +"Best not, for you won't as long as I know it. You were drunk enough +when the young master passed through the 'pike to last for a precious +sight to come; you're not going to make a beast of yourself to-night if +I can help it." + +Mrs. Marks was scrubbing the table down. She was one of those women who, +if they have no work to do, make it. She was never idle. Her house, or +rather cottage--there were only four rooms in it--was as clean as a new +pin; not a speck of dirt to be seen, and as to dust, that was a thing +unknown; but then she was always dusting, scrubbing, or sweeping. +Matthew hated the very sight of a brush or pail, and would have grumbled +if he dared; but he dared not; he was thoroughly henpecked. Had he been +a sober man this would not have been the case; but he was not, and he +knew it, and she knew it too; and knowing his weak points she had him at +her mercy, and little enough she showed him. He answered her fast enough +sometimes, but he dared not go in opposition to her will, even when he +came reeling home from the Public-house. Appearances were too against +him: he being small and thin, she a tall, stout, strong-looking woman. +Certainly the scrubbing agreed wonderfully with her, and there seemed +little prospect of Goody Grey's prophecy being verified. + +"Who was it passed through the 'pike, just now?" asked she. + +"White; as owns the Easdale Farm down yonder, with no more manners than +old Jenny out there--the donkey,--she lets her heels fly, but I'm +blessed if this chap don't let fly heels and hands both." + +"Chap!" reiterated Mrs. Marks, "where's your manners? He's a deal above +you in the world." + +"May be. But Goody Grey don't say so. She says he was no better nor a +gleaner time gone by." + +"She!" replied Mrs. Marks, contemptuously. "What does she know about it? +She's crazed!" + +"Crazed! no more nor you and I. She's a wise woman, and knows a deal +more than you think." + +"I am glad of it," said Mrs. Marks sneeringly, "for it's a precious +little I think of either her or her sayings." + +"She went through the 'pike same time as 'other did, and told me all +about him." + +"Why don't you be minding your own business, instead of talking and +gossiping with every tom-fool you meet." + +"She's no woman to gossip with, or fool either; she made me tremble and +shake again, even the fire don't warm me," said he, lighting his pipe +and settling himself in the chimney corner. + +"I'll take your word for her having scared you. There's few as couldn't +do that easy enough." + +Matthew's hand went instinctively into his pocket; he could scarcely +refrain from trying the effect of the charm, but it was growing dusk, +and he was afraid that for that night at least it was too late. + +"Wait a bit," said he in a low voice, "Wait a bit;" but his wife heard +him. + +"Was that what she said?" asked she. + +"No, she said--" and Matthew took the pipe out of his mouth so that he +might be heard the plainer, "she said; 'all trees wither the first as +looks fat and strong.' That's what she said." + +"Trees fat and strong! Are you muddled again?" + +"No, I'm not," replied he doggedly, "that's what she said, and no +mistake; the very words, I'll take my oath of it; and if you don't see +the drift of 'em I do." + +"Let's hear it." + +"Well," said Matthew solemnly, "she meant one or t'other of us was going +to die," and he looked her full in the face to see how she would take +it, expecting it would alarm her as it had done him. + +Mrs. Marks put down the scrubbing brush, and resting her arms on the +table returned his gaze. + +"Oh! you poor frightened hare," she said, "So you think you are going to +die, do you? Well I'd have more spirit in me than to list to the words +of a mad woman." + +His astonishment may be better guessed at than described. He had so +entirely made up his mind that his wife was the one Goody Grey had so +vaguely hinted at, that he never deemed it possible any one could think +otherwise; least of all Mrs. Marks herself: he glanced downwards at his +thin legs, then stretched out his arms one after the other and felt +them, as if to satisfy himself that he had made no mistake, and that he +really was the spare man he imagined. + +"No, you're deceiving yourself," said he, "I'll declare it wasn't me she +meant. She said fat, I call it to mind well; and I'm as thin as the sign +post out yonder and no mistake." + +Then he glanced at the stout, strong arms of his wife, now fully +developed with her determined scrubbing. "If she meant anyone," said he +decidedly, "she just meant you!" + +"Me!" screamed Mrs. Marks, "Is it me you are worriting yourself about, +you simpleton? There, rest easy; I'm not afraid of her evil tongue; not +that I suppose I've longer to live than other folks: I'm ready to go +when my time comes and the Lord pleases; but I'm not to be frightened +into my bed by Mrs. Grey or any woman in the parish. No, she's come to +the wrong box for that. I'll hold my own as long as I have the strength +for it, and am not to be ousted by any one; not I!" and Mrs. Marks +nearly upset the pail in her violence, as she swept the scrubbing brush +off the table into it. + +"Hulloa!" cried a voice, as the latch of the door was lifted, and a +stout strong-looking man entered with a good-humoured, cheerful face. +"Anybody at home? How are you Mrs. Marks? I'm glad to see you again, and +you too," he said, grasping and shaking Matthew's hand heartily. + +"It's William Hodge of Deane!" said she in surprise, "Who'd have thought +of seeing you down here, and what brings you to these parts?" + +"Business," replied the other laconically. + +"Something to do with the Smithy, eh?" questioned Matthew. + +"Just so." + +"You still keep it on, of course." + +"Of course." + +"There don't stand there cross-examining in that way," called Mrs. +Marks, as she opened a cupboard at the further end of the room, "but +attend to your own business, and just go and draw some ale, while I get +a bit of bread and cheese ready. Supper won't be served up yet," said +she apologetically, returning and spreading a clean snow white cloth on +the table; "but you must want a mouthful of something after your long +journey." + +"I can't wait supper, I'm in too great a hurry; thank yer all the same." + +"Are you going further on?" asked Matthew, coming in with the ale. + +"No. I'm to put up at the Brampton Arms for the night, or may be two--or +perhaps three," he replied. + +"I'm sorry for that," said Mrs. Marks. "I hate the very name of the +place. They're a bad set, the whole lot of 'em." + +"That don't signify a rap to me. I shan't have nothing to do with any of +'em so long as they let's me alone, that's all I care about. I shan't +trouble 'em much 'cept for my bed." + +"And now for a bit of news about home," said Mrs. Marks, as her visitor +began his supper, or rather the bread and cheese she had set before +him. "How are they all down at Deane? And how's mother?" + +"I'm sorry to say I've no good news of her; she've been ailing some +time, and the doctor's stuff don't do her no good; he says she'll go off +like the snuff of a candle. But there, she's precious old now, and well +nigh worn out. I've a letter from your sister Martha--Mrs. +Brooks--telling yer all about it;" and he searched and dived into his +deep pockets for it, and then handed it to her. + +"Is Jane as queer as ever?" asked Matthew, in a low voice, as his wife +was perusing the letter. + +"Yes, worse nor ever, I think; scarce ever opens her lips, and stares at +yer awful, as though she had the evil eye." + +"I always thought she had; she wor as strange a woman as ever I set eyes +on." + +"Well!" said Mrs. Marks, looking up from her letter, "I suppose I must +say yes. Perhaps you'll just look in, Mr. Hodge, when the time comes +for you to go back to Deane, and I'll give you the answer." + +"I won't fail," replied he. + +"What are yer going to say yes to?" asked Matthew. + +"Martha says mother's dying, and she wants to know what's to become of +Jane, and if she can't come here." + +"Here!" exclaimed Matthew. "The Lord save us." + +"Save you from what?" asked Mrs. Marks angrily. + +"From having a crazed creature in the house. Who knows but what she +might burn the house down about us; Mr. Hodge says she ain't no better +in the head than she used to be." + +"If she was ten times as bad as she is, she should come. It's a sin and +a shame to hear you talk so of your own wife's sister and she nowhere to +go to, and the cottage big enough to hold her." + +"Why can't your sister Martha take her?" + +"Just hear him talk," said she, derisively, "and Martha with more +children than she knows what to do with; and a husband as is always +ailing. Why you've no more charity in you than a miser; there, go and +draw some more ale, and have done with your folly. Least said is soonest +mended." + +Mrs. Marks had two sisters and a mother living at Deane, some forty, or +it might be more miles, from Brampton. Martha, the youngest, was +married, and blessed--as is too often the case with the poor, or those +least able to afford it--with nine children, and a sick husband; the +latter worked hard enough when his health permitted, but then there was +no certainty about his being able to earn wages. A cold caught and +neglected had given him a fever and ague, and the least chill brought on +a return of it. His wife, almost as energetic a woman as her sister, +Mrs. Marks, but with a more mild and even temper, earned a living by +washing, and did the best she could to keep them all; and her management +certainly did her credit, her house being as clean as Mrs. Marks', +although not so constantly scrubbed or washed. + +The other sister, Jane, lived with her mother, an old woman of +seventy-five, who, until now, had borne her age well, and looked +certainly some ten years younger, but then she had always enjoyed the +best of health; was up betimes in the morning, summer and winter, and +about her small farm and dairy, which she managed better than most did +with half-a-dozen hands to help them. + +Ever busy, and uncommonly active, her illness was totally unlooked for, +and least expected by Mrs. Marks, who read and re-read her sister's +letter several times, to assure herself there was no mistake; that she +really was struck with paralysis and not expected to survive many days, +and then what was to become of Jane? Jane, who was so totally dependent +on others, who lived as it were on sufferance, rarely doing work, or +helping her mother in any way, or interesting herself in any one single +thing. If she willed it she worked, if not, she remained idle; her +mother never grumbling or finding fault, while the girl who helped her +was severely rated as an idle good-for-nothing if any one portion of her +daily work was neglected. + +There were days when Jane would milk the cows, churn the butter, even +scour out the dairy itself, and work willingly and well--she had been +out to service in her youth--but these days were few and far between; +she usually roamed about at her will, sometimes half over the parish, or +else sat at home perfectly quiet and silent knitting, she never did any +other kind of needlework; or if unemployed she would clasp her hands +together over her knees, her eyes either fixed on vacancy, or restlessly +wandering to and fro, to all appearance, as the neighbours said, not +exactly a daft woman, but one whose mind was afflicted, or had been +visited with some heavy calamity, the weight of which bore her to the +ground, and was at times more than she had strength to bear or battle +against. + +Such was the sister Mrs. Marks had determined on befriending, there +being little doubt she would carry out her intention, notwithstanding +Matthew's decided aversion to it; and that Jane would ere long be in +quiet possession of the one spare room in the cottage. + +William Hodge, her present visitor, also came from Deane, and kept the +small blacksmith's shop, or parish smithy. He had two sons, one a +good-for-nothing, ne'er-do-weel. Also, well probably a sorrow and +constant anxiety to his parents, who had been absent from home now for +several months, and at his wife's earnest solicitations Hodge had come +down to Brampton to seek him, they having heard accidentally of his +being there or somewhere in the neighbourhood. + +"How's Mrs. Hodge, and your sons?" asked Mrs. Marks, as Matthew went off +once more for the ale. + +"Sons!" he repeated. "Ah! there's the rub, you've hit the right nail on +the head now. Richard, as works the smithy is as good a lad as ever +breathed; but Tom's turned out bad, and between you and I, 'tis he I've +come all this way to look after. I'd turn my back upon him and have +nothing more to do with him; but there, one can't always do as one +wishes." + +"Is Tom down here?" + +"I've heerd so." + +"What's he doing?" + +"No good, that you may be sure," replied he, "since he's here on the +sly. I'm afeard he's got into bad company, and gone along with a +terrible bad lot. The old woman thinks he's turned poacher, and most +worrits and frets herself to death about it; so I've come to try and +find him, and get him back home again, that is if I can. It'll most +break his mother's heart if I don't." + +"God grant he isn't with them as murdered poor Susan's husband?" + +"Amen," replied he solemnly. + +"One of 'em got hanged for that, God rest his soul, though he deserved +it; but there's lots of 'em about; they say the gang is more desperate +like since then, and have vowed to have their vengeance on Mr. Grant, +the Squire's head keeper, but there, it don't do to tell yer all this; +bad news comes fast enough of itself; we'll trust and hope Tom isn't +with none of these." + +"Well, we've all got our troubles," said Mrs. Marks again, seeing he +made no reply. "I begin to think those as has no children is better off +than those as has 'em." + +"Ye've less trouble, no doubt of it." + +"Less trouble! oh, I've mine to bear as well as the rest of yer; why +there's Matthew, with no more spirit in him than a flea, and all through +drink. He'll go off to the public, though 'tis half a mile and more +away, whenever my eyes isn't on him." + +"That's bad." + +"Bad! It's worse than bad. Here's mother dying, Jane not to be trusted +to come here alone, and Matthew not able to take care of himself no more +than a baby! How I'm to manage to get to Deane I don't know, nor can't +see neither how it's to be done." + +"If I was you, I'd go somehow. They'll think badly of you if you don't, +and as for Marks, leave him to get drunk as oft as he likes, for a +treat; I'll wager my life on it, he'll be sober when he sees your face +again, my word on it." + +This, to Hodge's mind, was satisfactory reasoning enough; but not so to +Mrs. Marks. She would like to know who was to take care of the 'pike, +during her absence, if Matthew was unable to do so? This was a question +Hodge had not foreseen, and when asked, could not reply to. However, +after a little more talking, they came to the friendly arrangement that +Mrs. Marks should start on the morrow for Deane; Hodge, in the +meanwhile, keeping house with Marks, while she was absent; her stay, +not under any circumstances whatever, to extend beyond a week. + +It was an arrangement that satisfied both parties, as on considering the +matter over, Hodge thought it was just as well he did not put up at the +inn for any length of time, his being there might be noised abroad, and, +although he intended passing under a feigned name, still Tom might +easily recognise a description of him, be on the alert, and keep aloof +until all was quiet again. + +Mrs. Marks gave him sundry pieces of advice as to how he was to manage +while she was at Deane, and among other things, cautioned him to beware +of trusting Marks too much about Tom. + +"If you take my advice," said she, "you won't tell him a word about him, +that's if you want it kept quiet, I never trust him with a secret. He's +the man for you if you want a bit of news spread, why it would be all +over the parish in--well, I'd give him an hour's start, then I'd walk +after him, and hear it all over again from everybody's mouth I met. It's +ten times worse when he's got a drop of drink in him, then he'll talk +for ever, and you'll may-be hear more than you care to, so mind, I +caution you to be wary." + +"I shan't wag my tongue, if you don't," replied Hodge. + +"I!" exclaimed Mrs. Marks, indignantly. "I mind my own business, which +I've plenty of, I can tell you, and don't trouble my head about other +people's; let everybody take care of their own, which it's my belief +they don't, or there wouldn't be so many squabbles going on in the +village at times." + +"You're a wise woman, Mrs. Marks." + +"True for you," said Matthew, returning, "I'll back her agin a dozen +women, twice her size." + +"Hold your tongue, you simpleton," said his wife, "and give me the ale +here; you've been a precious time drawing it. What have you been about?" +added she, eyeing him suspiciously. + +"Been about? Why just tilting the barrel, there ain't enough left to +drown a rat in." + +"Why don't you say a mouse, or som'ut smaller still. If I'd had my +senses about me, I'd never have trusted you within a mile of it," said +she, handing the mug to Hodge. + +"I'll swear I arn't tasted a drop. I'd scorn to drink on the sly," +replied Marks, attempting to look indignant, and glancing at his +visitor. + +"There, don't straiten your body that way, and try to look big, you meek +saint, you! as scorns to drink on the sly, but don't mind telling a lie +straight out; there ain't anybody here as believes you, leastways I +don't. Why Mr. Hodge," said she, taking the empty mug from his hand, +"you'd think I was blessed with the best husband as ever breathed, +instead of the greatest rogue. Why you'd be a villain, Marks, if it +warn't for knowing your wife's eye's always on you. You're afeard of it, +you know you are." + +"I'm a devilish deal more afeard of som'ut else; a 'ooman's eye only +strikes skin deep, but her tongue do rattle a man's bones and make his +flesh creep," muttered Matthew, turning away. + +"There don't settle yourself in the chimney corner again, but come and +help Mr. Hodge on with his great-coat. Hear to the wind how it's rising; +'tis a raw cold night outside, I take it." + +"It's drenching with rain," said Hodge, as he stepped over the threshold +and pulled up the collar of his coat preparatory to facing the rain, +which was coming down in torrents. + +"Rain!" exclaimed Matthew, as his wife closed the door on her visitor. +"Who'd have thought it? But there, _she_ said it would rain. Oh! she's a +true prophet, is Goody Grey, and no mistake. I said she was a fearful +'ooman, and know'd most everything. The Lord save and deliver us, and +have mercy upon us! for we none of us know," and he glanced at Mrs. +Marks, "what's going to happen. Good Lord deliver us from harm." + +"There go and put the pot on to boil for supper," said Mrs. Marks, +turning on him sharply, "and don't stand there a chaunting of the +psalms'es." + +And with deep sighs and many inward groans, Matthew went and did his +wife's bidding, but the psalms seemed uppermost in his mind that night; +he seemed to have them at his fingers' ends. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +A FRIENDLY INTERFERENCE. + + "No tears, Celia, now shall win + My resolv'd heart to return; + I have searched thy soul within, + And find nought but pride and scorn; + I have learn'd thy arts, and now + Can disdain as much as thou." + + CAREW. + + +Men fall in love every day, yet few of them like to be caught talking or +acting sentimentally towards the object of their affections. + +Charles was inwardly vexed at Frances' sudden appearance, and still more +so at the sarcastic way in which she had spoken and acted. What business +was it of hers to take either himself or Miss Neville to task? Was it +not partly his fault the wrist was sprained, and would he not have been +wanting in common politeness had he, when he accidentally discovered it, +not tried in some measure to remedy it? + +It was a bad sprain, there was no doubt about that, although she made +light of it. + +It ought to be looked to; but how to procure proper surgical attention +puzzled him. Somehow he did not quite like being the bearer of the +tidings to his brother's wife; he could fancy how proudly and +contemptuously she would raise her head, and look him through with her +dark flashing eyes; and how quietly--very differently from Frances--hint +her displeasure at his interference, and turn his fears and sympathy +into ridicule. He could not stand that; no, he was ready to face any +open danger, but the covert, sarcastic glance and mocking smile of his +sister-in-law was a little beyond even his courage. Yet it was necessary +she should be informed of it if Amy was to be helped, which he had made +up his mind she must be. How then was it to be managed? + +Ideas and plans crowded into his brain one after another, but all more +or less impracticable; as he stood at the window, where Amy had left +him, hopelessly entangled in a web of perplexing thoughts. + +There was, as I said, no restraining Anne's curiosity, she always +gratified it, or tried to do so, whatever the risk. Certainly, if +curiosity is, as we are told, a woman's failing, and men take every +opportunity of reminding them of the fact, or rather laying it at their +door, whether they will or not, Anne claimed a large portion of it. Why +women should be thought to have a larger share of curiosity than men +remains to be proved; surely if it be a sin, it is a very small one in +comparison to the long list of sins of greater magnitude not laid to +their charge, and if not to woman; then to whom do they belong? + +Anne had heard voices in the gallery, and had opened her door just +sufficiently wide to allow of her obtaining a sight of those who were +talking, and notwithstanding sundry hints from Julia as to the +disgraceful way in which she was acting, she determined to see the end, +let the cost be what it might. She could not hear what was said, but +there could be no harm in just peeping and seeing what was going on. + +It was with no little astonishment that she watched Charles and Amy +apparently on such intimate terms of acquaintance, when the latter had +only assured her the night before that she scarcely knew her cousin to +speak to. Subsequently, Frances' arrival on the scene, and evident anger +and scorn, astonished her still more. + +That Miss Neville was a flirt had crossed her mind ever since the day +she had caught her coming home with Mr. Vavasour; but here she was +apparently hand and glove with Charles. She did not see cause for any +such display of temper as Frances had made; still, she thought it a +shame Miss Neville should take all the men to herself, when there were +lots of other girls in the house ready to be made love to, now, of +necessity, left to their own devices, and dull enough in consequence. + +Anne began to think Miss Neville was not acting fairly, and certainly +not openly. Why should she have two strings to her bow, while Anne could +not conjure up one, for she counted Mr. Hall as nobody, and disdainfully +thrust the thought of him aside, as his image presented itself in full +force; even as she had gazed at him but last night, over the balusters +drenched to the skin, looking the true personification of a country +parson, but totally dissimilar to the beau ideal of Anne's imagination, +which she had snugly enshrined somewhere in a small corner of her heart. +It seemed ridiculous to imagine him falling in love, and least of all +with her, who had determined on marrying a man with fierce moustaches +and whiskers, and these Mr. Hall could never have. No, he should not +fall in love with her; she would not have it. + +Why should such an uncouth being be always dangling after her, while +Miss Neville, with no trouble at all, came in for all the loaves and +fishes, and she obliged to content herself with the fragments? If all +the beaux in the house were to be monopolised in this style, it was time +Mrs. Linchmore invited others who would be able to look at Miss Neville +without immediately falling down and worshipping her, as though she were +an angel. She had no intention of losing her temper, as Frances had +done, but she did not see why she should not let Charles know she had +seen him, so out of her room she marched at once, and went up straight +to where he still stood by the window. + +"What on earth have you done to offend Frances?" asked she, beating +about the bush, "she looks as surly as a bear." + +"I might ask _you_ that question, seeing she had evidently been put out +before I saw her." + +"I was peeping through a crack in the door, and could not help laughing +to see the rage she was in." + +"She may remain in it, and welcome, for aught I care," replied Charles, +trying to appear indifferent, but at the same time showing some slight +symptom of temper. + +"So may somebody else," said Anne; "but you know very well she was +mortified at seeing you hold Miss Neville's hand, and--and--I don't +think it was right of you, Charles." + +He looked up as if he could have annihilated her. "I am the best judge +of my own affairs," said he, slowly, "and as for Miss Neville, it is +impossible she could do wrong." + +"I do not accuse Miss Neville of doing wrong; but I think my cousin, Mr. +Charles Linchmore, is playing a double game." + +Charles bit his lip, but made no reply. + +"You may take refuge in a sneer," continued Anne, somewhat hotly, "and +play with Frances' feelings as much as you like, and as much as you have +done, and few will trouble their heads about it; but it's a shame to +carry on the same game with a governess, who cannot help herself, and +is obliged, nay expected, to put up with slights from everybody." + +"Not from me, Anne." + +"Yes, from you, who are making love to two girls at the same time." + +"How dare you accuse me of so dishonourable an action?" exclaimed +Charles. + +"Dare? Oh, I dare a great deal more than that," replied Anne, tossing +her head. + +"Any way, you could not accuse one of much worse." + +"It is the truth, nevertheless, and I cannot see that there is anything +daring about it. The daring is not in my speaking, but in your own act." + +"I never made love to Frances, or if I did, her own cold pride +annihilated any partiality I might have had for her." + +"Partiality!" uttered Anne, sarcastically, "Defend me from such +partiality from any man. I wonder you did not say flirtation; but even +your assurance could not summon courage to tell such a fib as that." + +"A truce to this folly, Anne, or I shall get angry, and you can't +convince me I ever--" he hesitated a moment--"loved Frances. Allowing +that I did show her a little attention, I don't see she is any the worse +for it." + +"You have succeeded in making her miserable, although you have not +broken her heart, and now want to play Miss Neville the same trick; but +I won't stand by and see it, I declare I won't; my woman's heart won't +let me; so, if you begin that game, we wage war to the knife. I cannot +help pitying Frances, whom I dislike, and will not, if I can help it, +have to pity Miss Neville also." + +"There is no reason why you should. Miss Neville is superior to a dozen +like Frances." Anne opened her eyes at this, but wisely held her tongue. +He went on, + +"I swear, Anne, I'll never give you reason to pity Miss Neville; but she +has sprained her wrist, I think very severely. That confounded brute was +the cause of it." + +"Man or beast?" she asked. "'Tis difficult to know which you mean." + +"My horse," replied he, determined not to be laughed into a good temper. +"She would hold him at the lake when I asked her not to; but women are +so obstinate, they will have their own way; there is no reasoning with +them. I would not have allowed her if I could have foreseen what was +going to happen, but how could I? and now the mischief is done, and she +is pretty considerably hurt." + +"All her own fault, according to your account, so why should you vex +yourself about it? Men generally send us to 'Old Harry' under such +circumstances." + +"But I consider it to have been partly my fault; I was a fool to allow +her to hold the horse, and a still greater one, inasmuch as now the +mischief is done, I am unable to help her." + +"In what?" + +Charles made no reply; he was thinking could Anne help him in his +difficulty? She might if she liked, but would she? Could he trust her? +as in evincing so much sympathy for Miss Neville would she not partly +guess at his secret liking for her--if she had not guessed it already? + +Anne was good-natured and truthful enough; had she not just plainly told +him he had done wrong? but that he would not allow of for a moment. It +was the natural thing to do, and would have been done by any one under +similar circumstances. How could he help being sorry? how could he help +feeling for her? Dr. Bernard must be sent for, the sprain might get +worse. Charles, like most men when their minds are set on attaining any +one object, determined on carrying his point. The more difficult the +accomplishment the more resolute was he in attaining it, and clearing +all obstacles that stood in his way. + +"I'm going to Standale," said he, suddenly looking up. + +"To Standale! You have just three hours to do it in; we do not dine +before eight, so I dare say you will manage it." + +"Yes. Have you any commissions?" + +"None, thank you. It will be too dark for you to match some wool for my +sister. I know she wants some. Men invariably choose such unseasonable +hours for their jaunts, when they know it is impossible for women to +load them with commissions." + +"Do you not think it would be as well to mention to my brother's wife +that I am going to Standale? She might like Dr. Bernard to call +to-morrow and see Miss Neville, and prescribe for that injured wrist." + +"Nonsense, Charles! It cannot be so bad as that; and besides, you said +it was caused entirely through her own obstinacy, so let her bear it as +best she may, as a just punishment for her sins." + +Then seeing he looked serious and a little annoyed, she added, "Of +course you can do as you like about it." + +"I shall be ready to start in less than ten minutes," replied he. "You +can meet me in the hall, and let me know the result of your +communication with Mrs. Linchmore." + +"That is what I call cool," said Anne, as Charles vanished; "he does not +like to tell Isabella herself, so makes me the bearer of the unpleasant +news, and I dare say thinks I am blind and do not see through it. Well, +the cunning of some men beats everything. I believe the wretch is fast +falling in love with Miss Neville, if he is not so already. At all +events, it strikes me, cousin Frances stands a very good chance of being +cut out; so she had better control her temper instead of allowing it to +get the better of her as it did to-day." + +Then, as if a sudden thought struck her, she turned and darted away +after Charles. + +"I tell you what it is," said she, breathlessly, coming up with him, "I +do not mind doing this little act of mercy for you; but at the same time +I must first go and see Miss Neville. It would never do to have Isabella +asking me how she looked? What was the matter with her? and lots of +other questions, that I could not answer; so you must have patience and +give me half-an-hour's start." + +"Half-an hour!" cried he, looking at his watch. "Why it is nearly five +o'clock now." + +"I must have half-an-hour, I ought to have said an hour. Why, if it is +so late, not put off your journey to Standale until to-morrow. Is your +business there so very pressing?" asked she, slyly. + +"Yes. I must go this evening," replied he, evading her look. + +"Men are so obstinate, there is no reasoning with them. Is not that what +you said of Miss Neville?" + +"This is quite a different thing." + +"Oh! of course, quite different, when it suits your convenience; but I +am not convinced." + +"Women never are," muttered Charles, turning on his heel. + +In the meanwhile Fanny had carried the flower in safety to her +governess, her little mind full of wonderment as to what her cousin +Frances could have meant; why she had looked so strangely and spoken +still more so? + +Children are great observers, and often think and see more clearly than +their elders give them credit for. So it was in the present instance. +Fanny felt certain her cousin did not like Miss Neville should have the +flower, that she was jealous of her, and disliked her; and the child +settled very much to her own satisfaction that it was all because her +governess was so pretty, and had such lovely hair; even more golden than +Edith's, while Frances' was as nearly approaching black as it well could +be. + +Amy was a little indignant on seeing the flower, and hearing from Fanny +that "_he_ had sent it to her." She recognised the Camellia at a glance. +It was the one Robert Vavasour had gathered for her in the greenhouse; +she knew it again, because in arranging the bouquet for Mrs. Linchmore +its stem had been too short, and she had added a longer one, and secured +it by winding a piece of thread round; it was there still, while some +of the pure white leaves of the flower were becoming tinged with brown; +evidences of the length of time it had been gathered. + +"He said it was not quite fresh," said Fanny watching her governess, as +she thought noticing its faded beauty, "but I thought you would like it +just as well, because you are so fond of flowers." + +"Who desired you to give it me?" + +"That tall dark gentleman who walked home with us one day, the day you +lost your embroidery." Fanny could not get the latter out of her mind, +it was uppermost there. + +It was Mr. Vavasour, then who sent it; and why? + +Amy remembered his having asked for the flower she had gathered for Mrs. +Linchmore, and her refusal to give it. Had he now sent it to show her +that another, even Mrs. Linchmore, had been more willing to oblige him +than she had; as also how little value he placed on the gift? Or +probably their meeting in the greenhouse had escaped his memory, and +perhaps he merely wished to please her, seeing how fond she was of +flowers, and thought any flower, however faded, was good enough for a +governess. + +As she stood by the fire her hand unconsciously wandered towards the +bars; in another moment the poor flower would have been withered, the +heat would have scorched it. + +"Oh! don't burn it, Miss Neville, please don't," exclaimed Fanny. "It +isn't half dead yet; and I have had such trouble in bringing it you +safely, because cousin Frances wanted it." + +"Miss Strickland?" + +"Yes. She got in such a rage, you never saw anything like it; but I +would not let her have it. I was determined she should not. She knew it +was for you too, and it was that made her so angry. She told a fib as +well, for she said she saw Uncle Charles give it me, and you know it was +Mr. Vavasour." + +"Did you tell her so?" + +"No" replied Fanny, triumphantly, little thinking how every word was +grieving her governess. "No, I didn't; she tried very hard to make me +say, but I wouldn't; see," said she, baring her arm, "I'll show you what +she did. There! see that; only look, Miss Neville," and she pointed to +some deep blue marks, plainly the impression of four lines like fingers, +"wasn't it spiteful and naughty of her?" + +Amy looked up in surprise and compassion. Was it possible Miss +Strickland, usually so calm could have so far lost her temper, as to +hurt her so severely. Spiteful? yes it was worse than spiteful, it was +wicked. If she had shown so little mercy to a child who could not have +intentionally harmed her what would be the result of the appeal she +meditated making to her womanly feelings? would she feel for her and +help? she who had shown none for a helpless child? Amy's heart sank +within her, and she began to fear she was in a sea of troubles, that +would take a wiser head than hers, and a stronger hand and heart to +extricate her from. + +And all this time the little girl stood with bared arm before her +governess, waiting for and claiming her pity, while the four blue marks +seemed more plainly visible each time Amy looked at them. + +Would Miss Strickland ever wound her as deeply? Words she did not care +for, they were often lightly spoken, and soon perhaps regretted or +forgotten; but acts were different things, they caused injuries, and +heart-aches to last a life-time. They might like words be regretted, but +could never be recalled, causing irreparable mischief. + +Fanny's arm gave Amy a disagreeable insight into Frances' character, one +that was altogether new and unexpected. Julia Bennet had often spoken of +her, and always from the first as a proud, cold girl, wrapped up in +self, with no interest in the every day cares of life, or affection for +home ties or duties; but fond of society, and caring for little beyond +it, living in the world and only for its approval and worship; a being +neither exacting nor demanding homage, but taking it to herself as a +matter-of-course and right, yet it was evident to Amy, that though she +assumed the appearance of a goddess, she, like many a Homeric deity, was +affected with a mortal's worse passion--revenge, and Amy shivered +slightly as she thought of the coming interview, fearing an explanation +might be more difficult than she had imagined, and that instead of a few +quiet words, it might be a stormy warfare. + +"You must have your arm bathed, Fanny," she said, putting the sleeve +down in its place again, and hiding from sight the ugly marks. "I am +sadly afraid you must have been very naughty for Miss Strickland to have +punished you so severely. Why was she angry with you? What did you do to +annoy her?" + +"Nothing, Miss Neville. She tried to make me tell her who sent you the +flower; and because I would not she got angry, and wanted to snatch it +from me. It was cousin Frances began it all; she caught hold of me as I +was coming along quite quietly, and never thinking of her at all." + +"But you must have vexed her, Fanny. It is impossible she could have +injured you so severely without." + +"Well, perhaps I did, a little--only just a little. I found out," said +Fanny, looking down, "something she thought was a secret, and only known +to herself, and she could not bear to think I knew it." + +"You found out a secret?" + +"Yes," replied Fanny, hesitatingly; "but I must not tell you what it is, +Miss Neville. Please don't ask me." + +"I will not, Fanny; but at the same time I hope it is nothing wrong that +will not bear the telling. I am sadly afraid that appearances are +against you. I fear now more than ever that you must have seriously +offended or wounded Miss Strickland. Are you sure, quite sure, Fanny, +that you cannot trust me with the secret?" + +"Oh, I must not tell you, indeed I mustn't. You are wrong, too, in what +you think. I have done nothing bad, Miss Neville; do believe me, and +please don't think badly of me." + +"I will try not to, Fanny." + +"Oh, how I wish I had come in with Edith when she asked me, and never +waited for anyone, then I should never have seen cousin Frances," and +fairly overcome with all her little heart had been suffering during the +past hour, Fanny burst into tears. + +"I have made my appearance at a most unfortunate moment," said Anne, +opening the door. "Good gracious, child! don't cry like that; you are +roaring like a mad bull, and will make a perfect fright of yourself into +the bargain. There, do stop. I promise you, you shall be forgiven +whatever your sin, and receive the kiss of forgiveness on the spot, if +you will only have done and be quiet." + +"Go, Fanny," said Amy, "we will talk over this quietly by-and-by, go and +desire Mary to see to your arm." + +"Thank goodness she is gone," said Anne, "now I can begin to breathe +again. If there is anything in this world I hate, it is the cry of +children and cats; I class them both together, as I don't know which is +the worst of the two, all I do know is, that when children once begin, +they never know when to leave off." + +Then suddenly she caught sight of the Camellia, and took it up, while +Amy most sincerely wished she had burnt it. + +"Where did you get this Camellia?" asked she. + +"Fanny brought it me a few minutes ago," replied Amy, blushing slightly, +feeling she was in a manner evading the question. + +But Anne was far too point blank to be put off, and had Amy but +considered for a moment, she would have remembered how hopeless it was +to check or elude Anne's curiosity. She returned to the charge at once, +without one moment's thought or hesitation. + +"Who gave it her?" she asked shortly. + +"I believe Mr. Vavasour did." + +"Of course I expected as much. Here are you like some saintly nun, shut +up in a cloister, no one supposed to get even a glimpse of you, and yet +for all that, you receive more attention than all us poor girls put +together, who are dressing and walking, laughing and talking, and doing +I do not know what else besides to please the men. You may smile, but I +can tell you I think it no laughing matter. Upon my word, it is a great +deal too bad." + +"The flower is not worth having," replied Amy, constrained to say +something. "It is faded." + +"Not worth having! now I do call that ungrateful, when I dare say the +poor man has done his best to please you. I know I should be thankful +enough at having such a graceful compliment paid me; but there, I never +have the chance of showing my gratitude to anybody, seeing no one ever +pays me the compliment of even sending me a dead flower!" + +"I am sure Mr. Hall would." + +"Oh! the monster, don't name him, pray. Thank goodness he has not found +out my penchant for flowers, or I believe I should find him waiting +every morning at the bottom of the staircase, with a bouquet as big as +his head, composed of ivy berries and Christmas holly; he decorates his +church with them, and I have no doubt thinks them preferable to the most +lovely hot-house flowers; here, take your Camellia," and she held it out +at arm's length. + +This was a ruse on Anne's part to induce Amy to hold out her arm, so +that she might, as it were by accident, discover the sprain, having +determined in her own mind, after leaving Charles, not to let Miss +Neville know a word about his solicitude; he had appealed to Anne's good +nature, and she was willing enough to help him to get a dozen +doctors--if he wished it--to see her, but then Miss Neville must not +know anything about it; there was no reason why she should, but every +reason why she should not. + +Anne would not, by the slightest word or hint, soften Miss Neville's +heart towards her cousin; people must manage their own love affairs +themselves, and if they got into scrapes, not get others into a mess as +well; besides, Anne knew well enough, or rather guessed it, that neither +Mr. or Mrs. Linchmore would exactly approve of it, while as for Charles, +she hoped Miss Neville would pay him out in the same coin as he had paid +Frances. If her cousin was foolish enough to fall in love with the +governess, it was his fault, Anne was not going to take the blame, or +have anything to do with it. + +Then it was evident to Anne's quick sight that Mr. Vavasour was getting +up a flirtation too, and if Miss Neville was wise she would improve upon +that, there being no one in the world to say a word against his falling +desperately in love with her, if he liked; he was a rich man, and his +own master entirely, and ought to have a wife to help him spend his +money, whereas Charles's fortune was all built upon expectations; it +was true he had some four or five hundred a year, but that might, in +the end, starve a wife, or turn her into a household drudge. + +There was not a shadow of doubt in Anne's mind which of the two ought to +be the object of Miss Neville's choice; but true love never did run +smooth, and she supposed she would choose Charles, simply on account of +the difficulties that stood in her way. She only wished, with a sigh, +she was the chosen one, instead of Miss Neville--and then--what a dance +she would lead the two! + +"What is the matter with your wrist?" asked she, as Amy of necessity +stretched out the left hand for the flower. + +"I have sprained it." + +Anne never asked the why or wherefore,--which might have surprised Amy +had she thought at all about it; knowing, as she did, her +inquisitiveness,--but examined it at once. + +"Yes, it is a bad sprain, and how swollen the fingers are! and how funny +it looks," said she laughing. "Why you might as well be afflicted with +gout. How it burns! I should be quite frightened if it was mine." + +"I am not in the least so," replied Amy. "I am going to bathe it in cold +water presently. I think that will do it good." + +"How can you possibly know what will do it good; you ought to have old +Dr. Bernard to see it." + +"Oh, no!" exclaimed Amy hastily, "there is not the slightest necessity +for any such thing. I cannot bear the idea of it; pray do not think of +it for one moment, I would rather not see him." + +"Well, it is horrid, the idea of having a medical man, and knowing that +for the time being, you are bound to follow wherever he leads; I hate it +too. But old Dr. Bernard is so mild and meek, so fatherly-looking, with +his grey hair or hairs--he has only got about twenty round his shining +bald pate--so different to our young doctor at home, who comes +blustering in, cracking his okes; and then sends medicine enough to +kill the whole household. Of course Isabella knows about your arm?" + +"No, not a word, and I hope she will not." + +"Hope no such thing, please, as I shall tell her of it the very first +opportunity I have." + +"Pray do not, Miss Bennet. It will be quite well to-morrow." + +"It will not be well for days; and as for not telling Mrs. Linchmore, I +always do what I say, and if you were to talk until Doomsday you would +not reason me out of it. Only think if it were to bring on fever; you +might get seriously ill and die, imagine what a mischance, obliged to +have a funeral and all kinds of horrors; and then, how do you suppose us +poor visitors would feel. I am sure we are dull enough as it is; at +least, I am; so in compassion to our poor nerves, you _must_ see that +dear old Dr. Bernard. It is no use whatever fighting against your +destiny," and without waiting for a reply Anne went away, thinking she +had managed admirably well, seeing she had carried her point, without +in the least compromising Charles. + +She looked into the morning-room on her way down: there was no one there +but Alfred Strickland having a quiet nap to while away the time before +dinner, and Mr. Hall; the latter with his legs as usual, tucked away out +of sight, a book in his hand; but fortunately for Anne his face turned +away from its pages, towards the fire; so she crept softly away without +disturbing either. + +In the hall, to her astonishment, she met Charles, impatiently awaiting +her, cloaked and booted for his cold ride. + +"Well, what success?" asked he. + +"How ridiculous!" exclaimed Anne angrily. "There is such a thing as +being too punctual. If I am to do as you wish, I will not be hurried; I +am a woman as well as Miss Neville, and look for as much consideration. +Besides, I said half an hour, and half an hour I will have;" and +without waiting for a reply she passed on into the drawing-room, while +Charles, throwing off his great coat, followed. + +But he was doomed to be terribly tried, for there sat Mrs. Linchmore, +the object of Anne's search, deep in the mysteries of a game of chess +with Mr. Vavasour. + +Anne sat down and took up a book. "It will never do for me to disturb +them," said she, quietly, rather enjoying the joke of Charles' +discomfiture, now visibly expressed on his face. + +A muttered exclamation of impatience, which sounded very much like an +oath, passed his lips. + +Anne slightly winced at this. She thought the case getting desperate. + +Why should Charles be in such a tremendous hurry? + +It was not a case of life and death. She really thought, considering she +was doing him a favour, he might have a chat, and make the time pass +pleasantly and agreeably, instead of letting her see how entirely his +heart was wrapped up in another girl. Only that her word was passed, +from which Anne never deviated, she would have thrown up the office she +had undertaken, and have nothing more to do with it. + +Time passed on, not as it generally does, with swift fleet wings; but +even to Anne, who did not care how it went, heavily and slowly, very +much in the same way as the game of chess was progressing. Charles +evinced his impatience by crossing his legs, uncrossing them, taking up +a book and tossing over the pages; for not one word did he read or +desire to; and finally, as the small French clock on the mantel-piece +chimed six, he threw down the book and exclaimed impatiently-- + +"When the devil will that game be over?" Then catching Anne's astonished +look, he laughed aloud, and said, "You do not often see me out of +temper, cousin?" + +"True, but then I never recollect having seen it tried." + +"Or tried so severely as it is now." + +"Men have no patience, see how quietly I take it." + +"You! you have no interest in the matter." + +"Have I not? And pray may I ask do you suppose it is very pleasant for +me to be sitting here doing nothing. There are Alfred and Mr. Hall, both +in the morning room, alone, waiting to be talked to, and I might have +them all to myself, for the next half hour, and certainly all the time I +have been wasting on you and your affairs. Have a little more gratitude +Sir, or you may get some one else to manage for you." + +"You are a good girl, Anne, but a shocking flirt." + +"Oh yes! abuse me as much as you like, it will do you good, and perhaps +make you in a better temper; as I said before, men have no patience. As +long as things go smoothly and quietly they are all right; but when +things happen contrary or not exactly as they wish, they get into a +rage, and do not know how to bear it like us poor women, who are taught +it every hour of our lives." + +"I never remember to have heard such a piece of moral wisdom from your +lips before Anne." + +They were here, much to the intense delight of Charles, interrupted by +the voices of the chess players. + +"That was a very pretty checkmate," said Robert Vavasour, "so totally +unexpected and unperceived." + +"Who has beaten?" asked Anne, going towards them, as Charles went out of +the room, leaving her to do as best she could for him. + +"Mr. Vavasour," replied Mrs. Linchmore, "he always does." + +"Not always; you won two games of me last evening." + +"Or rather you allowed me to; but I do not mind being beaten sometimes, +it is tiresome never to win." + +While the chess-men were being put away, Anne considered how she should +begin her story, which, now it had come to the point, seemed more +difficult than she had imagined. At length a bright idea struck her. + +"I hate chess," she said, "and cannot think what pleasure there can be +in poring over such a dull game. I would a thousand times rather play +the children's Race game; there is something exciting in that, but poor +Miss Neville is too ill to play now." + +"Ill!" exclaimed Mrs. Linchmore. "Miss Neville ill?" while one of the +chess-men slipped from Robert Vavasour's fingers, and rolled over on to +the soft hearth rug, instead of into the box as he had intended. + +"Yes, she has sprained her wrist," continued Anne, giving the chess-man +a gentle kick with her foot as it lay close beside her. + +"Is that all? I thought at least it was the small pox, or scarlet +fever," said Mrs. Linchmore. + +"Although it is neither one nor the other," said Anne, "still it is +very bad, and ought to be seen to." + +"Do you speak from your own personal observation?" + +"Yes. I have been sitting with her for some time, and certainly think +she looks ill and feverish; her hand is swollen an awful size. I should +be quite frightened if it were mine, and told her so. I dare say old Dr. +Bernard though would soon put it all right." + +"He shall be sent for to-morrow," replied Mrs. Linchmore, "should she be +no better, but perhaps a night's rest, and a little of Mrs. Hopkin's +doctoring, may make her quite well again. Do you know how she sprained +it?" + +"I never asked her," replied Anne, evading a direct reply, "all I know +is, it is very bad." + +"If no better to-morrow, I will send for Dr. Bernard in the afternoon," +said Mrs. Linchmore, quietly. + +"To-morrow afternoon," repeated Mr. Vavasour quite as quietly, and +before Anne had time to shape any answer in reply, "But perhaps Miss +Neville is in a great deal of pain; a sprain is an ugly thing sometimes, +and at all times painful." + +"It is quite impossible to send to-night," replied Mrs. Linchmore, +decidedly. "Mr. Linchmore will not return from Standale himself much +before ten, and I never send any of the servants so far without his +sanction. It strikes me there is a little unnecessary haste and +compassion displayed for my governess." + +Robert Vavasour was silenced; but not so Anne, she came to the rescue at +once, rather nettled. + +"I am sure, Isabella, I don't care a bit about it; only I thought as +Charles was going into Standale,--I suppose to ride home with your +husband at night,--he might as well call on Dr. Bernard as not; or leave +a message to say he was wanted." + +As there was no good reason why he should not, Mrs. Linchmore was +obliged to acquiesce, though apparently,--and she did not care to +conceal it--with a very bad grace, and without the slightest solicitude +expressed for her governess. + +"I have managed it for you," said Anne, going out into the hall, where +she found Charles striding up and down, impatiently; "such a fight as I +have had." + +"Never mind about the fight, Anne. Am I to call on Dr. Bernard?" + +"Yes." + +The word was scarcely spoken, ere to Anne's astonishment, he had caught +her in his arms, and kissed her. + +"You're a dear good girl, Anne," he said, "I swear there's nothing I +wouldn't do for you!" + +"How rough you are, cousin!" exclaimed Anne, struggling from his hasty +embrace. "I'll do nothing for you, if this is the style I am to be +rewarded with. It may be all very well for you, but I don't like it." + +"Here's another then," laughed Charles, "and now for Dr. Bernard, I +suppose he's the best medical man in the place?" + +"Oh! for goodness sake," said Anne, aghast at the bare idea of facing +Mrs. Linchmore, if any other were called in. "Do not go to any one but +old Dr. Bernard, whatever you do; Isabella will never forgive me; she is +in a tremendous gale as it is. Do you hear, Charley?" said she, catching +his arm as he was going off. + +"All right," said he, laughing at her fright, and leaving her only half +convinced as to what he intended doing. "I'll tell him to call the first +thing in the morning." + +Anne held back the hall door as he passed out. + +It was pouring with rain, but he was on his horse and away in a second. + +"Why he must be desperately in love with that Miss Neville," said Anne, +"to go off in such torrents of rain; he'll be drenched to the skin +before he gets to the park gates. Well, I wish I could be ill, and +somebody--not that Hall--go mad for me in the same way." + +And Anne sighed, and smoothed the hair Charles had slightly +disarranged. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE LETTER. + + "They sin who tell us love can die! + With life all other passions fly-- + All others are but vanity. + In heaven ambition cannot dwell, + Nor avarice in the vaults of hell. + Earthly these passions, as of earth-- + They perish where they draw their birth. + But love is indestructible! + Its holy flame for ever burneth-- + From heaven it came, to heaven returneth." + + SOUTHEY. + + +Against the mantle-piece in the morning-room leant Mrs. Linchmore; one +hand supported her head, the other hung listlessly by her side, while in +the long taper fingers she clasped an open letter. A tiny foot peeped +from under the folds of her dress, and rested on the edge of the fender; +the fire burnt clear and bright, and lent a slight glow to her cheeks, +which were generally pale. + +She looked very beautiful as she stood there; her graceful figure showed +itself to the best advantage, and her long dark lashes swept her cheek, +as she looked thoughtfully on the ground. + +Mrs. Linchmore was not a happy woman; she had, as I have said, married +for money, and when too late, found out her mistake, and that money +without love is nothing worth. + +When scarcely seventeen, she had loved with all the fervour and truth of +a young heart's first love; her love was returned, but her lover was +poor, they must wait for better times; so he went abroad to India, full +of hope, and firm in the faith of her to whom he was betrothed; to win +honour, fame, glory, and promotion; and with the latter, money wherewith +to win as his wife her whom he so dearly loved. + +Scarcely three years had passed slowly away, when Mr. Linchmore wooed +the beautiful Isabella for his bride; he was young and handsome, and +unlike her former lover, rich. Did she forget him to whom her young love +was pledged? No, she still thought of him, love for him still filled +her heart, yet she smothered it, and became the wife of the wealthy Mr. +Linchmore, with scarcely a thought as to the suffering she was causing +another, or remorse at her broken faith and perjured vows. + +Shortly after her marriage, she heard of her young lover's hasty return, +and what a return! Not the return he had so often pictured to her in the +days gone by, never to be lived over again; but he came as a sorrowful, +broken-hearted man, mourning the loss of one who was no longer worthy of +his love, one for whom he had been willing to sacrifice so much, even +the wishes of those nearest and dearest to him--his father and mother, +whose only child he was. + +His death soon after nearly broke his mother's heart; some said it was +occasioned from the effects of a fever, caught in an unhealthy climate, +but Mrs. Linchmore, his early love, dared not question her own heart +when she heard of it, but gazed around, and shuddered at the +magnificence of the home for which he had been sacrificed. Then remorse +and anguish, bitter anguish, must have been busy within her, but she +showed it not; outwardly, she was the same, or it might be a little +prouder, or more stately in her walk, more over-bearing to her servants, +with all of the proud woman, and none of the girl about her. + +The envy of many. Ah! could they but have seen the wretchedness of her +heart, the hollowness of her smiles, would they have envied her? Would +they not rather have been thankful and contented with their lot, and +changed their envy into pity? + +This was what she dreaded. Their pity! No, anything but that. To be +hated, feared, disliked, dreaded, all--all anything but pitied. To none +would she be other than the rich, the happy Mrs. Linchmore; and so she +appeared to some, nay, to all. Henceforth her heart was dead and cold, +no love must,--could enter there again. + +She became a flirt, and a selfish woman, without one particle of +sympathy, and scarcely any love for her husband. How dissimilar they +were--in ideas, thoughts, feelings, tastes--in everything. She took no +trouble to conceal from him how little she cared for him; he who loved +her so intensely--so truthfully. + +In the first early days of their married life he strove to win her +affection by every little act of kindness, or devotion that his love +prompted; but all in vain;--he failed. All his deeds of kindness all his +love elicited no answering token of regard, no look of love from her; +she was ever the same--cold, silent, distant; no sweet smile on her face +to welcome him home, no brightening of the eye at his approach, no fond +pressure of the hand: truly she loved him not, yet no word of unkindness +or reproach ever crossed his lips, even when she turned away from his +encircling arm as he stooped to kiss his first-born, no word escaped +him--but his look,--she remembered that long after; it haunted her +dreams for many a long night. + +How she had betrayed and deceived, him who fondly thought before their +marriage that she loved with all a girl's first love; yet he forgave her +for the sake of his children, and blamed himself for the change; he had +perhaps been too harsh, too stern to her. Kind, unselfish man! poor +short-seeing mortal! It was not you, it was her unfeeling, cruel heart. + +Lately, instead of flirting and laughing with all and every one as she +had formerly done, she singled out one to whom for the time being all +her smiles were directed. At balls, at parties, riding, or walking, it +mattered not, the favoured one was ever at her side; she danced with +only him, rode with him, talked alone to him, or leant on his arm when +tired. + +Human nature could not stand this; she had gone too far. At length Mr. +Linchmore's spirit was roused, at length her conduct had maddened him; +he had borne uncomplainingly her coldness, but his honour she might not +touch; none should lift a finger against the wife of his bosom, the +mother of his little ones. She might receive homage from _all_; but his +spirit roused, his pride rebelled at the marked attentions of _one_. +High words ensued between husband and wife, which might almost be said +to be their first quarrel, so silently had he endured her want of love; +but now he stood firm, and she was defeated. + +This event caused a considerable alteration in both parties. Mrs. +Linchmore saw that however quietly her husband might brook the knowledge +of her coldness, or the wrong she had done in marrying him without love; +yet there was a boundary beyond which even she dared not step. He might +appear easy and weak, but deep in his heart lay a strong firm will she +could not thwart, a barrier not to be broken through, nor even touched +with ever so gentle a hand. She might be heartless, might be a flirt; +but beyond that she might not go. She felt also that her husband no +longer trusted her, even searched her conduct, so she took refuge in +pride, and open cruel indifference to his words or wishes, more galling +than her former thinly veiled coldness. He had found out she loved him +not; what need for further deceit? + +And Mr. Linchmore? Had his wife judged him rightly? Yes, even so. The +sad truth that she loved him not had crept slowly yet surely into his +heart, vainly as he had striven to crush it; her indifference he had +borne without resentment, hoping that in time she might be brought to +love him; for he still loved her passionately, as also sternly, almost +harshly, if I might so say. His was not a nature to change, and then his +love for her had been the one deep, intense feeling of his manhood, a +love that nothing short of death could change; but with his knowledge of +her deceit had gone his trust; and latterly almost his respect. He now +lived hoping that time might change her heart, or draw it towards him--a +hopeless wish, since the very presence of him she had wronged, and who +had innocently wrought his and her own life-long misery, was a reproach +and bitterness to her. No wonder he was severe and stern! Yet there +were times when his old impetuous nature would have sway, and shut up +in his room alone with nothing but despairing thoughts, he would pace it +in utter anguish of spirit, hoping, looking for what never could be, +namely, the love of his wife. And so they lived on. She fearing his +love. He mourning hers. + +What did she care for the dark Frenchman of whom her husband had grown +jealous? and who had singled her out from among a multitude it might be +for her haughty beauty, or it might be for the _eclat_ of being thought +the favoured one of her who was the centre of admiration around which so +many flocked at Paris the winter before Amy's arrival at Brampton? He +had no intention, that man of the world, of falling in love with her; it +was a flirtation, nothing more, and cost neither a pang. That she +encouraged his attentions was without a doubt; that she despised him was +without a doubt, too, seeing his absence--for Mr. Linchmore had +positively forbidden him the house--did not cost her a sigh, not even a +thought. What mattered it if he went? there were others to pay her the +self-same attentions, others as gay and fascinating. So she went on her +way in no degree wiser or better for the obstacle she had stumbled upon +in her path, the provocation of her husband's wrath. + +Flirt she must. How otherwise divert her thoughts? those thoughts that +crowded so relentlessly into her brain, threatening to overwhelm her +with the memory of the one loved and lost; him whom she had thought to +forget, or of whom she had hoped to crush out the remembrance. + +Ah! her heart was not all coldness. Did she not love her children +passionately; and were not her very faults, bad as they were, caused by +the one false step--the forsaking her early love? + +The storm between husband and wife blew over; it was not _outwardly_ of +long duration, and again Mrs. Linchmore singled out another--it mattered +not to her whom she flirted with. "_La belle Anglaise_"--as she was +called--cared not; life to her was a blank--a dreary waste. + +Alas! how much misery it is in woman's power to make, how much to avert +or remove. Man's comforter, sharer of his joys, partaker of his sorrows, +ever ready to pour into his ear the kind word of comfort, consolation, +and hope; whose soft, gentle hand smooths his pillow in the hour of +sickness; and whose low, sweet voice assuages his pain, and bears +without complaint his sometimes irritable temper. What would he do +without her? How much good can she do, and alas! how much evil. Few, +very few women there are without some one redeeming quality. Few, very +few, we hope, like Mrs. Linchmore. + +But to return to our story. + +Ere long, with a deep drawn sigh, Mrs. Linchmore raised her eyes, and +recalled the thoughts--which had been wandering away into the past,--to +the present time, and to the letter she held in her hand, and began to +peruse its contents, a troubled unquiet look resting on her face, as she +did so. + +It was the answer to the letter she had written at her husband's +earnest solicitations, to Mrs. Elrington. + + "ISABELLA MARY--(so it began)-- + + "Your heart deceived you not when it warned you I should not accept + Mr. Linchmore's invitation. God forbid I should ever see your face + again; it would be pain and grief to me, and recall to life + recollections, now long _hidden and buried_ in my heart. I never + wish to look on you again, though God knows I have long since + forgiven you, and that my ever constant prayer is, that I may think + of you without bitterness, and ever with charity. + + "It was an evil dark day when first I saw you, and will be a still + darker one for me if ever I see you again. I could not trust myself + even now--though long years have passed away since we met last--to + meet you face to face. It would bring the image of _one_ too + forcibly and vividly to my mind; even now my hand shakes and + trembles with emotion; and my eyes swim with tears, bitter, + blinding tears, as I write. + + "Do not mistake me, do not think I write this letter to reproach + you, I do not. I have never reproached you; or, at least, I have + striven to stifle all ill-feeling. I promised _him_, on his + death-bed, to forgive you and learn to think of you with, if + possible, kindly feeling and pity; and I trust I have been enabled + to fulfil that promise. No, I do not reproach you, but I leave your + own heart to do so; long, long ago, if I mistake not, it must. + + "Miss Neville has told me you are cold, stern, and seldom smiled; + you are changed indeed. Changed more than I, if I were your + bitterest enemy, could have wished. Alas! that one wrong, wilful, + wicked act could have entailed so much misery and sorrow. + + "I will not lay down my pen without thanking you for your kindness + to my young friend, Amy; she says you are very kind. And here again + I would repeat what I said in a former letter to Mrs. Murchison, + that she has been tenderly nurtured, and I would not that her young + spirit should be broken. Forget not your promise to treat her more + as a companion and friend, than as a governess, or as the latter + class are sometimes treated. I am inclined to doubt any promise of + yours being kept, but I have Mr. Linchmore's word, and I am + content. + + "And now farewell. May God forgive you, as I do. When your hour of + death draws near--for in this changing and transitory life, we know + not what a day may bring forth, or how soon we may be summoned + away, and perhaps I shall never write to you again--may it smooth + your dying hour, and give peace to your then troubled, remorseful + heart, to know, that she whom you so deeply injured and so cruelly + deceived and whose life you helped to render desolate, has forgiven + you. + + "ELLEN ELRINGTON." + +There was an expression of pain on Mrs. Linchmore's face as she read, +but not a sigh not a tear escaped her; perhaps those had all been shed +long ago, or surely those sad, earnest words, from a sorrowful heart +would have moved her; but ere she closed the letter and looked up, the +painful look passed away, and a sarcastic curl had settled on her lip, +and shone brightly in her full dark eye. She crushed the letter in her +hand as she would perhaps have crushed the writer, if she could, and +laughed aloud; a laugh so hollow, so forced, its very echo would have +made one's blood run cold; but there was no fear of its being heard, she +was still alone, as she felt with satisfaction as she glanced hurriedly +around. + +Again she laughed. But this time the tones were more subdued, the echo +was scarcely heard. + +She crushed the letter more tightly in her hand, until the clear blue +veins were almost swelled to bursting, while she murmured, "so much for +Mrs. Elrington's letter. Did she think to frighten and make a coward of +me. Pshaw! she was mistaken; _I am altered and changed_, for it amused +me." + +But though she gave vent to these words, such were not her feelings. She +was in reality deeply moved; past scenes had risen up vividly before +her, with all the hopes and fears, joys and sorrows, of her girlish +days. As she read word after word, line after line, of the letter, those +days became more vivid still; and the old loving, gentle feelings +crowded together at her heart; she was again the loving and beloved of +him of her early choice; again, in fancy, sitting by his side, weeping +bitter, passionate, despairing tears, as on the morning they had parted, +then with the hope of meeting again; but it had been for the last +time--for _ever_--and as the last word, with all its dreadful import +came steadily into her heart, she could in very desolation have thrown +herself into the large arm chair and wept more despairingly, more +passionately still; but no, she was Mrs. Linchmore, cold and stern; Miss +Neville had said so,--she must be herself again. So she crushed the old +regretful feelings, and stifled their dying moan with that bitter, +ghastly laugh. + +On the table was a beautiful small bouquet of hot-house flowers; she +drew out a bright scarlet one, and arranged it in her hair at the glass +over the chimney piece. + +"I may be cold and stern--I may be changed--but--I am still beautiful." +Such were her thoughts as she stood gazing at herself long after the +flower had been arranged to her satisfaction. + +But now a step sounded on the stairs; it echoed in the lofty hall; it +approached the door. Suddenly she remembered the letter, and hastily +snatching it from the ground where it had lain forgotten, she hurriedly +threw it into the fire. + +There was a bright light for a moment, then it was gone, and a thin +black substance floated lightly on the coals, showing where the letter +had been; this she buried at once, deep--deep beneath the burning coals, +until not a vestige remained, and turned to greet her visitor. + +It was her husband. + +He entered, drew a chair near the fire, and sat down, while his wife, +with no visible trace of the emotion she had but lately felt, busied +herself with some fancy work, so that her eyes might not meet his, or +they must have revealed a little of the passions that had been +struggling within; at all events she dared not raise them, but kept them +obstinately fixed on the canvas in her lap, and worked on in silence, +expecting her husband to be the first to speak: but he did not, he took +up his newspaper and read it as perseveringly as she worked. + +Ere long the silence grew oppressive; the crumpling of the paper as Mr. +Linchmore turned it in his hand annoyed and irritated her; her thoughts +were still half struggling with the past; she _must_ bury that, and +bring them forcibly back to the present time, so she spoke; but try as +she would she could not do so without showing a little irritation of +manner. + +"The paper appears to engross your attention entirely, Mr Linchmore. +Have you found anything so very interesting in it?" + +He looked up in surprise, then quietly laid it on the table, as he +replied, "Perhaps I did not speak, as I have rather unfortunate news for +you, 'Lady Emily'--Mrs. Linchmore's riding horse--has gone dead lame." + +"Lame!" exclaimed Mrs. Linchmore in a vexatious tone of voice. "It must +be something very sudden then; she was perfectly well the last time I +rode her, there was not the slightest symptom of lameness about her +then." + +"That was some time ago," rejoined her husband. + +"Only a few days, or a week at the utmost. What is the matter with her? +or what has caused the lameness?" + +"A nail has been accidentally run into her foot in shoeing. There has +been great carelessness no doubt." + +"It is always the case that whenever I wish to ride or drive something +happens to prevent me, for the last two or three months I have noticed +it. What is the use of having servants if one cannot trust them, or +horses either, when they are never fit to be ridden?" + +"There are other horses in the stable, Isabella, would carry you just as +well as Lady Emily, but you never will ride them." + +Mrs. Linchmore was not exactly a timid horsewoman, but she was not +courageous enough to ride a strange horse, whose temper and habits she +was unacquainted with. She had ridden the mare constantly for the last +five years, and knew her temper well, and after the first canter was +over all nervousness was gone, and she could talk and laugh and ride +without fear, or the slight timidity she might have felt at first +starting. + +"I promised to ride into Standale with Mr. Vavasour," said she. + +"Shall I order the bay to be brought round for you, Isabella? You will +find him even quieter than Lady Emily." + +"You know I hate strange horses, Mr. Linchmore. I wonder at your +proposing such a thing. After being accustomed to one horse for so long, +I should be nervous." + +"I will ride with you with pleasure," was the reply, "and give you +confidence if I can, and see no accident happens." + +But no, her husband's escort was very different to the promised pleasure +she had looked forward to with Mr. Vavasour. + +"Thank you," replied she coldly, "but I shall stay at home, and give up +all idea of riding until my horse gets well." + +"Very well, Vavasour can ride into Standale with me if he chooses, I am +starting for it in half an hour. By-the-by, what report did Bernard give +of Miss Neville this morning?" + +"Nothing very much the matter, I believe," said she carelessly, "simply +a sprain caused by some folly or another." + +"I am glad it is nothing more serious; she looks a delicate girl." + +"Some people always look so. I believe she is strong enough; we were +always from the first led to expect a rather fragile person." + +This was an unwise speech of Mrs. Linchmore's, as it recalled Mrs. +Elrington at once to her husband's mind, and he asked-- + +"Have you received any reply to the letter you wrote to Mrs. Elrington, +Isabella?" + +"Yes. Miss Neville gave me a message to the effect that she did not +intend," said she sarcastically, "honouring our poor house with a +visit." + +"Did she write to Miss Neville?" + +"I fancy not. I think it was mentioned by Mrs. Neville, in a letter she +wrote from Ashleigh." + +"And Mrs. Elrington has never answered your letter?" + +"No. I suppose she thought the message good enough for us." + +There was no quivering of the lip, no tell-tale blood in her cheeks, +nothing to betray the falsehood she was telling, save her eyes, and +those she still bent down. She could not have met her husband's gaze. + +"Strange," murmured he, "that she should so long keep aloof from us. I +should have thought she would have wished to heal up old quarrels." + +"You know her not," was the reply. "I told you she would not come, and +implored you, almost, not to ask me to write to her." + +"It was my fault you wrote, and I cannot help feeling sorry at her +discourtsey; it is so different from what I should have thought she +would have done. I liked the little I saw of Mrs. Elrington, she was a +true Englishwoman. I wonder what she disliked me for. I suppose she did +dislike me?" asked he. + +"Yes, thoroughly. You supplanted her son." + +"But you never cared for him, Isabella?" and this time he waited for the +eyes to be raised to his. + +But they were not. Mrs. Linchmore bent lower still over her work, so +that not only the eyes, but the face was almost hidden. She seemed to +have made some mistake, for, with a slight hasty exclamation, she took +the scissors and cut out, hurriedly, what a few moments before she had +been so busy with. + +Again he repeated the question, but not sternly, only sorrowfully and +slowly, as if he almost feared the answer, or guessed what it would be. + +"You never cared for him, Isabella?" + +But the emotion or embarrassment had passed away, and although Mrs. +Linchmore did not look up to meet his gaze, now so searchingly bent on +her, she laid down her work and patted the head of the lap-dog lying at +her feet. + +"I liked him as I do Fido," replied she, perhaps a little mockingly. "He +was a pretty plaything." + +But the answer did not satisfy Mr. Linchmore. He withdrew his eyes from +her face and sighed. Did he doubt her? Alas! a strange, sad thought had +long filled his mind, and would not be chased away. + +"I am glad you did not _love_ him, Isabella," was all he said. + +And then he sat silent for some time. At length he spoke again, somewhat +suddenly. "To revert to Miss Neville," he said. "I feared her illness +might be caused from dulness or ennui. She is so much alone--too much +for one so young. Miss Tremlow, even, hinted at it to me the very first +day she came downstairs; but I do not see what else is to be done, with +these young men in the house." + +"I invited her down the other day, but she would not come." + +"I am glad she did not. Why did you ask her?" + +"You told me to yourself, Mr. Linchmore. You surely cannot have +forgotten it; and besides, we promised to treat her more as a young +friend than as a governess." + +"True," he replied. "I now regret we ever gave such a promise. It would +be far better for Miss Neville, for although we treat her as a friend, +who amongst our numerous acquaintances will? They do not know her as we +do, and will simply treat her as a governess, nothing more. I neither +like Miss Strickland's apparent haughtiness, which amounts to rudeness, +or Vavasour's attentions, which almost amount to a flirtation with her." + +"The first is unaccountable to me; but the latter--what harm can there +be in that?" replied Mrs. Linchmore. + +"To Miss Neville there might be harm. She might lose her heart to him, +for she is no flirt; _he is_," said he, decidedly, and his wife could +not attempt to contradict him, "and would as soon break her heart as +not; perhaps be a little proud of it, and certainly think less about it +than he would at breaking his horse's neck in leaping a fence." + +"You are very uncharitable." + +"Not at all. My opinion is, Vavasour intends getting up a flirtation +with Miss Neville, just to pass the time away; perhaps you had better +see to it, Isabella, and try and give her a hint. You could easily do +it, without appearing to have noticed his attentions to her." + +"The very way to make her fall desperately in love with him; women +always do with those they hear abused--our hearts are so pitiful. Much +better let her do as she likes, she has plenty of sense." + +"As you will, Isabella; but I must not see her feelings trifled with; +there is nothing half so sad as to love without return--hopelessly." + +And again he turned his face, and looked sorrowfully at his wife, as if +expecting or longing for some slight mark of affection; but she gave +none, and rising slowly, he went out. + +Mrs. Linchmore was once more alone. + +The preceding conversation, at least the latter part of it, had been +entirely to her satisfaction. It must not be supposed she had been a +blind spectator to Vavasour's attentions to Amy. She had heard of the +first walk from Frances, she had seen the second, and imagined that, +perhaps, having remarked the looks with which, once or twice, Mr. +Linchmore had watched his attentions to herself, he had had recourse to +a ruse-de-guerre, and now flirted with the governess, as the most +harmless girl he could pick out, whilst all his looks, all his _petits +soins_, were directed and given to _her_. + +She laughed at the idea of outwitting her husband; not that she cared +for Vavasour, but the flirting spirit was strong and powerful within. +Old memories and associations, instead of softening had only hardened +her present life, and made her look back more regretfully to the past, +more hopelessly and bitterly to the future. + +"Miss Neville is certainly very beautiful," mused she, "but so quiet, so +meek; no animation about her, nothing to charm such a man as Mr. +Vavasour with." Then she wondered if she herself possessed that power. + +She rose up, and again stood before the glass, which reflected back her +proud, beautiful face, with the conscious haughty look, that if beauty +had the power to charm it was hers, she need fear no rival. + +Then she re-arranged the flower which she had previously pinned in her +hair, and a smile, sparkling with pleasure, showed that she was +satisfied. + +Mr. Linchmore judged Robert Vavasour's character more justly than his +wife, although neither quite understood it. The mystery of his birth was +the shadow continually haunting Vavasour's path, and making him +thoughtless and trifling towards women. If his mother, as he believed, +still lived, where was her gentle, tender love? Why had he never felt +it? Why had she so cruelly deserted him, and left him to fight his own +way in the world, with no name but a false one? His heart hardened +against womankind. If a mother could be false to her child, what woman +could be true? What woman worth living or caring for? They were triflers +all, and to be trifled with; so he held no reverence in his heart for +them, but flirted with his hostess thoughtlessly, and admired her as he +would have admired any other beautiful woman; as he admired Amy, and +would have flirted with her also if she would have let him. + +Would his heart ever be touched by love? ever see reason to regret or +recall the rash vow he had made that no woman should ever hold a place +in his heart, seeing that in loving her he would have to plead, not only +his love, but his nameless birth. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE INTERVIEW. + + ----"Earthly things + Are but the transient pageants of an hour; + And earthly pride is like the passing flower, + That springs to fall, and blossoms but to die." + + HENRY KIRKE WHITE. + + "Whoever looks on life will see + How strangely mortals disagree." + + CAWTHORNE. + + +It was almost dusk as Frances Strickland, who had been sitting for the +last hour before the glass trying the effect of a wreath of fuschias she +intended wearing at some forthcoming party, laid the flowers on the +dressing table with a dissatisfied sigh as her maid entered the room +with candles. + +"At last!" exclaimed she, impatiently, "what have you been about, Jane? +I thought you would never come; make haste and dress me for dinner, as +I wish to try the effect of these flowers in my hair." + +Proud and haughty as Frances was to her equals, she seldom or ever +showed much pride to her maid, or if it did occasionally peep out, it +was instantly checked and controlled. + +Jane was useful to her young mistress in more ways than the mere +dressing her, and brushing her hair. She was an incessant talker, and +found a willing listener in Frances, who silently encouraged her in +repeating all the gossip and tittle-tattle of the servants' hall: as in +this way Frances flattered herself she found out with little trouble the +character as well as the sayings and doings of those around her. + +Jane was perfectly well aware of Frances' failing, consequently indulged +her propensity of talking to the utmost, and when she had nothing to +relate, drew somehow from her own fertile brain and lively imagination, +or added many wonderful improvements to the story already at her +fingers' ends. Sometimes Jane was cross, or as she expressed it--"had a +bad head-ache," and then it required all Frances' tact and ingenuity to +get her to utter a syllable; and cunningly as she thought she +cross-questioned her on these occasions, Jane's cunning equalled if not +surpassed her mistress's, as she generally contrived to guess at what +she was aiming, and either added fuel to the fire already kindled there, +or quenched it altogether. + +On the present occasion, Jane was especially communicative, and as she +smoothed the raven tresses of her hair, talked away to her heart's +content, now of this thing, now of that, until at length she approached +the subject nearest her own heart and that of her mistress', namely, +Miss Neville. + +The loss of the piece of embroidery, and the search that had been made +for it, had annoyed and irritated many of the servants, and especially +Mason, who had long had a dislike of the governess, though she had not +openly expressed it; then, Mr. Linchmore's apparent partiality for her? +Why should Miss Neville come into the room just as she pleased when +Madam was dressing, and give her opinion as to how she looked, and what +she wore, even sometimes to the very ornaments themselves, throwing the +lady's maid completely into the shade, where before she had reigned +paramount, with no one's opinion or taste asked but her own. So Mason +grew jealous, and took in the end a dislike to her, as servants often +foolishly do to governesses; and only waited her time to manifest it. + +Mrs. Hopkins' decided tone and speech in Miss Neville's favour, and the +'setdown' she gave Mason, only rooted her dislike the more firmly; if it +had not been for the governess she would not have had that; and as birds +of a feather flock together, so she had impressed upon Jane, during +their many friendly chats, her opinion of Miss Neville: that she was a +nobody, who gave herself airs, and interfered where she had no business +to, and as to the lost piece of work, there was no doubt whatever that +she suspected some of the servants, and most likely meanly accused them +of taking it; otherwise, why was such a fuss made, and why had they been +questioned as to whether they had seen it? + +Jane readily believed all that was told her, and determined on shewing +Miss Neville on the very first opportunity she had, that she thought her +in no way better than herself, so meeting her one day accidentally in +the corridor coming upstairs, she tossed her head and pushed rudely past +her, allowing the baize door to slam to, without so much as offering to +hold it open for her to pass through. + +Amy gently and indignantly remonstrated with her on her rudeness, which +she saw at once was intended, and silenced the second impertinent +action, namely the answer hovering on Jane's lips; but though silenced, +Jane went away more firmly impressed and convinced that Mason was right, +and that Miss Neville was an upstart and a nobody. + +"The idea," said she, as she recounted the adventure to Mason. "The +idea of Miss Neville's teaching _me_ manners, and ordering _me_ to +bridle my tongue; I'd like to see her as could make me do it, that's +all; I'll teach my lady to bridle _her_ tongue, and keep _her_ sauce to +herself." + +Mason's temper was not a passionate one; Jane's was, and vindictive too; +she felt convinced, judging from what she should do were she in Miss +Neville's place, that the latter would immediately repeat all that had +taken place to her young mistress, so she determined to be beforehand +with her, and have, as she called it, the first say; whereas Amy had +almost forgotten the circumstance, and certainly had no wish to recall +it. + +"Did you give my message to Mrs. Linchmore?" asked Frances, "I almost +hope you did not, as I am so much better. I intend after all going down +to dinner." + +There had been a long silence, uninterrupted save by the noise the brush +made as it passed through the soft dark hair. + +"Yes Miss, I did, and they all said they were sorry to hear you had such +a bad head-ache." + +"All!" exclaimed Frances, "I desired you to give the message to Mrs. +Linchmore. Why did you disobey me?" + +"Well, Miss, I'm sure it was no fault of mine that Miss Neville happened +to be in the room." + +"Miss Neville!" exclaimed Frances. + +"Yes, Miss Frances, I thought it would surprise you, but I know it was +her, because I saw her through a chink of the door as Mason held it +open; besides Mason says she is always there, trying to butter her +bread, as the saying is; and after I'd given the message, which I should +not have given if I'd known she had been there, I heard her and Mrs. +Linchmore say they thought you was a very perverse and disagreeable +girl; of course they didn't know I was so near, or they wouldn't have +spoke so loud." + +"And how dare Miss Neville have a word to say in the matter concerning +any affairs of mine!" said Frances, thrown off her guard by the +suddenness of Jane's announcement, and drawing her head up proudly, so +as to almost drag her hair through Jane's fingers, and totally +disarrange the long silken plait she had just completed. + +"Law! Miss! I'm sure I can't say," replied Jane somewhat surprised in +her turn at the extraordinary emotion she witnessed, and delighted that +so far she had succeeded beyond her hopes. + +"Then you ought to know; I don't believe one word of it." + +"It's true all the same, Miss, whether you believe it or no, and I'm +sure there's some people as is always picking other people to pieces, +and more especially those as is much above them in station; and if I +don't mistake Miss Neville thinks herself a mighty fine lady, and as +Mason says tries--though she doesn't say she manages it--to turn Mrs. +Linchmore round her thumb." + +A gentle tap at the door here interrupted Jane, and she hastened to open +it, but before she could do so the imperious "come in," of Frances was +answered by the door softly opening and shutting; a light footstep +crossed the room, and Amy Neville herself stood by the table. + +Frances looked surprised. + +"This is a most extraordinary intrusion, Miss Neville," said she rising. +Then added sarcastically, "to what fortunate circumstance am I to +ascribe the pleasure of your company?" + +"No fortunate circumstance," replied Amy, almost as proudly, "has +induced me to come here." + +"Perhaps unfortunate, then," suggested Frances, in the same tone, still +standing, and never asking her visitor to sit down. + +"You are right," said Amy, quietly. + +But this quietness enraged Frances, predisposed as she was to quarrel +with her, and inwardly hating her, as she did; so she answered, +angrily-- + +"And do you suppose I have nothing better to do than to listen to +unfortunate circumstances, related by unfortunate people; for I suppose +you are come with some absurd story. I care nothing for you or yours, +and have no wish to listen to anything you have to say," and turning +away, as rudely as she had spoken, Frances once more seated herself at +the table, and desired Jane, who had been looking on in astonishment, to +go on with her hair. + +"But you _must_ listen," replied Amy firmly, her eyes flashing at +Frances' insulting tones and speech. "I have something to tell you,--an +explanation to give,--a circumstance to explain; indeed you must +listen." + +Frances mused. + +"Must listen," she repeated presently. "If that is all, pray talk on; as +to whether I answer or no remains to be seen. No one ever yet compelled +me to do aught against my will; therefore I advise Miss +Neville,--determined as she seems,--to think twice before she puts me to +the test. I must also state I am rather hurried, the dressing bell +having rung long since." + +And Frances carelessly wound the two long plaits Jane had plaited round +her head. + +"I have little to say; I shall not detain you long." + +"Pray begin," said Frances. "Jane be more careful, that hair-pin hurts +me. Well, Miss Neville?" + +But Amy answered-- + +"What I have to say is for your ear alone; Jane cannot be present." + +"I have no secrets from Jane; you need have no fear of her repeating +anything she hears." + +"Still, what I have to say, Miss Strickland, cannot be said before her." + +"Really, Miss Neville, your conduct is most extraordinary, not to say +presuming and impertinent. Jane is necessary to me, I cannot dress +without her assistance. I am late as it is, and cannot send her away." + +"If you will allow me, I will assist you." + +"Well, I'm sure!" exclaimed Jane, who had been listening in secret +wonderment to the fore-going conversation, and anticipating the +dismissal she was now about to receive. "Well, I'm sure! I'm the last +woman in the world to wish to pry into other people's secrets. Thank +God, I've none of my own to trouble me, and don't care who hears what +_I_ say; and thank you, Miss Neville, for your good opinion of me," said +she, with a slight bend, and, throwing the dress she held in her hand +across the back of a chair, she marched indignantly from the room, +taking care not to close the door behind her. + +But Amy followed, and shut it, a proceeding that still more incensed +her, as she had fully intended hearing something, if not all, of what +passed, and learning, if possible, what secret enmity there was, or ill +feeling between the two; as, with all her cunning and quickness, for +once Jane was at fault. "Never mind," thought she, as she proceeded in +search of Mason, to whom to unburden her ill-treatment. "I've been +beforehand with you, with all your caution, Miss Neville, and I'm much +mistaken if Miss Frances likes you one whit better than I do, and that's +a precious deal, I can tell you," and Jane laughed; "though I'm puzzled +to know why she got on her proud horse so soon. Yes, I'm fairly puzzled; +but I'll find out yet. All those airs and graces didn't come from what I +told her. No, no; I must be awake, and keep my eyes open. I'm not so +easily deceived. Shut the door as tight and close as you will--say your +say, whisper your secret, yet, for all that, Jane will be up to it, and +fathom it out." + +Amy and Frances were alone. + +How different were the thoughts and feelings of both! + +Declining her companion's assistance in dressing, Frances seated herself +in an easy chair by the fire, her feet in their rich worked slippers +resting on a footstool; her small jewelled fingers playing impatiently +with a small gold heart attached to a bracelet she wore round her smooth +white arm, her eyes emitting from under their dark lashes looks of +defiance and scorn--for Frances, as I have said, cared not to hide her +feelings, or had not yet learnt the habit of doing so;--a determined +expression about the corners of her mouth, as if she had fully made up +her mind what course to pursue, and that neither argument nor persuasion +should induce her to abandon it. + +She sat looking like some empress, awaiting the victim about to be +sacrificed or made to bend to her haughty will. + +A faint idea as to what Amy's explanation would be arose in her mind, +how should she take it? should she remain silent, or answer it, and so +lead her on until her whole heart should be probed,--laid bare before +her? yes, she would do the latter, would penetrate into the very secret +recesses of her heart; find out what her thoughts were, and how much she +cared or did not care for her cousin, and then gradually retreat when +she had her at her mercy. "We," so she reasoned, "cannot both +triumph--one must be defeated--one must fall--and that one must be Miss +Neville." + +Amy stood a little apart. + +She, too, had a determined expression playing round the corners of her +mouth, and her tall, graceful figure was drawn up proudly to its full +height; yet there was softness, gentleness in the very way she stood, +one small fair hand tightly clasped round the injured wrist, as it +rested delicately on the back of the chair, as if to keep down some +strong inward emotion with its tight grasp; there was pride--there might +be a touch of haughtiness, too--for she was but a poor weak mortal, but +there was no anger, no defiance, no doggedness about Amy's looks. Her +clear dark grey eye quailed not beneath her companion's hard cold gaze, +it flashed as brightly, but there was neither malice, nor hatred, nor +revenge in it; all was soft and womanly, though had opportunity offered +or occasion required it, it might have returned scorn for scorn. + +The two young girls were alone. + +Yet both remained silent; perhaps both feared to be the first to speak, +or wished her companion might break the silence becoming every moment +more painful and embarrassing. + +Twice Frances turned her head impatiently, but meeting Amy's steady +gaze, her eyelids dropped and again she leant back in the soft cushioned +chair, and played with the locket as though she could not rest quiet: if +her lips were silent her hands must be employed--she must appear +careless and unconcerned, and uninterested in what was to follow. + +Amy never attempted to move or speak. There she stood gazing at Frances, +but seemingly engrossed by other thoughts, for a close observer might +have detected a slight, almost imperceptible trembling of the under lip, +and a nervous twitching of the fair fingers of the left hand as it +rested softly on the other. + +At length, stooping as though to brush something off her wrapper, +Frances spoke. + +"Well, Miss Neville, how long is this farce to last, this silence +continue? I have already intimated my wish to be alone, and that I do +not care to be troubled with anything you may have to say; yet, hurried +as I am, you seem to take little heed as to the length of time you +detain me. Have the kindness to begin and end quickly." + +Amy started. Her thoughts had been far away. Once again she had gone +over in thought all those pleasant, joyous days, when the world seemed +all so fair and bright, and the days had flown too quickly by; and at +night, she had slept the sleep of happiness and peace, without a thought +for the morrow, save to find or try and make it as happy as the one that +had gone before. + +Ah! how many days had fled since then; how many sorrows and trials had +she seen and experienced. Each day now was but a sad counterpart of the +yesterday that had been, no bright looking forward, no trembling +certainty of happiness; all seemed drear, and the future a blank to her +troubled mind. + +Again Frances spoke. + +This time her voice was firm, though she still steadily avoided meeting +Amy's gaze. + +"When is this wonderful explanation to take place, Miss Neville? If you +have changed your mind about it, pray say so at once, that I may call +Jane, and continue my dressing." + +"Miss Strickland," began Amy, falteringly, for Frances' cruel manner had +made her even more nervous than when she entered the room; "you must +have guessed, you must be aware that--that--" + +But instead of helping her, Frances laughed, and _that_ gave Amy the +courage she lacked, for her cheek glowed, and her eye flashed, and +calmly and without hesitation, she went on at once. + +"Have patience, Miss Strickland. I will go on quickly. You saw me +yesterday talking to your cousin in the corridor, and I was led to infer +from your manner, that you imagined I had done wrong in staying to speak +with him, and I thought if I could only explain to you how accidentally +it all occurred, you would exonerate both him and me from blame and +unkind suspicion." + +Frances raised her head haughtily. "I have so many cousins, that I must +trouble Miss Neville to explain herself more fully, as I am unable +either to recall the circumstance, or to remember which cousin was +honoured by Miss Neville on the occasion referred to." + +"Which cousin? I know but one--Mr. Charles Linchmore." + +"I understood Miss Neville to be a lover of truth. If you know that +Charles Linchmore is my cousin, may I ask what relation his brother can +be?" + +Amy was silent. Neither shame, fear, nor anger kept her so, for +presently, a torrent of words burst from her lips, and she hurried on as +if nothing could stop her; no, not even Frances' mocking gaze, or the +seemingly indifferent manner with which she listened. + +"Miss Strickland, why torture me thus? Think you that the change in my +position has changed my feelings, my heart, my very nature? Think you I +am a stone, or my heart dead within me, that I can stand calmly by, and +hear such cutting cruel words from you, and not feel them bitterly? How +could I look into your face the other day, or listen to your words, and +not feel that you were judging me harshly; it was not possible, neither +is it possible I can go on in my daily path of duty, until at least I +have attempted to clear myself of the wrong I see you think me capable +of. I have lived to see my fairest dreams vanish, and have bowed with +submission to the will of One who is wiser then I,--have neither +murmured nor fought against the burden God has seen fit to cast upon me, +though it has been, nay, is, heavy and severe; and though my spirit has +been sad and weary, cast down almost to the dust, yet I have had +strength given me to fight against all repining, unthankful thoughts, +and although not perhaps exactly satisfied with my lot in life, still I +know it might be much worse; that many others suffer more than I do." +And Amy's voice sank almost to a whisper, still and low. + +But Frances was in no way moved by it, and replied as hardly and +tauntingly as before-- + +"Go on, pray, Miss Neville, or is this all you have to say?" + +"All? Ah, no! I could talk for ever. My feelings have been pent up--kept +back for days, weeks, months past. You have loosened them, and they must +have sway. I cannot restrain them now. Oh, if you had ever felt as I +have felt, you could never sit there so indifferently, and not feel some +pity for me; have I not been as tenderly and delicately nurtured? as +much love lavished on me? and yet it is all past and gone, and I am +alone in the world. There is comfort in once again being able to +talk--to tell of all that is binding my heart so tightly--burning my +brain. I have shed tears, but they have brought no relief. I have +pictured to myself happier days, such days of love and peace, but they +have vanished from before me. I have dreamt pleasant dreams, but with +the morning sun they too have disappeared, and all is cold, stern +reality. Oh, I could talk for ever if I thought it would move you to +think better of me." + +"You have my free permission to do so if this is what you come to ask; +only you must excuse my being a careless or inattentive listener, as +really your conversation interests me so little." + +"And are you so strangely devoid of pity, then, or is it because you do +not think me worth any? Alas! alas! when rich I was courted, flattered, +and even loved; now, as the poor governess, I am despised and deserted," +and again Amy's voice was low and plaintive. + +"I never had the pleasure of knowing you in those palmy days you speak +of; as a governess of course you must not expect to find much pity; it +would be just as well to leave the history of your reverses--I hate +everything sorrowful--and return to the starting point of your +conversation, my cousin." + +"I will," replied Amy. "I met Mr. Charles Linchmore yesterday +accidentally in the corridor, as I was returning from a fruitless search +for Fanny; he saw that I had injured my hand, and simply asked to look +at it, that was all; you came by just then; your manner--your words, +Miss Strickland, gave me the impression that you had misjudged me, and +I shrank from the feeling, and could not rest until I had explained how +it all happened, thinking,--but it seems I was wrong,--that your kind, +womanly feeling and pity would at once feel for me, seeing the delicate +position I occupy in this house." + +But Amy's words only kindled the fire already smouldering in Frances' +heart. Did they not recall to her remembrance the flower Charles had +sent her? The embroidery he had taken? The hurt she had received from +his horse? The interest he had afterwards taken in her welfare? + +"I know you misjudged me, Miss Strickland; do not be afraid to say so." + +"Afraid!" repeated Frances, scornfully, "No, you are mistaken; do you +suppose I should consult your feelings?" + +"No," replied Amy, sorrowfully, "I am sure you would not; I might have +thought otherwise a few minutes ago, but now--" + +"Now, I hope you are convinced that whatever I thought on the occasion +referred to, I think still." + +"I am sorry," replied Amy, much in the same tone she had said it to +Charles the day before, "because you are wrong." + +"I am not. Do you suppose I am blind, and do not see the interest _he_ +takes in your welfare?" + +"Scarcely more so than he would show to a stranger whose wrist had been +injured partly from his own fault in saying his horse was a quiet one, +when the accident proved it to have been otherwise. Your manner, Miss +Strickland, placed me in a very awkward position. Mr. Charles Linchmore +noticed it as well as myself, and I think it irritated and annoyed him, +but I, of course, had no right to feel hurt; I will try and act +differently for the future." + +But Frances answered not. Slowly her brow contracted--slowly her passion +seemed to rise. + +Suddenly she stood up and confronted her fancied rival, hatred, revenge, +anger, by turns burning in her eyes, while at each sentence she uttered +she stamped her foot impatiently, as if to give emphasis to what she +said. + +"How dare you tell me what _he_ thought of me? I don't believe a word of +it! Do you suppose I am a simpleton? a fool? and cannot see that you +care for him, perhaps love him; and would prejudice me against him, +cause disunion if you could, but it is useless--utterly useless--for I +love him, Miss Neville;--loved him long before you knew him--long before +you ever saw him,--yes, you may stare; I am not ashamed to repeat +it--loved him--worshipped him if you will. What is your love, compared +to mine, but a paltry, insignificant, nameless thing? What is your love +that it should be preferred before mine? You whom he has known only so +short a time. There is nothing in the world I would not give up for him; +home, everything: for what are they all in comparison to his love? There +is nothing I would not do to win him; nothing too great a +sacrifice,--his love would compensate for all, and more than all." + +Amy stood as if thunderstruck, while Frances, who had paused for a +moment, went madly on. The ice was broken,--Amy knew of her love, she +was glad of it, and cared not what she said. + +"You talk of pity for your feelings: what are they in comparison to +mine? You have never seen him you love, deserting, forsaking you for +another. You have never seen his love grow colder and colder, his eye +less bright when it met yours, and his smile less kind; you have never +felt the cold touch of the hand that once warmly pressed yours, or found +that your words have been spoken to careless ears, your conversation +listened to heedlessly--indifferently; when before, every word that fell +from your lips was waited for with impatient eagerness; you have never +known the bitterness of estranged love; you have never known what it is +to feel that all your deep strong love is unsought, unvalued, uncared +for, that nothing, not even all your tenderness can recall the heart +that once loved, once beat for you alone. You talk of sorrows. What are +your sorrows compared to mine? You talk of trials; have you ever been +tried like this?" + +Frances stopped, overcome by her emotion, and wept violently and +passionately; but her tears were caused more by the angry vehemence of +her manner than from sorrow. + +Who could have believed that the pale proud girl that nothing seemed to +animate, nothing seemed to rouse, had such deep strong feelings within +her? that beneath that cold, proud demeanour, fiery, unruly passions lay +sleeping, requiring but a touch to call them forth with angry violence. + +"Miss Strickland," said Amy, gently and pityingly placing her hand on +her arm, "believe me, I never suspected, never guessed all this, or I +should have made some excuse, some allowance for the manner in which you +spoke to us on that day." + +"To _us_," exclaimed Francis, as she dashed away the soft hand, "already +you talk of him so; perhaps he has already told you he loves you, and +when next you meet it will be to triumph over me, and talk with pity of +her you have supplanted." + +"No, never! Miss Strickland," replied Amy quickly; "you wrong me, I +never could do so; pity you I certainly should; but triumph in your +sorrow! Never! your suspicion is unjust, you wrong me, you do indeed!" + +"And what if I do wrong you? there is no great harm in that. But I do +not judge you harshly; I know you well enough; I know you will glory in +being able to say you have supplanted proud Frances Strickland." + +"Again let me assure you such will never be the case; from my heart I +pity, will keep with you, if you will let me, and if he cares not for +you, strive to lead your thoughts from him, and help you to conquer your +love and learn if possible that there are other things to strive for +besides his love, things that ought never to be lost sight of." + +"And pray what may these wonderful things be?" asked she sarcastically. + +"Your own self-respect, and the esteem of those around you." + +"Self-respect! Esteem! Am I a child that you pretend to teach me? Did I +think myself deficient in morals I should not come to Miss Neville to +learn them." + +"I do not pretend to teach you, Miss Strickland, neither do I wish to +intrude my advice where I see it is not wanted." + +"You do well. I want neither advice nor assistance from any one. My mind +is fully made up how to act, I will enter heart and soul into it, and it +will be strange if I do not succeed; so you had best, of all my +_friends_," and Frances dwelt contemptuously on the last word, "wish me +success." + +"I am in total ignorance as to what your plans are; and therefore am not +able to give any opinion on the subject." + +"I shall be delighted to unravel them: it is but fair we should start +together in the race we are to run." + +"You are mistaken, Miss Strickland. There is no race to run. I shall +never strive to win the love of one who cares not for me; besides I want +it not. Mr. Charles Linchmore is,--can never be, anything to me; we are +friends; nothing more; you have deceived yourself in imagining +otherwise. I will never wilfully or deliberately deviate from the path +of duty my conscience points out as the right and safe one to follow." + +"Neither do I intend to; my conscience tells me Charles once cared for +me; he cannot have forgotten me, have ceased to love me altogether; his +love is only estranged for a time, not alienated for ever." + +"I trust it may be so, and that if he ever cared for you--" + +"Ever cared for me?" exclaimed Frances, "I tell you he loved me. Yes," +added she passionately, "and his love shall return. Oh! I will enter +heart and soul into it, he must--nay shall love me again. That you, meek +and passionless as you are, love him, I wonder not; but that he should +return your love? it must not! shall not! cannot be! I will move heaven +and earth to aid me; I will humble my pride, sacrifice my ambition, all! +all! I will suffer degradation, poverty, such as you complain of, all +for him; and when at last he finds out, as he must, how I have loved +him, knows all my heart's devotion, all its deep tenderness; I feel and +know he will love me again as of old, as I know he once did. It cannot +be that I should be doomed to a life of misery, without one bright ray +to cheer the darkness of my lot, one bright spot to lighten my days." + +"It is a sad life," replied Amy, "the one you have pictured, and the +only one I have to look forward to." + +"You!" cried Frances in the same passionate tone, "you! what matters it? +Your love is but a child's love, your love is but a name. Oh, would," +and she clasped her hands eagerly together, "would I could tell +him--would he could know the value of the heart he rejects--what deep +earnest love burns there for him. And he will know it, he shall know +that the heart of proud Frances Strickland is all his own; then he will, +he must, despise the love of such a weak, simple girl." + +"I love him not," replied Amy, while her face and even neck crimsoned +with the words. + +"Talk not to me!" replied Frances, wildly. "I tell you it shall be so; +the day shall come when he shall spurn you from him, cast away your +love--scorn it--trample upon it. I tell you his love shall be mine, +wholly, entirely mine, and none other's. You shall never be his. You +think, perhaps, that the means to attain this end will be difficult and +impossible. I tell you if there be means on earth to accomplish it--it +shall be done. I will thwart all your fine plans; when you think +yourself most secure, I will step in like a dark cloud, and hang about +your path, hurling all your fond schemes to the ground. If he is not +mine, he shall be no other's. Go! leave me." + +"No, Frances Strickland, I will not, cannot leave you with such hot, +revengeful feelings warring in your heart. I would have you think +otherwise than what you do before I go. You are speaking in haste and +passion and are scarcely aware of what you are saying. When the present +feelings which now agitate you pass away, cooler moments will succeed; +you will then be sorry I am gone, and that you cannot recall what you +have said." + +"Never! never!" cried Frances angrily and vehemently. "I will do as I +have said, I will enter heart and soul into it, and since you have dared +to love him, so I will ruin you if I can in his eyes." + +"Shame on you, Miss Strickland, for so far forgetting your womanly +feelings as to seek to injure one who has never intentionally done you +harm. Shame on you for encouraging such revengeful feelings and badness +of heart; for striving to render another as unhappy as you are yourself. +All womankind, if they knew it, would think ill of you, and hold you in +utter contempt. As for me, I scorn your words--your acts--and care +little for the premeditated evil you threaten me with. Yes, I the poor +dependant, separated from home,--mother,--friends, with none to help and +befriend me, save One who has said He will be a father to the +fatherless. Strong in his strength, and confident in my own purity of +heart, I reject your words--your threats--with scorn, and pity you!" + +How beautiful Amy looked, as for a moment she stood confronting Frances +with all the strong emotions she felt flashing in her soft eyes, and +chasing one another by turns over her face. + +If a look could have turned Frances Strickland from her purpose, surely +she would there and then have repented; but there was no sign of +wavering, no pitying expression in her eyes, and turning away without +another word, Amy left the room. + +As the door closed upon her, the revengeful, unpitying expression died +away from Frances' face, and burying her face in the soft crimson +cushions of the chair, she wept, as only women can weep, +passionately--convulsively. + +After a while, she slowly raised herself and while sobs shook her frame, +murmured with difficulty. + +"Is it possible that I can have lost his love? Has he indeed taken it +from me and given it to that girl? My God! that I should have lived to +see it. Was ever anguish equal to mine? A drowning man catching at a +straw is an enviable fate compared to mine; for I have not a straw even +to lay hold of. To think that I should live to see myself deserted--cast +aside without a thought. Oh! if I could only cast him off as easily, and +revenge myself by weaning her love--for I know she must love him--poor +and pitiful as it is, from him; so that he might feel some of the woe I +suffer. If I could only do that. But no, I cannot--I cannot; I must love +him." + +Again she wept bitter, passionate tears, then went on despairingly. + +"I cannot have been deceived; surely he did love me? I cannot have +fancied it; oh! no, no; I am sure he loved me until he saw her. Oh! why +did he ever see her? Why did they ever meet? And why was I so angry and +proud with him when I found them talking together?" + +She stopped again. Then went on bitterly and gloomily, while she clasped +her hands tightly together over her bosom as if to check the tumult +within, and stifle the sobs that shook her. + +"I was proud--too proud. Yes it must be so,--he often said I was proud, +but he shall say so no longer; to him at least, I will be a different +being. Even if he never loved me, I will make him love me now--I will be +all softness, gentleness, without a sign of the burning passions I feel. +But should he speak of her?" and Frances tossed back her hair from her +forehead impatiently, "yes, even then I will smother all pride, all +angry feeling. I will win him yet, if he is to be won; no obstacle shall +stop me. He shall learn to think me warm-hearted and generous, though to +others I still seem cold and proud. Yes, I will rouse myself; I will no +longer despond. I will cast aside all doubts and dismal forebodings. I +will triumph over her yet, and trample her under foot; I wonder I could +be so foolish as to weep," and, hurriedly rising, she bathed her eyes, +so as to efface all trace of the emotion she had undergone, and then +once more summoned Jane to her presence. + +And Amy? + +She went at once to her own room, sad and heavy at heart, and pondered +long and deeply on all that Frances had said, and dreaded to think what +might be the end of her plots and machinations. She foresaw she would +leave no stone unturned to gain her end; and what might she not urge, +what stories invent? Her hope,--all hope of softening Frances' heart and +exonerating herself from blame, had failed utterly. The interview from +which she had hoped so much had done harm, and evidently roused angry, +jealous feelings, which Amy would believe and persuade herself there was +no foundation for. She would not allow, for a moment, that Charles +Linchmore had a thought for her, and as to loving her, that could not +be. Amy even felt vexed and angry, and indignant with Frances, for so +insisting upon it. She wondered what Frances would tell him, when next +they met; and could not help feeling an undefinable dread--a sensation +of coming evil. Suppose she should tell him that, though unsought, Amy's +love was his, the bare supposition of what he would think brought tears +into her eyes, but she hastily brushed them away, for Amy was not one to +give way to needless sorrow, and tried to smile and think how foolish it +was to weep, when there was yet no cause for it. + +Yet, as she arrived at this conclusion, Frances' evident dislike to her, +combined with her passionate, revengeful temper rose up before her; and +what might they not lead her to do; "and he," murmured Amy mournfully, +"does not know half she is capable of, and will believe anything she +says of me. How I wish we had never met! How I wish she had never loved +him!" + +Poor Amy! she scarce knew what she wished, or what to think. One moment +she was confident, at another she doubted, and trembled she scarce knew +why. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +DOUBTS AND FEARS. + + "Why so pale and wan, fond lover? + Prithee, why so pale? + Will, when looking well can't move her, + Looking ill prevail? + Prithee, why so pale? + + Why so dull and mute, young sinner? + Prithee, why so mute? + Will, when speaking well can't win her, + Saying nothing do 't? + Prithee, why so mute?" + + SUCKLING. + + +"The wrist is better," was Dr. Bernard's next report of Amy; "but Miss +Neville is ill and feverish, and must be kept perfectly quiet." + +So there were no more lessons for some days; while Julia installed +herself by Amy's bedside as head nurse, aided by Mary; and sometimes +Mrs. Hopkins came, bringing a jelly or some nicety she had prepared +with her own hands to please the invalid; Amy, therefore, was not dull, +with so many friends to cheer and take care of her. + +During these days Charles was restless and unhappy; was it not partly +his fault she was ill? How he accused himself of being the author of all +the mischief that had accrued from the simple fact of having allowed her +to have her own way, when he might have so easily prevented it; nor was +he in any way consoled when Julia said to him, "Well, you must confess, +Miss Neville has nerve now, and is not afraid of her own shadow; for I +have never heard her once complain of pain; she bears it like a martyr." + +How he envied Dr. Bernard his privilege of seeing and speaking to Amy, +and would have waylaid him at every visit if he had only dared. To ask +news of his patient would betray too evident an interest in her welfare; +so although Charles saw him come and go every day, yet he was obliged to +wait patiently, sometimes for hours, until he could catch sight of +Anne. Anne, who kept out of his way as much as she could, who had +determined on having nothing to do in the matter, now found herself +dragged into his confidence, whether she would or no. How she regretted +the curiosity that had induced her to join him that day in the corridor; +if it had not been for that she would had been free now, and not +troubled with the knowledge of the fact that he had certainly fallen in +love irretrievably with his sister-in-law's governess; but then he +looked so miserable and unhappy, Anne could not help pitying him, she +was too kind-hearted not to do that. So every day she gave him news of +Amy, and consoled herself with thinking things had gone too far for any +interference of hers to do any good; but, at the same time, she would be +the bearer of no kind messages, no books, no flowers; and Charles often +flew into a rage, and they parted bad friends in consequence, only to +find him awaiting her the next day as anxiously as before. + +Anne wondered sometimes how it would all end, and whether Amy loved him +or no, and whether Frances guessed how things were going on. Anne did +not like Frances, and had often felt sorry at Charles's seeming +partiality for her, and thought how unsuited they were to make each +other happy; and yet only last year everyone had looked forward to an +engagement between them as almost a settled thing. How devoted he had +been; but then perhaps he had found out what a temper Frances had, so +proud and jealous--so imperious a will. Men did not like that, so she +concluded that during the few months that had intervened, he had thought +better of it and changed his mind. Besides, they were cousins, so there +was an excuse for his paying her more attention than he would have done +had there been no relationship between them. + +Amy's illness was more of mind than body; she heard old kind Dr. Bernard +say so, and knew it well herself, and tried hard and earnestly to rouse +and be herself again, but all to no purpose; it would not do. She had +worried and fretted, and thought, and allowed her mind to dwell too much +on the eventful interview she had had with Frances, to shake off so +easily the weight that was pressing on her mind, and sinking her +spirits. Julia was kindness itself, and did all she could to comfort and +cheer her, but then she knew nothing of Frances' unkind suspicions and +unjust opinions, or of the fear Amy felt lest she should tell Charles +what she so erroneously and determinately adhered to, namely, that her +love was his, although unsought, unasked, and unwished for. + +It was this fear kept Amy ill. If she could only have unburthened her +mind to Julia and told her that! But she could not, and so she lay +quiet, very quiet, and did all they wished her to do, those kind nurses; +but still she did not get well, and it was nearly a fortnight before Dr. +Bernard pronounced her better, and in a fair way of recovery. + +Then, as she grew convalescent, she dreaded the idea of meeting Charles +Linchmore again, lest he should have heard and believed Frances. How she +wished his leave had expired and he were gone, so that she might never +see him again, never hear of him, and she blushed painfully one day when +Anne happened to mention his name, to the no small astonishment of the +sharp-sighted Anne, who noted it at once, and drew her own conclusions +therefrom. + +In the meantime Frances had not been idle. Determined on gaining her +end, she went cunningly and cautiously to work, and while Amy was ill +the field was all her own. + +First, she must find out how much of Charles's heart had been given to +Amy; so, controlling her feelings by a strong effort of will, which made +her appear a little colder than she really was, and was worthy of a +better cause, she led him to talk of Amy, and wept afresh at each new +proof he gave of how much he thought of and cared for her. Still she did +not, would not despair. Like all the Linchmores, Charles was proud. If +she could only touch that; only rouse a jealous feeling within him, the +battle would be won. + +How well she remembered his hasty exit from the school-room and the +angry, jealous expression of his face. Was it not that that had first +led her to think he cared for another, and that his love was lost to +her, or nearly so? + +All the fears Amy was suffering and tormenting herself with were +groundless. Not for worlds would Frances have allowed Charles to think +Amy cared for him, or returned his love. No, that would take him from +her for ever, and oh! the anguish that thought cost her. So while Amy +was fidgeting and worrying herself, Frances was trying all in her power +to lead Charles to think that Amy's heart was Mr. Vavasour's, and as Amy +grew better, and able to resume studies again, so Charles became more +depressed and irritable, and more unlike his former self than ever. + +Amy no longer passed her evenings upstairs alone, but came down into +the drawing-room. Mr. Linchmore would have it so. Dr. Bernard had said +her illness was principally caused by anxiety of mind, and Miss Tremlow +had hinted her fears that the governess was too much alone for one so +young, so he mildly but gently insisted upon it, overruling Amy's +scruples and his own. + +This great change in her life at Brampton was viewed very differently by +those most interested in her. Frances hated it, as bringing her and +Charles on more intimate terms of friendship, and he himself hated it, +as giving Vavasour an opportunity of paying her more attention than +before. + +Robert Vavasour was the only one pleased with the arrangement. Knowing +nothing, suspecting nothing, of what was passing around him, he was glad +to see her, and sat down by her and told her so the very first evening +she came down, much to Charles's intense disgust, who kept sullenly +aloof, in a wretchedly bad temper, which not even his cigar or Bob could +dissipate or soothe, although he angrily left the room and had recourse +to both; but neither had any good effect, his mind was too thoroughly +engrossed with the governess. + +Another consequence of Amy's evenings being spent downstairs was that +she had little time for writing home. Often instead of the four +closely-written crossed sheets of paper, only one found its way into the +envelope, and that one sometimes scarcely filled, and hastily written. +But Mrs. Neville never complained; she fully believed that as Amy said, +so it was; not the will but the time was wanting. + +Sometimes there was dancing of an evening, and then Amy was expected to +contribute her share to the evening's amusement by playing the piano for +the dancers, who never seemed to tire. Sometimes her head ached sadly, +and her fingers grew quite stiff, and she stumbled dreadfully over the +notes, but no one heeded it, or seemed to mind it, and she played on +until relieved by Julia or Anne, who soon learned to guess the true +reason of the false notes. + +The tight fitting black dress and little plain collar, that had often +annoyed Anne, were now laid aside in the evening for a plain white +muslin, made high, without ornament or ribbon of any kind, confined at +the waist by a broad band. It was simple, but suited her well; and many +a proud beauty, conscious of her own loveliness, would have fallen into +the shade beside the governess in her plain white muslin. + +There was a dignity as well as beauty in Amy: the one attracted, the +other commanded the respect of everyone. There was something truly +feminine about her--grace in every movement, sweetness in every smile, +sad as her smiles were now; and her manner was so devoid of affectation, +yet so soft and winning, what wonder that she was loved by some, and +hated as a dangerous rival by others. + +Amy sat at a small table writing home, her head bent gracefully forward, +and her fair fingers guiding the pen rapidly over the paper, as she +added a few lines to the hastily-written note begun that morning. Her +hair--it looked almost golden by the fire-light--was plainly braided, +though the brush had scarcely been able to smooth the waving luxuriant +masses--and wound simply round a comb at the back of her small +head--'Madonna-wise,' as Charles had once said. + +Her naturally fair complexion--so fair, that it almost rivalled the +clear white muslin dress--was set off by a slight colour which tinged +her cheeks, caused, perhaps, by the eagerness with which she wrote; for +Amy knew full well, that the dinner over, she would have to go below, +with no chance of finishing her letter that night, for the morrow's +early post. + +But now her task is done; a pleasant task for her, so filled as her +heart is with love for her fond and anxious mother. A few tears +glistened in her eyes, as she sealed and directed the letter, and, "I +wish dear Mamma would write to me," fell scarcely audible from her +lips. + +It was nearly a month since Mrs. Neville had written; not once during +all the time of Amy's illness; but then she knew nothing of that, Amy +never mentioned it; it would have made her mother too anxious and +unhappy. + +How slowly the days crept by! and how anxiously every morning Amy looked +forward to the afternoon, when the postman made his appearance at the +park; yet each day she was disappointed, Mrs. Neville did not write. + +Mrs. Elrington wrote constantly, at her friend's earnest request and +wish, so she said. But did this satisfy Amy? No; she longed once again +to see her dear parent's handwriting; she felt an aching void at the +heart; and was most anxious and nervous, fearing she knew not what, +whilst a thousand wild suggestions filled her brain, and sad thoughts +trembled in her heart. + +Amy's desk was scarcely shut ere Mrs. Hopkins came in. She hesitated +half-way between the door and the table, uncertain whether to advance or +not, but Amy's voice soon assured her. + +"Come in, Nurse," said she, "and sit down. I am not busy; I have been +writing, but my letter is finished, so I am quite ready to talk to you, +which will be far pleasanter to me than sitting alone." + +"Thank you, Miss; it is so long since I had a talk with you--not since +your illness; I hope you are feeling well and strong again?" + +"Quite, thank you; I am entirely out of the doctor's hands now, and hope +I shall not want him again for a long time. How are you and Mason +getting on? more amicably, I hope?" + +"No, I can't say we are; her head is filled with French nonsense. It was +a thousand pities Madam ever took her to France, she has never been the +same woman since--such airs and graces; such bends and courtesies! such +twistings of her body! and as for her waist, why it's just half the size +it was; I wonder she doesn't burst sometimes--I'm sure her face looks +red enough, and all through being squeezed so tight; but there, it's no +business of mine, I only wonder Madam puts up with it. + +"Then as to master," continued Mrs. Hopkins, "I never did see a +gentleman so altered as he is. I thought the staying at Brampton, and +having company here, would have enlivened him; but Lord bless you, Miss, +he is worse a great deal. He always was grave, like; but then he'd a +pleasant smile and good word for everybody in the house; but now--" +Nurse sighed, stroked and doubled up the corner of her apron, and looked +thoughtful. + +"And now?" asked Amy, enquiringly. + +"Now, Miss, he's quite altered, quite changed--melancholy, like. 'Tis +true he says, 'Good morning, Mrs. Hopkins;' but that's all. The butler +tells me he seldom smiles with the company; but sits and talks like a +gentleman absent in his mind." + +"You surely must be mistaken, Nurse," said Amy, thoughtfully, "I see no +difference." + +"Very likely not, Miss; but we servants see it. There's scarce anything +ever goes on amiss in a house that servants don't notice it. I don't +pretend to know why master's changed; but certain as I am sitting here, +he is changed. May-be he has something on his mind. How different his +father was. God rest his soul, poor old gentleman." + +"Was his father much liked? was he popular at Brampton? for all seem to +respect and love the present Mr. Linchmore." + +"He never lived long enough down here for people to know enough about +him to like him. He wasn't over and above fond of his lady, nor of her +doings neither--so I've heard my mother say. He was, by all accounts, a +very wild gentleman in his youth." + +"And old Mrs. Linchmore, his wife. Why was he not fond of her?" + +"She was a fearful woman!" replied Mrs. Hopkins, drawing her chair +nearer Amy's; "very handsome in her youth. Mr. Linchmore married her +for her beauty, and sorry enough he was for it afterwards. That's her +picture hangs over the chimney-piece in the dining room, and a beautiful +face it has; only too proud and stormy, like, to my mind." + +"Did you ever see her?" + +"Yes, Miss. I mind her just before she died. Six months before that +happened, the housekeeper, who was a friend of my mother's, got me the +under housemaid's place here. I seem to see the lady now, tall and +straight as a needle, with such a stately step and proud look; her eyes +bright, black, and piercing as a hawk's, although she was gone forty and +more. I used to tremble whenever she looked at me, and many's the time +I've run for the life of me down the long gallery to get out of her way. +Oh! she was a fearful lady!" + +"How so?" inquired Amy, hoping to gain some intelligence as to why her +room was so pertinaciously kept closed. + +"They say, Miss," replied Nurse, glancing uneasily about her, "that the +house was haunted when she was alive. I can't say as ever I saw +anything; but I believe it all the same, and so did my fellow-servants, +though it was never whispered between us; certainly she was no good +christian any more than Tabitha, her maid, who had lived with her ever +since she was a girl, and knew all her secrets; and would be muttering +to herself all day long. This was a strange house then, and I don't +wonder the villagers were 'frighted to come near it." + +"Why so? surely a woman could do them no harm?" + +"Well, Miss, they said she could, and did do a deal of harm to them she +didn't like; and then there was that bad story they had about her +husband's cousin." + +"What was that, Nurse?" + +"I can't scarce tell you all the rights of it, Miss, only what I've +heard people say, as you see it happened afore my time; but 'twas all +about a cousin of her husband's, who had been adopted by his mother. My +old mistress was fearful jealous of her, as well she might be if all +accounts was true about her gentle, loving ways. But there, they didn't +save her from being suspected by Mrs. Linchmore of carrying on at a +shameful, scandalous rate with her husband, Mr. Linchmore. Poor young +lady! She disappeared one night, and 'twas given out that she had fled +from the Park to hide her shame. But there, people ain't blind; and then +she never came back again, and so the villagers whispered 'twas a darker +deed than that took her away so sudden." + +"But what did Mrs. Linchmore's husband say?" + +"He and his wife had fine words about it, Miss, and he went off soon +after and left her for good. But there worse than that happened; for his +poor mother, her as adopted Miss Mary--that was the poor young lady's +name, Miss--broke her heart about it all, and died. She was a nice, good +old lady, and very fond of Miss Mary, and on her death-bed she told my +mother she died believing the young lady innocent; and no one was ever +to believe anything else until they saw Miss Mary again, and then all +wou'd come right, and everybody hear the truth. But there, we never did +hear the truth, for we never saw Miss Mary again; so it was just as well +the old lady was took when she was, and went so happy and peaceful." + +"But her daughter-in-law, your old mistress, what became of her? I think +she died suddenly, did she not?" + +"Very, Miss Neville. She would have no one but Tabitha to wait on her +when she was ill; but none of us cared much about that; and they used to +abuse one another terrible sometimes. It was a long time before she'd +see the doctor, and then she wouldn't take his medicine; we found all +the bottles ranged like a regiment of soldiers in the cupboard after she +died--not even the corks out of them, or a drop of medicine taken. When +she got worse she wouldn't lay in the bed, but had the mattress moved +off on to the floor. She died that very night quite sudden, for none of +us thought her so bad as that, not even the doctor; but there, he was +quite a young man, and I mind well his coming in the morning. She hadn't +been so well the evening before, so he came quite early, as I was +cleaning down the hall. I went upstairs with him, and knocked twice at +my mistress's door, but nobody answered; so the doctor opened it, and +went in, and I followed, terribly frightened, but so curious like, I +couldn't keep back anyhow." + +Nurse paused, and then sunk her voice almost to a whisper as she went +on, + +"Oh! what a terrible sight we saw. My mistress was quite dead; one of +her hands clutching the bed clothes, the other thrown above her head, +and closed so tight, it looked as though the nails were buried in the +flesh. Her eyes were wide open, and a frightful look her face had, as +though she had died in torments.--She was an awful corpse;" and Nurse +shuddered, and her hands trembled as she stirred up the fire. + +"But where was Tabitha? How was it she had not called for anyone?" + +"She was lying by the side of the bed on the floor, and at first I +thought she was dead, too; but she came to life again when we carried +her into the open air, and a scared look she had when she opened her +eyes; but it was weeks before she got well again, and then she left, and +none of us felt sorry, I can tell you." + +"Did she give you no account of the lady's death?" + +"The doctors said she died in a fit, but we all knew her end was +something awful, for one of the maids who had been put to sleep in a +room near, in case she might be wanted, told us she heard in the dead of +the night an awful noise in Mrs. Linchmore's room--it woke her; and then +a loud talking; as if my mistress was angry about something, and +presently a loud scream and laughter; and then she was so frightened she +dropped off insensible, like, and didn't come to herself until she +heard us all astir with Tabitha in the morning." + +"Where was Mr. Linchmore?" + +"He was away abroad somewhere with his two little boys; and didn't get +here till three or four days after her death. We all thought he would +shut up the house and go abroad to foreign parts again, as he had done +for years past; but no, he had it all fresh painted and papered; all +except his wife's two rooms,--there's a dressing-room adjoining, but +only the one door for the two--he never went near them again I believe, +but can't say for certain, as I married and left the place. My mistress +was buried in great state, ever so many carriages and grand folks,--some +of them from London,--and a mighty lot of beautiful feathers nodding and +bobbing over the hearse; but for all that we wern't sorry to lose her, +we all feared her, and though a crowd assembled in the churchyard, 'twas +out of curiosity, many of the villagers never having seen such a grand +funeral before; there wasn't, so I heard my old man say, a wet eye +amongst them, not even the master's, and as for the company of mourners, +Lor' bless you, Miss, they laughed and joked over their luncheon +afterwards as though they had been to a wedding." + +"Has Mrs. Linchmore's room never been occupied since her death?" + +"Never, Miss, that I know of. I don't think my old master ever went into +it again; my present master don't seem to love it neither, and as for +Madam, she says it's the worst room in the house; all old fashioned and +gloomy." + +"I should like to see the room some day, Nurse, will you show it to me?" + +"I, Miss? I wouldn't go into it for any money. John at the lodge says +he's seen a queer sort of light there lately; bright and blue, like. +Half the maids in the house are talking about it; and go about in +couples to turn the beds down. But he only saw it once, and then for +only half a minute, so perhaps it was his fancy." + +"Is the door kept locked?" + +"I shouldn't like to go to sleep if it wasn't. Yes, Miss, the key's kept +down in my room below. I couldn't bide comfortable in bed with it in my +room above stairs, at night. No, I was mortal afraid of the old lady +when she was alive, and couldn't face her dead anyhow, and she such an +awful corpse too." + +Just at this moment Anne, who had entered the room unperceived, clapped +her hands. Nurse nearly dropped off her chair with fright; even Amy was +startled. + +"Now, that serves you right!" exclaimed the intruder, "for talking about +such horrible things. Mrs. Hopkins, let me put your cap straight; now +don't tremble so, and shake your head, or I shall put it on awry,--there +that will do; and now come away, Miss Neville; who would have believed +you were so superstitious? Imagine Miss Tremlow's astonishment when she +hears it. 'Miss Bennet,' said she, just now, 'if you are going upstairs +do let Miss Neville come down with you; and open the door +_ve--ry--gent--ly_, as I dare say she is busy writing home.' Instead of +which my gentleness nearly frightened you into fits, and instead of +writing you are listening to all kinds of horrors." + +"What a mad young lady she is," soliloquised Mrs. Hopkins, as the two +girls left the room together, "I declare for the moment I thought it was +my old mistress herself; she used to clap her hands just that way when +she was vexed. I'll go below, it's lonely here now Miss Neville's gone. +She's a sweet young lady and deserves a better husband than that Mr. +Vavasour, who John says is hankering after her, and makes eyes when +Madam isn't looking. There's no good in a man as keeps company with two +young women at once, and one of them married too, he ought to be ashamed +of himself; but there, I suppose it's only what the gentry call +flirting. Ah! well, for my part I don't like it; and how Miss Neville's +mother would vex if she knew it. I musn't forget her letter neither, +but'll put it with the rest for the post; and that reminds me I never +gave her the one that came for her this afternoon, but I'll lay it on +her dressing table, she'll be sure to see it when she goes to bed. Poor +dear! I suppose she'll be kept up pianning it till her fingers are most +ready to drop off." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE WARNING. + + "Oh! life is like the summer rill, where weary daylight dies; + We long for morn to rise again, and blush along the skies; + For dull and dark that stream appears, whose waters in the day, + All glad, in conscious sunniness, went dancing on their way. + But when the glorious sun hath 'woke, and looked upon the earth, + And over hill and dale there float the sounds of human mirth; + We sigh to see day hath not brought its perfect light to all, + For with the sunshine on those waves, the silent shadows fall." + + CAROLINE NORTON. + + +Frances Strickland was seated at the piano, singing, when Anne and Amy +entered the drawing-room. + +"I wonder who asked or persuaded her to sing, for she always requires an +immense amount of pressing. However, so much the better for you, as she +will, I doubt not, remain perched on the music-stool half the night," +said Anne. + +Amy sat down in her usual place, near the window, so as to be almost +hidden by the heavy drapery of the curtain, and mechanically her eyes +wandered in search of Mr. Linchmore, as her thoughts dwelt on Mrs. +Hopkin's words, "Master has something on his mind." + +Was it so? Was it possible? and if so, why was he unhappy? Young and +inexperienced in the ways of the world, Amy had no suspicion of the real +cause of Mr. Linchmore's sadness; in fact, as she told Mrs. Hopkins, she +had not remarked it. Why should he be changed? What should he be sad +about? + +Often, in after days, Amy wished she had never found out the dreadful +cause of this alteration. + +Mr. Linchmore held a book in his hand, but his eyes had wandered from +its pages. Amy followed their direction. + +At the farthest end of the room sat Mrs. Linchmore, and by her side Mr. +Strickland. Listlessly she sat, and listlessly she appeared to be +listening to her companion's words, although he seemed to be exerting +himself in an unusual manner to please her, not a yawn, or symptom of +fatigue about him. They seemed to have changed places, the weariness all +on her part; she was evidently inattentive and absent. + +Robert Vavasour leant against the back of the sofa on which she sat; +like Mr. Linchmore, he held a book in his hand. Was he reading it? No. +Impossible! the leaves were turned over carelessly, and at random, two +or three together, not one by one. + +A little farther off sat Anne, laughing and chatting merrily with Mr. +Hall, while he was bending low, and speaking, in a soft, subdued voice, +such things as only those who love know how to speak--Anne looking pert, +and trying to appear indifferent to his words. + +"He loves her!" thought Amy, as she watched them, "and she? yes, I think +she does, or will love him too. How happy she looks, not a cloud to +darken her bright path; everything is smooth for her, and appears in +gay, golden colours. Happy Anne! May the light that sparkles in your +eyes never be quenched, nor your merry laugh be chased away by the sad, +sorrowful look that tells of the heart's best hopes faded away, and +bright days gone never to return." + +Again Amy looked towards Mrs. Linchmore. Robert Vavasour had taken the +vacant seat by her side. Alfred Strickland was gone. + +How different she appeared! No longer listless or inattentive, her face +was brightened by smiles. She was all animation, talking and laughing +almost as merrily as Anne. + +How sad it is to see those we love smiling on others as they never smile +on us, or whilst our hearts are overcharged with sorrow and heaviness, +theirs are careless and unconcerned, insensible to our misery, if not +even mocking our anguish. Then it is that in bitterness of heart we +could lie down and die, or at least weep drops of agony, to think that +our love could be so lightly valued, or we ourselves so neglected and +forsaken. + +Mrs. Linchmore knew her husband's eyes were watching her, knew, too, +partly the agony of his heart, yet she trifled on, caring little for the +feelings of him whose slightest wish she should have studied to please, +and striven to obey. + +Mr. Linchmore closed his book. It accidentally fell to the ground. His +wife,--whose attention had been seemingly engrossed by Robert Vavasour, +nevertheless watched her husband uneasily. When would his patience be +exhausted? When would his pride take the alarm? Now! thought she, as she +started at the slight noise the book made as it reached the ground. +Calling to remembrance her husband's previous suspicions, she asked Mr. +Vavasour to beg Miss Neville to play for a dance. + +He was at Amy's side as Mr. Linchmore rose from his chair. Very stiffly +she received him. + +"Does Miss Neville intend retiring from observation all night? It was +with some difficulty I found her out in this out of the way corner." + +"This is my usual seat when I am not required to play. I should have +thought Mr. Vavasour had seen me here too often to have searched for me +elsewhere." + +"You are right, I did not look for you elsewhere. What I meant to say +was, that I wished you would take a seat somewhere, where one might +catch a glimpse of you, instead of beneath the shade of this detestable +window curtain. Have I got into a scrape by so wishing?" + +"Certainly not," replied Amy. + +"You think too little of self, Miss Neville. Look at Miss Strickland, +who always plants herself in the most prominent position, so that no one +can fail remarking her the moment they set foot into a room." + +"Do you not think it is rather her beauty strikes the eye of a +stranger?" + +"It may be so. I do not admire her." + +"Not admire her?" exclaimed Amy, "I must condemn your bad taste, surely +everyone must think her beautiful." + +"Because everyone thinks so, is that a reason why I should?" + +"No, but most men admire beauty. It seems so strange you should not." + +"I have the bad taste not to care about mere beauty such as Miss +Strickland's; she is too proud, and, if I mistake not, her temper is +none of the sweetest; no, I shall not choose my wife for her pretty +face." + +"Perhaps you seek a miracle of perfection, mind and face both." + +"No miracle, Miss Neville, for I have seen both." + +He looked at her so earnestly, that Amy felt confused, while Charles, +who savagely watched them at a distance, felt as surly as a bear, and as +miserable as he well could be. He could stand it no longer. + +"Miss Neville," said he approaching them, "Has Vavasour given you Mrs. +Linchmore's message?" + +"No. I quite forgot it," replied he, "It was something about dancing +wasn't it? but I for one don't care a rush about it." + +"Because you do not, is no reason why others should not," retorted +Charles, turning on his heel. + +"The next time a message is entrusted to Mr. Vavasour," said Amy rising, +"I hope he will not forget to deliver it. I will ask Mrs. Linchmore if +it is her wish I should play." + +"Stay, Miss Neville, I can answer the question She does--but--" + +"Thank you, I need no further commands," replied Amy proudly. + +As they left the recess, Alfred Strickland,--who sitting close by had +overheard almost every word,--turned lazily round on the sofa. + +"Well done for the schoolmistress!" muttered he, "by Jove! how she +snubbed Vavasour. That last was a settler!" + +Robert Vavasour leant over Amy as she arranged the music and commenced +playing. + +"You misjudge me, Miss Neville; but I hope a time will come when you +will think better of me." + +"I do not think badly of you," replied Amy as he turned away. + +"Thoroughly snubbed! old fellow, eh?" said Alfred Strickland, as +Vavasour passed the sofa where he still sat, "never mind, cheer up! and +better luck next time!" + +"Did you speak, sir?" exclaimed Vavasour fiercely. + +"No, no, nothing of any consequence. It's chilly, don't you find it so?" + +"Very," replied Robert, as he passed on. + +Had Mr. Linchmore, as Mrs. Hopkins said, anything on his mind, or was he +blind to all that was passing around him? Partly so; he had seen +Vavasour's flirtation with his wife with uneasiness and displeasure, +determined in his own mind to put a stop to it; but the scene suddenly +changed. Miss Neville appeared, and he immediately transferred his +attentions to her, or certainly a great part of them. + +For a short time Mr. Linchmore was puzzled, but ere long he set him down +as that most selfish of human beings, one who systematically storms a +woman's heart until it succumbs to him, and is all his own, when +gradually and quietly he releases himself from his victim, and leaves +her heart to break or recover as best it can. + +A female flirt is bad enough, but there are oftentimes excuses to be +made for her. She becomes so from the force of circumstances, from undue +admiration or a natural love of it; from some secret sorrow, or unhappy +home, made so by a husband's desertion, something there must be to urge +her on. + +But how many men glory in and boast of their conquests, and tell of the +many hearts they have broken. How sad is the idea of some young girl, +just entering life, made the sport of one of these. She surrenders her +truthful, guileless heart, in all its first strong love, to him who she +truly believes is all her young fancy ever pictured in her brightest +dreams--all that is good and noble. + +Too late she finds out her mistake, too late knows she has been +deceived, and her heart trifled with. She becomes in her turn a flirt, +and her heart hard and callous. The world is no longer in her eyes the +bright world it was, but a hollow, heartless pageant. + +Mr. Linchmore liked Amy. Should such be her fate? Should he sit quietly +by and see her heart thus sacrificed, her peace of mind so destroyed? +God forbid! If he had the power to prevent it; it should never be. So he +watched her and Mr. Vavasour narrowly, determined to warn her himself. + +The grand piano Amy played on was so placed as to command a view of the +dancers, as they flitted past her. Robert Vavasour, although he said he +cared not a rush for it, was flying along in a waltz with Mrs. +Linchmore. Somehow Amy did not like seeing him so soon with her again, +she felt sorry; and her eyes involuntarily sought Mr. Linchmore, but she +had not far to look, he was close beside her; and placed a chair as she +finished playing. + +"You must be tired, Miss Neville," he said kindly. + +"No; I am so accustomed to play, that I think the dancers would get +tired before I should." + +"My wife never tires." + +"How beautiful she looks to-night!" said Amy. + +Mrs. Linchmore was always well dressed; this evening, perhaps, more +simply than usual. A rich white silk dress, fitting her to perfection, +with a few scarlet roses in her hair and bosom. + +"She grows more beautiful every day," replied he, sorrowfully. "Are you +fond of gaiety, Miss Neville?" + +"Yes, I think so, or fancy I should be. I have seen little of it; but it +must be so pleasant to thoroughly enjoy oneself." + +"I doubt if very many feel it to be thorough enjoyment; even balls and +parties have their cares; but you would hardly think so to listen to the +talking and merriment around." + +Anne, at this moment, played a galop, and again Robert Vavasour whirled +past with his hostess. + +"Mr. Vavasour dances well," was all the remark Mr. Linchmore made. "You +appear well acquainted with him, Miss Neville. Is he an old +acquaintance?" + +"No. Oh, no!" replied Amy, hurriedly and confusedly. + +"He is a man who soon ingratiates himself with the fair sex. Of a proud, +reserved nature, a word from his lips is of more weight with them than +half the good deeds of a better man. He is a man who could humbug the +wisest, and flirt with the silliest; and without the slightest intention +of losing his own heart, or becoming entangled himself. He is not a +marrying man; and for that simple reason every girl will try to win his +heart; or will fall into the snare he sets, believing that she is the +chosen one, and that his iron will and heart has succumbed to her; and +be naturally proud of her supposed conquest, until she finds out her +mistake, as most assuredly she will." + +"I have warned her," thought Mr. Linchmore, as he left her, nor stayed +to see the effect of his words. + +While Amy inwardly murmured, "I shall never fall into the snare." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +MISGIVINGS. + + "Coquets, leave off affected arts, + Gay fowlers at a flock of hearts; + Woodcocks to shun your snares have skill, + You show so plain, you strive to kill. + In love the heartless catch the game, + And they scarce miss, who never aim." + + GREEN. + + +How often it happens that in realising our fondest hopes, we experience +not the happiness we expected. + +Each and all of us, at some unhappy period of our lives, have been led +to exclaim, "Ah! if this state of uncertainty were but at an end, this +suspense over. Let the worst come, we are prepared for it: it cannot +make us more miserable than we are." Yet fortified as we deem ourselves +against the worst, braced up as it were, and prepared for aught that may +happen; how feeble we are, at the very best, when the ruin, sickness, +death of those we love, or whatever sorrow it may be, overtakes us; how +often--always--unequal to bear the blow. Then we sigh for our former +state of uncertainty; it was bliss compared to our present grief, when, +fancying ourselves prepared for the worst, gentle hope filled our +hearts, and bade us look trustfully onwards for bright smiles, wreathed +with roses; where, alas! we found only tears beneath a crown of thorns. + + "Such is life; + The distant prospect always seems more fair; + And when attained, another still succeeds, + Far fairer than before,--yet compassed round + With the same dangers and the same dismay; + And we poor pilgrims in this dreary maze, + Still discontented, chase the fairy form + Of unsubstantial happiness, to find, + When life itself is sinking in the strife, + 'Tis but an airy bubble and a cheat." + +Thus it was with Amy Neville. She had been uneasy and unhappy at not +hearing from her mother; evil forebodings had filled her heart, and all +kinds of imaginary fancies her brain. She had sighed again and again but +for one short letter of explanation, clearing away her mother's +mysterious silence, and lifting the veil that seemed to hang so gloomily +and heavily between her and her home. + +It came. It had arrived the evening before. It was the letter Mrs. +Hopkins had forgotten to give her, and had placed on her dressing table, +and there Amy found it on retiring for the night. + +How eagerly she seized and perused its contents, read and re-read every +word of it, till her eyes ached and swam with tears, and she could no +longer trace the handwriting on the sheet of paper. Then wearily she +crept to bed, and placing the letter beneath her pillow, so as to be +able to read it again the first thing in the morning, fell into a +troubled sleep, with but one thought at her heart, and that one, that +her beloved parent had been ill,--very ill. + +The letter was from Mrs. Elrington, assuring her that although Mrs. +Neville had been seriously ill, all danger was over now, and the invalid +in a fair way of recovery; yet Amy, whose eyes were heavy with recent +tears and unrefreshing rest, could scarcely reconcile to herself that it +was so, and how her heart beat as she read an account of her mother's +sufferings. How gladly would she have watched by the sick bed, and +ministered to her relief. How gladly have shared with Mrs. Elrington in +the kind attentions and unremitting care she knew she had bestowed on +her good and gentle parent. + +Mrs. Elrington's letter was kindly and thoughtfully worded, well +calculated to soothe and tranquillise an anxious daughter's heart. + +Mrs. Neville, she said, had certainly been very ill, though not in any +immediate danger. It had been her express wish throughout that Amy +should not be told of her illness, as there was no necessity for her +incurring an expensive journey at such an inclement season of the year; +"and," continued Mrs. Elrington, "your mother rightly judged that had +you known she was ill, your anxiety would have been great if not allowed +to share in nursing her. Thank God, she is able to leave her room, and +now reclines on a sofa in the little parlour, and is gradually regaining +her usual strength, though we must not expect her to become well all at +once; but I hope in a few weeks she will be able to occupy her usual +seat as of old, in the easy chair by the fire-side, which said chair +Sarah is very busy making a new chintz cover for, in readiness for the +invalid, and in honour of the day when she first sits up. So dear Amy," +concluded Mrs. Elrington, "you must keep up your spirits and your roses, +or your mother will outvie you in both when you see her again, and be +sure that I will send for you at once, should she not go on as well as +we could wish." + +And with this letter Amy was obliged to rest satisfied, though for many +days after that she grew nervous and restless as the hour for the post +drew near; and could scarcely control the impatient desire she felt to +walk half way down the road to Standale to meet the postman. Once she +did walk down. + +Though now approaching the end of January, it was quite like a November +day--foggy, with a thick drizzling rain falling, yet Amy heeded it not, +but walked quickly on, wrapped in a thick seal-skin cloak. She passed +through the village and reached the turnpike gate. Here at the cottage +door stood William Hodge. + +"A nasty damp day, Miss," said he, touching his hat civilly. + +"Yes," replied Amy, "quite a change from the cold, frosty, snowy weather +we have had." + +"We shall have more rain yet, I'm thinking." + +"I hope not. How are Mrs. Marks and her husband?" + +"Well. Very well, thank'ee, Miss." + +"Are they from home, that you have charge of the Gate?" asked Amy, +surprised at seeing a stranger. + +"Mrs. Marks is, Miss, and that's why I'm here. I'm keeping house with +her husband while she's away. Her mother's took very bad." + +"I am sorry to hear that; but I hope it is nothing serious?" + +"Well I don't expect anyhow she'll get over it, Miss, she ought to be +dead by this time, and if she isn't I can't bide here no longer, I must +be turning about home. Mrs. Marks promised fairly enough to bide only a +week, and it's near upon three by my calculations. She's going to bring +back a sister along with her, one that's dazed," and he tapped his +forehead with a knowing look. + +"A sad charge," replied Amy, "and one rather unsuited to Mrs. Marks." + +"I don't know that, Miss. Yer see neighbours think Jane wouldn't be so +bad if she worn't humoured, and she ain't likely to get much of that +down here. To my thinking Mrs. Marks is just the right sort to cure her; +she'd racket any poor body to their senses, if 'twas possible." + +"Has Mrs. Marks' sister always been in such a sad state?" + +"All as I can tell yer, Miss, is, she worn't born so, it's comed on her +since, and when I've said that I've said all I do know about it. Her +mother comed down years ago now to Deane,--that's my home, Miss,--with +three daughters. Mrs. Marks was one of 'em, she married off, and came +down here with her husband. Then t'other one she married too, but as for +Jane, she never had no chance of a husband, for who'd marry a 'dafty,' +Miss? They was pretty close people, and never wagged their tongues with +nobody, so nobody knew nothing at all about them nor where they comed +from; only folks make a guess at things somehow; and down at Deane they +thinks they comed from Stasson, a place none so far from this neither; +and more than that Miss, that Jane was the reason why they comed so +sudden and secret, like; but there, if they thought the sight of a new +place 'ould cure Jane they was mighty mistaken, for from that day to +this she've never been no good at all to them, and to my thinking never +will be." + +"It's a sad story, indeed," replied Amy. + +"You may depend upon it, Miss, if we knew the rights of it, it's a +_bad_, as well as a sad story, but there, I've no call to say so. For +certain, Miss, there's a something very strange and mysterious 'bout +Jane. Perhaps the Brampton folks'll turn out more cute than the Deane +ones, and find out what 'tis. It's on my mind, and has been scores of +times, that Jane's mortal afeard of summut or other." + +Amy smiled at Hodge's suspicions, and passed on. + +Marks did not make his appearance, fond of a gossip as he was, and of +saying good-morrow to everyone who passed through the 'pike. Probably +the "Brampton Arms" was too strong a temptation, and,--as Hodge had +predicted it would be,--he was taking his swing there while he could, +though three weeks was rather a long time to be intoxicated; but then +there was the better chance of his being sober when Mrs. Marks did +return, and he should begin to try the effect of the "charm." + +On Amy went. The road seemed quite deserted, not a soul to be seen, even +the donkeys which usually grazed along the hedges were nowhere. + +As Amy walked on her thoughts unconsciously wandered towards Jane and +the strange account Hodge had given of her, and anxious as she was about +her mother's letter, her mind was almost as much occupied now with Mrs. +Marks' sister. She and the letter seemed irretrievably mixed up together +in hopeless confusion. The fact was, Hodge had excited Amy's curiosity +without being able to satisfy it in the smallest degree, so she was +making innumerable conjectures at the truth, all more or less improbable +when they came to be analysed. _Would_ the Brampton people be more +clever than the Deane ones, and find out what seemed such a puzzle, and, +as Hodge said, mystery to everyone? There was Mrs. Taylor, the village +chatterbox, she surely would ferret it out, and what a wonderful tale +she would make of it. Amy thought she would call at her cottage some +day and broach the subject, and hear what she had to say about it. It +could do no harm to hear what the village gossip said of poor crazy Jane +and her sorrowful story. + +As she arrived at this conclusion, a horseman came in sight. It was +Charles Linchmore. He was almost close by ere he recognised her. Then he +drew rein. + +"Miss Neville!" he exclaimed, in surprise, "surely after your illness it +is hardly prudent for you to be out on so damp a day." + +"It will not harm me," replied Amy. + +"Are you going much further? You will find it very dirty walking. Would +it not be wiser to return home?" + +"No, I think not, as least not just yet; I am too anxious to remain at +home. The walk will do me good." + +"I doubt that last assertion very much. It can do no one good being out +in such weather," and dismounting, he walked by her side. + +"Why did you venture?" she asked. + +"I? Oh, nothing brings me to grief. I am a soldier, and ought to rough +it." + +"Are ladies in your opinion so fragile that a slight shower will wash +them away?" + +"This is not a slight shower, Miss Neville, but a nasty, misty rain, +that does a deal more damage than a heavy down-pour." + +"I do not agree with you. The one is certainly disagreeable, but the +other thoroughly drenches, and is more than disagreeable--it makes one +out of temper." + +"I have thought more than once that that latter assertion of yours is +with you an impossibility." + +"Ah! you were never more deceived. I am feeling vexed now," replied Amy. + +"Now?" returned Charles. + +"Yes. I have been terribly anxious all day, and it vexes me to hear +anyone say I should return home, when I have come out purposely to get +rid of my weariful thoughts. I know such a damp mist as this will never +harm me half as much as they would." + +Charles waited, hoping she would say more, but she did not, so he broke +the silence. + +"I have been to see Grant," he said. + +"I trust there has been no more fuss with the poachers?" + +"No," replied he carelessly, "but it seems they expect an attack +to-night, that is, they are going out in expectation of something of the +kind." + +"Of a fight with the poachers?" + +"Yes; they had scent of them last night, but did not come up with any. +To-night they hope for better luck, and Grant and a lot of the game +watchers are going in quest." + +"It seems to me such a sad way of risking one's life," said Amy. + +"Property must be protected, Miss Neville. None of these fellows going +out to-night go with the idea of losing their lives." + +"Perhaps not; but look at the fate of poor Susan's husband." + +"You mean the man who was shot? That is a bad spoke to put in the wheel +of your argument, as his sad end has only urged on those who are left to +annihilate such a set of ruffians. I have half made up my mind to join +in the night expedition." + +"You!" exclaimed Amy hastily, "pray do not think of such a thing," and +then fearing she had said too much--betrayed too deep an interest in his +welfare, added, "every one would think it foolish!" + +"Would you?" he asked. + +"I? oh yes! of course I should, and besides, every one would be so +anxious. What would Mrs. Linchmore say?" + +"My brother's wife's opinion is naught to me. Would _you_ be anxious, +Miss Neville?" + +"I shall be anxious for all those who put their lives in jeopardy +to-night," replied Amy, coldly, "And now as I see nothing of the +postman, I think I will turn back." + +"Are you expecting a very important letter?" asked he, harshly, his +jealousy creeping to the very tops of his fingers. Surely it must be +some one she cared very much about, to induce a walk in such weather. + +"My mother is ill," replied Amy. + +The words were simple enough, but he fancied they were spoken in a +reproachful tone; or otherwise his suspicions at an end, he was ready to +accuse himself. Disarmed at once, he was too generous not to make the +one atonement in his power. Springing on his horse, he exclaimed,-- + +"I will fetch the letter for you, Miss Neville," and was out of sight in +a moment. + +Amy turned, and retraced her steps homewards, thinking he would soon +overtake her, as it was past four o'clock, and the postman always +reached the Park by half-past, so that he must of necessity be some way +on his road when Charles would come up with him. But no, she walked on, +reached the turnpike, and next the village; and then she loitered, went +on slowly, and at length stopped and looked back. Still no signs of +him. + +She went on more slowly still, through the village, and at last, delay +as she would, reached the park gates; then an anxious, restless +expression came over her face, she began to feel nervous, as she always +did now when the chance of meeting or seeing Frances Strickland +presented itself, with ever that one fear at her heart, that she should +know or find out Charles Linchmore was doing her any act of kindness, +however simple, and in revenge, tell him what she suspected and accused +her of. + +Amy hesitated ere she entered the park. Should she retrace her steps? +She turned as if to do so, then the thought came across her, what if he +should think she wished him to walk home with her? Hurriedly she went +through the gate, and tried to shake off the fear she felt of being seen +with him, but the very speed she walked at now, showed she could not, +while, instead of walking up the long avenue, she struck across the +park. + +But all to no purpose, for just as she emerged again into the drive, +close to the house, a horse's hoofs rang out over the ground, and +Charles Linchmore came up with her, his horse bespattered with mud, as +though he had ridden hard and fast. + +"Here is your letter, Miss Neville," said he, "I almost feared I should +miss you, and that you would have reached home," and again he +dismounted, so that there was no chance of escape, or of hurrying on. + +"I am sorry you should have had so much trouble on my account, Mr. +Linchmore, thank you very much for my letter," and her eyes brightened, +as at length she recognized her mother's hand writing on the envelope. + +"I am fully repaid by seeing the pleasure the sight of the letter gives +you." + +"Yes, it is my mother's writing, so she must be better." + +"You would have had it sooner, but there had been some accident or delay +with the train, I did not stop to hear what. It had not arrived long +before I got there." + +"Had you to go all the way to Standale? How very kind of you!" + +"Not at all. It was just as well you turned back," and he pointed +smilingly at the muddy state of his boots. + +"I think it very kind indeed of you," replied Amy again, and then wished +she had never said it, because he looked so more than pleased. + +They were close to the house now; to the windows of which Amy dared not +raise her eyes, but hurriedly wished him "good-bye." + +"I will get your letters for you every day, Miss Neville," he said, as +he pressed her hand rather warmly in his. + +"No, no. Do not think of it for a moment," she said, and passed on. + +That evening, when Amy took her pupils down stairs, she found on +entering the drawing-room, all the ladies clustered around Mrs. +Linchmore. + +"Such a piece of work, Miss Neville," said Anne, advancing from the +circle, and going over to her, "here are all the men wild to go on a +poaching expedition--so fool-hardy, isn't it?" + +"What does Mr. Linchmore say to it?" + +"He's going too, I believe. It is all that abominable Charles's doing; +he came home with some fine story or another Grant had told him, and +sent all the rest mad. I call it downright folly." + +"I met Mr. Charles Linchmore this afternoon," replied Amy, "and he +mentioned his intention of going with Grant, but I thought little of it +then, as I fancied it would most likely fall to the ground when the time +for action came." + +"You were wrong, then. For the plan was seized on with avidity as soon +as proposed, but I am surprised at Mr. Linchmore, I did not for one +moment think he would have seconded it. As for Charles, any hairbreadth +danger pleases him. I do not believe he has ever been in a real fight, +so he thinks to try a mock one." + +"I hope it may simply prove such," replied Amy, "but the last was +anything but a mock fight; I do not think you were here at the time, but +I dare say you may have heard of it." + +"Yes, and it is just that that makes us all fearful; as to Frances, she +is just wild about it, I know, but to look in her face you would think +her a piece of adamant, for aught you can find written there. I wish +Charles would give it up; I think if we could only get him to throw cold +water on it, the rest would soon follow his example. Do you mind helping +me to try, Miss Neville?" asked Anne, knowing full well in her own heart +that Amy's voice would have its full weight with one of the gentlemen at +least. + +But Amy declined. She felt she dared not so brave Frances; and Anne, +after expressing her belief in her unkindness, left her. + +Frances' face did look like adamant, so still and set; and yet she was +feeling at her heart, more perhaps than any one there present in that +large room. Would her voice have any weight with Charles? Would he stay +behind if she asked him? While a chill fear crept over her as the +thought flew through her of what might happen if he went; might not his +fate be that of the man they had spoken of so recently? might he not be +brought home even as he was--lifeless--and she never see him more? and +then what would life be worth to her? As she watched him in the circle +round Mrs. Linchmore, laughing and joking, and turning the fears of +those near him into ridicule, she felt that now he was so near danger he +was nearer and dearer to her heart than he had ever been before. He +should not, must not go, if she could prevent it. + +Presently he moved away from the rest. She went and joined him. + +"Charles," she began, "are you really in earnest?" + +"About what, Frances?" + +"Determined on this expedition in spite of all opposition?" + +"Of course I am. What made you think otherwise?" + +"I thought you might have been persuaded to stay." + +"Then you thought wrong, cousin," said he, laughingly. + +"It is surely no laughing matter, when we are all so anxious." + +"It is that very circumstance makes me laugh. We must not show craven +hearts just because women cry and sob." + +"But we are not doing anything of the kind." + +"At heart some of you are." + +"I am not for one," replied she, indignantly annoyed that he should +suspect her. + +"Then why ask me to stay?" + +"Because you were the one who started the expedition; and if you say +nay, all the rest will." + +"And think me a fool for my pains. No, Frances, what needs--must. I +shall not draw back now, it is not my way, as you know; I am sorry for +you, if any one is going you particularly care about. I'd have my eye on +him if I knew who he was, but I don't." + +This to her? Frances could have wept with vexation. Was it possible he +did not see it was for himself she was anxious? Perhaps she did look a +little reproachfully as she replied, somewhat sorrowfully, + +"No one is going I care about. Only take care of _yourself_, Charles." + +At another moment the words might have struck him, and perhaps sent +conviction into his heart; but now?-- + +"Then do as I told my brother's wife just now," he replied; "have supper +ready for us by the time we come back; I'll answer for our doing justice +to it." + +"Can you think of nothing but eating and drinking?" she asked, bitterly +and yet could have thrown herself on her knees, and implored and +besought him to stay. Ah! if only in days gone by she could have allowed +her warmer nature to have had play, have crushed out her pride and +stubbornness, things might have been different between them, and she +have been dearer to him; now she was his cousin, nothing more, and with +no thought of what she was suffering, he turned away without any reply, +rather annoyed at her words than otherwise. + +A few moments later he joined Amy. + +"I trust you do not give me credit for being such a sinner as the rest +of your sex do? or throw all the onus of this expedition on me, Miss +Neville?" + +"Every one seems to think it originated with you." + +"Perhaps it did; but then every one need not follow in my footsteps. +Surely I am not answerable for any one but myself?" + +"It seems," replied Amy, evading his question, "to have thrown a damp on +every one's spirits. I suppose it must be undertaken now?" + +"If you had said the last words to me to-day, Miss Neville, it might +have been different." + +Then, as she made no reply, he added, "You do not ask me to stay." + +"I would do so, if I thought you could retreat honourably." + +"And you do not think so? You do not blame me for going?" + +"Certainly not. Things have proceeded too far. You must go. I am only +sorry to see so many sad faces." + +"Thank you, Miss Neville, those are my own feelings entirely. I am in no +way to blame for the actions of others, and should have gone myself, +whether or no. Good-bye.--God bless you!" he added, softly, as he held +her hand in his. + +It was only for a moment; even Frances could not have found fault with +the length of time he held it, and Amy scarcely felt the pressure of his +fingers; yet she felt and saw the mark his ring had made as his hand +clasped hers so tightly; felt and thought of it for many days after +that. + +Nearly all the gentlemen passed out after Charles. Robert Vavasour +hesitated as he drew near the spot where Amy sat; but she did not look +up from the book she held in her hand; and, after a moment's delay, he, +too, went out, and most of the ladies followed. + +"Are you not going Alfred?" asked his sister, advancing towards an easy +chair, near the fire where he had made himself especially snug. + +"What's all the row about?" said he. + +"You know as well as I do. What is the use of pretending ignorance? Are +you going or no?" + +"Have they all been such fools as to go?" + +"Most of them have." + +"What a confounded shame not to let a man enjoy a quiet evening. I +suppose I must go with the rest, but it is a deuced bore all the same." + +"You think everything a bore that entails a little trouble." + +"Yes, I do. That fellow Charles ought to know better than to drag us out +against a rascally set of low ruffians." + +"Don't work yourself into a rage," said his sister, "it is not worth +while." + +"No, of course not," replied he, yawning and closing his book. "Well I +suppose I must be off, so here goes." + +"I ought to have been born the man, not you," said Frances, +contemptuously. + +"With all my heart," said he, "and what an easy life I would have had of +it." + +"I do not find my life such a very easy one. You had better make haste +if you are going. There, they have opened the hall door." + +"I'll owe Charles a grudge for this," said he, rising slowly, and +seemingly in no hurry to be off, "turning us all out on such a damp, +dirty night. As black as pitch too," said he, as he reached the hall, +and glanced through the half-opened door. + +His sister helped him on with his great coat, he grumbling all the +while, and vowing they ought to go to bed, instead of going out on such +a fool's errand, risking their lives for sheer humbug, as far as he +could see. + +His sister listened in silence, and then said suddenly,-- + +"Take care of Charles, Alfred, will you?" + +"Oh, yes," he replied; "and who will take care of me, I should like to +know? I may get a sly dig in the ribs, while looking after my +neighbours." + +"No, no, you will be safe, but he is so rash and foolhardy. Do take care +of him Alfred, promise me you will?" and she laid her hand entreatingly +on his arm as she spoke. + +He looked surprised as he heard her words and noticed the action, and +turning round, caught a glimpse of her pale face. + +"Well, don't look like that, Frances; I'll make no promises, but I'll +try and do the best I can for you. Good-bye." + +And he, too, was gone. They were all gone, and Frances turned again into +the drawing-room, where Amy still sat apparently so quiet and still, but +inwardly listening intently to the last foot-fall; the last faint echo +of one voice. Now she lost it,--again it reached her ear--was gone! + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +A DARK NIGHT. + + + "The moon had risen, and she sometimes shone + Through thick white clouds, that flew tumultuous on, + Passing beneath her with an eagle's speed, + That her soft light imprison'd and then freed: + The fitful glimmering through the hedgerow green + Gave a strange beauty to the changing scene; + And roaring winds and rushing waters lent + Their mingled voice that to the spirit went. + To these she listen'd; but new sounds were heard, + And sight more startling to her soul appear'd; + + * * * * * + + And near at hand, but nothing yet was seen." + + CRABBE. + + +Amy felt oppressed in spirit as the last sound of Charles' voice reached +her ear, nor dared she question her heart wherefore she had listened for +it, why she had strained every nerve to catch its sound. Was she +allowing a warmer feeling to enter her heart than she had hitherto +entertained? Was she beginning to care more for him than she ought? No; +she would not allow it. She merely felt grateful for his kindness, that +was all, for he _was_ kind to her, there was no doubt of that, and her +heart could not but be touched by it, so lonely and so uncared for as +she felt; so utterly alone in that large house. + +Had he not on that very day ridden several miles for her pleasure? and +had he not offered, nay promised, to fetch her letter every day? and she +had been obliged to give him but cold thanks for his kindness, and still +colder looks, when her heart was all the while longing to tell him how +more than grateful she felt. Even but a few moments ago, she knew she +had been cold to him; but it could not be helped. It could not be +otherwise, it must ever be so between them. And yet as she recalled his +last words, and the fervent "God bless you," she thought that had she +not been a governess, he might have loved her. Now, it could never be. + +She grew restless; the quiet stillness around her became oppressive, +most of those who were left having retired into the drawing-room; so +when the children had said good night she took them up to bed herself, +and as each little one knelt down, she joined earnestly in the simple +prayer that "God would bless dear Papa and Mamma, and all their +relations and friends." + +Mary did not put them to bed, one of the other servants did the office +for her. Amy enquired where she was, and whether she was ill? + +"No, Miss, not ill," replied the girl, "only worrying herself." + +"About what? I trust she is in no trouble." + +"Well, you see her father's gone out against the poachers to-night." + +"True," replied Amy. "Poor girl! I quite forgot her interest in the +matter." + +"She's most worrying and fretting herself to death about it, and all to +no good, as we all tell her, but she won't listen to none of us." + +"Words are poor comfort in such cases." + +"Yes, Miss; and what's worse, I believe they've threatened to do for +him, her father--I mean." + +"That may be mere idle report; there is no authority for the rumour." + +"Except the words of the man that was hung, Miss." + +"Poor wretched criminal! Do not let us talk or dwell on such scenes. I +will go and see Mary, if you will show me the way." + +"Indeed I will, Miss, and I'm sure it will do her good. She's in her own +room." + +And, guided by the other, Amy went. + +Mrs. Hopkins sat by the side of the bed on which Mary lay, worrying and +fretting herself to death, as her fellow-servant had said, and refusing +to be comforted or calmed. + +"Ever ready to do any one an act of kindness, Miss Neville," said Mrs. +Hopkins, as she rose on Amy's entrance. "This is sad work." + +"Yes; it is an anxious time for all of us, but it is surely not wise to +give way to imaginary evils, which after all may only exist in our own +brains and foolish fancies." + +"No one knows," sobbed Mary, "how I love my father." + +"We all believe it, Mary. Do you know that your mistress's husband is +also gone with the rest?" + +"No one has threatened his life, like they have my father's." + +"But will your crying remedy that? Will it not make things a thousand +times worse, by making you too ill to see him when he does return?" + +"He may never return, Miss, never!" sobbed Mary afresh. + +"It's of little use talking, Miss," said Mrs. Hopkins, "she will cry and +worry; and nothing will stop her that I can see. She will be sorry and +ashamed enough to-morrow when she thinks of it." + +"I think she should hope the best, and not so readily look forward to +the very worst that can happen. Try and think that there is a good and +kind Providence watching over us all, Mary." + +"I do. But it's no use Miss--no use." + +"Here drink this, Mary," said Mrs. Hopkins, handing her some +salvolatile, "It's no use talking, Miss, we must dose her." + +"I believe it is the best plan," replied Amy, half smiling; then as the +girl sat up to drink it she added, "If you must cry, Mary, why not go +down below? you can cry just as well there, and watch for the men's +return." + +"Oh! I daren't, I daren't--" she said. + +"Her father will be quite frightened when he does see her face," said +Mrs. Hopkins, as she bathed her forehead with cold water, "and as for +her, she won't be able to open her eyes to look at him they're that +swelled." + +Amy seeing her presence could do no good, left, and went to the +school-room, intending to spend the rest of the evening in writing home, +but she found the attempt useless, so she closed her desk and put away +her pen in despair. Reading was better than writing, she would fetch a +book. She glanced at the bookshelves Charles had made and put up for her +but a few short months ago. He was nothing to her then; simply Mr. +Linchmore's brother, but now?--Again she grew restless. Why would her +thoughts so often wander towards him? He could never be more than a +friend, never! She would go below. The gloom and solitariness of the +room struck her more forcibly than it had ever done before, and she grew +nervous and timid and stole away to the drawing-room. + +When she entered it, she was surprised to find how soon things had +resumed their usual course. Mrs. Linchmore was at the piano singing, +Anne at a game of drafts, every one chatting and laughing as though +nothing had occurred to disturb their hearts, Amy could hear the rattle +of the bagatelle balls quite plainly in the inner room from where she +sat, and the sound jarred upon her nerves. Surely Frances could not be +one of the players, for Amy well knew how anxious she must be; and she +crossed the room to where Julia had taken up her position by the fire, +and looked in as she passed the arch which divided the two rooms. No, +Frances was not playing--was not even there. + +"I feel entitled to roam about at will," said Amy, seating herself by +Julia, "as so few of the gentlemen are here, and I think you look +lonely. Are you anxious, Miss Bennet?" + +"Very." + +"I wonder what time they will be home?" + +"It may be early, it may be late. Can you imagine how my cousin is able +to sit there and sing to those boobies?" and she pointed to where Mrs. +Linchmore sat, with one or two young men as listeners. + +"Some people are able to control their feelings better than others," +replied Amy. + +"You are always ready to think kindly of everyone, Miss Neville; but +there is no excuse for her; she is in no way put out; her voice is as +clear as a bell, and to hear the way in which she is singing that +mournful, pathetic song, you would imagine her to be a woman of deep +feeling, when in reality she has none, not even for her good, kind +husband." + +"Mary, the children's maid, is fretting herself to death upstairs," +replied Amy, anxious to change the subject. + +"What is the matter with her?" + +"Her father is the gamekeeper, Grant." + +"And her lover one of the game watchers, I dare say." + +"No, I think not, at least I heard no whisper of it." + +"Perhaps not; but girls don't fret to death for their fathers; they must +die in the course of nature, but a lover is not easily replaced." + +"I never heard you speak so unkindly," replied Amy. + +"No, you must not mind it; I am not myself to-night. I feel out of +spirits, and could have a good cry, like that foolish old Miss Tremlow +did just now; I marshalled her off to bed, for if anything was to +happen she would send us all crazy." + +"I see Mr. Hall has not gone with the rest." + +"No. And much as Anne talks about men being brave and fearless in +danger, I am certain she is glad of it." + +"Perhaps she has not found out that she cares for him?" + +"Many women, when it is too late, find out they care for a man. Look at +Frances, for instance." + +"What of her?" asked Amy nervously. + +"Nothing, only I fancy she is _au desespoir_," said Julia carelessly. + +"I do not see her anywhere." + +"No, you would not, when her feelings are such that she can no longer +hide them. Then she hides herself." + +It was even so. Frances had hidden herself away in the library; she +could no longer sit in the glare of the many lamps, and listen to the +laughing and talking going on around; and not only listen, but be +obliged to talk herself. It was too much, she could not do it. Instead +of trying, like Amy, to shake off the gloom that oppressed her, she +nursed it, and sat alone, sullen and miserable. + +Had not her voice failed to persuade Charles to stay; failed to win one +kind word from him? Had he not, the rather, heartlessly mocked at her +anguish? Had he not left her and gone over to Miss Neville, and given +her his last parting words, the last clasp of his hand? When, if he had +cared for her, every moment would have been precious to him, even as it +was to her. How she wished she could hate him? But still the cry of her +heart was "He shall not love her." + +It was true she was advancing slowly, very slowly; but still, to advance +at all, was better than making no progress, to feel that Amy was having +it all her own way, and she without the power of preventing her, doomed +to sit quietly and look on at the wreck of all her hopes of happiness. +But that last should never be, and her eye flashed more brightly as she +thought that not one single opportunity had she lost of loosening the +hold Amy seemed to have over Charles's actions, the interest she had +created in his breast. + +Ever on the watch, and restless when Charles was absent, lest he should +meet with her rival, and she not be there to prevent his joining and +walking with her, her life was one perpetual state of disquietude and +excitement. + +He should never find out Amy loved him. Never! never! So Frances sat on +in the gloom of the one small lamp, and thought such thoughts as these; +and bitter enough they were to her. How she hated to see Amy enter the +drawing-room each night, and more especially this last evening, when +instead of sullenly standing aloof, as he had once or twice done, +Charles had joined her. Had they met without her knowledge, and had she +won him over to her again, sent all the jealous suspicions which Frances +had instilled into his mind, to the winds? Oh! if it should be so? She +sprung from the chair, and walked up and down the room, in utter +desolation of heart. + +And so we must leave her, and return to Amy. + +The evening had worn on. It was growing late. Twice the butler had +himself come in and replenished the fire. Was he also anxious? Amy +thought so, as she watched his face, and noted how he loitered about the +room, and was in no hurry to be gone; but glanced round gravely, as he +went slowly out, and again, a few moments after, entered it once more, +looked to the lamps, and a number of other things there was no occasion +for. + +Still the hours crept slowly on; again her thoughts were with the +absent, again they wandered into the park. There, far away, was one +coppice she knew right well; so thick the bushes, so close the shade, +she could almost fancy she was there, so vividly did it come before her. +Surely it would be there the poachers would be, there the affray would +take place, there they would watch and meet with them. + +Each hour now seemed to drag more slowly than the last, the minutes were +hours to her impatient fancy; while the noise of the company, the noise +of the piano grew intolerable. Oh! if she could go out into the park, +and learn what was doing; even if not near, she could still hear if a +shot were fired, and that would be something gained; but then she might +be missed--might be enquired for? No. It would never do to be found out +alone in the grounds, on such a night. Was all the game in the world +worth the misery of such thoughts as these? Oh! the agony of +waiting--and waiting for what? + +Amy trembled, and a slight shudder passed through her; her anxiety was +growing past control. + +The music was still playing, surely she would not be missed; and rising +softly she passed into the hall. Should she go into the library, where +Frances still moodily paced up and down? No, she would hear nothing +there. On into the billiard-room she went. + +There was no lamp alight, she was glad of it; all was darkness, save for +the flickering of the fire in the grate. She drew near, and tried to be +patient and hope for the best; but it would not do, her thoughts would +turn to _one_. + +As she grew accustomed to the gloom, each object became dimly visible. +There was the table; it was but yesterday all those who were now absent +had played on it. Would they ever meet there again? How well she +remembered seeing Charles Linchmore; it was not so long ago, she could +almost fancy she was passing by the door now--waiting for Fanny, who had +rushed to Papa on some fruitless errand--and that she saw his form as he +leant across the table; but no, he might never play there again, nor +ever live to return home. + +She could bear it no longer, but went over to one of the windows, passed +behind the curtain, drew back the shutter, opened the window softly, +and looked out. The rain had passed away, and the moon shone brightly +enough when the thick clouds that were hurrying across it would allow. +It was not a very cold night, at least Amy did not feel the cold even in +the thin light dress she wore; her eyes were fixed on the one part of +the Park where she guessed they must be; her ears straining to catch +every sound. But none came. All was silent and still. + +How long she stood she never knew, she was aroused from her thoughts by +a dull, distant sound. She listened intently. + +It came from the other side of the park. Her fears had deceived her. +They were coming at last. It must be them. Relieved at last, she drew +back from the window, then returned again, but stood further in the +shade. They must pass by. She would stay and see them. + +The sound she had heard became more distinct, then faded away with the +wind which blew in gusts through the leafless trees, then grew nearer +still. Strange no voices reached her ear,--now--yes, it was near enough +for her to distinguish the heavy tread of men's footsteps. + +Nearer and nearer they came. + +It was no tread of many feet, but the dull heavy tramp of footsteps +treading in unison together. It could not be they; they would not walk +like that; so silently, so strangely. + +Still Amy waited and watched--a heavy fear slowly creeping over her +heart, and almost staying its beatings. + +They came nearer still; yes, onwards they came round the turn of the +drive as it swept up to the house; they passed it, and now their dark +forms came slowly but surely on in the varying moonlight, with still +that one dreadful tread. They were close by; passed under the window +where she stood. What was that dark object they carried so fearfully, so +carefully? + +Amy moved away from the window, reached the door of the room, and stood +in its deep shade like a statue of stone, every nerve strained, every +pulse beating almost to bursting. + +The servants had heard it then, or had they like Amy been watching? +There stood the grey-headed butler; how ominous was his face, how grave +the faces of those men near him, all waiting, all dreading--what? + +Mr. Linchmore was the first to enter; a painful, anxious expression on +his face. + +"Thank God!" exclaimed the old butler, as he saw him; he had been +anxious for his master, whom he had known as a boy. Were his fears then +at rest? No; he was again about to speak, when,-- + +"Hush!" Mr. Linchmore said. Then to those behind, "tread softly," and +again, "where is your mistress?" + +He passed quickly on, almost brushing Amy's dress, as she stood so white +and still in the shade, looking on, watching, noting everything. + +The other half of the hall door opened; on they came, those dark forms, +and others with them, steadying them, clearing the way for them as they +went. + +They bore a litter, but the form that rested so motionless on it could +not be seen, a cloak covered it. + +One man stood quite close to Amy as he held open the door for the rest +to pass through. She touched his arm gently. She tried to speak, but her +tongue refused to utter those anxious words. But there was no need; he +looked in her face and understood the mute anguish, the agonised look of +her eyes. + +"It's only one of the young gents, Miss. Mr. Vavser I think they calls +'im." + +It was not Charles Linchmore, then. The reaction was too great. As they +bore the litter on past her up the staircase, she uttered no cry, but +her slight form trembled for an instant--wavered--and the next fell +heavily almost at Charles' feet, as he hastily entered the hall. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +GOING AWAY. + + "Our faults are at the bottom of our pains; + Error in acts, or judgment, is the source + Of endless sighs; we sin, or we mistake." + + YOUNG. + + "It is not granted to man to love and to be wise." + + BACON. + + +For a moment Charles stood mute with amazement, the next he bent over +the poor prostrate form, and lifted it tenderly in his arms. + +"Bring her in here," said a voice, while a hand was laid on his arm, and +he was impelled with gentle force into the library. There he laid Amy on +the sofa, and kneeling by her side, took the small lifeless hand in his, +and pressed it to his lips and forehead; then gently pushed the soft +fair hair off her face, and as he did so felt the marble coldness of +her cheek. Then a strange fear crept over him: he rose, and bent his ear +close to her mouth; but no gentle breathing struck his ear. All was +still and silent, even his loving words and the endearing names he +called her, failed to bring back life, or restore warmth to that still +and apparently lifeless form. + +He turned his face, now blanched almost as white as the one he was +bending over, to Frances, for it was she who had asked him to bring Amy +there, and now stood by the door so despairingly, watching his every +action, listening to his words; those loving, cruel words which told how +completely, how entirely his heart was another's. If he could but have +seen into her heart, how averse he would have been to ask her assistance +for Amy! How much misery might have been spared him. + +"Is she dead?" he asked, fearfully. + +"Dead!" exclaimed Frances. "No, she has only fainted." + +"I never saw any one look so like death," he said softly, as he again +took her hands and chafed them in his. + +"Perhaps not. I dare say your experience is not very great?" + +"Can nothing be done for her? must she die like this?" + +"A great deal might be done for her," replied Frances, advancing, "but +nothing while you bend over her in that way. I will soon bring her to, +if you will only let me come near." + +"Then why in the name of fortune don't you begin to try something? For +God's sake, Frances, do rouse yourself a little from that cold marble +nature of yours, and throw a little warmth and feeling into your +actions." + +She took no notice of his hasty, almost angry words. + +"Could you fetch me some Eau-de-Cologne?" she asked. "Go quietly," for +he was rushing off in desperate haste, "it is as well no one suspects or +knows of this, and bring a glass of water also." + +"Dead!" thought Frances, as she gazed at the pale inanimate form, "I wish +she was; how I hate her; but for her none of these dreadful thoughts +would enter my head. Am I not a murderess, wishing her dead? and it is +all her fault, all; she has taken his love from me, and in taking that, +has made me wicked, and put all these cruel revengeful feelings in my +heart." + +She bathed her with the Eau-de-Cologne Charles brought, even dashed some +of the cold water into her face; but all to no purpose; not a sign; not +a movement of returning life gave Amy; the shock had been too great; she +lay as dead. + +As Charles stood and watched all the efforts Frances made, as he +thought, so indifferently, he grew impatient. + +"Where is Anne? or Mrs. Hopkins?" exclaimed he, "confound that woman! +she's never in the way when she's wanted," and he was for darting off +again, only Frances restrained him. + +"Do not call either of them," said she, "even you must not remain here +when Miss Neville returns to consciousness." + +"I shall stay, whatever happens," he replied, decidedly. + +Had he made up his mind to tell Amy he loved her? + +"She would not like it," she replied, "would any woman like to think +such a secret was found out?" + +"What secret?" + +"That of her love for him." + +"For him! For who?" + +"I thought you knew," replied Frances, quietly. + +Too quietly, for her apathy maddened him, and he exclaimed angrily. + +"For God's sake, Frances, speak out, you'll drive me mad with your cold +replies and words!" + +"Hush! Go away, she is coming to." + +"I will not stir!" he replied, "until you tell me why she fainted." + +"She saw them bring Mr. Vavasour into the hall, and--" + +"How could she tell it was him?" he asked, suspiciously, with a +half-doubt on his mind. + +"I do not ask you to believe me," replied Frances haughtily, "you asked +me to answer you, and I have done so." + +"Not my last question." + +"I should have thought a lady's word would have been sufficient; but as +it is not so, you had better ask Joe, that man that comes here sometimes +with Grant. I heard him tell Miss Neville it was Mr. Vavasour that had +been killed, and then--" + +"Then?" he asked. + +"She fainted." + +Whatever Charles thought, he said not a word; a determined, despairing +expression stole over his face; he looked hard at Frances as if he would +read her very soul, but she returned his look, and flinched not. +Presently a faint colour returned into Amy's face; he moved away, placed +the glass he still held on the table, and said slowly, for even the +tone of his voice had altered, and was unsteady and husky, + +"Tell her _he_ is not dead,--not much hurt, even--" + +And without a look, or even a glance at Amy, he went with a slow, +uncertain step across the room. As he reached the door, Amy moved +slightly and sighed, but ere she opened her eyes, the door had closed on +his retreating form, and he was gone. + +"Are you better now?" asked Frances kindly. She could afford to be kind +now she thought the field was won, and Charles' heart turned from her, +she hoped for ever. + +"Thank you, yes," said Amy, confusedly, and striving to collect her +thoughts. "How came I here? Who brought me?" + +"Do not talk just yet, you are scarcely equal to it. One of the men +carried you in here." + +"One of the men? No one else saw me, then?" + +"No one." + +Then it could not have been Charles Linchmore's voice she had heard, as +she lay only half-restored to consciousness? Nor his form she had dimly +seen retreating through the half open door, as she opened her eyes? She +must have fancied it. + +"I was so shocked, Miss Strickland," began Amy, trying to make some +apology for her fainting, "and you know I am not very strong yet, and--" + +"Do not make any excuses, Miss Neville; the sight was enough to frighten +anyone. I felt sick myself, but there was not much occasion for it, as I +have ascertained Mr. Vavasour is not much hurt; but I thought, as you +did, he was dead." + +Amy made no reply, she was too truthful to do so. It was best Miss +Strickland thought _that_ the reason and cause of her faintness. + +"Had you not better remain a little longer?" continued Frances. "There +is little chance of any one coming in here; and they will be all at +supper presently." + +But no--Amy felt well enough to go; longed to get away to the quiet of +her own room, and went. + +Dr. Bernard, hastily aroused from his sleep, came and stayed all night +at the Park. He corroborated Charles's opinion: Mr. Vavasour's was but a +slight wound. The faintness and insensibility that had alarmed them so, +proceeded more from the effects of a severe blow on the head, which had +stunned him for the time being. In a few days, with a little quiet +nursing, he would be all right again; so the excitement and fears of +everyone tamed down, and the supper prepared at Charles's suggestion was +partaken of heartily by everyone but himself, and he was nowhere. + +Two of the poachers had been overpowered, after a desperate resistance, +and taken; but the rest, all armed with sticks, or some other weapon of +defence, had succeeded in getting clear away, though not without +injuring, not only Robert Vavasour, but two of the night watchers also. +One man kept his bed for weeks afterwards, and was unable even to appear +and give evidence against the two men who had been taken; one supposed +to be the man who had fired the shot, either purposely or accidentally, +that had wounded Robert, while at the same moment a severe blow from +some murderous weapon felled him to the earth, and in the confusion +which this occasioned the rest got clear away, though not without a +suspicion that some of them had been disabled by the shower of blows +with which they were assailed; they proved themselves, as Charles and +others had hinted they were, a desperate set of ruffians, whom the +recent violent death of one of their band had in no wise alarmed, but +the rather made them thirst to revenge it. + +Charles Linchmore was up betimes the next morning, and away across the +park long before any of its inmates save the servants were stirring. He +had passed a sleepless night. At one time Amy's love for Vavasour +appeared as clear as day; the next he doubted, and could not make up his +mind that it was indeed so. Morning found him still unreconciled to the +thought, still undecided. Frances might have been mistaken; he would +seek Joe, and find out what had been told Amy. It was impossible the man +could have any interest in telling him a lie. + +He had not far to walk, Joe met him at the lodge gate, where he was +evidently detailing to the man and his wife who kept it, an exaggerated +account of the last night's affray. + +"Good morning, Joe," began Charles, "how are you and the rest after last +night's work? and where are you off to now?" as Joe touched his cap, and +was proceeding onwards. + +"Up to the house, Sir. The Master bade me bring news this morning of the +two men who got hurt, Sir." + +"Well, how are they?" + +"There ain't much the matter with one, Sir; but Jem's awful bad, his +head swelled most as big's two, Sir. Mr. Blane--the village +doctor--wouldn't give much for his life, I reckon." + +"Your Master will be sorry to hear it. And now, Joe, I want a word with +you. How came you to tell one of the ladies last night that Mr. +Vavasour was dead?" + +"Please, Sir, I couldn't help it; the lady did look so kind of +beseeching at me, and tried to speak; but, poor lady, she was that bad +at heart she couldn't say a word. I could no more refuse nor tell her, +Sir, I should have been afeard to; unless I'd had a heart as hard as a +_haythen's_, and I hadn't, Sir, so just out with the news, and--" + +"That will do; be more cautious in future." + +And away went Charles with still faster strides than before; half over +the park and then home again, and up to his room, where he thrust his +things hastily into his portmanteau; it was but a few minutes' work, and +then he was off downstairs again. Here he met Anne. + +"Why Charles," said she, "where have you been all the morning? We have +finished breakfast. What a lazy creature you are!" + +"I am going to make a start of it," replied he. "I am off to join +again." + +"Going back to your regiment!" exclaimed Anne in amazement at the +sudden announcement. "When?" + +"Now, this moment." + +"What will Isabella think? How surprised she will be!" + +"No, not a bit of it, she is too accustomed to my sudden movements, and +scarcely volunteered a remark when I told her." + +"But your leave is only half expired?" + +"Isn't it?" he replied, as if he had never thought at all about it. +"Well, so much the better, I can knock about abroad for a short time. +Good-bye." + +Anne looked in utter bewilderment, until she suddenly caught sight of +the sorrowful, despairing expression of his face. What had happened? + +"Don't say good-bye like that, Charley," said she, her kind heart roused +at once at the sight. "Something has vexed you. Can I help you in any +way? I am ready and willing, if you will only tell me how." + +"No. I am past help, Anne," and he dashed away a tear which had started +at the sound of her kind voice, and then added bitterly--"I am a fool to +care so much about it!" + +"About what, Charles? Do tell me, I am certain I could help you." + +She pitied him entirely, and would have braved a dozen Mrs. Linchmores +to have seen the old happy, merry expression on his face again. + +"You have always been kind, Anne, and so I do not mind telling you, what +I dare say you have seen all along, although I've been such a blind fool +to it! It's no fault of hers, Anne,--but--but she loves another." + +"Impossible! I don't believe it!" said Anne, hastily, forgetting all her +wise resolutions of never helping him to find out Amy cared for him. + +"Nor I, for a long time," and he thought of the long sleepless hours he +had passed in pacing up and down his room. "But it is so." + +"How did you find it out? Did she tell you?" + +"No; but some one else did, little suspecting the interest I had in the +matter. I could not believe, at first, that all my hopes were to be +dashed aside at once in that way. I could have sworn she took an +interest in me, but there I have convinced myself and--and--I am a +miserable wretch, that's all, with my eyes wide open to my dreadful +fate. Bid her good-bye for me, Anne. I could not trust myself to do so +without showing her I love her. Thank you for all your kindness." And he +wrung her hand. "Where is Frances?" + +Frances! What had she to do in the matter? Anne's curiosity was roused, +and for once rightly, and in a just cause. She had long thought Frances +bore no good feeling towards Miss Neville; perhaps she was jealous of +her, for it was certain Amy had supplanted her in Charles's +affection;--if he ever had any for her. Ah! that was it. It was all as +clear as day to Anne now. But if it was as she suspected, Charles was, +indeed, a fool to believe it; she was certain if she were in his place +she would not, but then men were so easily convinced of a woman's +falseness; but how could he look in Amy's eyes and believe it? Miss +Neville a flirt? Impossible! But then Anne suddenly recollected how she +had thought so herself, simply because she and Robert Vavasour had +walked home together. No, after all she could not blame Charles so much, +perhaps she should have thought the same. At all events, she determined +to watch Frances closely when she gave her his message. + +"Charles wants to speak to you, Frances; he is in the dining-room." And +Anne fixed her eyes full on her face as she spoke. + +But Frances was gaining experience every day; learning to attain a +self-possession and control equal to any emergency. + +Only a faint--very faint, colour tinged her cheeks as she replied, + +"Charles must wait until I have finished reading this chapter; I am too +interested to leave off in the middle of it." + +"Oh! very well. I will tell him so; but you will miss shaking hands with +him, as he is going away." + +This time Anne succeeded. Frances' face expressed the utmost +astonishment, while her cheeks paled to an almost marble whiteness. + +"Going away!" she gasped. "How? When?" + +"How? By the train I suppose. When? Now this moment. You had better come +at once if you wish to see him." + +She followed Frances to the dining-room, and stood at the window while +she went up to the fire where Charles stood. Anne watched them. + +He turned his face, still with the same gloomy, despairing expression, +towards Frances and said a few words. What were they to cause her pale +face to flush so hotly, while a proud, triumphant look shone brightly in +her eyes? Anne would have given worlds to have heard them, certain as +she was they contained some clue to the mystery shrouding his hasty +departure. + +They were said, those few words, and he moved towards the door. Frances +followed him after an instant's thought, and arrested his footsteps, +slow and uncertain as they were. Anne could hear quite plainly now. + +"One moment, Charles. I am so sorry you are going," said Frances. + +"Never mind," he replied, "it is best I should go." + +"I suppose so. I suppose you must go?" + +"You know I must. You best of all others," he replied, sternly. + +"Alas! yes," was the reply. + +The next moment he was whirling rapidly past the window in a dog cart; +with Bob seated on the cushion at his side, instead of running at the +horse's heels as he usually did. "The only living creature who cared for +him," as Charles had once said to Miss Neville; become doubly dear now +she had proved faithless. Bob nevertheless seemed uncomfortable in his +exalted post, and did not approve seemingly of his new position in +society; for while his Master cast not a glance behind him, saw not +Anne's sympathising face at the window or Frances' tearful one; he +seemed to give a wistful side-look--as well as the jolting of the cart +on the hard gravel would allow--at the comfortable home he was leaving +for the Barrack yard, and his old surly companions of the canine species +he had so often fought and won many a hard earned battle with, for Bob, +though not a savage dog, never allowed a liberty to be taken with him +without resenting it. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +JANE. + + "Oh, memory, creature of the past! + Why dost thou haunt me still? + Why thy dark shadow o'er me cast, + My better thoughts to chill? + + I spread my fingers to the sun, + No stain of blood is there; + Yet oh! that age might see undone, + The deeds that youth would dare!" + + ANON. + + +Mrs. Marks had returned home. Her mother was dead, and she had brought +back Jane as she had threatened, much to Matthew's intense disgust. He +was afraid of his wife's tongue, but had been so long accustomed to hear +it going, that he could not understand a woman who could keep hers +quiet, and sit the whole day long by the fire-side, scarcely saying a +word, in his own favourite corner too,--seldom lifting her eyes from +her knitting. As he watched the progress of the socks she was making, he +vowed in his own mind never to wear them when they were finished, +believing as many of the ignorant in his class of life do, that they +would be bewitched, and cause him to meet with some harm, perhaps fulfil +Goody Grey's prophecy that some one in the cottage was going to die. + +He found it more difficult than ever to resist the temptation of going +to the "Brampton Arms," now that his home was even more uncomfortable +than it used to be. How could he seat himself at the other corner of the +fire-side, and smoke his pipe, with his sister-in-law's eyes so +constantly and intently fixed on him? Matthew longed to see Goody Grey +to ask for a new charm to spirit away Jane and her unholy presence, +which was a constant irritation to him. Meanwhile he had twice tried the +effect of the charm and each time apparently without the slightest +success; as not only had Mrs. Marks eyes, but her tongue also, flashed +ten thousand furies at his extraordinary silence, while Jane, to whom +during the storm he looked for sympathy, sat perfectly heedless, and +mindful only of her dreadful knitting. + +William Hodge was still with the Marks', when he heard of the poaching +affray and its consequences. His mind was at once filled with alarm, and +he determined on going into Standale. What if his son should be one of +the men taken, and now lodged in the jail there? + +Hodge kept very quiet at first, and talked it over with Mrs. Marks,--who +had returned a few days after,--and at length made up his mind to go to +the town and gain a sight of the two men; but this was easier said than +done, he had to wait quietly until they were brought up before the +magistrates; when he returned to the cottage with the satisfactory +intelligence that neither bore the slightest resemblance to his son Tom. +Still he was more certain than ever that Tom was down there, for on +mentioning his name casually to the landlord of the inn where he had +put up, a man seated in the bar had turned round suddenly, eyed him +keenly, and asked him to join him 'in a glass.' This, Hodge, who had his +wits about him, was not slow to do, and both played at cross questions +with the other, and tried to find out where each came from, and where +bound to; but each proved a match for his fellow in cunning and +sharp-sightedness, and they parted mutually dissatisfied, certain in +their own minds that each could have revealed something of interest in +which they both took part, had he so willed it. + +A few days after Hodge's return, as he was going across the fields, he +again met with his acquaintance of the inn, who passed him close by +without renewing their former intimacy, indeed, without a word or +greeting of any kind, as though they were strangers, and now met for the +first time. Hodge thought he must have been mistaken in his man; but +no--a second and yet a third time, he met him on different days; and now +Hodge was convinced he was right--they had met before; but why this +apparent forgetfulness on his part? Why this perpetual crossing of his +path? Hodge grew uneasy, perhaps the man was employed as a spy to watch +him? If it was so, there was nothing for it but to return home; but the +thought of his wife's sorrowful face, as he should tell her of his +fruitless search, deterred him, and he waited yet another day, hoping +that a few hours might disclose his son's whereabouts, and unravel the +mystery of his absence; but no, the days crept on, and still found him as +far from the clue as ever, while he never stirred from the cottage +without seeing his mysterious friend, or it might be enemy, either close +by or in the distance, too far off to distinguish his features; but +there was the unmistakable slouching walk, awkward gait, and +broad-brimmed hat. + +"Mrs. Marks, Ma'am," said Hodge one day, when they were alone, with only +Jane in the chimney-corner for company, and she was supposed to be just +nobody, "I've come across that man again, and I don't like the look +things are taking--I think they look sort of queer. I never done no +harm to nobody, why should this chap follow me about like a dog? I'm +beginning to think he's a kind of spying to find out what my business is +down here, leastways, I can't see what else brings him so often in my +road." + +"Why not up and ask him, like a man?" exclaimed Mrs. Marks. + +"Well, Ma'am, you see, that's just what I would like to do. Many's the +time I've had it in my heart; but somehow I'm afeard to." + +"Afraid! Well, Mr. Hodge, I thought you'd more pluck. I know there's few +men would frighten me, if I was in your place. Good Lord! what's the +world coming to when all the men's so chicken-hearted!" said she, +indignantly. + +"And the women so uppish!" retorted Hodge, somewhat angrily. "I wouldn't +be afraid to knock him down with one blow of my fist," and he stretched +out his strong muscular arms, and clenched his knuckles, "if he came to +me openly and insulted me; but it's this underhand way of going to work +that bothers me. I'd like to pick a quarrel with him, Ma'am, that I +would, and bad luck to his walks for the future, if I did; that's all!" + +"If those are your opinions, William Hodge, I'm sorry I spoke. I've +never set eyes on the man myself; but I think you're over-suspicious, +maybe." + +"Not a bit too much so. What for should he come across me wherever I go. +I saw him the other night as Matthew and I came home. It was broad +moonlight, and he was hidden away under the shade of the trees, just +before you come to the mile-stone; but I saw him for all that, and so I +do most every time I set foot outside the cottage. What the devil can he +want with me? and why was I such a born fool as to tell my real name?" + +"That's it," said Jane, from the chimney-corner, as if talking to +herself. "It's the devil puts all the badness into our hearts." + +"Don't mind her," said Mrs. Marks, seeing Hodge looked startled. "She +understands nothing, and is only talking to herself. And now what do you +mean to do?" + +"I must go home agin, as wise as I was when I came." + +"And without a word of Tom? Why Mrs. Hodge will nigh break her heart." + +"It can't be helped. I've done all I can. You see, I've been thinking +this man may be a kind of spy of the Squire's, and on the look-out for +Tom, and if so, I may do him more harm than good by staying here. Who +knows? perhaps he's guessed I'm Tom's father, and so thinks, by dodging +me, to catch him, so, you see, I'd best be on the road home; he won't +learn nothing there, save a cracked crown, if he comes that way +meddling." + +"I tell you what it is," said Mrs. Marks, "you go along home, and leave +me to ferret it all out. I've never said nothing all this time you've +been racking your brains, and walking about most over the whole country, +till I should think you knew every stone and stick in it. I warrant a +few weeks don't go over my head before I get at the bottom of it all. +You men think yourselves mighty clever; but, after all, there's nothing +like getting a woman to help you over the stile." + +"Well, Mrs. Marks, I believe you're most right. It's certain I couldn't +leave the business in better hands. I know you'll do the best you can +for me." + +"Of course I will, there's my hand on it. And now just point out this +chap in the wide-awake, and I'll be bound to say I'll find out every +secret concerning him. And if he knows anything about Tom, why I'll find +that out, too; so just rest easy in your own mind, and keep quiet, and +bid Mrs. Hodge do the same; and take my advice, and be off home +to-morrow--you won't do no good down here, only harm." + +And home Hodge went. + +A few days after his departure, as Matthew was lounging at the turnpike +gate, who should pass through but Goody Grey. As she came in sight at +the turn of the hill, Matthew began to prepare his thoughts as to what +he should say to her. She would be sure to ask about the success of the +charm; he felt proud at the idea of being able to tell he had not added +to the number of stones in the box, but on the contrary two had been +thrown away. What a fortunate thing for him Mrs. Marks was out, he could +talk to Mrs. Grey without a chance of her shrill voice calling him and +bidding him attend to his business, and not be gossiping out there. + +"Good morning, Mrs. Grey," began he, taking up a position so as to +command a view of the whole road by which the enemy, in the shape of his +wife, should first come in sight on her way home. + +"The same to you," replied she civilly, and was passing on, when-- + +"I've tried the charm, Ma'am," said Matthew, mysteriously. + +"The what?" asked she sharply. + +"The charm, Mrs. Grey. The box with the gravel in it, that you give +me." + +"True, I had forgotten. What was the result?" + +"If you mean what good did it do, why then it just did no good at all," +said Matthew, sorrowfully. + +"How often have you tried it?" + +"Twice, Ma'am, I'm proud to say; and a hard matter I found it, going so +nigh the Public, that I could most smell the baccy, and hear the drawing +of the beer; but there I stuck to the 'structions yer give me, and +turned back home agin, but only to hear my wife's tongue going faster +and sharper than ever." + +"I dare say, at first, it may be so; but persevere, and in the end your +wife will be silenced." + +"I wish I could think so," he replied; "but I'm afraid, Ma'am, her +tongue have been going so long now, that nothing 'cept a miracle won't +stop it." + +"Is Mrs. Marks at home?" + +"No, Ma'am, she's out. And that's another thing bothers me, she's taken +to going out all hours now, no matter what kind of weather 'tis. It's a +puzzle to me where she goes to, tramping about in the mud." + +"Well, I cannot help you there," replied Goody Grey, "her tongue I might +stop, but not her actions, you must look to those yourself." + +"And so I mean to, Mrs. Grey, so I _will_," said Matthew, determinately. +"I only thought so this very day, as I was leaning on this very gate, +just before I saw you." + +"It is a wise resolution, but fools see wisdom or learn it sometimes." + +"Don't you begin that old story agin, Ma'am, nor say one word about the +trees that's going to fall; for I can't abide it, and don't want to know +nothing about what's going to happen. Death's near enough for us all, +but we don't want to be knowing when he's going to knock us up." + +"Where there's a storm there's sure to be a wreck," said she. + +"Stop there, Ma'am," replied Matthew, "and don't be after looking that +way at the cottage. What do yer see?" + +"I saw the face of a woman at the window." + +"No, that yer couldn't," replied he, "Mrs. Marks is out!" + +"Are you sure she is out?" + +"Lord save yer, Mrs. Grey, in coorse I am. Didn't I watch her out? and +wouldn't I have heard her voice calling out after me, long afore this," +and Matthew grinned at the very idea. + +"Who was it then?" + +"Yer couldn't have seen no one. There's only crazed Jane in the place, +and she don't never move out of the chimbly corner for no one. She's no +curiosity, like Mrs. Marks says I have." + +"Who is crazed Jane? Where does she come from? and what does she in your +cottage?" + +"Just nothing save to be knitting all day long, and follering me about +with her big eyes. She's my wife's sister, yer see, and is living with +us, she don't need no charm to keep her tongue quiet. She's just the +only woman I ever met as could, saving yer presence, Ma'am; and is every +bit as knowing as yerself, and could tell yer a deal if yer liked." + +"About what?" + +"About whatever yer liked to ask her. It's my belief she could tell the +weather just every bit as well as yerself. If yer'd lost anything she'd +know where to clap eyes on it again, just as yer did the bit of copper +t'other day, and a deal of other things as don't cross my mind now." + +"I don't believe it! I don't believe it!" exclaimed Goody Grey fiercely. +"If I did--I'd tear her very heart out, if she didn't tell me." + +And she passed on, leaving Matthew horrified at her words. He watched +her all the way down the road, which she traversed with a quick, hasty +step, striking her staff defiantly into the ground as she went, until +the turn of the road took her out of his sight. + +"What a fearful body she is!" thought he, as he turned into the +cottage. + +But there his horror and astonishment was still further increased at +finding crazed Jane lying in a heap on the floor. + +At first he was for rushing to her aid; but on second thoughts, he +reached his hat off the peg, and darted out of the cottage. There taking +to his heels he ran as fast as his legs could carry him along the road +Goody Grey had taken. + +"For the love of Heaven!" said he overtaking her, "come back!" + +"Come back!" exclaimed she, "and what for should I come back?" + +"To take away the curse and witcheries yer've put upon Jane; or she'll +die." + +"What are you raving about? What have I to do with Jane and her curses?" + +"Yer know well what I mean, Ma'am; yer've most killed her with yer evil +eye. I know yer're a fearful 'ooman, and a wise 'un too, but for the +love of Heaven don't leave her like that, but come back." + +"You're a fool!" replied Mrs. Grey, "I've no more power over her than a +fly," and she passed on, bidding him seek his wife's help. + +And again Matthew started off faster than before to find Mrs. Marks, +with an inward malediction on Goody Grey. + +He was scarcely out of sight ere she halted;--hesitated--then turned +back with rapid steps towards the cottage. + +Jane had fallen near the window from which Goody Grey had seen her +gazing, and lay almost under it, so as to be entirely concealed from the +broad glare of its light. She lay on her side with one arm across her +face. Her visitor gently moved away the arm, and looked at her. It was +but a momentary glance, and the fainting woman rested, as I have said, +away from the light. Was it this made Goody Grey fail in recognizing +her? or was it the sharp, pinched features, and worn haggard face, with +those deep furrows ploughing it so roughly in every direction. + +Filling a jug with water, Goody Grey lifted Jane, and tried to force +some down her throat, then dashed the rest over her face and forehead, +but her efforts at restoring life were useless, and after a few more +ineffectual attempts she left her, and went and seated herself by the +fire, thinking perhaps it would be but neighbourly to remain and await +Mrs. Marks's return. + +Not many minutes elapsed ere Jane opened her eyes, and the first object +they rested on was the old woman's face and figure, as she sat looking +at the fire, her profile fully marked out, and apparent to Jane's gaze, +whose face assumed a terrified, horror-stricken look, as she almost +glared at her, seemingly too fascinated or frightened to look away. + +Evidently Jane's memory served her better than Goody Grey's did, for she +recognized her, although the old woman did not, and after a minute or +two she sat up on the floor, and clasping arms round her knees, buried +her face in them and groaned aloud. + +Goody Grey started and turned at the sound, then rose and went over to +her. + +"Are you better?" she asked kindly, "you've had a long faint." + +Jane made no answer, only moaned and shivered from head to foot. + +"You are too cold to drink this water. Is there no brandy anywhere that +I can get you? Try and get up, and I will help you over to the fire." + +It was astonishing to hear the gentle, almost soft, sweet voice with +which she spoke, so different from her usual harsh, sharp manner. But +the more gentle she was, the less Jane seemed to like it, never raising +her head or answering a word, but moaning and rocking herself backwards +and forwards as she sat; and Goody Grey, seeing words or deeds, however +well meant, were alike wasted upon her, rose to go; saying as she did +so,-- + +"I'm sorry to see you so sullen, woman. Have you never a word of thanks +to give me?" + +But Jane continued silent as before. + +"Well, well," she muttered, in something of her old, impatient, sharp +voice, as she stepped across the threshold of the door. "That fool said +she was a 'dafty.'" Then in a milder, almost sorrowful tone, she added +"it is better to be crazed than broken-hearted." + +Jane raised her head as she caught the last sound of Goody Grey's voice; +then, as the last foot-fall died away, she got up stealthily, and closed +and bolted the cottage door. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE CONSERVATORY. + + "All other ills, though sharp they prove, + Serve to refine and perfect love: + In absence, or unkind disdaine, + Sweet hope relieves the lovers' paine: + But, oh, no cure but death we find + To sett us free + From jealousie, + Thou tyrant, tyrant of the mind. + + False in thy glass all objects are + Some sett too near, and some too far; + Thou art the fire of endless night + The fire that burns, and gives no light. + All torments of the damn'd we find + In only thee, + O jealousie! + Thou tyrant, tyrant of the mind." + + DRYDEN. + + +January had drawn to an end, and with Charles Linchmore had gone all the +visitors from Brampton, save the Stricklands and Bennets, and they being +cousins remained on, as Mrs. Linchmore said it would be wretchedly dull +to be entirely deserted when Robert Vavasour was too weak to be moved, +and kept her and Mr. Linchmore tied to Brampton. This plan appeared to +please everybody but Frances, who seemed to require a great deal of +persuasion before she would consent to remain, though at heart she was +only too glad to stay; but Julia and Anne acquiesced at once. + +Robert Vavasour's illness was of longer duration than was at first +expected; even when the pain from the severe blow on the head abated, +there was still the wound in his leg with the inflammation attending it, +so that he could not leave his room for some few weeks after Charles's +departure, and then only to come down of an evening and recline on a +sofa in the dining-room, where all in turn tried, or did their best +endeavours to amuse him, save one--Miss Neville. + +As he lay there, evening after evening, with nothing better to do than +watch those around him, he soon became aware that his eyes and thoughts +were ever constantly with the governess, He watched her with no common +interest. He who had vowed his heart should never soften towards any +woman now found himself listening eagerly to catch the faintest sound of +her voice, or the outline of her figure reflected in the glass as she +moved across the room. As he noted her quiet ways, so different from the +haughty Frances, or the bustling Anne, or the numbers of other girls he +had known, he grew more in love with her than he liked to acknowledge to +himself, and determined she should be his if she was to be won. If she +loved him what to her would be the shade and mystery of his birth; for +he would make no secret of it, but tell her all he knew, all that made +him so reserved, and at times impatient. + +Mr. Linchmore was wrong in the opinion he had given Amy of his +character, for, although Robert Vavasour was ready to flirt with every +girl or woman in the room, his hostess included, yet he had long felt +Miss Neville was not to be so trifled with; she was superior to them +all. A being to be reverenced and loved with all a man's heart. She +must be his wife--if she so willed it--and if she did not, none other +ever should. How he chafed with impatience at being obliged to lie so +utterly useless and idle, when he would have given worlds to be at Amy's +side pouring soft nothings--as men only know how to--into her ear and +striving to win her love and make her his own. + +Meanwhile Anne watched Frances as the spider watches the fly, but as yet +had found out nothing likely to unravel the mystery shrouding Charles's +hasty departure. She had sought out Amy almost immediately, and +delivered the message and hurried adieux entrusted to her; had noted the +agitation vainly attempted to be suppressed, the quick flushing of the +face and trembling of the lips before the studied words came slowly +forth expressing her thanks at his kindness in remembering her. Anne's +heart opened to her, even as it had done but a short half-hour earlier +to her cousin; and she pitied Miss Neville, and was more than half +tempted to tell her all she knew--all he had said--but there was a +something in Amy's manner that day which forbade Anne's communication; +and she remained silent, yet waiting and watching ready to seize the +very first opportunity of discovering and unravelling the plot, which +seemed so persistently to baffle her; and then not only could she make +two people happy, but what pleasure in being able to defeat Frances! +What a triumph it would be! + +Frances went on silently and secretly. Her wishes were only half +fulfilled. The end was yet to be worked out. + +She felt Anne suspected her the moment Charles drove away from the door; +but what signified that? What could the simple Anne Bennet do? She was a +mere worm in her path. A nobody. Still Frances was more cautious than +ever and more wary. Anne was to be avoided, not openly, but secretly, +while others of far more consequence were to be gained over, so as to +drag Amy more completely into the snare, from which there was to be no +escape. + +There was no need to urge Robert Vavasour on now. Frances saw plainly +enough that he was ready to sacrifice everything and anything to gain +Amy's love; and she must be his wife; even if it broke her heart. + +He was better now, able to walk about again, and generally devoted part +of the evenings to Amy. Poor Amy! who saw not his love--wanted it +not--yet felt grateful at his kindness in talking to her when nobody +else did; besides, did it not keep him away from Mrs. Linchmore, with +whom she could not bear to see him, fancying Mr. Linchmore always looked +sad and dejected while he was at her side. Little did Amy think that +while there was no fear of her losing her heart, Mr. Vavasour was fast +becoming enslaved to herself for ever. + +It was true Mr. Linchmore did not like Vavasour's attentions to his +wife, but he liked his attentions and devotion to his governess far +less. He felt his warning had been of no use, and that Miss Neville was +falling into the snare he had essayed to lead her from. As he sat one +evening resolving it all over in his mind for the twentieth time, +Frances joined him. + +There was no knowing how soon they might be interrupted, so she went to +the point at once without hesitation. + +"Mr. Vavasour has quite recovered from his recent illness, and appears +to be making up for lost time in Miss Neville's good favour." + +"He will hardly make good his footing there," replied Mr. Linchmore. +"Miss Neville is too sensible a girl to be won over by a little fulsome +flattery, however adroitly administered." + +"But there seems more than flattery here; at least, I hope so." + +"Why should you hope it?" + +"For Miss Neville's sake, as I think--nay, am sure he is winning her +heart." + +"Impossible!" + +"He does not think it so impossible, otherwise he would not be so +devoted; men never are when the one object is proved to be +unattainable." + +"I trust you are mistaken, Frances. For if she loves him he will break +her heart," replied Mr. Linchmore, sorrowfully. + +"It is you who are mistaken. That she loves him I am certain, or she +would never have fainted like dead when she heard he was wounded; and as +for him, I believe he loves her with all his heart, only he is afraid to +tell her so. At all events, her fate rests in your hands, to make or mar +as you please." And having said all she wished, Frances left him to +dwell and ponder on it as much as he liked. + +Was it so? Did Miss Neville's fate, indeed, rest in his hands? If so, +then, he must no longer remain inactive, but must bestir himself. He +looked around, but during his conversation with Frances, short as it +was, Miss Neville had disappeared. As Frances and the rest adjourned +into the billiard-room for a game he again sought Amy; surely she had +not gone with the rest? No; there she sat alone in the inner +drawing-room. + +"You are almost in total darkness, Miss Neville," said he, drawing a +chair near her, as she sat within the shade of the alcove or arch +dividing the two rooms. + +The fire burnt low in the grate, while the lamps were all out save one, +which threw a strange, fitful light every now and then across the room. + +"Mrs. Linchmore likes this room kept dark; she says it is sometimes +pleasant to come into, and a relief to the eyes after the brilliant +glare of the other rooms," replied Amy. + +"Perhaps she is right; it certainly is a pleasant rest for the eyes +after the intense glare of the many lamps out there." + +"Yes; and then one is almost sure of being quiet and alone late in the +evening, as no one cares for this dull room then; the lamps are never +trimmed after being once lit, but are allowed to die out as they like." + +"Slowly, like the hopes of our hearts." + +Amy looked up surprised. + +"It is best to have no hopes," she said. + +"That would be contrary to human nature. We all hope, even the most +satisfied mortal, and sometimes our hopes last a life time, and only +fade with our lives." + +"It is true; but perhaps our hopes, if realised, would only render us +miserable. It is best after all to go hoping on." + +"It is best," he replied, quietly. + +Amy thought what a strange mood Mr. Linchmore was in. Why did he speak +and talk so gloomily? Had Mr. Vavasour vexed him again by devoting +himself too much to his wife? or she been flirting more than usual? + +This inner room they now sat in was not so large as the drawing-room, +part of it being taken off for the conservatory, which ran its entire +length, and then adjoined the drawing-room at the point where the arch +which separated the two rooms terminated. In the day time the smaller +room was the prettiest and most cheerful, as the windows at the end +commanded a fine view of the magnificent woods and country beyond, with +the lawn sloping down in front almost to the banks of the lake, whereas +the view from the drawing-room on that side was entirely concealed by +the conservatory. + +As Mr. Linchmore silently revolved in his mind how he should begin about +Mr. Vavasour; how broach the subject so as to find out how far her heart +had been won--or as he thought, lost--thrown away on so unworthy an +object; given to one who neither cared for or valued the rich treasure +he had won, and Amy sat in silent wonderment as to what he would say +next; the rustle of a silk dress was heard, and in another moment two +forms were indistinctly seen through the flowering shrubs and exotics of +the conservatory. + +Amy's breath was hushed, her very pulse was stilled, as she +distinguished Robert Vavasour and Mrs. Linchmore. + +Yet why should they not have separated from the rest? There was nothing +so very strange in it. But Amy felt as if some impending calamity hung +over her, or was near, and she without the power of averting it; and +would have given worlds to have turned and fled. Brave as she was, she +felt a very coward now, and would have warned them how near they were to +others if she could; but it could not be, the windows were closed, no +sound might reach them. + +And now Mr. Linchmore's eyes were fixed in the same direction. He had +seen them, too. + +Amy rose as if to go. She would leave him and join them, come what +would, but-- + +"Sit still, Miss Neville," he said, sternly, and in a tone that +compelled obedience, and Amy sank down again without a word; in dread +and fear; feeling more utterly helpless than ever to avert the coming +storm her heart suggested. + +Once more she looked through the evergreens and tall dark plants. They +were still there, close to one of the doors now, and almost opposite. +He gathered and offered a flower. + +That she received it with a flush of pleasure, could be surmised by the +gentle bend of the proud head, and the soft smile which could almost be +distinguished flitting across her features. + +They came nearer still. Oh! when would they go away? What could interest +them so deeply, and why did he look so earnestly in her now averted +face? What could he be pleading that she would not--did not wish to +grant? + +She has turned her head towards him now, and is looking down on the +ground as though loath to meet his gaze--is speaking--has granted his +request, whatever it is, and he has seized her hand and is kissing it +again and again. + +A hasty, passionate exclamation from Mr. Linchmore, as he suddenly +sprang to his feet, and in another moment would have dashed into the +conservatory, shivering the slight glass door into a thousand fragments, +but Amy threw herself in his path. + +"Oh, stay, stay!" she said. "Don't go, please don't!" + +"Away!" he said. "Out of my way! He shall rue this deeply!" and he tried +to shake her off, but in vain; she clung more firmly to him than before, +beseeching him to stay. + +"Don't, don't go," she continued, imploringly. "I must not let you go! +Pray, pray, listen to me; you will be sorry if you don't. Oh! Mr. +Linchmore, be advised. You cannot tell why he has taken her hand." + +"Villain!" he muttered, between his clenched teeth. "Scoundrel!" + +"No, no! you are mistaken," said Amy, hurriedly, "indeed you are. How +can you guess at anything? He may be entreating her good will, may be +telling her of his love for another. Oh! Mr. Linchmore, be yourself +again; don't give way to this sudden anger until you are certain you are +right, and you may be wrong. Believe me, you _are_ wrong. Oh, don't harm +him, pray don't!" and Amy's eyes filled with tears, as she felt she +could urge nothing more; was powerless if he would go. + +But as her voice grew hushed, and she relaxed her hold, he turned and +said, + +"Miss Neville, you love this man?" + +"Oh, no, no, no!" replied Amy, now fairly sobbing. + +"Then why this interest in him? Why seek to palliate his conduct, base +as I believe it to be?" + +"I would not, if I thought it base, but--but I do not. I am but a poor +ignorant girl, but I implore you, for your wife's sake--your own sake, +do nothing rashly." + +"I will not. I am calm again--as calm as you wish; but this must be +sifted to the very core, must be explained till all is as clear as the +moon, which shines so brightly through that half-darkened window. No +half measures will satisfy me. I must not only be convinced, but feel +so. You say he is pleading his love for another--entreating _her_ good +will in his behalf. Be it so. Then who is this other?" + +He was quiet now, very quiet; with a firm, gloomy determination from +which there could be no escape, no loophole to creep out of. All must be +as clear as day. He had stood his wife's heartless conduct too long, he +would stand it no longer. No half measures, as before, would now satisfy +that angry husband, with the demon jealousy roused in his heart--that +stern yet loving heart. + +Alas! this jealousy, what mischief it causes. What hearts it sunders and +wounds with its fierce stabs; and how powerless are most to rise above +it or shake off its strong iron grasp. If once allowed to enter our +hearts it is an enemy difficult to contend with; still more difficult to +get rid of, for although only a small corner may be taken possession of +or unwillingly granted it at first, yet in time what a much larger +portion becomes its share. + +"Who is this other?" again asked Mr. Linchmore, more gently. + +"I cannot tell," replied Amy. + +"I am willing to believe, Miss Neville, it is as you say; but there must +be no more trifling or prevarication, matters have become too serious +for that. This other you speak of. Who is she? I _must_ know; and if +this man's heart is capable of love, and she loves him," and he looked +fixedly at Amy, and spoke more slowly as if wishing her to weigh well +every word, "then let her be his wife; if she wills it so; but--it will +be to her sorrow." + +"You cannot tell that," replied Amy, seeing he waited for her to speak. +"He may love her with all his heart." + +"He may. But what is all his heart when he is so ready to trifle with +others? Miss Neville," and his voice was still more gentle, and very +pitying in its tone; "you are alone, perhaps feel alone in this house, +and are young, very young to be so thrown upon the world, which you find +a cold and desolate one, I have no doubt. _He_ has been ever kind and +courteous. I fear too much so, and I do not wonder he has created an +interest in your heart, and at last won it. But he must not be allowed +to trifle with it while I stand by. No. It shall never be!" + +"Oh! Mr. Linchmore!" exclaimed Amy, now indeed feeling utterly desolate +at this continued accusation, and belief in her love for Robert +Vavasour. + +"Hush!" he rejoined, gently placing his hand on her soft hair, as she +sat with her face bowed in her hands. "Poor girl; poor desolate young +creature; your happiness shall be my first care, you shall no longer +feel alone; there is no need to tell me anything. I know all that your +heart cannot speak, even to your fainting when you saw him brought home +the other evening." + +Amy's sobs burst out afresh; she felt totally unable to stay them or +convince Mr. Linchmore he was mistaken. + +"Well, well," he continued with a sigh, "it cannot be helped now, things +must take their course; but with him I _will_ have a reckoning," and the +old stern look once more flitted across his face. "But fear not, Miss +Neville; for the sake of your love for him, I will be calm and control +my anger." + +"You will not tell him I care for him--love him, Mr. Linchmore? Oh! no, +no, you could not do so!" said Amy, with fear. + +"I will not; that must rest with you alone, with that I can have nothing +to do, your future happiness must be made or marred by yourself alone. +You need have no fear, but trust; only trust in me, Miss Neville." + +"And I shall see him, shall speak to him myself--alone?" + +"You shall do so. He shall hear no word of your love from me." + +"You promise it, Mr. Linchmore," said Amy, now for the first time +raising her eyes to his. + +"I promise it, Miss Neville, most faithfully." + +"Thank you! thank you; then all will be right." + +"I wish, oh! how I wish it could be otherwise," sobbed Amy, as he left +her; "but I must not murmur, I must be thankful,--thank God it is no +worse than it is; but how can he think that I love him?" + +Amy felt utterly miserable. Did she deny Vavasour's being the cause of +her fainting, would not Mr. Linchmore naturally enough wonder what had +been the occasion of it? or perhaps in the end guess of her love for his +brother, even as he had supposed it to be for Mr. Vavasour? No, rather +let him think anything than that! a thousand times rather. + +Mr. Linchmore had promised she should see Mr. Vavasour--there was some +comfort in that; she could appeal to him, he would be reasoned with, +would listen and believe her even if he loved her--if?--Amy began to +think there was no need of a doubt, and that it was true he loved her. +Why should Mr. Linchmore be deceived? All the latter's warnings, and Mr. +Vavasour's kindness were accounted for now; but love her as he would, +she could not be his wife. No--even if she had never had a thought for +another, it could not have been, and now?--now she would never be any +man's wife. + +Alone? Yes, hopelessly alone. Alone with that one secret love in her +heart, that no one must know or guess at, not even her mother. Yes, it +was hard, very hard. Was she not striving hard to forget him? Perhaps +she would die in the struggle, she felt so hopelessly unequal to face +the storm; perhaps it was best she should die. But then her mother? Yes, +she must live for her, and forget him. It would not be so difficult, +seeing he loved her not, would perhaps never see her again. She was glad +_he_ had not known of her fainting. And who could have told Mr. +Linchmore? Was it Frances? + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +LOOKING FOR THE "BRADSHAW." + + "Yet though my griefe finde noe redress, + But still encrease before myne eyes, + Though my reward be cruelnesse, + With all the harme, happs can devyse, + Yet I profess it willingly + To serve and suffer patiently. + + There is no griefe, no smert, no woe, + That yet I feel, or after shall, + That from this minde may make me goe, + And whatsoever me befall, + I do profess it willingly, + To serve and suffer patiently." + + WYAT. + + "I am two fools, I know, + For loving and for saying so." + + DONNE. + + +Amy was not the only one who wept that night; Frances also did so at +heart, for very anger and vexation. + +She had missed Mr. Linchmore almost immediately after she had sought +Miss Neville; had suspected why he had done so, and managed to overhear +almost every word of the latter part of their conversation, and when Amy +went so sorrowfully out of the inner drawing-room Frances walked +straight over to the fire, and seated herself in the easy chair where +Amy had only a few minutes before sobbed out her very heart, almost. + +Frances had good cause for tears and anger, feeling she was being foiled +and defeated when the end was almost won. Her conversation with Mr. +Linchmore had been a false move, she had urged him on too quickly; but +for that, he never would have seen his wife and Mr. Vavasour, and all +would yet have been well; now all was going on wrong--utterly wrong. + +That Robert Vavasour would propose for Miss Neville was certain. That +Miss Neville meant to refuse him was certain, too. The first she had +fully calculated upon, but not the latter. She had intended the first to +take place only when Amy had been so hopelessly entangled that she +could not escape, could not say no, and now to be defeated at the very +moment of victory, was almost more than her proud spirit could brook. + +Was all her plotting to be of no use? all to be lost? and to be lost +now? Now that the end was all but attained, and it wanted but one final +stroke for Amy to be lost to Charles for ever! + +A dull, heavy despair was fast creeping over her spirits; what could be +done now? Oh! for some one to aid her! What if she spoke to Robert +Vavasour, and urged him on to make Amy his at all hazards; she felt +certain he loved her with all his heart. Suppose she told him of Amy's +secret, and apparently hopeless love for her cousin, as the true reason +why she would refuse to listen to his suit. But then again, he might be +too proud to marry a woman whose heart was another's, on the mere +dangerous chance of being able to win it in the end, and if he should +think so and give her up? might not Charles hear of it and return, and +then all her hopes be dashed to the ground, just as they seemed on the +point of being accomplished? + +Frances sat moodily by the smouldering fire, tapping her foot +impatiently on the ground in utter vexation of spirit, her heart aching +and her temples throbbing with the anguish of her thoughts. She had a +strong ruthless will; but how to make others bend to it? How bring them +under the influence of it? She chafed with angry vexation; no rest had +she that night; but lay restlessly tossing about the bed, when at last, +utterly worn out, she threw herself impatiently on it. It was the first +drawback she had had in the task she had set herself to accomplish. If +Robert Vavasour would only defer his proposal to Miss Neville for one +day? Give her time to think of some fresh stratagem! But no. Mr. +Linchmore had willed it otherwise. Had she not heard him tell Miss +Neville he would have an explanation from Mr. Vavasour of what he had +seen in the conservatory; and that Frances knew right well could lead +but to one result: a repetition of his conversation with Mrs. +Linchmore, disclosing his love for her governess. + +As Frances drew up her blind in the morning, almost hating the winter's +sun as it streamed in at the window, she knew a few short hours would +decide Amy's fate and hers. A reprieve she could not hope for: it was +simply impossible. Still she did not give up all hope; a trifle might +yet turn the tide of events in her favour; so she went downstairs to +breakfast, her head filled as much as ever with schemes and plots. How +it beat with renovated hope as she heard that Mr. Linchmore had been +suddenly called away on business early that morning. How she wished it +might last for days! + +The studies did not progress very happily that morning, although Amy set +herself resolutely to work, and strove to drive away the troubled +thoughts that crowded into her brain. But they would come back do what +she would. How many false notes were played by Fanny, without being +noticed, at her morning's practising; and mistakes made by Edith at her +French reading without correction. Every moment Amy expected and awaited +a summons from Mr. Linchmore; but none came; and as the morning wore on, +she grew restless and impatient. + +The afternoon drew on, and Amy grew still more anxious; could settle +herself to nothing; but sat and watched the sun as it sunk lower and +lower, and wondered at the reason of the delay. Mary entered with a +letter. It must be later than she thought, almost half-past four, and +still no summons. + +She drew near the fire-light, and opened her letter. It was from +Ashleigh, and as if to verify the old adage that troubles never come +alone, her mother was worse, and Mrs. Elrington asked Amy to return home +for a week, as she thought the sight of her daughter might rouse and +cheer the invalid. It was the apathy and apparent want of energy the +medical man feared, nothing else; and it was thought Amy's presence +might dissipate it. + +All minor troubles were now swallowed up in this; with tearful eyes Amy +sought Mrs. Linchmore and obtained the wished-for leave. This time there +was no regretful tardiness in granting it, no unwillingness expressed. + +"Pray go as soon as you like, Miss Neville," she said, "and do not hurry +back on the children's account, a week or so will make no difference to +either them or me." + +Amy felt grateful for her kindness in so readily granting her request, +although the words themselves were somewhat stiffly spoken; but her +thoughts were so entirely engrossed by her mother's illness and the +feeling of being so soon at home again, they could not long dwell on +anything else; all were trifles compared to that. + +"I will not say good-bye," added Mrs. Linchmore, "as we shall meet again +in the drawing-room this evening." + +But Amy excused herself. She had so much to do, and to think of. There +was her packing not begun even. + +"Then I will make my adieux now. I trust you will find Mrs. Neville +better, or at all events mending. I fear you will not see Mr. Linchmore; +he was called away early this morning to attend the death bed of a very +old friend of his, and had to start at a minute's notice; but I will +desire the carriage to be ready for you at any hour you like to name, or +you can send word by Mary." + +Mr. Linchmore was away then; hence the reason of his not having +fulfilled his promise. Amy was glad of the reprieve, perhaps before her +return, things might wear a different aspect; at all events, her heart +felt lighter, and she went to her room with a less weight on her +spirits. + +"Where is your governess?" asked Frances, entering the school-room soon +after Amy had left it to seek Mrs. Linchmore. + +Fanny was nursing her doll, and scarcely deigned to look up as she +replied, "She is busy packing." + +"Packing!" exclaimed Frances in bewilderment. "Packing! and for what?" + +"To go away," was the curt answer. + +Go away. Another step backwards in the wheel of fortune. + +"She is not going for good?" she asked. + +"Oh! no. Only for a week. Are you not sorry, cousin? I am," said Fanny, +in somewhat of a saucy tone. The child still remembered the "Holy Work:" +thought of her hurt arm. + +"Very sorry," replied Frances sincerely enough. What could she be going +away for? but anxious as Frances was, she disdained to ask the children, +but sat down and awaited quietly Miss Neville's coming. + +Amy went on steadily with her packing, which, with Mary's help, was +soon finished, and then went down to the library to look at the +"Bradshaw," and find out which was the very earliest train by which she +could start on the morrow. But it was not on the table. She turned over +the books one by one, removed the inkstand and papers, but her search +was fruitless. It was gone. + +As she stood undecided what to do next, Robert Vavasour came forward; +she had not noticed him in the dim uncertain twilight. + +"Can I assist you, Miss Neville?" he asked. "What is it you look for?" + +"I was looking for the 'Bradshaw,' which is usually kept on this table; +but it is gone." + +"It is here," he replied, taking it off a chair, where it had been +hastily left by Mr. Linchmore in the morning. "Allow me to find out what +you wish, this book is a puzzle to most people." + +Amy explained her wishes. "You are going away?" he asked. + +"Yes; but only for a short time, a fortnight at the furthest." + +"It is a long time--to me," he said, gently; then lit the taper, and +busied himself with pen, ink, and paper, and the 'Bradshaw;' while Amy +stood by, wishing she had not come down, but had sent Mary, or one of +the children instead. + +After dotting down the times of the trains as they arrived and left the +different stations, he closed the book; still he did not look up, or +give her the memorandum. + +"Thank you," said Amy, "that will do very nicely." + +"You cannot leave the Standale station before the 9.10 train," he said +presently, "that is express, and will take you with less delays on the +road than any other, and will only detain you some twenty minutes or so, +when you join the ordinary train. I will write this time table out +better and more clearly for you, and let you have it before you start." + +"Do not take that trouble. What you have written will be quite guide +enough for me. Good-bye, Mr. Vavasour," and she held out her hand. + +He hesitated a moment, then took it in both his, and held it fast. + +"I cannot say good-bye, Miss Neville." All the love he felt for her was +welling up into his heart, and striving to be heard. He must speak. "I +cannot let you go thus," he said, "had you remained it would have been +otherwise, and I would not have opened my heart to you yet; but, as it +is, I cannot help myself. Miss Neville, I never loved any woman till I +saw you--never thought I could do so. I had but a poor opinion of your +sex. Had not my mother deserted me, and was not that enough to fill my +heart with hatred and bitterness? There is a mystery shadowing my birth, +which seems to me to be growing darker and darker every day. I have no +claim even to the very name I bear, and cannot tell you who my parents +are; perhaps this silence is better than the knowledge that they live, +and are ashamed to own me. I thought I was too proud to ask any woman to +overlook that, and vowed I never would; but then I trifled with them +all, even with you. Do you remember the flower I sent by Fanny? how many +a sleepless night has the remembrance of that folly cost me? But, +knowing all I have now told you, all that at times drives me to the +solitude of my lonely home, and distracting thoughts, will you come and +comfort me,--pity me--love me? Amy, I love you with all my heart. Will +you be my wife?" + +He could not see her face, the light was too uncertain, and she stood in +the shade; but he felt that she trembled as she withdrew her hand from +his. + +Yes, it was even so. Amy was quite prepared when he began, to say she +did not love him; but he claimed her pity, and her woman's heart felt +for him at once. + +"Will you let me love you, care for you, Amy, as never woman was loved +or cared for before? Speak to me, Amy, say one word--one word of hope." + +But Amy could give none. "I am sorry," she replied, falteringly, +"believe me, deeply sorry; but hope? Alas, Mr. Vavasour, I can give you +none." + +"You do not love me?" he asked, sorrowfully. + +"I like you, have always liked you. You have been so kind to me, the +only one almost who has; and I have felt grateful for that--it would be +strange if I were not; but I do not love you," she said softly, fearing +the pain she was causing. + +"I have been premature in asking your love, I know. I have had so little +opportunity of winning it, how could I expect you would love me with +scarcely any wooing at all. May I ask you one question, Miss Neville? I +feel I have no right to ask it, and it may be a death-blow to my hopes?" + +"Yes," replied Amy. How could she refuse, and he so sad and +heart-broken. + +"Forgive me; but has another claimed your love?" + +"No. No other has ever spoken to me of love, or loved me," she said +sadly. + +"Thank you, Miss Neville. Then I will--must hope. Why should I not win +your love, when I love you so very dearly; how dearly you know not? I +will wait patiently; but strive to win you I must. In my dreary, sad +life it is the one bright star to lead me on to better things. I have +trifled away life--hated it at times; but now I will begin to live. You +are going home, Miss Neville, let this tale of my love be as if it had +never been. I will be content to take my chance with others; let us be +friends again, as hitherto. I promise no word of love shall ever pass my +lips. When you know me better, and, perhaps, judge me better than you do +now, then once again I will ask you to be my wife; and then, if you +reject me--well. Then we must never meet again; but while your heart is +free I must hope. Shall it be so?" he asked. + +Alas! what could she say? She could not tell him her love was another's +unasked and unsought for, when she was striving to shut it out of her +heart for ever. She could only murmur that she did not love him, and +could give no hope. While he, thinking her love yet unwon, believed it +might be his in the end, and that he had told her of his love too soon. + +"You will not refuse my request, Miss Neville, will you?" he asked, +sorrowfully. + +"I do not like to refuse," she replied, "and yet I doubt if I ought to +grant it. It will only make both you and me unhappy, because it can lead +but to the same result as now." + +"I dare not think so," he said. "Surely God will be more merciful than +to leave my life an utter blank. No mother's love have I ever known; +mine has been, and is a dreary, unloved lot. Is it a wonder my heart +clings to you, loves you so madly? and yet you will not even let me try +and win you; but would shut out all hope. If you loved another; +then--then indeed I would not plead; but, as it is--it is scarcely kind, +Miss Neville; forgive me for saying so." + +"Believe me, I do not wish to be unkind," faltered Amy. "I think my +decision would have been the kindest in the end. But enough; it shall be +as you wish, only you must not blame me hereafter." + +"Neither now nor ever!" + +And so they parted, both sorrowful at heart, both feeling the future +which seemed to loom so gloomily for each; neither daring to look +beyond the shadow even now flitting across their path. + +Little did Frances Strickland think while loitering in the school-room +awaiting Amy, that the very meeting she had come to prevent had taken +place. + +Just as she was growing impatient, and wondering at the unwonted delay, +Miss Neville entered. + +"I have been waiting to make my adieux," she said, "having heard you +were going away, and I did not like you should go without a word of +farewell." + +Amy was quite unprepared for this, and looked her surprise. + +"Do we part friends, Miss Neville?" + +"I can scarcely say yes," replied Amy, "our acquaintance has been but +short, and--and--you have never liked me, Miss Strickland; if you +recollect you almost told me so once." + +"Ah, you have not forgotten that stormy interview. But I was angry and +passionate. I have regretted what I said then ever since. Even you must +know I never carried out my threats." + +"I cannot tell," replied Amy. "I know I feared them, and the thought of +what you had threatened--the shame--made me ill. No, Miss Strickland, we +can never be friends." + +"And why not?" + +There was a slight touch of hauteur in her tone, do what she would to +hide it. Amy saw it, and felt more than ever convinced Miss Strickland +did not like her; never would like her. Why should she so persistently +wish to be friendly now, after all her anger and rudeness Amy could not +divine, but she suspected Frances, and thought some motive lay hidden +deep in her heart. She answered coldly, + +"Our paths in life lie so very wide apart, that being friends is simply +impossible." + +"Not so," replied Frances. "Our lives may be nearer knit together than +you think; you will not be always teaching." + +"As yet I see no reason to think otherwise, and as I think I told you +once before, I am reconciled to it, or I trust nearly so." And Amy felt +she was growing more ungracious every moment. + +Perhaps Frances saw it too, for she held out her hand as she said, "Do +we, or rather are we to part friends, Miss Neville?" + +"I do not wish we should part as enemies. Good-bye, Miss Strickland." +She wished she could thank her for coming, but she could not. + +"Well, good-bye, I think you will be sorry some day for refusing my +friendship. I suppose you will not come down this evening; so this is a +final leave-taking." + +She turned as if to go, then stopped. Her anger at Amy's refusal got the +mastery over her wise resolutions, and her eyes flashed fire as she +said, + +"There can be no middle course, Miss Neville; if you will not have me as +a friend, I can be a bitter enemy." + +"I know it," replied Amy, "and cannot help it." + +"Very well, then, I bid you beware! We shall see which is defeated. You +or I. I will be relentless." + +And she passed out. + +"Why do you look so sad, Miss Neville?" said little Fanny, creeping up +close to her, "I am glad you don't like her, because I know she can't +bear you." + +"I don't know, Fanny. She says she does, or rather did." + +"But that's a story. Only see her eyes when she went away!" + +"Yes, Fanny; but that was my fault. I fear I was not wise to brave her; +but then it could scarcely have been otherwise. I could not like her." + +"I know I don't!" replied the child, "and am glad no one does. She +nearly pinched Edith's arm a minute ago like she did mine, because she +told her Uncle Charles put up those book shelves for you; and oh! she +looked so angry. She's just like the dog in the manger. Isn't she?" + +Ah! Had there been no such person as Uncle Charles in the world, these +two young girls might have been friends. But as it was; that was the +sore point which kept their hearts, the one so distant; the other so +revengefully inclined. Frances, who nursed and encouraged her love, knew +it was so: while Amy, who dared not think of or allow her love, tried to +imagine a hundred other reasons as the true cause of her dislike. + +The children were up betimes in the morning to take a tearful farewell +of their governess; Fanny crying heartily and aloud, until severely +rated by Anne Bennet, who, with her sister Julia, was also there bidding +good-bye while Amy's boxes were being stowed away in the carriage. + +"I can't help crying," said Fanny, when rebuked, "indeed I can't! so +it's of no use, Cousin Anne." + +"Then cry to yourself, child; or stay, here is my hankerchief to stuff +into your mouth; your noise is enough to scare an inmate of Bedlam, and +nearly drives us all crazy. Good-bye, Miss Neville; you will write to +me, won't you? A long letter, mind, when you are settled at home." + +"I have promised your sister a letter," was the reply. + +"Just like my luck. I ought to have asked you sooner. But I shall write +to you all the same. I dare say I shall have lots of news that Julia +will know nothing about." + +Then the carriage drove away, and Amy wondered why Mr. Vavasour had +never given her the time-table as he had promised, and felt a little +disappointed at his forgetfulness; either he did not care for her so +much as she had imagined, or he felt her going away too deeply; at all +events his non appearance made her feel sad. She had learned to like +though not to love him. + +But when she reached the Standale Station, and the carriage steps were +being let down; the first person she saw was Mr. Vavasour, awaiting her +at the door. + +"Mr. Vavasour! you here?" she exclaimed, involuntarily, and perhaps with +a slight welcome of gladness in the tone. + +"Yes; why not? Did you suppose I would let you go alone, and uncared +for? The train will be here in another moment; I almost feared you would +be late." + +Then he went away for her ticket, and presently she was leaning on his +arm as they walked along the platform. It seemed like a dream. + +"Here is the time-table, Miss Neville," he said, as soon as she was +seated in the carriage, "I think you will be able to understand it, and +you must allow me to lend you this railway rug, it will be of use to +you, both going and returning, and I shall not require it," and he drew +it over her feet as she sat, "I wish you a safe journey, though I fear +it will scarcely be a pleasant one; I trust you will find Mrs. Neville +better. God bless you." + +There was a banging of doors, the whistle sounded, and she was carried +away out of his sight, feeling she had been more cared for and thought +of during those few minutes than she had ever been before in all her +life; yet his last three words stirred her heart strangely, bringing as +they did that last sad evening of Charles Linchmore's stay at Brampton +vividly before her, when he had held her hand, and softly said the same +words. + + + END OF VOL. II. + + + T. C. NEWBY, 30, Welbeck Street, Cavendish Square, London. + + + * * * * * + + + WILSON'S + PATENT DRAWING-ROOM + BAGATELLE AND BILLIARD TABLES, + WITH REVERSIBLE TOPS. + Circular, Oblong, Oval, and other Shapes, in various Sizes + FORMING A HANDSOME TABLE. + + [Illustration: Patent Bagatelle Table-Open.] + + [Illustration: Patent Bagatelle Table-Closed.] + + Prices from 5 to 25 Guineas. 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The care of them ought never to be entrusted to +ignorant or unskilful hands; and it is highly satisfactory to point out +as protectors of these vital portions of our frame the preparations +which have emanated from the laboratories of the Messrs. Rowlands, their +unrivalled Macassar for the hair, their Kalydor for improving and +beautifying the complexion, and their Odonto for the teeth and gums. + + * * * * * + + + NEW NOVELS IN THE PRESS. + + + In Three Vols. + THE MAITLANDS. + + + In Three Vols. + TREASON AT HOME. + By MRS. GREENOUGH. + + * * * * * + + + BEDSTEADS, BEDDING, AND BED ROOM + FURNITURE. + + HEAL & SON'S + + Show Rooms contain a large assortment of Brass Bedsteads, suitable + both for home use and for Tropical Climates. + +Handsome Iron Bedsteads, with Brass Mountings, and elegantly Japanned. + +Plain Iron Bedsteads for Servants. + +Every description of Woodstead, in Mahogany, Birch, and Walnut Tree +Woods, Polished Deal and Japanned, all fitted with Bedding and +Furnitures complete. + +Also, every description of Bed Room Furniture, consisting of Wardrobes, +Chests of Drawers, Washstands, Tables, Chairs, Sofas, Couches, and every +article for the complete furnishing of a Bed Room. + + AN + + ILLUSTRATED CATALOGUE, + +Containing Designs and Prices of 150 articles of Bed Room Furniture, as +well as of 100 Bedsteads, and Prices of every description of Bedding. + + Sent Free by Post. + + + HEAL & SON, + + BEDSTEAD, BEDDING, + + AND + + BED ROOM FURNITURE MANUFACTURERS + + 196, TOTTENHAM COURT ROAD, + + LONDON. W. + + * * * * * + + + NOW READY. + + + In Three Vols. + + THE NAVAL LIEUTENANT. + + BY F. C. ARMSTRONG, + + Author of "The Two Midshipmen," "The Medora," "The + Lily of Devon," "The Queen of the Seas," &c. + + * * * * * + + IN THE PRESS. + + + In Three Vols. Price 31s. 6d. + + AN OLD MAN'S SECRET. + + A Novel. + + BY FRANK TROLLOPE, + + Author of "A Right-Minded Woman." + + * * * * * + + NEW WORKS IN THE PRESS. + + + I. + + In One Vol. Price 10s. 6d. + + THE ADVENTURES OF A SERF WIFE + + AMONG THE MINES OF SIBERIA. + + + II. + + In Three Vols. Price 31s. 6d. + + AN OLD MAN'S SECRET + + A Novel. + + By FRANK TROLLOPE, + + Author of "A Right-Minded Woman." + + + III. + + In Three Vols. Price 31s. 6d. + + TREASON AT HOME. + + A Novel. + + BY MRS. GREENOUGH. + + * * * * * + + + J. W. BENSON, + + WATCH AND CLOCK MAKER, BY WARRANT OF APPOINTMENT, TO + H.R.H. THE PRINCE OF WALES. + +Maker of the Great Clock for the Exhibition, 1862, and of the +Chronograph Dial, by which was timed "The Derby" of 1862, 1863, and +1864, Prize Medallist, Class XXXIII., and Honourable Mention, Class XV, +begs respectfully to invite the attention of the nobility, gentry, and +public to his establishment at + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, + +Which, having recently been increased in size by the incorporation of +the two houses in the rear, is now the most extensive and richly stocked +in London. In + + THE WATCH DEPARTMENT + +Will be found every description of Pocket Horological Machine, from the +most expensive instruments of precision to the working man's substantial +time-keeper. The stock comprises Watches, with every kind of case, gold +and silver, plain, engine-turned, engraved, enamelled, chased, and +jewelled, and with dials of enamel, silver, or gold, either neatly +ornamented or richly embellished. + + + BENSON'S WATCHES. + +"The movements are of the finest quality which the art of horology is at +present capable of producing."--_Illustrated London News_ 8th Nov., +1862. + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. + + + BENSON'S WATCHES. + +Adapted for every class, climate, and country. Wholesale and retail from +200 guineas to 21 1/2 guineas each. + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London + + + BENSON'S WATCHES. + +Chronometer, duplex, lever, horizontal, repeating, centre seconds, +keyless, astronomical, reversible, chronograph, blind men's, Indian, +presentation, and railway, to suit all classes. + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. + + + BENSON'S WATCHES. + + London-made levers, gold from L10 10s., silver from L5 5s. + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. + + + BENSON'S WATCHES. + + Swiss watches of guaranteed quality, gold from L5 5s.; silver from + L2 12s. 6d. + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. + + + Benson's Exact Watch. + + Gold from L30; silver from L24. + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. + + + Benson's Indian Watch. + + Gold, L23; silver, L11 11s. + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. + + + BENSON'S CLOCKS. + +"The clocks and watches were objects of great attraction, and well +repaid the trouble of an inspection."--_Illustrated London News_, 8th +November, 1862. + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. + + + BENSON'S CLOCKS. + +Suitable for the dining and drawing rooms, library, bedroom, hall, +staircase, bracket, carriage, skeleton, chime, musical, night, +astronomical, regulator, shop, warehouse, office, counting house, &c., + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. + + + BENSON'S CLOCKS. + +Drawing room clocks, richly gilt, and ornamented with fine enamels from +the imperial manufactories of Sevres, from L200 to L2 2s. + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. + + + BENSON'S CLOCKS, + +For the dining room, in every shape, style, and variety of bronze--red, +green, copper, Florentine, &c. A thousand can be selected from, from 100 +guineas to 2 guineas. + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. + + + BENSON'S CLOCKS, + +In the following marbles:--Black, rouge antique, Sienne, d'Egypte, rouge +vert, malachite, white, rosee, serpentine, Brocatelle, porphyry, green, +griotte, d'Ecosse, alabaster, lapis lazuli Algerian onyx, Californian. + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, London. + + + THE HOUSE-CLOCK DEPARTMENT, + +For whose more convenient accommodation J. W. BENSON has opened spacious +show rooms at Ludgate Hill, will be found to contain the largest and +most varied stock of Clocks of every description, in gilt, bronze, +marbles, porcelain, and woods of the choicest kinds. + +In this department is also included a very fine collection of + + BRONZES D'ART, + +BENSON'S ILLUSTRATED PAMPHLET, free by post for three stamps, contains a +short history of Horology, with prices and patterns of every description +of watch and clock, and enables those who live in any part of the world +to select a watch, and have it sent safe by post. + + 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, E.C. + + * * * * * + + + NOW READY. + + + In Three Vols. + + THE NAVAL LIEUTENANT. + + BY F. C. ARMSTRONG, + + Author of "The Two Midshipmen," "The Medora," + "The Lily of Devon," "The Queen of the Seas," &c. + + * * * * * + + + IN THE PRESS. + + + In Three Vols. Price 31s. 6d. + + AN OLD MAN'S SECRET. + + A Novel. + + BY FRANK TROLLOPE, + + Author of "A Right-Minded Woman." + + * * * * * + + + THE FURNISHING OF BED-ROOMS. + + +HEAL and SON have observed for some time that it would be advantageous +to their Customers to see a much larger selection of BED-ROOM FURNITURE +than is usually displayed, and that to judge properly of the style and +effect of the different descriptions of Furniture, it is necessary that +each description should be placed in a separate room. They have +therefore erected large and additional Show-Rooms, by which they are +enabled not only to extend their show of Iron, Brass, and Wood +Bedsteads, and Bed-room Furniture, beyond what they believe has ever +been attempted, but also to provide several small rooms for the purpose +of keeping complete suites of Bed-room Furniture in the different +styles. + +Japanned Deal Goods may be seen in complete suites of five or six +different colours, some of them light and ornamental, and others of a +plainer description. Suites of Stained Deal Gothic Furniture, Polished +Deal, Oak, and Walnut, are also set apart in separate rooms, so that +customers are able to see the effect as it would appear in their own +rooms. + +The Stock of Mahogany Goods for the better Bed-rooms, and Japanned Goods +for plain and Servants' use, is very greatly increased, the whole +forming as complete an assortment of Bed-room Furniture as they think +can possibly be desired. + + + HEAL AND SON'S + + ILLUSTRATED CATALOGUE OF + + BEDSTEADS, BEDDING, + + AND + + BED-ROOM FURNITURE, + + Sent free by Post. + + 196, 197, 198, TOTTENHAM COURT ROAD. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's It May Be True, Vol. II (of III), by Mrs. Wood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IT MAY BE TRUE, VOL. 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