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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42320 ***
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  CHAPTER I.
+  CHAPTER II.
+  CHAPTER III.
+  CHAPTER IV.
+  CHAPTER V.
+  CHAPTER VI.
+  CHAPTER VII.
+  CHAPTER VIII.
+  CHAPTER IX.
+  CHAPTER X.
+  CHAPTER XI.
+  CHAPTER XII.
+  CHAPTER XIII.
+  CHAPTER XIV.
+  CHAPTER XV.
+  CHAPTER XVI.
+  CHAPTER XVII.
+  CHAPTER XVIII.
+  CHAPTER XIX.
+  CHAPTER XX.
+  CHAPTER XXI.
+  CHAPTER XXII.
+  CHAPTER XXIII.
+  CHAPTER XXIV.
+  CHAPTER XXV.
+  CHAPTER XXVI.
+  CHAPTER XXVII.
+  CHAPTER XXVIII.
+  CHAPTER XXIX.
+  CHAPTER XXX.
+  CHAPTER XXXI.
+  CHAPTER XXXII.
+  CHAPTER XXXIII.
+  CHAPTER XXXIV.
+  CHAPTER XXXV.
+  CHAPTER XXXVI.
+  CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+
+
+
+  THE
+  SHADOW OF A SIN
+
+  By BERTHA M. CLAY
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+  ROYAL PUBLISHING CO.,
+  528 Locust Street  PHILADELPHIA PA.
+
+
+
+
+  THE SHADOW OF A SIN
+
+  BY BERTHA M. CLAY
+
+  AUTHOR OF
+  "_Thrown on the World_," "_Lady Damer's Secret_,"
+  "_A Passionate Love_," "_Her Faithful Heart_,"
+  "_Shadow of the Past_," _etc._
+
+  ROYAL PUBLISHING COMPANY.
+  530 Locust Street, Philadelphia
+
+
+
+
+Marriage Guide
+
+By MICHAEL RYAN, MD.
+
+
+Are you Married, or are you Contemplating Marriage?
+
+_A GREAT SPECIAL OFFER_
+
+     A $10.00 BOOK FOR ONLY =$1.00=
+
+A complete Description of the human system, both Male and Female, and
+full particulars of Diseases to which each is subject, with Remedies for
+same. Illustrated with numerous fine, superb, full-page plates.
+
+Fully depicting the mysterious process of Gestation from the time of
+conception to the period of delivery.
+
+
+_LOVE, COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE_
+
+It tells you of Love and how to obtain its fullest enjoyment; Courtship
+and its attendant pleasures; Marriage, its joys, pleasures and
+happiness, and how best to acquire the greater amount of its blessings,
+with a vast number of wonderful and extraordinary revelations that only
+those who are married or contemplating marriage should be made
+acquainted with.
+
+Will be sent, postpaid, securely sealed, to any address, on receipt of
+=$1.00, special price=. Address all orders to
+
+
+ROYAL PUBLISHING COMPANY
+
+No. 530 Locust Street, Philadelphia, Pa.
+
+
+
+
+THE SHADOW OF A SIN.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+    "She is coming--my own, my sweet;
+      Were it ever so airy a tread,
+    My heart would hear her and beat
+      Had it lain for a century dead."
+
+
+A rich musical voice trolled out the words, not once, but many times
+over--carelessly at first, and then the full sense of them seemed to
+strike the singer.
+
+"'Had it lain for a century dead,'" he repeated slowly. "Ah, me! the
+difference between poetry and fact--when I have lain for a century dead,
+the light footfalls of a fair woman will not awaken me. 'Beyond the sun,
+woman's beauty and woman's love are of small account;' yet here--ah,
+when will she come?"
+
+The singer, who was growing impatient, was an exceedingly handsome young
+man--of not more than twenty--with a face that challenged all
+criticism--bright, careless, defiant, full of humor, yet with a gleam of
+poetry--a face that girls and women judge instantly, and always like. He
+did not look capable of wrong, this young lover, who sung his love-song
+so cheerily, neither did he look capable of wicked thoughts.
+
+          "'You really must come, for I said
+    I would show the bright flowers their queen.'
+
+That is the way to talk to women," he soliloquized, as the words of the
+song dropped from his lips. "They can not resist a little flattery
+judiciously mixed with poetry. I hope I have made no mistake. Cynthy
+certainly said by the brook in the wood. Here is the brook--but where is
+my love?"
+
+He grew tired of walking and singing--the evening was warm--and he sat
+down on the bank where the wild thyme and heather grew, to wait for the
+young girl who had promised to meet him when the heat of the day had
+passed.
+
+He had been singing sweet love-songs; the richest poetry man's hand ever
+penned or heart imagined had been falling in wild snatches from his
+lips. Did this great poem of nature touch him--the grand song that
+echoes through all creation, which began in the faint, gray chaos, when
+the sea was bounded and the dry land made, and which will go on until it
+ends in the full harmony of heaven?
+
+He looked very handsome and young and eager; his hair was tinged with
+gold, his mouth was frank and red; yet he was not quite trustworthy.
+There was no great depth in his heart or soul, no great chivalry, no
+grand treasure of manly truth, no touch of heroism.
+
+He took his watch from his pocket and looked at it. "Ten minutes past
+seven--and she promised to be here at six. I shall not wait much
+longer."
+
+He spoke the words aloud, and a breath of wind seemed to move the trees
+to respond; it was as though they said, "He is no true knight to say
+that."
+
+A hush fell over them, the bees rested on the thyme, the butterflies
+nestled close to the blue-bells, the little brook ran on as though it
+were wild with joy. Presently a footstep was heard, and then the long
+expected one appeared. With something between a sigh and a smile she
+held out one little white hand to him. "I hardly thought you would wait
+for me, Claude. You are very patient."
+
+"I would wait twice seven years for only one look at your face," he
+rejoined.
+
+"Would you?" interrogated the girl wearily. "I would not wait so long
+even for a fairy prince."
+
+She sat down on the heather-covered bank, and took off her hat. She
+fanned herself with it for a few minutes, and then flung it carelessly
+among the flowers.
+
+"You do not seem very enraptured at seeing me, Hyacinth," said the young
+lover reproachfully. The girl sighed wearily.
+
+"I do not believe I could go into a rapture over any thing in the
+world," she broke out. "I am so tired of my life--so tired of it,
+Claude, that I do not believe I could get up an interest in a single
+thing."
+
+"I hope you feel some little interest in me," he said.
+
+"I--I--I cannot tell. I think even bitterest pain would be better than
+the dead monotony that is killing me."
+
+She remembered those words in after years, and repented of them when
+repentance was in vain.
+
+"Surely you might smile now," said Claude. "I hope you do not find
+sitting by my side on this lovely evening monotonous."
+
+She laughed, but the laugh had no music in it.
+
+"No, I cannot say that I do; but you are going away soon, you tell me,
+and then the only gleam of sunshine in my life will fade, and all will
+be darkness again."
+
+"What has depressed you so much?" he asked. "You are not yourself
+to-day."
+
+"Shall I tell you what my day has been like?" she said. "Shall I
+describe it from the hour when the first sunbeams woke me this morning
+until now?" He took both the small white hands in his.
+
+"Yes, tell me; but be merciful, and let me hear that the thought of
+meeting me has cheered you."
+
+"It has been the only gleam of brightness," she said, so frankly that
+the very frankness of the words seemed not to displease him. "It was
+just six when I woke. I could hear the birds singing, and I knew how
+cool and fresh and dewy everything was. I dressed myself very quickly
+and went down-stairs. The great house was all darkness and silence. I
+had forgotten that Lady Vaughan does not allow the front or back doors
+to be opened until after breakfast. I thought the birds were calling me,
+and the branches of the trees seemed to beckon me; but I was obliged to
+go back to my own room, and sit there till the gong sounded for
+breakfast."
+
+"Poor child!" he said caressingly.
+
+"Nay, do not pity me. Listen. The breakfast-room is dark and gloomy;
+Lady Vaughan always has the windows closed to keep out the air, and the
+blinds drawn to keep out the sun; flowers give her the headache, and the
+birds make too much noise. So, with every beautiful sound and sight most
+carefully excluded, we sit down to breakfast, when the conversation
+never varies."
+
+"Of what does it consist?" asked the young lover, beginning to pity the
+young girl, though amused by her recital.
+
+"Sir Arthur tells us first of what he dreamed and how he slept. Lady
+Vaughan follows suit. After that, for one hour by the clock, I must read
+aloud from Mrs. Hannah More, from a book of meditations for each day of
+the year, and from Blair's sermons--nothing more lively than that. Then
+the books are put away, with solemn reflections from Lady Vaughan, and
+for the next hour we are busy with needlework. We sit in that dull
+breakfast-room, Claude, without speaking, until I am ready to cry
+aloud--I grow so tired of the dull monotony. When we have worked for an
+hour, I write letters--Lady Vaughan dictates them. Then comes luncheon.
+We change from the dull breakfast-room to the still more dull
+dining-room, from which sunshine and fragrance are also carefully
+excluded. After that comes the greatest trial of all. A closed carriage
+comes to the door, and for two long, wearisome hours I drive with Sir
+Arthur and Lady Vaughan. The blinds are drawn at the carriage windows,
+and the horses creep at a snail's pace. Then we return home. I go to the
+piano until dinner time. After dinner Lady Vaughan goes to sleep, and I
+play at chess or backgammon, or something equally stupid, until
+half-past nine; and then the bell rings for prayers, and the day is
+done."
+
+"It is not a very exhilarating life, certainly," said Claude Lennox.
+
+"Exhilarating! I tell you, Claude, that sometimes I am frightened at
+myself--frightened that I shall do something very desperate. I am only
+just eighteen, and my heart is craving for what every one else has; yet
+it is denied me. I am eighteen, and I love life--oh, so dearly! I should
+like to be in the very midst of gayety and pleasure. I should like to
+dance and sing--to laugh and talk. Yet no one seems to remember that I
+am young. I never see a young face--I never hear a pleasant voice. If I
+sing, Lady Vaughan raises her hands to her head, and implores me 'not to
+make a noise.' Yet I love singing just as the birds do."
+
+"I see only one remedy for such a state of things, Hyacinth," said the
+young lover, and his eyes brightened as he looked on her beautiful face.
+
+"I am just eighteen," continued the girl, "and I assure you that looking
+back on my life, I do not remember one happy day in it."
+
+"Perhaps the happiness is all to come," said he quietly.
+
+"I do not know. This is Tuesday; on Thursday we start for Bergheim--a
+quiet and sleepy little town in Germany--and there we are to meet my
+fate."
+
+"What is your fate?" he asked.
+
+"You remember the story I told you--Lady Vaughan says I am to marry
+Adrian Darcy. I suppose he is a model of perfection--as quiet and as
+stupid as perfection always is."
+
+"Lady Vaughan cannot force you to marry any one," he cried eagerly.
+
+"No, there will be no forcing in the strict sense of the word--they will
+only preach to me, and talk at me, until I shall be driven mad, and I
+shall marry him, or do anything else in sheer desperation."
+
+"Who is he, Hyacinth?" asked her young lover.
+
+"His mother was a cousin of Lady Vaughan's. He is rich, clever, and I
+should certainly say, as quiet and uninteresting as nearly all the rest
+of the world. If it were not so, he would not have been reserved for
+me."
+
+"I do not quite understand," said Claude Lennox. "How it is? Was there a
+contract between your parents?"
+
+"No," she replied, with a slight tone of scorn in her voice--"there is
+never anything of that kind except in novels. I am Lady Vaughan's
+granddaughter, and she has a large fortune to leave; this Adrian Darcy
+is also her relative, and she says the best thing to be done for us is
+to marry each other, and then her fortune can come to us."
+
+"Is that all?" he inquired, with a look of great relief. "You need not
+marry him unless you choose. Have you seen him?"
+
+"No; nor do I wish to see him. Any one whom Lady Vaughan likes cannot
+possibly suit me. Oh, Claude, how I dread it all!--even the journey to
+Germany."
+
+"I should have fancied that, longing as you do for change and
+excitement, the journey would have pleased you," observed Claude.
+
+She looked at him with a half-wistful expression on her beautiful face.
+
+"I must be very wicked," she said; "indeed I know that I am. I should be
+looking forward to it with rapture, if any one young or amusing were
+going with me; but to sit in closed carriages with Sir Arthur and Lady
+Vaughan--to travel, yet see nothing--is dreadful."
+
+"But you are attached to them," he said--"you are fond of them, are you
+not, Hyacinth?"
+
+"Yes," she replied, piteously; "I should love them very much if they did
+not make me so miserable. They are over sixty, and I am just
+eighteen--they have forgotten what it is to be young, and force me to
+live as they do. I am very unhappy."
+
+She bent her beautiful face over the flowers, and he saw her eyes fill
+with tears.
+
+"It is a hard lot," he said; "but there is one remedy, and only one. Do
+you love me, Hyacinth?"
+
+She looked at him with something of childish perplexity in her face.
+
+"I do not know," she replied.
+
+"Yes, you do know, Hyacinth; you know if you love me well enough to
+marry me."
+
+No blush rose to her face, her eyes did not droop as they met his, the
+look of perplexity deepened in them.
+
+"I cannot tell," she returned. "In the first place, I am not sure that I
+know really what love means. Lady Vaughan will not allow such a word in
+her presence; I have no young girl friends to come to me with their
+secrets; I am not allowed to read stories or poetry--how can I tell you
+whether I love you or not?"
+
+"Surely your own heart has a voice, and you know what it says."
+
+"Has it?" she rejoined indifferently. "If it has a voice, that voice has
+not yet spoken."
+
+"Do not say so, Hyacinth; you know how dearly I love you. I am lingering
+here when I ought to be far away, hoping almost against hope to win you.
+Do not tell me that all my love, my devotion, my pleading, my prayers
+have been in vain."
+
+The look of childish perplexity did not leave her face; the gravity of
+her beautiful eyes deepened.
+
+"I have no wish to be cruel," she said; "I only desire to say what is
+true."
+
+"Then just listen to your own heart, and you will soon know whether you
+love me or not. Are you pleased to see me? Do you look forward to
+meeting me? Do you think of me when I am not with you?"
+
+"Yes," she replied calmly; "I look with eagerness to the time when I
+know you are coming; I think of you very often all day, and I--I dream
+of you all night. In my mind every word that you have ever said to me
+remains."
+
+"Then you love me," he cried, clasping her little white hands in his,
+his handsome face growing brighter and more eager--"you love me, my
+darling, and you must be my wife!"
+
+She did not shrink from him; the words evidently had little meaning for
+her. He must have been blind indeed not to see the girl's heart was as
+void and innocent of all love as the heart of a dreaming child.
+
+"You must be my wife," he repeated. "I love you better than anything
+else in the wide world."
+
+She did not look particularly happy or delighted.
+
+"You shall go away from this dull gloomy spot," he said; "I will take
+you to some sunny, far-off city, where the hours have golden wings and
+are like minutes--where every breath of wind is a fragrant sigh--where
+the air is filled with music, and the speech of the people is song. You
+will behold the grandest pictures, the finest statues, the noblest
+edifices in the world. You shall not know night from day, nor summer
+from winter, because everything shall be so happy for you."
+
+The indifference and weariness fell from her face as a mask. She clasped
+her hands in triumph, her eyes brightened, her beautiful face beamed
+with joy.
+
+"Oh, Claude, that will be delightful! When shall it be?"
+
+"So soon as you are my wife, sweet. Do you not long to come with me and
+be dressed like a lovely young queen, in flowers, and go to balls that
+will make you think of fairyland? You shall go to the opera to hear the
+world's greatest singers; you shall never complain of dulness or
+weariness again."
+
+The expression of happiness that came over her face was wonderful to
+see.
+
+"I cannot realize it," she said, with a deep sigh of relief and content.
+"The sky looks fairer already. I can imagine how bright this world is to
+those who are happy. You do not know how I have longed for some share of
+its happiness, Claude. All my heart used to cry out for warmth and love,
+for youth and life. In that dull, gloomy house I have pined away. See, I
+am as thirsty to enjoy life as the deer on a hot day is to enjoy a
+running stream. It would be cruel to catch that little bird swinging on
+the boughs and singing so sweetly--it would be cruel to catch that
+bright bird, to put it in a narrow cage, and to place the cage in a
+dark, dull room, where never a gleam of sunshine could cheer it--but it
+is a thousand times more cruel to shut me up in that gloomy house like a
+prison, with people who are too old to understand what youth is like."
+
+"It is cruel," he assented; and then a silence fell over them, broken
+only by the whispering of the wind.
+
+"Do you know," she went on, after a time, "I have been so unhappy that
+I have wished I were like Undine and had no soul?"
+
+Yet, even as she uttered the words, from the books she disliked and
+found so dreary there came to her floating memories of grand sentences
+telling of "hearts held in patience," "of endurance that maketh life
+divine," of aspirations that do not begin and end in earthly happiness.
+She drove such memories from her.
+
+"Lady Vaughan says 'life is made for duty.' Is that all, Claude? One
+could do one's duty without the light of the sunshine and the fragrance
+of flowers. Why need the birds sing so sweetly and the blossoms wear a
+thousand different colors? If life is meant for nothing but plain, dull
+duty, we do not need starlit nights and dewy evenings, the calm of green
+woods and the music of the waves. It seems to me that life is meant as
+much for beauty as for duty."
+
+Claude looked eagerly into the lovely face.
+
+"You are right," he said, "and yet wrong. Cynthy, life was made for
+love--nothing else. You are young and beautiful; you ought to enjoy
+life--and you shall, if you will promise to be my wife."
+
+"I do promise," she returned. "I am tired to death of that gloomy house
+and those gloomy people. I am weary of quiet and dull monotony."
+
+His face darkened.
+
+"You must not marry me to escape these evils, Hyacinth, but because you
+love me."
+
+"Of course. Well, I have told you all my perplexities, Claude, and you
+have decided that I love you."
+
+He smiled at the childlike simplicity of the words.
+
+"Now, Hyacinth, listen to me. You must be my wife, because I love you so
+dearly that I cannot live without you and because you have promised.
+Listen, and I will tell you how it must be."
+
+Hyacinth Vaughan looked up in her lover's face; there was nothing but
+the simple wonder of a child in hers--nothing but awakened
+interest--there was not even the shadow of love.
+
+"You say that Lady Vaughan intends starting for Bergheim on Thursday,
+and that Adrian Darcy is to meet you there; consequently, after
+Thursday, you have not the least chance of escape. I should imagine the
+future that lies before you to be more terrible even than the past. Rely
+upon it, Adrian Darcy will come to live at the Chase if he marries you;
+and then you will only sleep through life. You will never know its
+possibilities, its grand realities."
+
+An expression of terror came over her face.
+
+"Claude," she cried, "I would rather die than live as I have been
+living!"
+
+"So would I, in your place. Cynthy, your life is in our own hands. If
+you choose to be foolish and frightened, you will say good-by to me, go
+to Bergheim, marry Darcy, and drag out the rest of a weary life at the
+Chase, seeing nothing of brightness, nothing of beauty, and growing in
+time as stiff and formal as Lady Vaughan is now."
+
+The girl shuddered; the warm young life in her rebelled; the longing for
+love and pleasure, for life and brightness, was suddenly chilled.
+
+"Now here is another picture for you," resumed Claude. "Do what I wish,
+and you shall never have another hour's dulness or weariness while you
+live. Your life shall be all love, warmth, fragrance and song."
+
+"What do you wish?" she asked, her lovely young face growing brighter at
+each word.
+
+"I want you to meet me to-morrow night at Oakton station; we will take
+the train for London, and on Thursday, instead of going to Bergheim, we
+will be married, and then you shall lead an enchanted life."
+
+An expression of doubt appeared on her face; but she was very young and
+easy to persuade.
+
+"It will be the grandest sensation in all the world," he said. "Imagine
+an elopement from the Chase--where the goddess of dulness has reigned
+for years--an elopement, Cynthy, followed by a marriage, a grand
+reconciliation tableau, and happiness that will last for life
+afterward."
+
+She repeated the words half-doubtfully.
+
+"An elopement, Claude--would not that be very wrong--wicked almost?"
+
+"Not at all. Lady Helmsdale eloped with her husband, and they are the
+happiest people in the world; elopements are not so uncommon--they are
+full of romance, Cynthia."
+
+"But are they right?" she asked, half timidly.
+
+"Well in some cases an elopement is not right, perhaps; in ours it is.
+Do you think that, hoping as I do to make you my wife, I would ask you
+to do anything which would afterward be injurious to you? Though you are
+so young, Cynthia, you must know better than that. To elope is right
+enough in our case. You are like a captive princess; I am the knight
+come to deliver you from the dreariest of prisons--come to open for you
+the gates of an enchanted land. It will be just like a romance, Cynthy;
+only instead of reading, we shall act it." And then in his rich
+cheery-voice, he sung,
+
+    "'But neither bolts nor bars shall keep
+    My own true love from me.'"
+
+"I do not see how I can manage it," said Hyacinth, as the notes of her
+lover's song died over the flowers. "Lady Vaughan always has the house
+locked and the keys taken to her at nine."
+
+"It will be very easy," returned Claude. "I know the library at the
+Chase has long windows that open on to the ground. You can leave one of
+them unfastened, and close the shutters yourself."
+
+"But I have never been out at night alone," she said, hesitatingly.
+
+"You will not be alone long, if you will only have courage to leave the
+house. I will meet you at the end of the grounds, and we will walk to
+the station together. We shall catch a train leaving Oakton soon after
+midnight, and shall reach London about six in the morning. I have an old
+aunt living there who will do anything for us. We will drive at once to
+her house; and then I will get a special license, and we will be married
+before noon."
+
+"How well you have arranged everything!" she said. "You must have been
+thinking of this for a long time past."
+
+"I have thought of nothing else, Cynthy. Then, when we are married, we
+will write at once to Lady Vaughan, telling her of our union; and
+instead of starting for that dreary Bergheim, we will go at once to
+sunny France, or fair and fruitful Italy, where the world will be at our
+feet, my darling. You are so beautiful, you will win all hearts."
+
+"Am I so beautiful?" she asked simply. "Lady Vaughan says good looks are
+sinful."
+
+"Lady Vaughan is--" The young man paused in time, for those clear,
+innocent eyes seemed to be penetrating to the very depths of his heart.
+"Lady Vaughan has forgotten that she was ever young and pretty herself,"
+he said. "Now, Cynthy, tell me--will you do what I wish?"
+
+"Is it not a very serious thing to do?" she asked. "Would not people
+think ill of me?"
+
+His conscience reproached him a little when he answered "No"--the
+lovely, trusting face was so like the face of a child.
+
+"I do not expect you to say 'Yes' at once, Hyacinth--think it over.
+There lies before you happiness with me, or misery without me."
+
+"But, Claude," she inquired eagerly, "why need we elope? Why not ask
+Lady Vaughan if we can be married? She might say 'Yes.'"
+
+"She would not; I know better than you. She would refuse, and you would
+be carried off on Thursday, whether you liked it or not. If we are to be
+married at all we must elope--there is no help for it."
+
+The young girl did not at once consent, although the novelty, the
+romance, the promised happiness, tempted her as a promised journey
+pleases a child.
+
+"Think it over to-night," he said, "and let me know to-morrow."
+
+"How can I let you know?" she asked. "I shall be in prison all day; it
+is not often that I have an hour like this. I shall not be able to see
+you."
+
+"Perhaps not, but you can give me some signal. You have charge of the
+flowers in the great western window?"
+
+"Yes, I change them at my pleasure every day."
+
+"Then, if after thinking the matter over, you decide in my favor, and
+choose a lifetime of happiness, put white roses--nothing but white
+roses--there; if, on the contrary, you are inclined to follow up a life
+of unendurable _ennui_, put crimson flowers there. I shall
+understand--the white roses will mean 'Yes; I will go;' the crimson
+flowers will mean 'No; good-by, Claude.' You will not forget, Cynthy."
+
+"It is not likely that I shall forget," she replied.
+
+"You need not have one fear for the future; you will be happy as a
+queen. I shall love you so dearly; we will enjoy life as it is meant to
+be enjoyed. It was never intended for you to dream away your existence
+in one long sleep. Your beautiful face was meant to brighten and gladden
+men's hearts; your sweet voice to rule them. You are buried alive here."
+
+Then the great selfish love that had conquered him rose in passionate
+words. How he caressed her! What tender, earnest words he whispered to
+her! What unalterable devotion he swore--what affection, what love! The
+girl grew grave and silent as she listened. She wondered why she felt
+so quiet--why none of the rapture that lighted up his face and shone in
+his eyes came to her. She loved him--he said so; and surely he who had
+had so much experience ought to know. Yet she had imagined love to be
+something very different from this. She wondered that it gave her so
+little pleasure.
+
+"How the poets exaggerate it!" she said to herself, while he was pouring
+out love, passion, and tenderness in burning words. "How great they make
+it, and how little it is in reality."
+
+She sighed deeply as she said these words to herself, and Claude mistook
+the sigh.
+
+"You must not be anxious, Hyacinth. You need not be so. You are leaving
+a life of dull, gloomy monotony for one of happiness, such as you can
+hardly imagine. You will never repent it, I am sure. Now give me one
+smile; you look as distant and sad as Lady Vaughan herself. Smile,
+Cynthy!"
+
+She raised her eyes to his face, and for long years afterward that look
+remained with him. She tried to smile, but the beautiful lips quivered
+and the clear eyes fell.
+
+"I must go," she said, rising hurriedly, "Sir Arthur and Lady Vaughan
+are to be home by eight o'clock."
+
+"You will say 'Yes,' Cynthy?" he said, clasping her hands in his own.
+"You will say 'Yes,' will you not?"
+
+"I must think first," she replied; and as she turned away the rush of
+wind through the tall green trees sounded like a long, deep-drawn sigh.
+
+Slowly she retraced her steps through the woods, now dim and shadowy in
+the sunset light, toward the home that seemed so like a prison to her.
+And yet the prospect of an immediate escape from that prison did not
+make her happy. The half-given promise rested upon her heart like a
+leaden weight, although she was scarce conscious in her innocence why it
+should thus oppress her. At the entrance to the Hall grounds she paused,
+and with a gesture of impatience turned her back upon the lofty
+sombre-looking walls, and stood gazing through an opening in the groves
+at the gorgeous masses of purple and crimson sky, that marked the path
+of the now vanished sun.
+
+A very pretty picture she made as the soft light fell upon her fair face
+and golden hair, but no thought of her young, fresh beauty was in the
+girl's mind then. The question, "Dare I say--'Yes'?" was ever before
+her, with Claude's fair face and pleading, loving tones.
+
+"O, I cannot decide now," she thought wearily, "I must think longer
+about it," and with a sigh she turned from the sunset-light, and walked
+up the long avenue that led to her stately home.
+
+How her decision--though speedily repented of and corrected--yet cast
+the shadow of a sin over her fair young life; how her sublimely heroic
+devotion to THE RIGHT saved the life of an innocent man, yet drove her
+into exile from home and friends, and how at last the bright sunshine
+drove away the shadows and restored her to home and friends, all she had
+lost and more, remains for our story to tell.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Sir Arthur and Lady Vaughan lived at Queen's Chase in Derbyshire, a
+beautiful and picturesque place, known to artists, poets, and lovers of
+quaint old architecture. Queen's Chase had been originally built by good
+Queen Elizabeth of York, and was perhaps one of the few indulgences
+which that not too happy queen allowed herself. It was large, and the
+rooms were all lofty. The building was in the old Tudor style, and one
+of its peculiarities was that every part of it was laden with ornament:
+it seemed to have been the great ambition of the architect who designed
+it to introduce as much carving as possible about it. Heads of fauns and
+satyrs, fruit and flowers--every variety of carving was there; no matter
+where the spectator turned, the sculptor's work was visible.
+
+To Hyacinth Vaughan, dreamy and romantic, it seemed as though the Chase
+were peopled by these dull, silent, dark figures. Elizabeth of York did
+not enjoy much pleasure in the retreat she had built for herself. It was
+there she first heard of and rejoiced in the betrothal of her fair young
+daughter Marguerite, to James IV. of Scotland. A few years afterward she
+died, and the Chase was sold. Sir Dunstan Vaughan purchased it, and it
+had remained in the family ever since. It was now their principal
+residence--the Vaughans of Queen's Chase never quitted it.
+
+Though it was picturesque it was not the most cheerful place in the
+world. The rooms were dark by reason of the huge carvings of the window
+frames and the shade of the trees, which last, perhaps, grew too near
+the house. The edifice contained no light, cheerful, sunny rooms, no
+wide large windows; the taste of the days in which it was built, led
+more toward magnificence than cheerfulness. Some additions had been
+made; the western wing of the building had been enlarged; but the
+principal apartments had remained unaltered; the stately, gloomy rooms
+in which the fair young princess had received and read the royal
+love-letters were almost untouched. The tall, spreading trees grew
+almost to the Hall door; they made the whole house dark and perhaps
+unhealthy. But no Vaughan ventured to cut them down; such an action
+would have seemed like a sacrilege.
+
+From father to son Queen's Chase had descended in regular succession.
+Sir Arthur, the present owner, succeeded when he was quite young. He was
+by no means of the genial order of men: he had always been cold, silent,
+and reserved. He married a lady more proud, more silent, more reserved
+than himself--a narrow-minded, narrow-hearted woman whose life was
+bounded by rigid law and formal courtesies, who never knew a warm or
+generous impulse, who lived quite outside the beautiful fairyland of
+love and poetry.
+
+Sir Arthur and Lady Vaughan had but one son, and though each idolized
+him, they could not change their nature; warm, sweet impulses never came
+to them. The mother kissed her boy by rule--at stated times; everything
+was measured, dated, and weighed.
+
+The boy himself was, strange to say, of a most hopeful, ardent, sanguine
+temperament; generous, high-spirited, slightly inclined to romance and
+sentiment. He loved and honored his father and mother, but the rigid
+formality of home was terrible to him; it was almost like death in life.
+Partly to escape it and partly because he really liked the life, he
+insisted on joining the army--much against Lady Vaughan's wishes.
+
+"Why could he not be content at home, as his father had been before
+him?" she asked.
+
+Captain Randall Vaughan enjoyed his brief military career. As a matter
+of course he fell in love, but far more sensibly than might have been
+imagined. He married the pretty, delicate Clare Brandon. She was an
+orphan, not very rich--in fact had only a moderate fortune--but her
+birth atoned for all. She was a lineal descendant of the famous Brandon,
+Duke of Suffolk, whom the fair young ex-queen of France had married.
+
+Lady Vaughan was delighted. A little more money might have been
+acceptable, but the Vaughans had plenty, and there was no young lady in
+England better born and better bred than Clare Brandon. So the young
+captain married her and Sir Arthur made them a very handsome allowance.
+For one whole year they lived in perpetual sunshine, as happy as they
+could possibly be, and then came an outbreak in our Eastern possessions,
+and the captain's regiment was ordered abroad.
+
+It was like a deathblow to them. Despite all danger, Mrs. Vaughan would
+have gone with her husband, but for the state of her health, which
+absolutely forbade it. Her despair was almost terrible; it seemed as if
+she had a presentiment of the coming cloud. If the war had not been a
+dangerous one the young captain would most certainly have sold out; but
+to do so when every efficient soldier was required, would have been to
+show the white feather, and that no Vaughan could do--the motto of the
+house was "Loyal even to death." He tried all possible means to console
+his wife, but she only clung to him with passionate cries, saying she
+would never see him again.
+
+It was impossible to leave her alone and she had no near relatives. Then
+Lady Vaughan came to the rescue. The heir of the Vaughans, she declared,
+must be born at Queen's Chase: therefore her son's wife had better
+remain with her. Randall Vaughan thankfully accepted his mother's offer,
+and took his wife to the old ancestral home. It was arranged that she
+should remain there until his return.
+
+"You will try for my sake to be well and happy," he said to her, "so
+that when I come back you will be strong and able to travel with me,
+should I have to go abroad, again."
+
+But she clasped her tender arms around him and hid her weeping face on
+his breast.
+
+"I shall never see you again, my darling," she said, "never again!"
+
+They called the unconsciousness that came over her merciful. She
+remembered nothing after those words. When she opened her eyes again he
+was gone.
+
+How the certainty of her doom seemed to grow upon her! How her sweet
+face grew paler, and the frail remnant of vitality grew less! He had
+been her life--the very sun and centre of her existence. How could she
+exist without him? Lady Vaughan, in her kind, formal way, tried to
+cheer her, and begged of her to make an effort for Randall's sake; and
+for Randall's sake the poor lady tried to live.
+
+They were disappointed in one respect; it was not an heir that was born
+to the noble old race, but a lovely, smiling baby girl--so lovely that
+Lady Vaughan, who was seldom guilty of sentiment, declared that it
+resembled nothing so much as a budding flower, and after a flower, she
+said it must be named. They suggested Rose, Violet, Lily--none of them
+pleased her; but looking one day through the family record, she saw the
+name of Lily Hyacinth Vaughan. Hyacinth it must be. The poor, fragile
+mother smiled a feeble assent, and the lovely baby received its name.
+Glowing accounts were sent to the young captain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+The news was not long in reaching England. When Lady Vaughan read it she
+knew it was Clare's death-warrant. They tried to break it to her very
+gently, but her keen, quick perception soon told her what was wrong.
+
+"He is dead," she said; "I knew that I should never see him again."
+
+Clare Vaughan's heart was broken; she hardly spoke after she heard the
+fatal words; she was very quiet, very patient, but the light on her face
+was not of this world. She lay one day with little Hyacinth in her arms,
+and Lady Vaughan, going into her room, said,
+
+"You look better to-day, Clare."
+
+"I have been dreaming of Randall," she said smiling; "I shall soon see
+him again."
+
+An hour afterward they went to take the little one from her--the tender
+arms had relaxed their hold, and she lay dead, with a smile on her face.
+
+They buried her in Ashton churchyard. People called her illness by all
+kinds of different names, but Lady Vaughan knew she had died of a broken
+heart. The care of little Hyacinth devolved upon her grandmother. It was
+a dreary home for a child: the rooms were always shaded by trees, and
+the sombre carvings, the satyr heads, the laughing fauns, all in stone,
+frightened her. She never saw any young persons; Sir Arthur's servants
+were all old--they had entered the service in their youth, and remained
+in it ever since.
+
+Sir Arthur and Lady Vaughan felt their son's death very keenly; all
+their hopes died with him; all their interest in life was gone. They
+became more dull, more formal, more cold every day. They loved the
+child, yet the sight of her was always painful to them, reminding them
+so forcibly of what they had lost. They reared her in the same precise,
+formal manner in which their only son had been reared. She rose at a
+stated time; she retired at a certain hour, never varying by one minute;
+she studied, she read, she practiced her music--all by rule.
+
+The neighborhood round Queen's Chase was not a very populous one. Among
+the friends whom the Vaughans visited, and who visited them in return,
+there was not one young person, not one child. It never seemed to enter
+their minds that Hyacinth, being a child, longed for the society of
+children. At certain times she was gravely told to play. She had a doll
+and a Noah's ark; and with these she amused herself alone for long
+hours. As for the graces, the fancies, the wants, the requirements of
+childhood, its thousand wordless dreams and wordless wants, no one
+seemed to understand them at all. They treated the child as if she were
+a little old woman, crushing back with remorseless hand all the quick
+fancies and bright dreams natural to youth.
+
+Some children would have grown up wicked, hardened, unlovely and
+unloving under such tuition; but Hyacinth Vaughan was saved from this by
+her peculiar disposition. The child was all poetry. Lady Vaughan never
+wearied of trying to correct her. She carefully pruned, as she imagined,
+all the excess of imagination and romance. She might as well have tried
+to prevent the roses from blooming, the dew from falling, or the leaves
+from springing. All that she succeeded in was in making the child keep
+her thoughts and fancies to herself. She talked to the trees as though
+they were grave, living friends, full of wise counsel; she talked to the
+flowers as though they were familiar and dear playfellows. The
+imagination so sternly repressed ran riot in a hundred different ways.
+
+It was most unfortunate for the child. If she had been as other
+children--if her imagination, instead of being cruelly repressed, had
+been trained and put to some useful purpose--if her love of romance had
+been wisely guarded--if her great love of poetry and beauty, her great
+love of ideality, had been watched and allowed for--the one great error
+that darkened her life would never have been committed. But none of this
+was done. She was literally afraid to speak of that which filled her
+thoughts and was really part of her life. If she asked any uncommon
+question Lady Vaughan scolded her, and Sir Arthur, his hands shaking
+nervously, would say, "The child is going wrong--going wrong."
+
+It was without exception the dullest and saddest life any child could
+lead. At thirteen there came two breaks in the monotony--she had a
+music-master come from Oakton, and she found a key that fitted the
+library door. How often had she stood against the library windows,
+looking through them, and longing to open one of those precious volumes;
+but when she asked Sir Arthur for a book, he told her she could not
+understand them--she must be content to play with her doll.
+
+There were hundreds of suitable books that might have been provided for
+the child; she was refused any--consequently she read whatever came in
+her way. She found this key that fitted the library door, and used it.
+She would quietly unlock it, and take one of the books nearest to her
+without fear of its being missed, for Sir Arthur seldom entered the
+room. In this fashion she read many books that were valuable,
+instructive, and amusing. She also read many that would have been much
+better left alone. Her innocence, however, saved her from harm. She knew
+so little of life that what would have perhaps injured another was not
+even noticed by her.
+
+In this manner she educated herself, and the result was exactly what was
+to be expected. She had in her mind the most curious collection of
+poetry and romance, the most curious notions of right and wrong, the
+most unreal ideas it was possible to imagine. Then, as she grew older,
+life began to unroll itself before her eyes.
+
+She saw that outside this dull world of Oakton there was another world
+so fair and bright that it dazzled her. There was a world full of music
+and song, where people danced and made merry, where they rode and drove
+and enjoyed themselves, where there was no dulness and no gloom--a world
+of which the very thought was so beautiful, so bewildering, that her
+pulse thrilled and her heart beat as she dreamed of it. Would she ever
+find her way into that dazzling world, or would she be obliged to live
+here always, shut up with these old, formal people, amid the quaint
+carvings and giant trees? And then when she was seventeen, she began to
+dream of the other world women find so fair--the fairyland of hope and
+love. Her ideas of love were nearly all taken from poetry: it was
+something very magnificent, very beautiful, taking one quite out of
+commonplace affairs. Would it ever come to her?
+
+She thought life had begun and ended too, for her, when one day Lady
+Vaughan told her to come into her room--she wished to talk to her. The
+girl followed her with a weary, hopeless expression on her face. "I am
+going to have a lecture," she thought; "I have said a word too little or
+a word too much."
+
+But, wonderful to say, Lady Vaughan was not prepared with a lecture. She
+sat down in her great easy-chair and pointed to a footstool. Hyacinth
+took it, wondering very much what was coming.
+
+"My dear Hyacinth," she began; "you are growing up now; you will be
+quite a woman soon; and it is time you knew what Sir Arthur and I have
+planned for you."
+
+She did not feel much interest in learning what it was--something
+intolerably dull it was sure to be.
+
+"You know," continued Lady Vaughan, "there has never been the least
+deception used toward you. You are the only child of our only son; but
+it has never been understood that you were to be heiress of the Chase."
+
+"I should not like to have the Chase," said Hyacinth timidly. "I should
+not know what to do with it."
+
+Lady Vaughan waved her hand in very significant fashion.
+
+"That is not the question. We have not brought you up as our heiress
+because both Sir Arthur and I think that the head of our house must be a
+gentleman. Of course you will have a dowry. I have money of my own,
+which I intend to leave you. Mr. Adrian Darcy, of whom you have heard me
+speak, will succeed to Queen's Chase--that is, if no other arrangement
+takes him from us; should he have other views in life, the property will
+perhaps be left differently. I cannot say. Sir Arthur and I wish very
+much that you should marry Mr. Darcy."
+
+The girl looked up at the cold, formal face, with wonder in her own. Was
+this to be her romance? Was this to be the end of all her dreams?
+Instead of passing into a fairer, brighter world, was she to live always
+in this?
+
+"How can I marry him?" she asked quickly. "I have never seen him."
+
+"Do not be so impetuous, Hyacinth. You should always repress all
+exhibition of feeling. I know that you have never seen him. Mr. Darcy is
+travelling now upon the Continent, and Sir Arthur thinks a short
+residence abroad would be very pleasant for us. Adrian Darcy always
+shows us the greatest respect. You will be sure to like him--he is so
+like us; we are to meet him at Bergheim, and spend a month together, and
+then we shall see if he likes you."
+
+"Does he know what you intend?" she asked half shyly.
+
+"Not yet. Of course, in families like our own, marriages are not
+conducted as with the plebeian classes; with us they are affairs of
+state, and require no little diplomacy and tact."
+
+"Was my father's a diplomatic marriage?" she asked.
+
+"No," replied Lady Vaughan, "your father pleased himself; but then,
+remember, he was in a position to do so. He was an only son, and heir of
+Queen's Chase."
+
+"And am I to be taken to this gentleman; if he likes me he is to marry
+me; if not, what then?"
+
+The scornful sarcasm of her voice was quite lost on Lady Vaughan.
+
+"There is no need for impatience. Even then some other plan will suggest
+itself to us. But I think there is no fear of failure--Mr. Darcy will be
+sure to like you. You are very good-looking, you have the true Vaughan
+face, and, thanks to the care with which you have been educated, your
+mind is not full of nonsense, as is the case with some girls. I thought
+it better to tell you of this arrangement, so that you may accustom your
+mind to the thought of it. Everything being favorable, we shall start
+for Bergheim in the middle of August, and then I shall hope to see
+matters brought to a sensible conclusion."
+
+"It will not be of any consequence whether I like this Mr. Darcy or
+not--will it, Lady Vaughan?"
+
+"You must try to cultivate a kindly liking for him, my dear. All the
+nonsense of love and romance may be dispensed with. Well brought up as
+you have been, you will find no difficulty in carrying out our wishes.
+Now, draw that blind a little closer, my love, and leave me--I am
+sleepy. Do not waste your time--go at once to the piano."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Having acquainted her young relative with the prospective arrangements
+she had made for her, Lady Vaughan composed herself to sleep, and
+Hyacinth quietly left the room. She dared not stop to think until she
+was outside the door, in the free, fresh air; the walls of the old house
+seemed to stifle her. Her young soul was awakened, but it rose in a hot
+glow of rebellion against this new device of fate. She to be taken
+abroad and offered meekly to this gentleman! If he liked her they were
+to be married; if not, with the sense of failure upon her, she would
+have to return to the Chase. The thought was intolerable.
+
+Was this the promised romance of her life? "It is not fair," cried the
+girl passionately, as she paced the narrow garden paths--"it is not
+just. Everything has liberty, love, and happiness--why should not I? The
+birds love each other, the flowers are happy in the sun--why must I live
+without love or happiness, or brightness? I protest against my fate."
+
+Were all the thousand tender and beautiful longings of her life to be
+thus rudely treated? Was all the poetry and romance she had dreamed of
+to end in "cultivating a kindly liking" and a diplomatic marriage? Oh,
+no, it could not be! She shed passionate tears. She prayed, in her wild
+fashion, passionate prayers. Better for her a thousand times had she
+been commonplace, unromantic, prosaic--better that the flush of youth
+and the sweet longings of life had not been hers. Then a break came in
+the clouds--a change that was to be most fatal to her. One of the
+families with whom Sir Arthur and Lady Vaughan were most intimate was
+that of old Colonel Lennox, of Oakton Park.
+
+Colonel Lennox and his wife were both old; but one day they received a
+letter from Mrs. Lennox, their sister-in-law, who resided in London,
+saying how very pleased she should be to pay them a visit with her son
+Claude. Mrs. Lennox was very rich. Claude was heir to a large fortune.
+Still she thought Oakton Park would be a handsome addition, and it would
+be just as well to cultivate the affection of the childless uncle.
+
+Mrs. Lennox and Claude came to Oakton. Solemn dinner-parties, at which
+the young man with difficulty concealed his annoyance, were given in
+their honor, and at one of these entertainments Hyacinth and Claude met.
+He fell in love with her.
+
+In those days she was beautiful as the fairest dream of poet or artist.
+In the fresh spring-tide of her young loveliness, she was something to
+see and remember. She was tall, her figure slender and girlish, full of
+graceful lines and curves that gave promise of magnificent womanhood.
+Her face was of oval shape; the features were exquisite, the eyes of the
+darkest blue, with long lashes; her lips were fresh and sweet; her mouth
+was the most beautiful feature in her beautiful face--it was sweet and
+sensitive, yet at times slightly scornful; the teeth were white and
+regular; the chin was faultless, with a pretty dimple in it.
+
+It was not merely the physical beauty, the exquisite features and
+glorious coloring that attracted; there were poetry, eloquence, and
+passion within these. Looking at her, one knew instinctively that she
+was not of the common order--that something of the poet and genius was
+there. Her brow was fair and rounded at the temples, giving a great
+expression of ideality to her face; her fair hair, soft and shining,
+seemed to crown the graceful head like a golden diadem.
+
+Claude Lennox, in his half-selfish, half-chivalrous way, fell in love
+with her. He said something to Lady Vaughan about her one day, and she
+gave him to understand that her granddaughter was engaged. She did not
+tell him to whom, nor did she say much about it; but the few words
+piqued Claude, who had never been thwarted in his life.
+
+On the first day they met, his mother had warned him not to fall in love
+with the beautiful girl, who might be an heiress or might have
+nothing--to remember that in his position he could marry whom he would,
+and not to throw himself away.
+
+Lady Vaughan, too, on her side, seemed much disposed to forbid him even
+to speak to Hyacinth. If he proposed calling at Queen's Chase, she
+either deferred his visit or took good care that Hyacinth should not be
+in the way; and all this she did, as she believed, unperceived. It was
+evident that Sir Arthur also was not pleased; though the old gentleman
+was too courtly and polished to betray his feeling openly in the matter.
+He did not like Claude Lennox, and the young man felt it. One day he met
+the two young people together in a sequestered part of the Chase
+grounds, and though he did not utter his displeasure, the stern, angry
+look that he gave Claude, fully betrayed it. Hyacinth, whose glance had
+fallen to the ground in a sudden accession of shyness that she scarce
+understood, at her grandfather's approach, did not see his set, stern
+face. Nor did Sir Arthur speak to her of the matter. On talking it over
+to Lady Vaughan, the two old people concluded that a show of open
+opposition might awaken a favor toward Claude in the young girl's heart
+to which it was yet a stranger, and they contented themselves with
+throwing every possible obstacle in the way of the young people's
+intercourse. This was, in this case, mistaken policy. If the old
+gentleman had spoken, he might have saved Hyacinth from unspeakable
+misery, and his proud old name from the painful shadow of disgrace that
+a childish folly was to bring upon it. The young girl stood greatly in
+awe of her grandfather, but she respected him, and in a way loved him,
+through her fears. And she was now being led, step by step, into folly,
+through her own ignorance of its nature.
+
+Claude Lennox was piqued. He was young, rich, and handsome; he had been
+eagerly sought by fashionable mothers. He knew that he could marry Lady
+Constance Granville any day that he liked; he had more than a suspicion
+that the pretty, coquettish, fashionable young widow, Mrs. Delamere,
+liked him; Lady Crown Harley had almost offered him her daughter. Was he
+to be defied and set at naught in this way--he, a Lennox, come of a race
+who had never failed in love or war? No, it should never be; he would
+win Hyacinth in spite of all. He disarmed suspicion by ceasing, when
+they met, to pay her any particular attention. His lady-mother
+congratulated herself; she retired to London, leaving her son at Oakton
+Park. He said his visit was so pleasant that he could not bring it to a
+close. The colonel, delighted with his nephew, entreated him to stay,
+and Claude said, smiling to himself, that he had a fair field and all to
+himself.
+
+His love for Hyacinth was half-selfish, half-chivalrous. It was pique
+and something like resentment that made him first of all determined to
+woo her, but he soon became so interested, that he believed his life
+depended on winning her. She was so different from other girls. She was
+child, poet, and woman. She had the brightest and fairest of fancies.
+She spoke as he had never heard any one else speak--as though her lips
+had been touched with divine fire.
+
+Fortune favored him. He went one morning to the Chase, and found Sir
+Arthur and Lady Vaughan at home--alone. He did not mention Hyacinth's
+name; but as he was going out, he gave one of the footmen a sovereign
+and learned from him that Miss Vaughan was walking alone in the wood.
+She had complained of headache, and "my lady" had sent her out into the
+fresh air.
+
+Of course he followed her and found her. He made such good use of the
+hour that succeeded, that she promised to meet him again. He was very
+careful to keep her attention fixed on the poetry of such meetings; he
+never hinted at the wrong of concealment, the dishonor of any thing
+clandestine, the beauty of obedience; he talked to her only of love, and
+of how he loved her and longed to make her his wife. She was very young,
+very impressionable, very romantic; he succeeded completely in blinding
+her to the harm and wrong she was doing; but he could not win from her
+any acknowledgement of her love. She enjoyed the break in the dull
+monotony of her life. She enjoyed the excitement of having to find time
+to meet him. She liked listening to him; she liked to hear him praise
+her beauty, and rave about his devotion to her. But did she love him?
+Not if what the poets wrote was true--not if love be such as they
+describe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+So for three or four weeks of the beautiful summer, this little love
+story went on. Claude Lennox was _au fait_ as to all the pretty wiles
+and arts of love, he made a post-office of the trunk of a grand old
+oak-tree--a trunk that was covered with ivy; he used to place letters
+there every day, and Hyacinth would fetch and answer them. These letters
+won her more than any spoken words; they were eloquently written and
+full of poetry. She could read them and muse over them; their poetry
+remained with her.
+
+When she was talking to him a sense of unreality used to come over
+her--a vague, uncertain, dreamy kind of conviction that in some way he
+was not true; that he was saying more than he meant, or that he had said
+the same things before and knew them all by heart. His letters won her.
+She answered them, and in those answers found some vent for the romance
+and imagination that had never had an outlet before. Claude Lennox, as
+he read them, wondered at her.
+
+"The girl is a genius," he said; "if she were to take to writing, she
+would make the world talk of her. I have read all the poetry of the day,
+but I have never read anything like these lines."
+
+Claude Lennox had been a successful man. He had not been brought up to
+any profession--there was no need for it; he was to inherit a large
+fortune from his mother, and he had already one of his own. He had lived
+in the very heart of society; he had been courted, admired and flattered
+as long as he could remember. Bright-eyed girls had smiled on him, and
+fair faces grown the fairer for his coming. He had had many loves, but
+none of them had been in earnest. He liked Hyacinth Vaughan better than
+any one he had ever met. If her friends had smiled upon him and
+everything had been _couleur de rose_, he would have loved lightly, have
+laughed lightly, and have ridden away. But because, for the first time
+in his life, he was opposed and thwarted, frowned upon instead of being
+met with eagerness, he vowed that he would win her. No one should say
+Claude Lennox had loved in vain.
+
+He was a strange mixture of vanity and generosity, of selfishness and
+chivalry. He loved her as much as it was in his nature to love any one.
+He felt for her; the descriptions she gave him of her life, its dull
+monotony, its dreary gloom, touched his heart. Then, too, his vanity was
+gratified; he knew that if he took such a peerlessly beautiful girl to
+London as his wife, she would be one of the most brilliant queens of
+society. He knew that she would create an almost unrivalled sensation.
+So love, vanity, generosity, selfishness, chivalry, all combined, made
+him resolve to win her.
+
+He knew that if he were to go to Queen's Chase and ask permission to woo
+her, it would be refused him--she would be kept away from him and
+hurried away to Germany. That was the honest, honorable course, but he
+felt sure it was hopeless to pursue it. Man of the world as he was, the
+first idea of an elopement startled him; then he became accustomed to
+it, and began at last to think an elopement would be quite a romance and
+a sensation. So, by degrees he broke it to her. She was startled at
+first, and then, after a time, became accustomed to it. It would be very
+easy, soon over, and when they were once married his mother would say
+nothing; if the Vaughans were wise, they too would be willing to forgive
+and say nothing.
+
+He found Hyacinth so simple, so innocent and credulous, that he had no
+great difficulty in persuading her. If any thought of remorse came to
+him--that, as the stronger of the two he was betraying his trust--he
+quickly put the disagreeable reflection away--he intended to be very
+kind to her after they were married, and to make her very happy.
+
+So he waited in some anxiety for the signal. It was not a matter of life
+or death with him; neither did he consider it as such; but he was very
+anxious, and hoped she would consent. The library window could be seen
+from the park; he had but to walk across it, and then he could see.
+Claude Lennox was almost ashamed to find how his heart beat, and how
+nervously his eyes sought the window.
+
+"I did not think I could care about anything so much," he said to
+himself; "I begin to respect myself for being capable of such devotion."
+
+It was early on Wednesday morning, but he had not been able to sleep.
+Would she go, or would she refuse? How many hours of suspense must he
+pass before he knew? The sun was shining gayly, the dew lay on the
+grass--it was useless to imagine that she would be thinking of her
+flowers; yet he could not leave the place--he must know.
+
+At one moment his hopes were raised to the highest point--it was not
+likely that she would refuse. She would never be so foolish as to choose
+a life of gloom and wretchedness instead of the golden future he had
+offered her. Then again his heart sunk. An elopement! It was such a
+desperate step; she would surely hesitate before taking it. He walked to
+the end of the park, and then he returned. His heart beat so violently
+when he raised his eyes that it seemed to him as if he could hear it--a
+dull red flush rose to his face, his lips quivered. He had won--the
+white flowers were there!
+
+There was no one to see him, but he raised his Glengarry cap from his
+head and waved it in the air.
+
+"I have won," he said to himself; "now for my arrangements."
+
+He went back to Oakton Park in a fever of anxiety; he telegraphed from
+Oakton Station to the kind old aunt who had never refused him a favor,
+asking her, for particular reasons which he would explain afterward, to
+meet him at Euston Square at 6 A.M. on Thursday.
+
+"There is some one coming with me whom I wish to put under your charge,"
+he wrote; and he knew she would comply with his request.
+
+He had resolved to be very careful--there should be no imprudence
+besides the elopement; his aunt should meet them at the station,
+Hyacinth should go home with her and remain with her until the hour
+fixed for the wedding.
+
+Hyacinth had taken her life into her own hands, and the balance had
+fallen. She had decided to go; this gray, dull, gloomy life she could
+bear no longer; and the thought of a long, dull residence in a sleepy
+German town with a relative of Lady Vaughan's positively frightened her.
+
+Claude had dazzled her imagination with glowing pictures of the future.
+She did not think much of the right or wrong of her present behavior;
+the romance with which she was filled enthralled her. If any one had in
+plain words pointed out to her that she was acting badly, dishonorably,
+deceitfully, she would have recoiled in dread and horror; but she did
+not see things in their true colors.
+
+All that day Lady Vaughan thought her granddaughter very strange and
+restless. She seemed unable to attend to her work; she read as one who
+does not understand. If she was asked a question, her vacant face
+indicated absence of mind.
+
+"Are you ill, Hyacinth?" asked Lady Vaughan at last. "You do not appear
+to be paying the least attention to what you are doing."
+
+The girl's beautiful face flushed crimson.
+
+"I do not feel quite myself," she replied.
+
+Lady Vaughan was not well pleased with the answer. Ill-health or
+nervousness in young people was, as she said, quite unendurable--she had
+no sympathy with either. She looked very sternly at the sweet crimsoned
+face.
+
+"You do not have enough to do, Hyacinth," she said gravely; "I must find
+more employment for you. Miss Pinnock called the other day about the
+clothing club; you had better write and offer your services."
+
+"As though life was not dreary enough," thought the girl, "without
+having to sew endless seams by the hour!"
+
+Then, with a sudden thrill of joy, she remembered that her freedom was
+coming. After this one day there would be no more gloom, no more tedious
+hours, no more wearisome lectures, no more dull monotony; after this one
+day all was to be sunshine, beauty, and warmth. How the day passed she
+never knew--it was like a long dream to her. Yet something like fear
+took possession of her when Lady Vaughan said:
+
+"It is growing late, Hyacinth; it is past nine."
+
+She went up to her and kissed the stern old face.
+
+"Good-night," she said simply with her lips, and in her heart she added
+"good-by."
+
+She kissed Sir Arthur, who had never been quite so harsh with her and as
+she closed the drawing-room door, she said to herself,
+
+"So I leave my old life behind."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+A beautiful night--not clear with the light of the moon, but solemn and
+still under the pale, pure stars; there was a fitful breeze that
+murmured among the trees, rippling the green leaves and stirring the
+sleeping flowers. The lilies gleamed like pale spectres, the roses were
+wet with dew; the deer lay under the trees in the park; there was hardly
+a sound to break the holy calm.
+
+Queen's Chase lay in dark shadow under the starlight, the windows and
+doors all fastened except one, the inmates all sleeping save one. The
+great clock in the turret struck ten. Had any been watching, they would
+have seen a faint light in the room where Hyacinth Vaughan slept; it
+glimmered there only for a minute or two, and then disappeared. Soon
+afterward there appeared at the library window a pale, sweet, frightened
+face; the window slowly opened and a tall, slender figure, closely
+wrapped in a dark gray cloak, issued forth from the safe shelter of
+home, under the solemn stars, to take the false step that was to darken
+her life for so many years.
+
+She stole along in the darkness and silence, between the trees, till
+Claude came to her; and her heart gave a great bound at his approach,
+while a crimson flush rose to her face.
+
+"My darling," he said, clasping her hand in his, "how am I to thank
+you?"
+
+Then she began to realize in some faint degree what she had done. She
+looked up at Claude's handsome, careless face, and began to understand
+that she had given up all the world for him--all the world.
+
+"You are frightened, Hyacinth," he said, "but there is no need. Your
+hand trembles, and your face is so pale that I notice it even by
+starlight."
+
+"I am frightened," she confessed. "I have never been out at night
+before. Oh, Claude, do you think I have done right?"
+
+He spoke cheerily: "That you have, my darling. Such gloomy cages were
+never made for bright birds like you; let me see you smile before you go
+one step further."
+
+It was almost midnight when they reached Oakton station; the few lamps
+glimmered fitfully and there was no one about but the sleepy porters.
+
+"Keep your veil well drawn over your face, Hyacinth," he whispered; "I
+will get the tickets. Sit down here and no one need see you."
+
+She obeyed him, trembling in every limb. She sat down on the little
+wooden bench, her veil closely drawn over her face; her cloak wrapped
+round her; and then, after what seemed to be but a moment of time, yet
+was in reality over ten minutes, the train ran steaming into the
+station. One or two passengers alighted. Claude took her hand and placed
+her in a first-class carriage--no one had either seen or noticed her--he
+sprang in after her, the door was shut, the whistle sounded, and the
+train was off.
+
+"It is done!" she gasped, her face growing deadly white, and the color
+fading even from her lips. She laid her head back on the cushion. "It is
+done!" she repeated, faintly.
+
+"And you will see, my darling, that all is for the best."
+
+He would not allow her time to think or to grow dull. He talked to her
+till the color returned to her face and the brightness to her eyes. They
+looked together from the carriage windows, watching the shining stars
+and the darkened earth, wondering at the beautiful, holy silence of
+night, until the faint gray dawn broke in the skies. Then a mishap
+occurred.
+
+The train had proceeded on its way safely enough until a station called
+Leybridge had been reached. There the passengers for London leave it,
+and await the arrival of the mail train. Hyacinth and Claude left the
+carriage; the train they had travelled by went on.
+
+"We have not long to wait for the mail train," said Claude, "and then,
+thank goodness, there will be no more changing until we reach London."
+
+The faint gray dawn of the morning was just breaking into rose and
+gold. Hyacinth looked pale and cold; the excitement, the fatigue, and
+the night travelling were rapidly becoming too much for her.
+
+They walked up and down the platform for a few minutes. A quarter of an
+hour passed--half an hour--and then Claude, still true to his
+determination that Hyacinth should not be seen, bade her to sit down
+again while he went to inquire at the office the cause of delay. There
+were several other passengers, for Leybridge Junction was no
+inconsiderable one.
+
+Suddenly there seemed to arise a scene of confusion in the station. The
+station master came out with a disturbed face; the porters were no
+longer sleepy, but anxious. Then the rumor, whispered first with bated
+breath, grew--"An accident to the mail train below Lewes. Thirty
+passengers seriously injured and half as many killed. Traffic on the
+line impossible."
+
+Claude heard the sad news with a sorrowful heart. He did not wish
+Hyacinth to know it--it would seem like an omen of misfortune to her.
+"When will the next train start for London?" he asked one of the
+porters.
+
+"There is none between now and seven o'clock," the man replied.
+
+"Was there ever anything so unfortunate?" muttered Claude to himself.
+
+Leybridge was only twenty miles from Oakton.
+
+"I should not like any one to see me about the station," he thought;
+"and Hyacinth is sure to be known here. How unfortunate that we should
+be detained so near home!" He went out to her: "You must not lose
+patience, Hyacinth," he said; "the mail train is delayed, and we have to
+wait here until seven."
+
+She looked up at him, alarmed and perplexed. "Seven," she repeated--"and
+now it is only three. What shall we do, Claude?"
+
+"If you are willing, we will go for a walk through the fields. I fancy
+we shall be recognized if we stop here."
+
+"I am sure we shall--I have often been to Leybridge with Lady Vaughan."
+
+They went out of the station and down the quiet street; they saw an
+opening that led to the fields.
+
+"You will like the fields better than anywhere else," said Claude, and
+she assented.
+
+They crossed a stile that led into the fertile clover meadows. It seemed
+as though the beauty and fragrance of the summer morning broke into
+full glow to welcome them; the rosy clouds parted, and the sun shone in
+the full lustre of its golden light; the trees, the hedges, the clover,
+were all impearled with dew--the drops lay thick, shining and bright, on
+the grass; there was a faint twitter of birds, as though they were just
+awakening; the trees seemed to stir with new life and vigor.
+
+"Is this the morning?" said Hyacinth, looking round. "Why, Claude, it is
+a thousand times more beautiful than the fulness of day!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Hyacinth and Claude stood together leaning against the stile. Something
+in the calm beauty of the summer morning awoke the brightest and purest
+emotions in him; something in the early song of the birds and in the
+shining dewdrops made Hyacinth think more seriously than she had yet
+done.
+
+"I wonder," she said, turning suddenly to her lover, "if we shall ever
+look back to this hour and repent what we have done?"
+
+"I do not think so. It will rather afford subject for pleasant
+reflection."
+
+"Claude," she cried suddenly, "what is that lying over there by the
+hedge? It--it looks so strange."
+
+He glanced carelessly in the direction indicated. "I can see nothing,"
+he replied. "My eyes are not so bright as yours."
+
+"Look again, Claude. It is something living, moving--something human I
+am sure! What can it be?"
+
+He did look again, shading his eyes from the sun. "There is something,"
+he said slowly, "but I cannot tell what it is."
+
+"Let us see, Claude; it may be some one ill. Who could it be in the
+fields at this time of the morning?"
+
+"I would rather you did not go," said Claude; "you do not know who it
+may be. Let me go alone."
+
+But she would not agree to it; and as they stood there, they heard a
+faint moan.
+
+"Claude," cried the girl, in deep distress, "some one is ill or hurt;
+let us go and render assistance."
+
+He saw that she was bent upon it and held out his hand to help her over
+the stile. Then when they were in the meadow, and under the hedge,
+screened from sight by rich, trailing woodbines, they saw the figure of
+a woman.
+
+"It is a woman, Claude!" cried Hyacinth; and then a faint moan fell on
+their ears.
+
+Hastening to the spot, she pushed aside the trailing eglantines. There
+lay a girl, apparently not much older than herself, fair of face, with a
+profusion of beautiful fair hair lying tangled on the ground. Hyacinth
+bent over her.
+
+"Are you ill?" she asked. But no answer came from the white lips.
+"Claude," cried Hyacinth, "she is dying! Make haste; get some help for
+her!"
+
+"Let us see what is the matter first," he said.
+
+The sound of voices roused the prostrate girl. She sat up, looking
+wildly around her, and flinging her hair from her face; then she turned
+to the young girl, who was looking at her with such gentle, wistful
+compassion.
+
+"Are you ill?" repeated Hyacinth. "Can we do any thing to help you?"
+
+The girl seemed to gather herself together with a convulsive shudder, as
+though mortal cold had seized her.
+
+"No, I thank you," she said. "I am not ill. I am only dying by
+inches--dying of misery and bad treatment."
+
+It was such a weary young face that was raised to them. It looked so
+ghastly, so wretched, in the morning sunlight, that Hyacinth and Claude
+were both inexpressibly touched. Though she was poorly clad, and her
+thin, shabby clothes were wet with dew, and stained by the damp grass,
+still there was something about the girl that spoke of gentle culture.
+
+Claude bent down, looking kindly on the dreary young face.
+
+"There is a remedy for every evil and every wrong," he said; "perhaps we
+could find one for you."
+
+"There is no remedy and no help for me," she replied; "my troubles will
+end only when I die."
+
+"Have you been sleeping under this hedge all night?" asked Hyacinth.
+
+"Yes. I have no home, no money, no food. Something seemed to draw me
+here. I had a notion that I should die here."
+
+Hyacinth's face grew pale; there was something unutterably sad in the
+contrast between the bright morning and the crouching figure underneath
+the hedge.
+
+"Are you married?" asked Claude, after a short pause.
+
+"Yes, worse luck for me!" she replied, raising her eyes, with their
+expression of guilt and misery, to his, "I am married."
+
+"Is your husband ill, or away from you? or what is wrong?" he pursued.
+
+"It is only the same tale thousands have to tell," she replied. "My
+husband is not ill; he simply drinks all day and all night--drinks every
+shilling he earns--and when he has drunk himself mad he beats me."
+
+"What a fate!" said Claude. "But there is a remedy--the law interferes
+to protect wives from such brutality."
+
+"The law cannot do much; it cannot change a man's heart or his nature;
+it can only imprison him. And then, when he comes out, he is worse than
+before. Wise women leave the law alone."
+
+"Why not go away from him and leave him?"
+
+"Ah, why not? Only that I have chosen my lot and must abide by it.
+Though he beats me and ill-treats me, I love him. I could not leave
+him."
+
+"It was an unfortunate marriage for you, I should suppose," said
+Hyacinth soothingly. The careworn sufferer looked with her dull, wistful
+eyes into the girl's beautiful face.
+
+"I was a pretty girl years ago," she said, "fresh, and bright, and
+pleasing. I lived alone with my mother, and this man who is now my
+husband came to our town to work. He was tall, handsome, and strong--he
+pleased my eyes; he was a good mechanic, and made plenty of money--but
+he drank even then. When he came and asked me to be his wife, my mother
+said I had better dig my grave with my own hands, and jump into it
+alive, than marry a man who drank."
+
+She caught her breath with a deep sob.
+
+"I pleased myself," she continued, with a deep sigh; "I had my own way.
+My mother was not willing for me to marry him, so I ran away with him."
+
+Hyacinth Vaughan's face grew paler.
+
+"You did what?" she asked gently.
+
+"I ran away with him," repeated the woman; "and, if I could speak now
+with a voice that all the world could hear, I would advise all girls to
+take warning by me, and rather break their hearts at home than run away
+from it."
+
+Paler and paler grew the beautiful young face; and then Hyacinth
+suddenly noticed that one of the woman's hands lay almost useless on
+the grass. She raised it gently and saw that it was terribly wounded and
+bruised. Her heart ached at the sight.
+
+"Does it pain you much?" she inquired.
+
+The woman laughed--a laugh more terrible by far than any words could
+have been.
+
+"I am used to pain," she said. "I put that hand on my husband's shoulder
+last night to beg him to stay at home and not to drink any more. He took
+a thick-knotted stick and beat it; and yet, poor hand, it was not
+harming him." Hyacinth shuddered. The woman went on, "We had a terrible
+quarrel last night. He vowed that he would come back in the morning and
+murder me."
+
+"Then why not go away? Why not seek a safe refuge?"
+
+She laughed again--the terrible, dreary laugh. "He would find me; he
+will kill me some day. I know it; but I do not care. I should not have
+run away from him."
+
+"Why not go home again?" asked Hyacinth.
+
+"Ah, no--there is no returning--no undoing--no going back."
+
+Hyacinth raised the poor bruised hand.
+
+"I am afraid it is broken," she said gently. "Let me bind it for you."
+
+She took out her handkerchief; it was a gossamer trifle--fine cambric
+and lace--quite useless for the purpose required. She turned to Claude
+and asked for his. The request was a small one, but the whole afterpart
+of her life was affected by it. She did not notice that Claude's
+handkerchief was marked with his name in full--"Claude Lennox." She
+bound carefully the wounded hand.
+
+"Now," she said, "be advised by us; go away--don't let your husband find
+you."
+
+"Go to London," cried Claude eagerly; "there is always work to be done
+and money to be earned there. See--I will give you my address. You can
+write to me; and I will ask my aunt or my mother to give you
+employment."
+
+He tore a leaf from his pocket-book and wrote on it; "Claude Lennox, 200
+Belgrave Square, London."
+
+He looked very handsome, very generous and noble, as he gave the folded
+note to the woman, with two sovereigns inside it.
+
+"Remember," he said, "that I promise my mother will find you some work
+if you will apply to us."
+
+She thanked him, but no ray of hope came to her poor face. She did not
+seem to think it strange that they were there--that it was unusual at
+that early hour to see such as they were out in the fields.
+
+"Heaven bless you!" she said gratefully. "A dying woman's blessing will
+not hurt you."
+
+"You will not die," said Claude cheerily; "you will be all right in
+time. Do you belong to this part?"
+
+"No," she replied; "we are quite strangers here. I do not even know the
+name of the place. We were going to walk to Liverpool; my husband
+thought he should get better wages there."
+
+"Take my advice," said Claude earnestly--"leave him; let him go his own
+road. Travel to London, and get a decent living for yourself there."
+
+"I will think of it," she said wearily; and then a vague unconsciousness
+began to steal over her face.
+
+"You are tired," said Hyacinth gently; "lie down and sleep again.
+Good-by." The birds were singing gayly when they turned to leave her.
+
+"Stay," said Claude; "what is your name?"
+
+"Anna Barratt," she replied; and only Heaven knows whether those were
+the last words she spoke.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+The woman laid her weary head down again as one who would fain rest, and
+they walked away from her.
+
+"We have done a good deed," said Claude thoughtfully; "saved that poor
+woman from being murdered, perhaps. I hope she will do what I
+advised--start for London. If my mother should take a fancy to her, she
+could easily put her in the way of getting her living."
+
+To his surprise, Hyacinth suddenly took her hand from his, and broke out
+into a wild fit of weeping.
+
+"My darling, what is it? Cynthy, what is the matter?"
+
+She sat down upon a large moss-covered stone and wept as though her
+heart would break. The sight of those raining tears, the sound of those
+deep-drawn sobs and passionate cries filled him with grief and dismay.
+He knelt down by the girl's side, and tried to draw her hands from her
+face.
+
+"Cynthy, you make me so wretched! Tell me what is wrong--I cannot bear
+to see you so."
+
+Then the violence of her weeping abated. She looked at him. "Claude,"
+she said, "I am so sorry I left home--it is all so wicked and so wrong.
+I must go back again."
+
+He started from her. "Do you mean that you are sorry you have come with
+me, Hyacinth?"
+
+"Yes, very sorry," she sobbed. "I must go back. I did not think of
+consequences. I can see them so plainly now. It is wicked to run away
+from home. That poor woman did it, and see what has come to her. Claude,
+I believe that Providence has placed that woman across my path, and that
+the words she has spoken are a warning message."
+
+"That is all nonsense, Cynthy; there can be no comparison between the
+two cases. I am not a ruffian like that woman's husband."
+
+"No you are not; but the step was wicked, Claude. I understand all now.
+Be kind to me, and let me go back home."
+
+"Of course," said Claude sullenly, "I cannot run away with you against
+your will. If you insist upon it, I will do as you ask; but it is making
+a terrible simpleton of me."
+
+"You will forgive me," she returned. "You will say afterward that I
+acted rightly. I shall be miserable, Claude--I shall never be happy
+again--if I do not return home."
+
+"If you persist in this, we shall be parted forever," he said angrily.
+
+"It will be best," she replied. "Do not be angry with me, Claude. I do
+not think--I--I love you enough to marry you and live with you always. I
+have blinded myself with romance and nonsense. I do not love you--not
+even so much as that poor woman loves her husband. Oh, Claude, let me
+return home."
+
+She looked up at him, her face wet with tears, and an agony of entreaty
+in her eyes.
+
+"You might have found this out before, Hyacinth. You have done me a
+great wrong--you have trifled with me. If you had said before that you
+did not love me, I should never have proposed this scheme."
+
+"I did not know," she said, humbly. "I am very sorry if I have wronged
+you. I did not mean to pain you. It is just as though I had woke up
+suddenly from an ugly dream. Oh, for my dear mother's sake, take me
+home!"
+
+He looked down at her, for some few minutes in silence, vanity and
+generosity doing hard battle together. The sight of her beautiful,
+tearful face touched, yet angered him, he did not like to see it clouded
+by sorrow; yet he could not bear to think that he must lose its
+loveliness, and never call it his own.
+
+"Do you not love me, Hyacinth?" he asked sadly.
+
+"Oh, no--not as I should love you, to be your wife. I thought I did not,
+but you said I did. I am quite sure of it, Claude; ever since we started
+I have been thinking so."
+
+"Well, I must bear my disappointment like a man, I suppose," he said;
+"and since you wish to go back, I suppose you must. But remember all
+that you are going back to, Cynthy."
+
+"It is better to break one's heart at home than to run away from it,"
+she rejoined.
+
+"I see," he said quietly; "that woman has frightened you. I thought you
+brave--you are a coward. I thought you capable of great sacrifice for my
+sake--you are not so. You shall go home in safety and security, Miss
+Vaughan."
+
+"Heaven bless you, Claude!" she cried. "You are very good to me."
+
+"I do not like it, mind," he said. "I think it is the shabbiest trick
+that was ever played on any man. Still, your wishes shall be obeyed."
+Without another word, they went back to the station.
+
+"I will inquire at what time the train leaves here for Oakton," he said.
+"Stay outside, Hyacinth--it will not do for you to be seen now."
+
+She was very fortunate. A train went back to Oakton at six o'clock--a
+quick train too--so that she would be there in little more than half an
+hour.
+
+"Then," she said breathlessly, "I can walk quickly back again. I can get
+into the grounds--perhaps into the house--unnoticed. I pray Heaven that
+I may do so! If I may but once get safely freed from this danger, never
+will I run into any more. How much would I not give to be once more safe
+at home!"
+
+Claude looked as he felt--exceedingly angry. "I will accompany you," he
+said, "as far as the Oakton station, and then I must walk back to the
+park. I can only hope that I have not been missed. I will take care that
+no woman ever makes such a simpleton of me again."
+
+He went to the booking-office and obtained two tickets. When the train
+was ready for starting, and not before, he went to summon Hyacinth, and
+by a little dexterous management, she got into a carriage unseen.
+
+They did not exchange words on that return journey; he was too
+angry--too indignant; she was praying that she might reach home
+safely--that she might not be too heavily punished for her sin.
+
+At last the train reached Oakton. There were few people at the station.
+She gave up the ticket to the official, who little guessed who she was.
+
+"Thank Heaven," she said, with quivering lips. The next minute she was
+on the road that led to the woods. Claude followed her.
+
+"We will say good-by here, Claude," she said, holding out her hand to
+him.
+
+"And you were to have been my wife before noon!" he cried. "How cold,
+how heartless women are!"
+
+"You should not have persuaded me," she said, with gentle dignity. "You
+blinded me by talking of the romance. I forgot to think of the right and
+wrong. But I will not reproach you. Good-by."
+
+He held her hand one minute; all the love he had felt for her seemed to
+rise and overwhelm him--his face grew white with the pain of parting
+from her.
+
+"You know that this good-by is forever," he said sadly; "you know that
+we who were to have been all in all to each other, who were to have been
+married by noon, will now in all probability never meet again."
+
+"Better that than an elopement," she returned "Good-by, Claude."
+
+He bent down and kissed her white brow; and then, without another word,
+she broke from him, and hastened away, while he, strong man as he was,
+lay sobbing on the grass.
+
+Fortune favored her. No one saw her hurrying back through the woods and
+the pleasure-grounds. She waited until the back gates were all
+unfastened, and the maid whose office it was to feed the bantams Lady
+Vaughan was so proud of, came out. She spoke to her, and the maid
+thought Miss Vaughan had come, as she had often done before, to watch
+the feeding of the poultry. She wondered a little that the young lady
+was dressed in a gray travelling cloak, and wore a thick veil.
+
+"Just for all the world," said the maid to herself, "as though she were
+going on a long journey." She was struck, too, by the sound of Miss
+Vaughan's voice; it was so weak, so exhausted; it had none of its usual
+clear, musical tones.
+
+"Mary," said Hyacinth, at last, "do you think you could get me a cup of
+tea from the kitchen? Breakfast will not be ready for some time yet."
+
+The good-natured maid hastened down into the kitchen, and soon returned
+with a cup of hot, strong tea. Hyacinth drank it eagerly; her lips were
+parched and dry. The tea revived her wonderfully. Suddenly Mary
+exclaimed,
+
+"Oh, Miss Vaughan where have you been? Your cloak is covered with dust."
+
+"Hush, Mary," she said, with a forced smile. "Do not tell tales of me."
+And then she hastened into the house. She met no one; her little room
+was just as she had left it. No one had entered, nothing was disturbed.
+She locked the door and fell on her knees. Rarely has maiden prayed as
+Hyacinth Vaughan prayed then. How she thanked Providence--how her heart,
+full of gratitude, was raised to Heaven! How she promised that for all
+the remainder of her life she would be resigned and submissive.
+
+How safe and secure was this haven of home after all! She shuddered as
+she thought of that dreadful night passed in the confusion of railway
+travelling; of the woman whose pitiful story still rang in her ears.
+
+"Thank Heaven, I have escaped!" she cried. "With all my heart I offer
+thanks!"
+
+Then she changed her dress and did her best to remove all traces of
+fatigue, and when the breakfast bell rang she went down-stairs with a
+prayer on her lips--she was so thankful, so grateful, for her escape.
+Claude Lennox did not fare so well; he had been missed and the colonel
+was very angry about it.
+
+"You have been dining with the officers again, I suppose," he said, "and
+have spent the night over cards and wine. It is bad, sir--bad. I do not
+like it. It is well Mrs. Lennox does not know it."
+
+He made no excuses; he said nothing to defend himself; all the servants
+in the house knew there was a dispute between the colonel, their master,
+and Mr. Lennox.
+
+"If my conduct does not please you, uncle," said the young man, "I can
+go, you know."
+
+This threat somewhat mollified the colonel, who had no great wish to
+quarrel with his handsome young nephew.
+
+"I have no wish to be harsh," he said, "but a whole night at cards is
+too much."
+
+"I am sorry I have not pleased you," rejoined Claude. "I shall go back
+to London on Saturday; my engagements will not permit me to remain here
+after then."
+
+He was angry and annoyed; he had been baffled, irritated, placed in a
+false and most absurd position; he did not care to remain at Oakton. He
+could not endure to look at Hyacinth Vaughan's face again. But he did
+not know what terrible events were to happen before Saturday. The
+future, with its horrible shame and disgrace, was hidden from him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+"What has come over the child?" thought Lady Vaughan to herself. "She is
+so submissive, so quiet, so obedient, I hardly know her."
+
+For, though Lady Vaughan exercised Hyacinth's patience very severely the
+whole of that day, in the packing up, no murmur escaped her lips; she
+was very quiet and subdued, and made no complaint even when she heard
+that they were to travel in a close carriage; no impetuous bursts of
+song came from her lips--no half-murmured reply to Lady Vaughan's
+homilies. That lady thought, with great complacency, how very
+efficacious her few words must have been.
+
+"It is the prospect of being married, I suppose, that has made her so
+good," she said to herself.
+
+She little knew that the girl's heart was weighed down with gratitude to
+Heaven for an escape that she deemed almost miraculous. She little
+thought how suddenly the quiet old home had become a sure refuge and
+harbor to her--and how, for the first time in her life, Hyacinth clung
+to it with love and fondness.
+
+She was busy at work all day, for they were to start early on the next
+morning. She executed all Lady Vaughan's commissions--she did all her
+errands--she helped in every possible way, thinking all the time how
+fortunate she was--that the past two months were like a horrible dream
+from which she had only just awoke. How could she have been so blinded,
+so foolish, so mad? Ah, thank heaven, she had awoke in time!
+
+She was not afraid of discovery, though she knew perfectly well that,
+if ever Lady Vaughan should know what she had done, she would never
+speak to her again--she would not allow her to remain at Queen's Chase.
+But there was no fear of her ever learning what she had done; thanks to
+Claude's care, no one had recognized her--her secret was quite safe. But
+the consciousness that she had such a secret, humiliated her as nothing
+else could have done. Her grandmother might well wonder what brought
+that expression of grateful contentment to her beautiful face.
+
+Then Lady Vaughan bade her go to rest early, for she must be up by
+sunrise. She went, tears of gratitude filling her eyes. She was at home,
+and so safe!
+
+She thought very kindly of Claude. She was sorry for his discomfiture,
+and for the pain he suffered; but a sudden sense of womanly dignity had
+come over her.
+
+"He should not have persuaded me," she said to herself over and over
+again. "He knows the world better than I do; he is older than I am. He
+should have been the one to teach me, and not to lead me astray."
+
+Still she felt kindly toward him, and she knew that, as time went on,
+and the gloom of her home enclosed her again, she should miss him. She
+was too grateful for her escape, however, too remorseful for what she
+had done, to feel any great grief at losing him now.
+
+On the Thursday morning, when great events of which she knew nothing
+were passing around her, Hyacinth rose early, and the bustle of
+preparation began. They did not go to Oakton station. Sir Arthur had his
+own particular way of doing every thing, and he chose to post to London.
+He did not quite approve of railway travelling--it was levelling--all
+classes were mixed up too much for his taste. So they drove in the grand
+old family carriage to London, whence they travelled instate to Dover,
+thence to Bergheim.
+
+As far as it was possible to make travelling dull, this journey was
+rendered dull. Sir Arthur and Lady Vaughan seemed to have only one
+dread, and that was of seeing and being seen. The blinds of the carriage
+windows were all drawn. "They had not come abroad for scenery, but for
+change of air," her ladyship observed several times each day. When it
+was necessary to stay at a hotel, they had a separate suite of rooms.
+There was no _table d'hote_, no mixing with other travellers; they were
+completely exclusive.
+
+As they drew near Bergheim, Hyacinth's beautiful face grew calm and
+serene. She even wondered what he would be like, this Adrian Darcy. He
+was a scholar and a gentleman--but what else? Would he despise her as a
+child, or admire her as a woman? Would he fall in love with her, or
+would he remain profoundly indifferent to her charms? She was startled
+from her reverie by Lady Vaughan's voice.
+
+"We will drive straight to the hotel," she said; "Mr. Darcy has taken
+rooms for us there."
+
+"Shall we see him to-night?" asked Sir Arthur.
+
+"No, I should imagine not. Adrian is always considerate. He will know we
+are tired, and consequently not in the best of moods for visitors," she
+replied. "He will be with us to-morrow morning."
+
+And, strange to say, Hyacinth Vaughan, who had once put from her even
+the thought of Adrian Darcy, felt some slight disappointment that she
+was not to see him until the morrow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+"This is something like life," thought Hyacinth Vaughan, as the summer
+sun came streaming into her room.
+
+It was yet early in the morning, but there was a sound of music from the
+gardens. She drew aside the blinds, and saw a lake in all its beauty,
+the most cheerful, the brightest scene upon which she had ever gazed.
+
+The Hotel du Roi is by far the most aristocratic resort in Bergheim.
+"Kings, queens, and emperors" have lodged there; some of the leading men
+and the fairest women in Europe have at times made their home there. The
+hotel has a certain aristocratic character of its own. Second-rate
+people never go there; its magnificence is of too quiet and dignified a
+kind. The gorgeous suites of rooms are always inhabited by some of the
+leading Continental families. Bergheim itself is a sleepy little town.
+The lake is very beautiful; tall mountains slope down to the edge; the
+water is deep, clear, and calm; green trees fringe the banks;
+water-lilies sleep on its tranquil breast. The Lake of Bergheim has
+figured in poetry, in song, and in pictures.
+
+Hyacinth gazed at it with keen delight. Suddenly it struck her that the
+house was not Lady Vaughan's, consequently not under her ladyship's
+control, and that she could go out into those fairylike looking grounds
+if she wished.
+
+She took her hat and a black lace shawl and went down-stairs. She was
+soon reassured. She was doing nothing unusual. One or two ladies were
+already in the gardens, and in one of the broad open paths she saw an
+English nursemaid with some little children around her. Hyacinth walked
+on with a light, joyous heart. She never remembered to have seen the
+world so fair; she had never seen sunshine so bright, or flowers so
+fair; nor had she ever heard such musical songs from the birds.
+
+Over the girl's whole soul, as she stood, there came a rapturous sense
+of security and gratitude. She was safe; the folly, amounting almost to
+sin, of her girlhood, was already fading into the obscurity of a dark, a
+miserable dream. She was safe under heaven's blessed sunlight, life
+growing fairer and more beautiful every hour. She was grateful for her
+escape.
+
+Then it struck her that she heard the sound of falling water, and she
+went down a long, vine-covered path--surely the loveliest picture in the
+world. The vines had been trained so as to form a perfect arch; the
+grapes hung in rich, ripe bunches; flowers grew underfoot; and at the
+end of the grove was a high white rock from which water fell with a
+rippling, rushing, musical sound, into a small clear pool. Hyacinth
+looked at the scene in wonder. She had never seen anything so pretty in
+her life. She went up to the water; it was cool, so clear, so fresh and
+sparkling. She threw off her hat and plunged her hands into it. She
+laughed aloud as the water ran foaming over them. She little dreamed
+what a lovely picture she herself made standing under the shade of the
+vines, her fair, brilliant face almost dazzling in the dim light, her
+fair hair shining like gold. The morning breeze had brought the most
+dainty and exquisite bloom to her face, her eyes were as bright as
+stars, her lips like newly-blown roses, and, as she stood with the foam
+rushing over her little white hands, the world might have searched in
+vain for one more lovely.
+
+Then she thought how refreshing a draught of that sparkling water would
+be. She gathered a large vine-leaf and filled it. She had just raised it
+to her lips when a rich, deep, musical voice said:
+
+"Do not drink that water; it is not considered good."
+
+The vine-leaf fell from her hands, her face flushed crimson. She had
+thought that she was quite alone. She looked around, but could see no
+one.
+
+"I beg pardon if I have alarmed you," said the same voice, "but the
+water of the fall is not considered good; it is supposed to come from
+the lake."
+
+Then she looked in the direction whence the voice proceeded--a gentleman
+was reclining on a rock by the waterfall. He had been reading, for an
+open book lay by his side; but Hyacinth strongly suspected, from the
+quiet smile on his lips and in his luminous eyes, that he had been
+watching her.
+
+"I am afraid I startled you," he continued; "but the water is not so
+clear as it looks."
+
+"Thank you," she returned, gently.
+
+He took up his book again, and she turned to leave the grove. But in
+those few moments, the world had all changed for her. She walked out of
+the vine grove, and sat down by the edge of the lake, trying to live
+every second of those few minutes over again.
+
+What was that face like? Dark, beautiful, noble--the face of a king,
+with royal brows, and firm, grave, yet sweet lips--a face that in her
+girlish dreams she would have given to the heroes she loved--to King
+Arthur--to the Chevalier Bayard--to Richard the Lion Heart--the face of
+a man born to command, born to rule.
+
+She had looked at it for perhaps only two minutes, but she could have
+sketched it accurately from memory. The dark hair was thrown back in
+masses--not in effeminate curls, but in the same waving lines that may
+be seen on the heads of famous Grecian statues; the forehead was white,
+broad, well-developed, rounded at the temples, full of ideality, of
+genius, of poetry, of thought; the brows were dark and straight as those
+of a Greek god; the eyes luminous and bright--she could not tell what
+they were like--they had dazzled her. The dark mustache did not hide a
+beautiful mouth that had nothing effeminate in it.
+
+It was a face that filled her mind with thoughts of beauty. She mused
+over it. There was nobility, power, genius, loyalty, truth, in every
+feature. The voice had filled her ears with music.
+
+"I wish," she thought, "he had given me some other command; I should
+like to obey him; I would do anything he told me; he has the face and
+the voice of a king. I have read of god-like men; now I have seen one.
+Shall I ever see him again? I can imagine that face flashing with
+indignation, eloquent with pleading, royal in command, softened in
+tenderness, eloquent in speech."
+
+Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of a bell. "That must be for
+breakfast," she thought, and she hurried back to the house. She did not
+see the stranger follow her, with a smile still on his face.
+
+Lady Vaughan was unusually gracious.
+
+"You have been out in the gardens, my dear," she said to the young girl,
+who evidently expected a reproof. "That is right. You are looking very
+well this morning."
+
+She spoke coldly; but in her heart she marvelled at the girl's wonderful
+beauty. She had seen nothing so fair, so dainty, so brilliant as the
+bloom that overspread her lovely face. "I have had a note from Mr.
+Darcy," continued her ladyship, "and he will be with us before noon."
+
+During breakfast Lady Vaughan was more gracious than ever Hyacinth
+remembered to have seen her. When it was over, she said to the girl:
+
+"I should like you to look your best, Cynthy, when Mr. Darcy comes. Make
+a fresh toilet, and then amuse yourself as you like until I send for
+you."
+
+Over the glowing dream of the morning the name of Adrian Darcy seemed to
+fall like the breath of a cold east wind over flowers. She had for the
+time almost forgotten him, and at the sound of his name a whole host of
+disagreeable memories arose.
+
+"Never mind," she said to herself; "they cannot force me to marry him
+against my will. I can tell him I do not like him." She went away, with
+smiles on her lips and music in her heart, to change her dress, as Lady
+Vaughan had desired. A surprise awaited her in her room; Pincott, Lady
+Vaughan's maid, was standing before a large trunk.
+
+"These are dresses, Miss Vaughan," she said, "that my lady has ordered
+from Paris for you. She did not tell you, because she wished to keep it
+as a surprise for you."
+
+The girl's face flushed crimson.
+
+"For me!" she cried. "How kind of her! Oh, Pincott, how beautiful they
+are!"
+
+The maid unfolded the glistening treasures of silk, lace, and velvet,
+displaying them to Hyacinth's enraptured eyes.
+
+"My lady ordered me to attend to your toilet, this morning, Miss
+Vaughan," continued Pincott, who knew perfectly well why her mistress
+desired the young girl to look her best. "I have brought these blush
+roses; no ornaments look so well as natural flowers."
+
+From the collection of dresses one of embroidered Indian muslin was
+selected. It was daintily trimmed with pale pink ribbon and white lace,
+and was exquisitely made. The girlish graceful figure, with its
+beautiful curves and symmetrical lines, was shown to perfection; the
+sleeves fell back, showing a fair, rounded arm. Pincott had great
+natural taste; she dressed the fair hair after some simple girlish
+fashion, and fastened a blush rose in it; she fastened another in the
+high bodice of the white dress.
+
+"You look lovely, Miss Vaughan," she said; and Hyacinth, looking at her
+fair flower-like face, blushed for her own great beauty.
+
+Then Pincott left her, and the way in which she amused herself was by
+sitting at the open window, dreaming of the face she had seen at the
+waterfall. She was roused by the maid's return. "Lady Vaughan will be
+glad to see you in her room, Miss Vaughan. Mr. Darcy is there."
+
+Again the name fell like cold water over her, chilling her bright
+dreams, her growing content and happiness: and again she consoled
+herself by remembering that no one could force her to marry Mr. Darcy
+against her will. She heard the sound of voices as she drew near the
+room; she opened the door and entered, her beautiful face calm and
+serene, looking as fair a picture of youth and loveliness as ever
+greeted human eyes. "Hyacinth," said Lady Vaughan, "come here my dear. I
+want to introduce you to Mr. Darcy."
+
+She went up to her. A tall figure stood near Lady Vaughan's chair. Lady
+Vaughan took her hand.
+
+"This is my granddaughter. Hyacinth--Mr. Darcy."
+
+Hyacinth raised her eyes. Was she blinded by a great golden sunbeam? Was
+she dreaming? Was she haunted or bewitched? Adrian Darcy, whom she had
+dreaded to see, whose name even she had detested, was the same gentleman
+that she had seen by the waterfall.
+
+When she remembered all she had been thinking and dreaming, it was no
+wonder that the beautiful face grew crimson as a damask rose, and that
+the bright eyes fell until he could see nothing of them. She was
+spell-bound--this unknown hero of whom she had dreamed the whole summer
+morning was Adrian Darcy! He held out his hand to her.
+
+"We are old friends," he said frankly. "I saw this young lady about to
+drink some clear, cold, sparkling poison this morning, and I interfered
+to prevent her doing so."
+
+Then he was obliged to explain to Lady Vaughan who smiled most
+graciously; but Hyacinth said never a word. She could not realize the
+truth, yet she sat like one blinded by a great flood of sunlight. If she
+had known how this sweet shy confusion became her--how beautiful it
+was--how Adrian Darcy admired it! Nothing could have charmed him half so
+much.
+
+"How beautiful she is!" he thought. "She is like a rosebud shrouded in
+green leaves."
+
+Hyacinth was almost in despair.
+
+"How stupid he will think me!" she reflected. "But I cannot help it--I
+cannot speak."
+
+When she had collected her senses sufficiently to listen, Adrian was
+saying--
+
+"Yes; we have very good music here, indeed. I think the hotel gardens on
+a bright summer day the most charming place I know. The fountains are
+very beautiful; and the band is one of the best I have heard. Lady
+Vaughan, I hear the music beginning now; will you allow me to escort
+you? There are very comfortable seats in the gardens!"
+
+He saw the sudden, startled flush of joy in the young face. Hyacinth
+raised her head and looked eagerly at her grandmamma; but Lady Vaughan
+excused herself.
+
+"The journey has been delightful," she said, "but fatiguing. To-morrow I
+will go out, but not to-day. Hyacinth will go, though, Adrian, if you
+will be so kind as to give the child the pleasure."
+
+The "child" rose, her cheeks aflame, her heart beating as it had never
+beat before. To go out into those sunlit gardens and to listen to music
+with him--well, she had not even guessed before what a beautiful, happy
+world it was. She put on the prettiest of her hats--one with a white
+plume--and a lace mantilla, and then stood, half smiling, but wholly
+happy, waiting for him. He came up to her smiling.
+
+"Hyacinth," he said, "we are--to use an old-fashioned term--of the same
+kin; so I am not going to call you Miss Vaughan. And I want you not to
+look so shy, but to feel quite at home with me."
+
+At home with him, this hero, this king amongst men, whose presence
+filled her whole soul with light! It could never be.
+
+"I had no idea," he continued, "that I had such a fair young kinswoman.
+Lady Vaughan had always written as though you were a child."
+
+Her heart sank. Was this how he thought of her--was this what made him
+so kind and gracious to her?
+
+"I am not a child," she said, with some little attempt at dignity, "I am
+more than eighteen."
+
+"Quite a philosophic age," was the smiling reply. "Now, Hyacinth, tell
+me, what do you like to look at best--flowers, trees, or water?"
+
+"I like all three," she said truthfully.
+
+"Do you? Then I will find you a seat where you can see all. Here is one
+not too near the music."
+
+He had found a quaint, pretty garden seat, under the shade of a tall
+spreading tree. In front of them were beds of lilies and roses, and the
+blue waters of the lake. The band began to play the sad, passionate
+music of Verdi's "Miserere;" and to Hyacinth Vaughan it seemed as though
+the earth had changed into heaven.
+
+"Do you like music?" he said watching the changes on the beautiful young
+face.
+
+"Yes," she replied, "but I have heard so little."
+
+"You have had a very quiet life at Queen's Chase, I should imagine," he
+said.
+
+"Yes, as quiet as life could well be."
+
+"You should not regret it. I am quite of the old _régime_. I think young
+girls should be so reared."
+
+"For what reason?" she asked.
+
+"For a hundred reasons. If there is one character I detest more than
+another, it is that of a worldly woman. Delicacy, purity, refinement,
+are all so essential--and no girl can possess them brought up under the
+glare and glitter of the world. You have been singularly fortunate in
+living at Queen's Chase."
+
+"Thank Heaven," she thought to herself, "that he does not know the
+shameful escape I tried to make--that he does not know how I loathed and
+hated the place."
+
+"But," she said aloud, "it is not pleasant to be always dull."
+
+"Dull! No. Youth is the very time for enjoyment; every thing rejoices in
+youth. You, for instance, have been happy with your books and flowers at
+Queen's Chase: the world now is all new to you. You are not what
+fashionable jargon calls 'used up.' You have not been playing at being a
+woman while you were yet a child; your heart has not been hardened by
+flirtations; your soul has not been soiled by contact with worldlings;
+you are fresh, and pure, and beautiful as the flowers themselves. If you
+had been living all these years in the hot-bed of society, this would
+not have been the case. There is nothing so detestable, so unnatural, as
+a worldly young girl."
+
+He liked her as she was! For the first time in her life Hyacinth blessed
+Lady Vaughan and Queen's Chase.
+
+"I do not want to tire you with argument," he continued, "but tell me
+Hyacinth, what becomes of a flower, the growth of which has been
+forced?"
+
+"It soon dies," she replied.
+
+"Yes; and girls brought up in the artificial atmosphere of modern
+society, and its worship of Mammon, its false estimates, its love of
+sensation and excitement, soon die to all that is fairest and best in
+life. You," he continued, "enjoy--see, your face tells tales,
+Hyacinth--you enjoy the sunshine, the flowers, the music, the lake."
+
+"Yes, indeed I do," she confessed.
+
+"If you had danced and flirted through one or two London seasons, you
+would not enjoy nature as you do; it would pall upon you--you would be
+apt to look at it through an eye-glass, and criticise the color of the
+water and the tints of the flowers--you would detect motes in the
+sunbeam and false notes in music."
+
+She laughed. "I should not be so keen a critic, Mr. Darcy."
+
+"One who can criticise is not always one who enjoys most," he said. "I
+like to see people honestly enjoying themselves, and leaving criticism
+alone."
+
+The gardens were not crowded; there were seldom visitors enough at the
+hotel to form a crowd; but Hyacinth was struck by the pleasant,
+high-bred faces and elegant dresses.
+
+"Do you see that lady there in the gray dress," said Mr. Darcy--"the one
+with two children by her side?" Hyacinth looked in the direction
+indicated.
+
+"That is the Princess Von Arten, the daughter of a queen. How simple and
+unassuming she is! She is staying here with her children. The gentleman
+now saluting her is the eminent Weilmath."
+
+Her face lighted up.
+
+"I am glad to have seen him," she said; "I have read of him so often. Do
+you admire him?"
+
+"I admire bravery," he replied, "but not unscrupulous daring. Do you
+see that lady sitting under the ilex tree?"
+
+"The one with the sad, thoughtful face?" asked Hyacinth.
+
+"Yes. Twelve months ago she was the leading star of the most brilliant
+court in Europe; now she has no home that she can call her own."
+
+Hyacinth turned her face to his.
+
+"Mr. Darcy," she said, "is the world then so full of reverses? I thought
+that, when one was happy and prosperous, sorrow and trouble did not
+approach. What is stable if money, and friendship, and happiness fail?"
+
+"Just one thing," he replied, with the beautiful luminous smile she had
+never seen on any other face--"Heaven!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Hyacinth Vaughan repeated one sentence over and over again to
+herself--they were always the same words--"Thank Heaven, Adrian does not
+know what I have done."
+
+For, as the days passed on, she learned to care for him with a love that
+was wonderful in its intensity. It was not his personal beauty that
+impressed her. By many people Claude Lennox would have been considered
+the handsomer man of the two. It was the grandeur of Adrian Darcy's
+character, the loyalty and nobility of his most loyal soul; the beauty
+of his mind, the stretch and clearness of his intellect, that charmed
+her.
+
+She had never met any one like him--never met so perfect a mixture of
+chivalry and strength. She learned to have the utmost reliance upon him.
+His most lightly spoken word was to her as the oath of another. She saw
+that every thought, every word, every action of his was so perfectly
+correct that his least judgment was invaluable. If he said a thing was
+right, the whole world could not have made her think it wrong; if he
+disapproved of anything, so entire was her reliance upon him, that she
+could not be brought to consider it right.
+
+It seemed so strange that she should have been so ready to run away, so
+as to escape this Adrian Darcy; and now the brightest heaven of which
+she could dream was his friendship--for his love, after she understood
+him, she could hardly hope.
+
+"How can he care for a child like me," she was accustomed to ask
+herself, "uninformed, inexperienced, ignorant? He is so great and so
+noble, how can he care for me?"
+
+She did not know that her sweet humility, her graceful shyness, her
+_naïveté_, her entire freedom from all taint of worldliness, was more
+precious to him, more charming, than all the accomplishments she could
+have displayed.
+
+"How can I ever have thought that I loved Claude?" she said to herself.
+"How can I have been so blind? My heart never used to beat more quickly
+for his coming. If I had had the same liberty, the same amusements and
+pleasures which other girls have, I should never have cared for him. It
+was only because he broke the monotony of my life, and gave me something
+to think of."
+
+Then in her own mind she contrasted the two men--Adrian, so calm, so
+dignified, so noble in thought, word, and deed, and so loyal, so
+upright; Claude, all impetuosity, fire, recklessness and passion--not to
+be trusted, not to be relied upon. There was never a greater difference
+of character surely than between these two men.
+
+She learned to look with Adrian's eyes, to think with his mind; and she
+became a noble woman.
+
+Life at Bergheim was very pleasant; there was no monotony, no dreariness
+now. Her first thought when she woke in the morning, was that she should
+see Adrian, hear him speak, perhaps go out with him. Quite unconsciously
+to herself, he became the centre of her thoughts and ideas--the soul of
+her soul, the life of her life. She did not know that she loved him;
+what she called her "love" for Claude had been something so
+different--all made up of gratified vanity and love of change. The
+beautiful affection rapidly mastering her was so great and reverent, it
+filled her soul with light, her heart with music, her mind with beauty.
+She did not know that it was love that kept her awake throughout the
+night thinking of him, bringing back to her mind every word he had
+spoken--that made her always anxious to look well.
+
+"I always thought," she said to him one day, "that grave and thoughtful
+people always despised romance."
+
+"They despise all affectation and caricature of it," he replied.
+
+"Since I have been out in the world and have listened to people
+talking, I have heard them say, 'Oh, she is romantic!' as though romance
+were wrong or foolish."
+
+"There is romance and romance," he said; "romance that is noble,
+beautiful and exalting; and romance that is the overheated sentiment of
+foolish girls. What so romantic as Shakespeare? What love he paints for
+us--what passion, what sadness! Who more romantic than Fouque? What wild
+stories, what graceful, improbable legends he gives us! Yet, who sneers
+at Shakespeare and Fouque?"
+
+"Then why do people apply the word 'romantic' almost as a term of
+reproach to others?"
+
+"Because they misapply the word, and do not understand it. I plead
+guilty myself to a most passionate love of romance--that is, romance
+which teaches, elevates, and ennobles--the soul of poetry, the high and
+noble faculty that teaches one to appreciate the beautiful and true. You
+know, Hyacinth, there are true romance and false romance, just as there
+are true poetry and false poetry."
+
+"I can understand what you call true romance, but not what you mean by
+false," she said.
+
+"No; you are too much like the flower you are named after to know much
+of false romance," he rejoined. "Everything that lowers one's standard,
+that tends to lower one's thoughts, that puts mere sentiment in the
+place of duty, that makes wrong seem right, that leads to underhand
+actions, to deceit, to folly--all that is false romance. Pardon my
+alluding to such things. The lover who would persuade a girl to deceive
+her friends for his sake, who would persuade her to give him private
+meetings, to receive secret letters--such a lover starts from a base of
+the very falsest romance; yet many people think it true."
+
+He did not notice that her beautiful face had suddenly grown pale, and
+that an expression of fear had crept into her blue eyes.
+
+"You are always luring me into argument, Hyacinth," he said, with a
+smile.
+
+"Because I like to hear you talk," she explained. She did not see how
+full of love was the look he bent on her as he plucked a spray of azalea
+flowers and passed it to her. Through the tears that filled her downcast
+eyes she saw the flower, and almost mechanically took it from his hand,
+not daring to look up. But in the silence of her own room she pressed
+the flowers passionately to her lips and rained tears upon them, as she
+moaned, "Oh, if he knew, what would he think of me? what would he
+think?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+Hyacinth Vaughan was soon to learn more of Mr. Darcy's sentiments. He
+was dining with them one day, when the conversation turned upon some
+English guests who had arrived at the hotel the evening before--Lord and
+Lady Wallace.
+
+"She looks quite young," said Lady Vaughan. "She would be a nice
+companion for Hyacinth."
+
+Mr. Darcy, to whom she was speaking, made no reply. Lady Vaughan noticed
+how grave his face had grown.
+
+"Do you not think so, Adrian?" she asked.
+
+"Since you wish me to speak, my answer is, no; I do not think so."
+
+"Do you mind telling me why?" pursued Lady Vaughan "I have been so long
+out of the world I am ignorant of its proceedings."
+
+"I would rather you would not ask me, Lady Vaughan," he said.
+
+"And I would rather hear what you have to tell," she persisted, with a
+smiling air of command that he was too courteous not to obey.
+
+"I do not think Lady Wallace would be a good companion for Hyacinth,
+because she is what people of the period call 'fast.' She created a
+great sensation three years ago by eloping with Lord Wallace. She was
+only seventeen at the time."
+
+Lady Vaughan looked slightly disgusted; but Hyacinth, who perhaps felt
+in some measure that she was on her trial, said: "Perhaps she loved
+him."
+
+Adrian turned to her eagerly. "That is what I was trying to explain to
+you the other day--false romance--how the truest, the purest, the
+brightest romance would have been, not eloping--which is the commonplace
+instinct of commonplace minds--but waiting in patience. Think of the
+untruths, the deceit, the false words, the underhand dealings that are
+necessary for an elopement!"
+
+"But surely," said Lady Vaughan, "there are exceptions?"
+
+"There may be. I do not know. I am only saying what I think. A girl who
+deceives all her friends, who leaves home in such a fashion, must be
+devoid of refinement and delicacy--not to mention truth and honesty."
+
+"You are very hard," murmured Hyacinth.
+
+"Nay," he rejoined, turning to her with infinite tenderness of manner;
+"there are some things in which one cannot be too hard. Anything that
+touches the fair and pure name of a woman should be held sacred."
+
+"You think highly of women," she said.
+
+"I do--so highly that I cannot bear even a cloud to shadow the fairness
+and brightness that belong to them. A woman's fair name is her
+inheritance--her dower. I could not bear, had I a sister, to hear her
+name lightly spoken by light lips. What the moss is to the rose, what
+green leaves are to the lily, spotless repute is to a woman."
+
+As he spoke the grave words, Hyacinth looked at him. How pure, how noble
+the woman must be who could win his love!
+
+"Ah me, ah me!" thought the girl, with a bitter sigh, "what would he say
+to me if he knew all? Who was ever so near the scandal he hated as I
+was? Oh, thank Heaven, that I drew back in time, and that mine was but
+the shadow of a sin!"
+
+There were times when she thought, with a beating heart, of what Lady
+Vaughan had said to her--that it was her wish Adrian Darcy should marry
+her. The lot that had once seemed so hard to her was now so bright, so
+dazzling, that she dared not think of it--when she remembered it, her
+face flushed crimson.
+
+"I am not worthy," she said over and over again to herself--"I am not
+worthy."
+
+She thought of Adrian's love as she thought of the distant stars in
+heaven--bright, beautiful, but far away. In her sweet humility, she did
+not think there was anything in herself which could attract him. She
+little dreamed, how much he admired the loveliness of her face, the
+grace of her girlish figure, the purity, the innocence, the simplicity
+that, despite the shadow of a sin, still lingered with her.
+
+"She is innately noble," he said one day to Lady Vaughan. "She is sure
+always to choose the nobler and better part; her ideas are naturally
+noble, pure, and correct. She is the most beautiful combination of child
+and woman that I have ever met. Imagination and common sense, poetry,
+idealisms and reason, all seem to meet in her."
+
+Years ago, Adrian Darcy had heard something of Lady Vaughan's
+half-expressed wish that he should marry her granddaughter. He laughed
+at it at the time; but he remembered it with a sense of acute pleasure.
+His had been a busy life; he had studied hard--had carried off some of
+the brightest honors of his college--and, after leaving Oxford, had
+devoted himself to literary pursuits. He had written books which had
+caused him to be pronounced one of the most learned scholars in England.
+He cared little for the frivolities of fashion--they had not interested
+him in the least--yet his name was a tower of strength in the great
+world.
+
+Between Adrian Darcy and the ancient Barony of Chandon there was but the
+present Lord Chandon, an old infirm man, and his son, a sickly boy.
+People all agreed that sooner or later Adrian must succeed to the
+estate; great, therefore, was the welcome he received in Vanity Fair.
+Mothers presented their fairest daughters to him; fair-faced girls
+smiled their sweetest smiles when he was present; but all was in
+vain--the world and the worldly did not please Adrian Darcy. He cared
+more for his books than woman's looks; he had never felt the least
+inclination to fall in love until he met Hyacinth Vaughan.
+
+It was not her beauty that charmed him, although he admitted that it was
+greater than he had ever seen. It was her youth, her simplicity, her
+freedom from all affectation, the entire absence of all worldliness, the
+charm of her fresh, sweet romance, that delighted him. She said what she
+thought, and she expressed her thoughts in such beautiful, eloquent
+words that he delighted to listen to them. He was quite unused to such
+frank, sweet, candid simplicity--it had all the charms of novelty for
+him. He had owned to himself, at last, that he loved her--that life
+without her would be a dreary blank.
+
+"If I had never met her," he said to himself, "I should never have loved
+anyone. In all the wide world she is the only one for me." He wondered
+whether he could speak to her yet of his love. "She is like some shy,
+bright bird," he said to himself, "and I am afraid of startling her. She
+is so simple, so child-like, in spite of her romance and poetry, that I
+am half afraid."
+
+His manner to her was so chivalrous that it was like the wooing of some
+gracious king. She contrasted him over and over again with
+Claude--Claude, who had respected her girlish ignorance and inexperience
+so little. So the sunny days glided by in a dream of delight. Adrian
+spent all his time with them; and one day Lady Vaughan asked him what
+he thought of his chance of succeeding to the Barony of Chandon.
+
+"I think," he replied slowly, "that sooner or later it must be mine."
+
+"Do you care much for it?" she asked. "Old people are always
+inquisitive, Adrian--you must forgive me."
+
+"I care for it in one sense," he replied; "but I cannot say honestly
+that title or rank give me any great pleasure. I would rather be Adrian
+Darcy, than Baron Chandon of Chandon. But, Lady Vaughan, I will tell you
+something that I long for, that I covet and desire."
+
+"What is it?" she asked, looking at the handsome face, flushed, eager,
+and excited.
+
+"It is the love of Hyacinth Vaughan," he answered. "I love her--I have
+never seen anyone so simple, so frank, so _spirituelle_. I love her as I
+never thought to love any woman. If I do not marry her, I will never
+marry anyone. I have your permission, I know; but she is so shy, so coy,
+I am afraid to speak to her. Do you think I have any chance, Lady
+Vaughan?"
+
+She raised her fair old face to his.
+
+"I do," she replied. "Thanks to our care, the girl's heart is like the
+white leaf of a lily. No shadow has ever rested on her. She has not been
+flirted with and talked about. I tell you honestly, Adrian, that the
+lilies in the garden are not more pure, more fair, or fresh than she."
+
+"I know it," he agreed; "and, heaven helping me, I will so guard and
+shield her that no shadow shall ever fall over her."
+
+"She has never had a lover," continued Lady Vaughan. "Her life has been
+a most secluded one."
+
+"Then I shall try to win her," he said; and when he had gone away Lady
+Vaughan acknowledged to herself that the very desire of her heart was
+near being gratified.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+It may be that Hyacinth Vaughan read Adrian Darcy's determination in his
+face, for she grew so coy and frightened that had he not been brave he
+would have despaired. If by accident she raised her eyes and met his
+glance her face burned and her heart beat; when he spoke to her it was
+with difficulty she answered him. She had once innocently and eagerly
+sought his society--she had loved to listen to him while he was talking
+to Lady Vaughan--she had enjoyed being with him as the flowers enjoy the
+sunlight. But something was awake in her heart and soul which had been
+sleeping until now. When she saw Adrian, her first impulse was to turn
+aside and fly, no matter whither, because of the sweet pain his presence
+caused her. He met her one morning in the broad corridor of the hotel;
+she looked fresh and bright, fair and sweet as the morning itself. Her
+face flushed at his coming, she stopped half undecided whether to go on
+or turn and fly.
+
+"Hyacinth," he said, holding out his hand in greeting, "it seems an age
+since I have had any conversation with you. Where do you hide yourself?
+What are you always doing?"
+
+Then he paused and looked at her--admiration, passion, and tenderness
+unspeakable in his eyes. She little knew how fair a picture she
+presented in her youthful loveliness and timidity--how graceful and pure
+she was in her girlish embarrassment.
+
+"Have you not one word of greeting, Hyacinth? It is the morning of a
+fresh day. I have not seen you since the noon of yesterday. Speak to
+me--after your own old bright way. Why, Hyacinth, what has changed you?
+We used to laugh all the sunny summer day through, and now you give me
+only a smile. What has changed you?"
+
+She never remembered what answer she made him, nor how she escaped. She
+remembered nothing until she found herself in her own room, her heart
+beating, her face dyed with burning blushes, and her whole soul awake
+and alarmed.
+
+"What has changed me?" she asked. "What has come over me? I know--I
+know. I love him!"
+
+She fell on her knees and buried her face in her hands--she wept
+passionately.
+
+"I love him," she said--"oh, Heaven, make me worthy to love him!"
+
+She knelt in a kind of waking trance, a wordless ecstasy. She loved him;
+her heart was awake, her soul slept no more. That was why she dreaded
+yet longed to meet him--why his presence gave her pain that was sweeter
+than all joy.
+
+This paradise she had gained was what, in her blindness and folly she
+had flown from; and she knew now, as she knelt there, that, had all the
+treasures of earth been offered to her, had its fairest gifts been laid
+at her feet, she would have selected this from them.
+
+At last the great joy, the great mystery, the crowning pleasure of
+woman's life, was hers. She called to mind all that the poets had
+written of love. Was it true? Ah, no! It fell a thousand fathoms short.
+Such happiness, such joy as made music in her heart could not be told in
+words, and her face burned again as she remembered the feeble sentiment
+that she had dignified by the name of love. Now that she understood
+herself, she knew that it was impossible she could ever have loved
+Claude Lennox; he had not enough grandeur or nobility of character to
+attract her.
+
+When she went down to the _salon_, Sir Arthur and Adrian were there
+alone; she fled like a startled fawn. He was to dine with them that day,
+and she spent more time than usual over her toilet. How could she make
+herself fair enough in the eyes of the man who was her king? Very fair
+did she look, for among her treasures she found an old-fashioned
+brocade, rich, heavy, and beautiful, and it was trimmed with rich point
+lace. The ground was white, with small rosebuds embroidered on it. The
+fair, rounded arms and white neck shone out even fairer than the white
+dress; a few pearls that Lady Vaughan had given her shone like dew-drops
+in the fair hair. She looked both long and anxiously in the mirror, so
+anxious was she to look well in his eyes.
+
+"Miss Vaughan grows quite difficult to please," said Pincott to her
+mistress, later on; and Lady Vaughan smiled.
+
+"There may be reasons," she returned; "we have all been young once--we
+must not quite forget what youth is like. Ah--there is the dinner-bell."
+
+But, as far as the mere material dinner was concerned, Adrian did not
+show to great advantage; it was impossible to eat while that lovely
+vision in white brocade sat opposite to him.
+
+"She flies from me--she avoids me," he thought; "but she shall listen. I
+have tamed the white doves--I have made the wildest, brightest
+song-birds love me and eat from my hands. She shall love me, too."
+
+He could not succeed in inducing her to look at him; when he spoke she
+answered, but the sweet eyes were always downcast.
+
+"Never mind. She shall look at me yet," he thought.
+
+After dinner he asked her to sing. She saw with alarm that if she did so
+she would be alone with him--for the piano was at the extreme end of the
+room. So she excused herself, and he understood perfectly the reason
+why.
+
+"Will you play at chess?" he asked.
+
+Not for the wealth of India could she have managed it.
+
+"I shall win you," his eyes seemed to say. "You may try to escape.
+Flutter your bright wings, my pretty bird; it is all in vain."
+
+Then he asked her if she would go into the grounds. She murmured some
+few words of apology that he could hardly hear. A sudden great love and
+sweetest pity for her youth and her timidity came over him. "I will be
+patient," he said to himself; "the shy bird shall not be startled. In
+time she will learn not to be so coy and timid."
+
+So he turned away and asked Sir Arthur if he should read the leading
+article from the _Times_ to him, and Sir Arthur gratefully accepted the
+offer. Lady Vaughan, with serenely composed face, went to sleep.
+Hyacinth stole gently to the window; she wanted no books, no music; a
+fairyland was unfolded before her, and she had not half explored it. She
+only wanted to be quite alone, to think over and over again how
+wonderful it was that she loved Adrian Darcy.
+
+"Come out," the dewy, sleepy flowers seemed to say. "Come out," sung the
+birds. "Come out," whispered the wind, bending the tall magnolia trees
+and spreading abroad sweet perfume. She looked round the room; Lady
+Vaughan was fast asleep, Sir Arthur listening intently, and Adrian
+reading to him. "No one will miss me," she thought.
+
+She took up a thin shawl that was lying near, opened the long window
+very gently, and stepped out. But she was mistaken: some one did miss
+her, and that some one was Adrian. No gesture, no movement of hers ever
+escaped him. She was gone out into the sweet, dewy, fragrant gloaming,
+and he longed to follow her.
+
+He read on patiently until--oh, pleasant sight!--he saw Sir Arthur's
+eyes begin to close. He had purposely chosen the dryest articles, and
+had read slowly until the kind god Morpheus came to his aid, and Sir
+Arthur slept. Then Adrian rose and followed Hyacinth. The band was
+playing at the further end of the gardens, and Mozart's sweet music came
+floating through the trees.
+
+It was such a dim pleasant light under the vines, and the music of the
+dripping water was so sweet. His instinct had not deceived him:
+something white was gleaming by the rock. He walked with quiet steps.
+She was sitting watching the falling waters, looking so fair and lovely
+in that dim green light. He could contain himself no longer; he sprung
+forward and caught her in his arms.
+
+"I have found you at last, Hyacinth," he said--"I have found you at
+last."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+Hyacinth Vaughan turned round in startled fear and wonder, and then she
+saw her lover's face, and knew by her womanly instinct what was coming.
+She made no effort to escape; she had been like a frightened,
+half-scared bird, but now a great calm came over her, a solemn and
+beautiful gladness.
+
+"Hyacinth, forgive me," he said--"I have been looking for you so long.
+Oh, my darling, if ever the time should come that I should look for you
+and not find you, what should I do?"
+
+In this, one of the happiest moments of his life, there came to him a
+presentiment of evil--one of those sharp, sudden, subtle instincts for
+which he could never account--a sense of darkness, as though the time
+were coming when he should look for that dear face and not find it,
+listen for the beloved voice and not hear it--when he should call in
+vain for his love and no response meet his ears. All this passed through
+his mind in the few moments that he held her in his arms and looked in
+her pure, faultless face.
+
+"Have I startled you?" he asked, seeing how strangely pale and calm it
+had grown. "Why have you been so cruel to me, Hyacinth? Did you not know
+that I have been seeking for you all day, longing for five minutes with
+you? For, Hyacinth, I want to ask you something. Now you are
+trembling--see how unsteady these sweet hands are. I do not want to
+frighten you, darling; sit down here and let us talk quietly."
+
+They sat down, and for a few moments a deep silence fell over them,
+broken only by the ripple of the water and the sound of distant music.
+
+"Hyacinth," said Adrian, gently, "I little thought, when I came here
+four short weeks since, thinking of nothing but reading three chapters
+of Goethe before breakfast, that I should find my fate--the fairest and
+sweetest fate that ever man found. I believe that I loved you then--at
+that first moment--as dearly as I love you now. You seemed to creep into
+my heart and nestle there. Until I die there will be no room in my heart
+for any other."
+
+She sat very still, listening to his passionate words, letting her hands
+lie within his. It seemed to her like a king coming to take possession
+of his own.
+
+"I can offer you," he said, "the deepest, best, and purest, love. It has
+not been frittered away on half a dozen worthless objects. You are my
+only love. I shall know no other. Hyacinth, will you be my wife?"
+
+It had fallen at last, this gleam of sunlight that had dazzled her so
+long by its brightness; it had fallen at her feet, and it blinded her.
+
+"Will you be my wife, Hyacinth? Do not say 'Yes' unless you love me; nor
+because it is any one's wish; nor because Lady Vaughan may have said,
+'It would be a suitable arrangement.' But say it if you love me--if you
+are happy with me."
+
+He remembered in after-years how what she said puzzled him. She clasped
+her little white hands; she bent her head in sweetest humility.
+
+"I am not worthy," she whispered.
+
+He laughed aloud in the joy of his heart. "Not worthy? I know best about
+that, Hyacinth. I know that from the whole world I choose you for my
+wife, my queen, my love, because you are the fairest, the truest, the
+purest woman in it. I know that, if a king were kneeling here in my
+place, your love would crown him. It is I who am not worthy, sweet. What
+man is worthy of love so pure as yours? Tell me, Hyacinth, will you be
+my wife?"
+
+The grave pallor left her face; a thousand little gleams and lights
+seemed to play over it.
+
+"My wife--to love me, to help me while we both live."
+
+"I--I cannot think that you love me," she said, gently. "You are so
+gifted, so noble, so clever--so brave and so strong."
+
+"And what are you?" he asked, laughingly.
+
+"I am nothing--nothing, that is, compared to you."
+
+"A very sweet and fair nothing. Now that you have flattered me, listen
+while I tell you what you are. To begin, you are, without exception,
+the loveliest girl that ever smiled in the sunshine. You have a royal
+dowry of purity, truth, innocence and simplicity, than which no queen
+ever had greater. All the grace and music of the world, to my mind, are
+concentrated in you. I can say no more, sweet. I find that words do not
+express my meaning. All the unworthiness is on my side--not on yours."
+
+"But," she remonstrated, "some day you will be a very rich, great man,
+will you not?"
+
+"I am what the world calls rich, now," he replied, gravely. "And--yes,
+you are right, Hyacinth--it is most probable that I may be Baron Chandon
+of Chandon some day. But what has that to do with it, sweet?"
+
+"You should have a wife who knows more than I do--some one who
+understands the great world."
+
+"Heaven forbid!" he said, earnestly. "I would not marry a worldly woman,
+Cynthy, if she brought me Golconda for a fortune. There is no one else
+who could make such a fair and gentle Lady Chandon as you."
+
+"I am afraid that you will be disappointed in me afterward," she
+remarked, falteringly.
+
+"I am very willing to run the risk, my darling. Now you have been quite
+cruel enough, Cynthy. We will even go so far as to suppose you have
+faults; I know that, being human, you cannot be without them. But that
+does not make me love you less. Now, tell me, will you be my wife?"
+
+She looked up at him with sweet, shy grace. "I am afraid you think too
+highly of me," she opposed, apologetically; "in many things I am but a
+child."
+
+"Child, woman, fairy, spirit--no matter what you are--just as you are, I
+love you, and I would not have you changed; nothing can improve you,
+because, in my eyes, you are perfect. Will you be my wife, Hyacinth?"
+
+"Yes," she replied; "and I pray that I may be worthy of my lot."
+
+He bent down and kissed the fair flushed face, the sweet quivering lips,
+the white drooping eyelids.
+
+"You are my own now," he said--"my very own. Nothing but death shall
+part us."
+
+So they sat in silence more eloquent than words; the faint sound of the
+music came over the trees, the wind stirred the vine leaves--there never
+came such another hour in life for them. In the first rapture of her
+great happiness Hyacinth did not remember Claude, or perhaps she would
+have told her lover about him, but she did not even remember him. Over
+the smiling heaven of her content no cloud, however light, sailed--she
+remembered nothing in that hour but her love and her happiness.
+
+Then he began to talk to her of the life that lay before them.
+
+"We must live so that others may be the better for our living, Cynthy.
+Should it happen that you become Lady Chandon, we will have a vast
+responsibility on our hands."
+
+She looked pleased and happy.
+
+"We will build schools," she said, "almshouses for the poor people; we
+will make every one glad and happy, Adrian."
+
+"That will be a task beyond us, I fear," he rejoined, with a smile, "but
+we will do our best."
+
+"I must try to learn every thing needful for so exalted a position," she
+observed, with a great sigh of content.
+
+"You must be very quick about it, darling," he said. "I am going to
+presume upon your kindness. It is not enough to know that I have won
+you, but I want to know when you will be mine."
+
+She made no reply, and he went on.
+
+"I do not see why we need wait--do you, Cynthy?"
+
+"I do not see why we need hurry," she replied.
+
+"I can give you a reason for that--I want you; my life will be one long
+sigh until I can say in very truth that you are my wife. Will you let me
+tell Lady Vaughan this evening, that I have been successful?"
+
+She clung to him, her hand clasping his arm. "Not to-night," she said,
+softly. "Adrian, let me have this one night to myself to think it all
+over."
+
+"It shall be just as you like, my darling; I will tell her to-morrow.
+Now, Cynthy, this is the 19th of July--why should we not be married in
+two months from to-day?" Ah, why not? She said nothing. The wind, that
+whispered so many secrets to the trees, did not tell them that.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+When Hyacinth woke next morning, it was with difficulty that she
+disentangled dreams and truth; then the whole of her untold joys rushed
+over her, and she knew it was no fancy--no dream. She went down to
+breakfast looking, if possible, more beautiful than she had ever
+looked; the love-light on her face made it radiant; her eyes were bright
+as stars. Lady Vaughan gazed at her, as she had often done before, in
+sheer wonder. During breakfast she heard Sir Arthur complaining of his
+papers.
+
+"I am told they will not come until night," he said. "I really do not
+see how I am to get through the day without my papers."
+
+"What is the cause of the delay?" asked Lady Vaughan.
+
+"Some accident to the mail train. The company ought to be more careful."
+
+"Adrian will perhaps be able to do something to amuse you," said Lady
+Vaughan.
+
+"Adrian has gone out," returned Sir Arthur, in an injured tone of voice.
+"Some friends of his came to the hotel late last night, and he has gone
+out with them; he will not return till evening."
+
+"Who told you so?" asked Lady Vaughan.
+
+"He wrote this note," said Sir Arthur, "and sent it to me the first
+thing this morning." Then Hyacinth smiled to herself, for she knew the
+note was written for her.
+
+"We must get through the day as well as we can," said Lady Vaughan.
+
+Greatly to Sir Arthur's surprise, Hyacinth volunteered to spend the
+morning with him.
+
+"I can amuse you," she said--"not perhaps as well as Mr. Darcy, but I
+will do my best. We will go out into the grounds if you like; the band
+is going to play a selection from 'Il Flauto Magico.'"
+
+And Sir Arthur consented, inwardly wondering how sweet, gentle, and
+compliant his granddaughter was.
+
+Just before dinner a messenger came to the _salon_ to say that Mr. Darcy
+had returned, and, with Lady Vaughan's permission would spend the
+evening with them.
+
+"He will tell Lady Vaughan this evening," thought Hyacinth; "and then
+every one will know."
+
+She dressed herself with unusual care; it would be the first time of
+seeing him since she had promised to be his wife. Amongst her treasures
+was a dress of white lace, simple and elegant, somewhat elaborately
+trimmed with green leaves. Pincott came again, by Lady Vaughan's wish,
+to superintend the young lady's toilet. She looked curiously at the
+white lace dress.
+
+"Begging your pardon, Miss Vaughan," she said, "but I never saw a young
+lady so changed. I used to feel quite grieved when you were so careless
+about your dress."
+
+"I will try not to grieve you again," said the young girl, laughingly.
+
+"You must not wear either jewels or ribbons with this dress," observed
+Pincott. "There must be nothing but a simple cluster of green leaves."
+
+"It shall be just as you like," observed Miss Vaughan.
+
+But the maid's taste was correct--nothing more simply elegant or
+effective could have been devised than the dress of white lace and the
+cluster of green leaves on the fair hair. Hyacinth hardly remembered how
+the time passed until he came. She heard his footsteps--heard his voice;
+and her heart beat, her face flushed, her whole soul seemed to go out to
+meet him.
+
+"Hyacinth," he cried, clasping her hand, "this day seemed to me as long
+as a century."
+
+Lady Vaughan was sitting alone in her favorite arm-chair near the open
+window. Adrian went up to her, leading Hyacinth by the hand.
+
+"Dearest Lady Vaughan," he said, "can you guess what I have to tell
+you?"
+
+The fair old face beamed with smiles.
+
+"Is it what I have expected, Adrian?" she asked. "Does my little
+Hyacinth love you?"
+
+The girl hid her blushing face; then she sunk slowly on her knees, and
+the kind old hands were raised to bless her. They trembled on her bowed
+head; Hyacinth seized them and covered them with passionate kisses and
+tears. She had thought them stern hands once, and had felt disposed to
+fly from their guidance; but now, as she kissed them, she blessed and
+thanked them that their guidance had brought her to this happy haven of
+rest.
+
+"Heaven bless you, my child!" said the feeble voice. The lady bowed her
+stately head and fair old face over the young girl.
+
+"If you have ever thought me stern, Hyacinth," she said--"if you have
+ever fancied the rules I laid down for you hard--remember it was all for
+your own good. The world is full of snares--some of them cruel ones--for
+the unwary. I saw that you were full of romance and poetry; and I--I did
+my best, my dear. If you have thought me hard, you must forgive me
+now--it was all for your own good. I know the value of a pure mind, an
+innocent heart, and a spotless name; and that is the dowry you bring
+your husband. No queen ever had one more regal. The Vaughans are a
+proud old race. There has never been even the faintest slur or shadow
+resting on any one who bore the name; and the highest praise that I can
+give you is that you are worthy to bear it."
+
+Adrian did not know why the fair young head was bent in such lowly
+humility, why such passionate sobs rose to the girl's lips as he raised
+her and held her for a moment in his arms.
+
+"Go to your room, Hyacinth, and remove all traces of tears," said Lady
+Vaughan. "We must be glad, not sorry, this evening--it is your betrothal
+night. And see, here are the papers, Sir Arthur; now you will be quite
+happy, and forgive that unfortunate mail train."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+Hyacinth was not long absent. She bathed her face in some cool, fragrant
+water, smiling to herself the while at finding that Lady Vaughan could
+be sentimental, thankful that the needful little scene was over, and
+wondering shyly what this new and bewildering life would be like, with
+Adrian by her side as her acknowledged lover. So happy she was--ah, so
+happy! There was not one drawback--not one cloud. She rearranged the
+pretty lace dress and the green leaves, and then tripped down-stairs, as
+fair a vision of youth, beauty, and happiness as ever gladdened the
+daylight. Just as she reached the _salon_ door she dropped her
+handkerchief, and stooping to pick it up, she heard Lady Vaughan say,
+
+"Do not tell Hyacinth--it will shock her so."
+
+"She must hear of it," Sir Arthur returned; "better tell her yourself,
+my dear."
+
+Wondering what they could be discussing she opened the door and saw a
+rather unusual _tableau_. Lady Vaughan was still in her comfortable
+arm-chair; she held a newspaper in her hands, and Sir Arthur and Adrian
+Darcy were bending over her, evidently deeply interested. Hyacinth's
+entrance seemed to put an end to their discussion. Adrian went up to
+her. Sir Arthur took the paper from his lady's hand and began to read it
+for himself.
+
+"You will not refuse to sing for me to-night, Cynthy?" said Adrian. "It
+is, you know, as Lady Vaughan says, our betrothal night. Will you give
+me that pleasure?"
+
+Still wondering at what she had heard, Hyacinth complied with his
+request. She played well, and she had a magnificent, well-trained voice.
+She sung now some simple ballad, telling of love that was never to die,
+of faith that was never to change, of happiness that was to last forever
+and ever; and as she sung the divine light of love played on her face
+and deep warm gratitude rose in her heart. He thanked her--he kissed the
+white hands that had touched the keys so deftly; and, then she heard Sir
+Arthur say again:
+
+"He cannot be guilty; it is utterly impossible. I cannot say I liked the
+young fellow; he seemed to me one of the careless, reckless kind. But
+rely upon it he is too much of a gentleman to be capable of such a
+brutal, barbarous deed."
+
+"If he is innocent," observed Lady Vaughan, "he will be released. In our
+days justice is too sure and too careful to destroy an innocent man."
+
+"Colonel Lennox will never get over it. Such a blow will kill a proud
+man like him."
+
+"I pity his mother most," said Lady Vaughan.
+
+Every word of this conversation had been heard by Hyacinth and Adrian.
+She was looking over some music, and he stood by her. A strange, vague,
+numb sensation was gradually creeping over her. She raised her eyes to
+her lover's face, and they asked, as plainly as eyes could speak:
+
+"What are they discussing?"
+
+"A strange, sad story," he spoke in answer to the look, for she had
+uttered no word. Lady Vaughan heard him.
+
+"You will be grieved, Hyacinth," she said; "but that you will be sure to
+hear of it sooner or later, I would not tell you one word. Do you
+remember young Claude Lennox, who was visiting his uncle? He came over
+to the Chase several times."
+
+"I remember him," she replied, vaguely conscious of her own words--for a
+terrible dread was over her. She could have cried aloud in her anguish,
+"What is it--oh, what is it?"
+
+"Appearances are against him, certainly," continued Lady Vaughan, in her
+calm tone--oh, would she never finish?--"but I cannot think him guilty."
+
+"Guilty of what?" asked Hyacinth; and the sound of her own voice
+frightened her as it left her rigid lips.
+
+"Guilty of murder, my dear. It is a strange case. It appears that the
+very day after we left the Chase, a dreadful murder was discovered at
+Leybridge--a woman was found cruelly murdered under a hedge in one of
+the fields near the station. In the poor woman's clinched hand was a
+handkerchief, with the name 'Claude Lennox' upon it. On searching
+further the police found his address, 'Claude Lennox, 200 Belgrave
+Square,' written in pencil on a small folded piece of paper. The woman's
+name is supposed to be Anna Barratt. Circumstantial evidence is very
+strong against Claude. One of the porters at Leybridge Station swears
+that he saw him walk with a woman in the direction of the fields; a
+laboring man swears that he saw him returning alone to Oakton Park in
+the early dawn of the morning; and the colonel's servants say he was
+absent from Oakton the whole night."
+
+"Still, that may only be circumstantial evidence," said Sir Arthur,
+"though it is strongly against him. Why should he kill a woman who was
+quite a stranger to him, as he solemnly swears she was?"
+
+"Who, then, was with him at the station? You see, three people swear to
+have noticed him leave Leybridge Station with a woman whom none of them
+recognized."
+
+They might perhaps have continued the discussion, but a slight sound
+disturbed them, and, looking round, they saw that Hyacinth had fallen to
+the floor. She had risen from her seat with a ghastly face and burning
+eyes; her white lips had opened to say, "It is not Claude who killed
+her, but her husband." She tried to utter the words, but her voice was
+mute, and then with outstretched arms she fell face foremost to the
+ground in a dead swoon. Adrian ran to her; he raised her--he looked in
+wondering alarm at the colorless face with its impress of dread and
+fear.
+
+"It has frightened her almost to death," he said. "Did she know this
+Claude Lennox, Lady Vaughan?"
+
+"Yes, very slightly; we met him once or twice at Oakton Park, and he
+called at the Chase. But I did not like him. I kept Hyacinth carefully
+out of his way."
+
+"What can we do for her?" he asked, in a trembling voice.
+
+"Nothing," said Lady Vaughan. "Do not call the servants; they make such
+a fuss about anything of this kind. Let the fresh air blow over her."
+
+They raised her up and laid her upon the couch. Sir Arthur threw open
+the doors into the conservatory, and opened the windows in that room
+also, to admit currents of fresh air. Lady Vaughan withdrew with
+noiseless step to another room for a glass of cool water. Adrian bent
+over the wholly unconscious form of his darling, his face almost as
+white as her own in his anxiety. Suddenly he remembered that he had
+acquired a slight knowledge of surgery in his University life, and
+drawing a lancet from his pocket, he made a slight incision in the
+beautiful snowy arm that lay so limp and lifeless upon his hand.
+
+One or two drops of blood from the cut stained his fingers. Passionately
+he kissed the wound that he had made in his love, but though a slight
+moan escaped her lips, Hyacinth did not yet move nor awaken from her
+swoon. The old people returned, and Lady Vaughan moistened the pallid
+brow and colorless lips. Again that moan came, the girl moved, and
+presently the white lips parted with a sigh, and the eyes opened with a
+look of terror in them which Adrian never forgot.
+
+"I am so frightened!" she said.
+
+"My darling!" cried Adrian, "I am sorry you heard anything about it. Why
+need you be frightened?"
+
+"I am shocked," she said, and the ghastly fear deepened in her eyes.
+
+"Of course you are--one so young, so fair, so gentle. The very word
+'murder' is enough to terrify you."
+
+Then she lay perfectly still--holding her lover's hand in hers, looking
+at him with such wordless sorrow, such unutterable woe in her face. Lady
+Vaughan brought her a glass of wine; she drank it, hardly knowing what
+she did, and then the elder lady, bending over her, kissed her face.
+
+"You must not be so sensitive, my dear," she said. "How will you get
+through life if you feel for everybody's trouble in this fashion? Of
+course we are all deeply grieved for the young man, but he is nothing to
+us."
+
+Her words fell on dulled ears and an unconscious brain; the girl, still
+holding her lover's hand, turned her face to the wall. She had not been
+able to collect her thoughts--they were in a state of chaos. Of all that
+crowded upon her, that seemed to burn into her brain, that crushed and
+crowded like living figures around her, one stood out clear, distinct,
+and terrible--Claude was innocent, and no one in the world knew it but
+herself. Look where she would, these words seemed to be before her, in
+great red letters--"No one but myself!" She turned her white face
+suddenly to Adrian Darcy:
+
+"If they find him guilty," she asked, "what will they do to him?"
+
+"If he is guilty, he will pay for the crime with his life. But now,
+Cynthy, you must not think so intently of this. Try to forget it for a
+little time."
+
+Forget it! Ah, if he knew? When should she forget again?
+
+"He is innocent, and no one in the world knows it but myself, and no one
+else can prove it."
+
+Over and over again she said the words; it seemed to her they had
+bewitched her. As soon as she had finished them, she began the terrible
+phrase over again. Then the darkness seemed to fall over her. When she
+raised her eyes again, Adrian was reading to her. She tried hard to
+grasp the sense of what he was saying. She tried to understand the
+words, but they were like a dull distant sound--not one was plain or
+distinct to her.
+
+"I must be going mad," she thought, starting up in wild affright; and
+then Adrian's arms were encircling her. He could feel the terrible
+beating of her heart; he could see the awful fear in her face.
+
+"My dearest Hyacinth," he said gently, "you must not give way to this
+nervous fear--you will do yourself harm."
+
+He laid the fair young head on his breast; he soothed and caressed her
+as he would have soothed a frightened child; and then Lady Vaughan
+insisted that she was tired and must go to rest. They did not notice
+that as she left the room she took with her the paper Sir Arthur had
+been reading.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+Alone at last; and the ghastly fear, the terrible dread, overwhelmed
+Hyacinth. The paper dropped from her hands, and she fell, with a low,
+shuddering cry, on her knees. The news was too cruel, too dreadful, too
+horrible. She moaned rather than cried--"Oh, merciful Heaven, let me
+die! let me die!"
+
+The fear that was upon her was far more trying than any physical
+anguish. Who could have recognized her crouching there with fever in her
+brain, with anguish in her heart, as the beautiful brilliant girl who
+quitted that same room a few hours since, radiant with love and hope?
+
+Then she took up the paper, and with wild, distended eyes read this
+paragraph:
+
+"SHOCKING MURDER AT LEYBRIDGE.--The whole of this district has been
+thrown into the greatest consternation by the discovery of a terrible
+murder that has been committed in the pleasant meadows near the railway
+station. On Thursday morning as John Dean, a laborer, was going to his
+work, his attention was attracted by something lying under the hedge in
+the field known as Lime Meadow. He found, on inspection, that it was the
+body of a woman who had been most cruelly murdered. He hastened to the
+police station and gave information to Inspector Henderson. The
+inspector went at once to the spot with two of his men. The woman had
+been dead, it was supposed, over two hours; there were signs of a
+violent struggle; and she had evidently tried hard to defend herself. At
+first no clew could be discovered as to her identity or that of her
+murderer; but it was seen that she held a handkerchief tightly clinched
+in her hands. With some difficulty it was taken away, and the name
+'Claude Lennox' was found upon it. Further search brought to light a
+folded paper, on which the address of Mr. Lennox was written in full.
+The woman's clothes were marked, 'Anna Barratt.' She was quite a
+stranger to the neighborhood, and no one remembers to have seen her
+before. The police immediately began to make inquiries, the result of
+which was the apprehension of Claude Lennox on the charge of wilful
+murder. He has been brought before the magistrates at Ashton, and the
+evidence given is very strong against him. Mr. Lennox is the nephew of
+Colonel Lennox, of Ashton Park; and it appears that, much to the
+colonel's anger and annoyance, the young gentleman was absent all
+Wednesday night. A porter at Leybridge Station swears to having seen Mr.
+Lennox in company with some woman--whose features he did not see--quite
+early on Thursday morning. He noticed him particularly, because Mr.
+Lennox seemed anxious that his companion should escape all observation.
+He saw them walking toward the meadow, but not having seen the woman's
+face, could not identify her. Thomas Hannan, a signalman, also swore to
+the same facts. Robert Cliffe, a day-laborer, deposed that, as he was
+going to work early on Thursday morning, he saw the accused walking
+alone and hurriedly toward the park. He thought the gentleman looked
+agitated. The prisoner admitted at once that the handkerchief and folded
+paper containing the address were his, but refused to explain how they
+came into the possession of the deceased. He swore that he was not
+guilty of the murder, and that the woman was a stranger to him. When
+asked to state where he had been during the night, he declined. When
+asked to prove an _alibi_--if he could bring any witnesses to prove
+where he had been--he replied abruptly that it was impossible--he could
+not do it. The magistrates have committed him for trial at the Loadstone
+assizes, and unless he can give some satisfactory information as to
+where he passed the night of Wednesday, the weight of circumstantial
+evidence will tell strongly against him. The refusal of Mr. Lennox to
+make any exculpatory statement has created a great sensation in the
+neighborhood. The assizes commences on the twenty-third of July."
+
+The paper fell from Hyacinth's trembling hands, and a terrible moan came
+from her lips. Clear as the daylight the incidents of that morning rose
+before her in their full horror.
+
+Whatever happened, cost what it would, she must go--she must clear
+Claude. No one in the wide world knew that he was innocent, no one could
+clear him but herself. Dear Heaven, how plainly the whole scene rose
+before her! The dewy meadows lying so still and calm in the half
+light--the woman's pale face and bruised hand! How well she remembered
+wrapping Claude's handkerchief round it. How kind and compassionate
+Claude had been to her!
+
+"He will kill me some day," the woman had said, speaking of her
+husband--Hyacinth could hear the voice even now. That was nearly a month
+ago, and kind, generous, reckless Claude had been lying in prison ever
+since, on a charge of wilful murder. He would not incriminate her; he
+might have rebutted the whole charge by telling the story of that night
+and calling her as a witness, but he would not do so. She had not
+thought there was such generosity, such chivalry in him. It was a noble
+thing of him to refuse to speak, but he must not lose his life for her.
+
+The more she weighed the evidence, the more startled she was to find how
+strongly circumstances were against Claude. She must clear him. If he
+would not speak, she must.
+
+What would it cost her? Ah, Heaven, more than her life--her love! If she
+went into court to tell the truth, she could never hope to see Adrian
+again. He who had valued purity, delicacy, refinement and truth so
+highly--what would he say when he found that she had not only carried on
+a clandestine correspondence, deceived those with whom she lived, and
+stolen out to meet her lover, but had eloped with him--had left home,
+and travelled as far as Leybridge with him, and walked through the
+fields with him, and then, repenting, had gone back? What would he say
+when he knew all? She remembered how sternly he had spoken of Lady
+Wallace--what would he say of her? She was more unfortunate, more
+disgraced. Her name henceforward would be associated with a murder case.
+She, a Vaughan, one of the race, as Lady Vaughan had told her that
+morning, that had never experienced the shadow of disgrace or shame--she
+who had been, as they believed, so carefully kept from the world, so
+shielded from all its snares--she to bow those gray heads with sorrow,
+and slay her love with unmerited shame?
+
+She was as one fastened to a stake; turn which way she would, her
+torture increased. Could she take advantage of Claude's honorable
+silence and saving herself, like a coward, let him die? Ah, no, she
+could not. "Loyal, even unto death," was the motto of her race; she
+could not do that. If she did--though her secret would be safe, her
+miserable weakness never be known--she would hate herself, loathe her
+life, so shamefully laden with secrecy and sin.
+
+The temptation to take advantage of Claude's chivalrous silence lasted
+only a few moments. She would not have purchased life and love at such a
+price. She must save him.
+
+What would it cost her? Her love--ah, yes, her love! She would never see
+Adrian again; he would never speak to one so disgraced. For she did not
+hide from herself the extent of that disgrace; she who had been reared
+as a lily in the seclusion of home would become, for a few days at
+least, the subject of scandal; the name of Hyacinth Vaughan would be
+lightly spoken by light lips; men would sneer at her, women turn away
+when her name was mentioned.
+
+"Oh, how bitterly I am punished!" she cried. "What have I done that I
+must suffer so?"
+
+She knew she must go into court when Claude was tried, and tell her
+shameful story before the hard-headed men of the world. She knew that
+her name and what she had to tell would be commented upon by every
+newspaper in England. After that, there could be no returning home, no
+love, no marriage, no safe rest in a haven of peace. It would be all at
+an end. She might lie down and die afterward; the world would all be
+closed to her.
+
+Only a few hours ago she had lain on that little white bed scarcely able
+to bear the weight of her own happiness. How long was it since Adrian
+had asked her to be his wife? The misery, the pain, the anguish of a
+hundred years seemed to have passed over her head since then.
+
+"Oh, if I had but refused to go when Claude asked me!" she cried in a
+voice of anguish. "If I had only been true to what I knew was right! I
+am bitterly punished."
+
+Not more bitterly than he was. The thought seemed to strike her
+suddenly. He had been in prison for over three weeks; he had been
+charged with the most terrible crime--he whose only fault was that of
+loving her too well. She must save him.
+
+Then with a sudden thrill of fear she remembered how near the assizes
+were--they were to be held on the twenty-third and this was the
+twentieth. She would have only just time to reach Loadstone. She must
+say good-by to those who loved her, and had watched over her; she must
+leave all her love, her hope, her happiness behind, and go forth to save
+him who was willing to give even his life to save her. She must go. She
+must find out how she could reach England. The great brooding anguish of
+despair seemed to have fallen over her; her heart ached until it could
+ache no more; she wept until she seemed to have no more tears; she
+appeared to grow insensible to the pain that was wearing her young life
+away.
+
+"I must go to-morrow night," she said to herself. "I shall see Adrian
+just once again, and then I must bid him farewell forever. Oh, my love,
+my love!"
+
+She flung herself upon the floor, and wept until the morning dawned and
+the summer sun peeped into the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+She was roused from her heavy trance of exhaustion and grief by a knock
+at her door. It was one of the housemaids bearing in her hand a bouquet
+of beautiful flowers--"From Mr. Darcy." The girl looked in wonder at her
+young lady's pale face and heavy eyes.
+
+"You do not seem well this morning, miss," she said.
+
+"I have not slept," returned Hyacinth.
+
+But the few words put her on her guard. She bathed her face, rearranged
+her hair, and changed her dress, though the weight of misery lay like a
+weight of lead upon her. Then Lady Vaughan, thinking that she was tired
+from the emotion and shock of the previous evening, sent word that Miss
+Vaughan had better remain in her own room for a few hours. The hapless
+girl was thankful for the respite.
+
+She looked so terribly ill, so ghastly pale, that, when Pincott brought
+her breakfast, she started in alarm.
+
+"There is nothing the matter," said Hyacinth, "but that I did not sleep
+well." Pincott went away only half satisfied.
+
+Hyacinth managed to obtain a railway guide. A train would leave Bergheim
+at ten that night, and reach Ostend on the following morning before the
+boat started. She would have time to secure a passage and cross. She
+could take the mail train for Dover, and reach Loadstone so as to be in
+time for the trial.
+
+At ten that night she must go. She had run away from home once before.
+Then she had been blinded, tempted and persuaded--then she had believed
+herself going straight into the fairyland of love and happiness; but now
+it was all changed. She was running away once more; but this time she
+was leaving all the hope, all the happiness of her life behind her.
+
+It was well for her that the dull stupor of exhaustion fell over her, or
+the pain she was suffering must have killed her. She did not know how
+the time passed. It was like one long, cruel dream of anguish, until the
+summons came for luncheon. Then she went down stairs. Adrian was not
+there--that was some consolation. She looked quickly around the room.
+
+"How could I look on his face and live, knowing that I shall see it no
+more?" she said to herself.
+
+It was like a horrible travesty--the movements of the servants, the
+changing of the dishes, Lady Vaughan's anxiety about the cold chicken,
+Sir Arthur's complaint about the wine, while her heart was breaking, and
+Claude lay in the prison from which she must free him.
+
+Lady Vaughan was very kind to her. She expressed great concern at seeing
+her look so ill--tried to induce her to eat some grapes--told her that
+Adrian was coming to dinner, and would bring some friends with him; then
+said a few words about Claude, pitied his mother, yet blamed her for not
+bringing him up better, and the ordeal was over.
+
+Hyacinth went away from the dining-room with a faint, low moan.
+
+"How shall I bear it?" she said--"how shall I live through it?"
+
+It was two o'clock then. How were the long hours to be passed? How was
+she to bear the torture of her own thoughts? Whither could she go for
+refuge? Suddenly it occurred to her that she had no money. How was she
+to travel in England without some?
+
+She did not give herself time for thought; if she had, her courage would
+have failed her. She went to Sir Arthur's room and tapped at the door.
+The tremulous, feeble voice bade her enter. Sir Arthur was writing some
+letters. She went up to him.
+
+"Grandpa," she said, "I have no money--and I want some. Will you give me
+a little, please?"
+
+He looked at her in surprise--she had never made such a request to him
+before.
+
+"Money, child," he repeated--"of course you shall have some. You want to
+buy some trinkets--something for Adrian. What shall I give
+you--ten--twenty pounds?"
+
+"Twenty, if you please."
+
+He drew a small cash-box near to him, and counted twenty bright
+sovereigns into her hand.
+
+"Five more, for luck!" he said with a smile. "Always come to me when you
+want money, Hyacinth."
+
+She kissed him--he was so kind, and she had to leave him so soon.
+
+"Good girl," he said. "You will be very happy, Hyacinth. Adrian Darcy is
+the noblest man in the wide world."
+
+She turned aside with a groan. Alas! Adrian Darcy was to be nothing to
+her--in this terrible future that was coming he would have no place.
+Then she went to her own room, and sat there mute and still. Pincott
+came to dress her, and the girl went through her toilet mechanically.
+She never remembered what dress she wore. The maid asked something about
+it, and Hyacinth looked up with a vague, dreamy expression.
+
+"It does not matter--anything will do," she said, almost wondering that
+people could think of such trifles when life and death were in the
+balance.
+
+"There has been a lover's quarrel," thought Pincott, "and my young lady
+does not care how she looks."
+
+When the bell rang Hyacinth went down. How she suffered when she looked
+in her lover's face and listened to his voice, knowing it was for the
+last time! She did not even hear the name of his friends, when they were
+introduced to her. She sat wondering whether any one living had ever
+gone through such torture before--wondering why it did not kill her; and
+then it seemed to her but two or three minutes before dinner was over.
+Mr. and Mrs. Vernon--two of the visitors--suggested that they should go
+out into the grounds; and Adrian, delighted at the chance of a
+_tête-à-tête_ with Hyacinth, gladly consented. In after years she liked
+to recall this last interview.
+
+"Let us walk to the waterfall," said Adrian. "I shall have a photograph
+taken of it, Cynthy, because it reminds me so much of you."
+
+She said to herself he would not when he knew all--that he would hate
+it, and would not think of the place. They sat down in the old favorite
+resort. Suddenly she turned to him, and clasped his hand with one of
+hers.
+
+"Adrian," she asked, "do you love me very much?"
+
+The face bent over her afforded answer sufficient.
+
+"Love you?" he replied. "I do not think, Hyacinth, that I could love you
+more; to me it does not seem possible."
+
+"If you were to lose me, then, it would be a great sorrow?"
+
+"Lose you!" he cried. "Why, Cynthy, I would rather ten thousand times
+over lose my own life."
+
+She liked to remember afterward how he drew her head upon his
+breast--how he caressed her and murmured sweet words of tenderness to
+her--how he told her of his love in such ardent words that the fervor of
+them lasted with her until she died. It was for the last time. A great
+solemn calm of despair fell over her. To-morrow she would be far away;
+his arm would never enfold her, his eyes never linger on her, his lips
+never touch her more. It was for the last time, and she loved him better
+than her life; but for her sin and folly, she would now have been the
+happiest girl in the wide world.
+
+"My darling," he murmured, "as though weak words could tell how dear you
+are to me."
+
+He kissed her trembling lips and then she broke from him with a great
+cry. She could bear no more. She fled through the pine grove, crying to
+herself with bitter tears: "If I could but die! Oh, Heaven, be merciful
+to me, and let me die!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+"Good-night, Hyacinth," Lady Vaughan said, when, half an hour afterward,
+the girl went to her with a white face and cold rigid lips; "good-night.
+I hope to see you something like yourself to-morrow--you do not seem
+well."
+
+And for the last time, Hyacinth Vaughan kissed the fair, stately old
+face. "To-morrow--ah, where would she be to-morrow?"
+
+"You have been very kind to me," she murmured, "and I am not
+ungrateful."
+
+Afterward Lady Vaughan understood why the girl lingered near her, why
+she kissed the withered, wrinkled hands with such passionate tenderness,
+why her lips opened as if she would fain speak, and then closed mutely.
+She thought of Hyacinth's strange manner for several minutes after the
+young girl had quitted the room.
+
+"That terrible news shocked her. She is very sensitive and very
+tender-hearted--the Vaughans are all the same. I am heartily glad she is
+to marry Adrian: he is gentle enough to understand and firm enough to
+manage her. I shall have no more anxiety about the child."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Hyacinth had looked her last on them, and had spoken to them for the
+last time. She stood in her room now waiting until there should be a
+chance of leaving the hotel unnoticed, then it suddenly struck her how
+great would be the consternation on the morrow, when she was missed.
+What would Adrian do or say--he who loved her so dearly? She went to her
+little desk and wrote a note to him. She addressed it and left it on the
+toilet table of her room.
+
+Then she went quietly down-stairs. No one was about. She opened the
+great hall-door and went out. Some few people still lingered in the
+grounds; she was not noticed. She walked down the long carriage-drive,
+and then stood in the street of the little town, alone. She found her
+way to the station. A great, despairing cry was rising from her heart to
+her lips, but she stifled it, a faint strange sensation, as though life
+were leaving her, came over her. She nerved herself.
+
+"I must live until he is free," she said with stern determination--"then
+death will be welcome!"
+
+They were no idle words that she spoke; all that life held brightest,
+dearest, and best, was past for her. Her only hope was that she might
+reach Loadstone in time to save Claude. She knew how soon she would be
+missed, and how easily she might be tracked. Suppose that they sent or
+went to her room and found it empty, and then made inquiries and learned
+that she had taken a ticket for Ostend? They could not overtake the
+train, but they could telegraph to Ostend and stop her. In that case she
+would be too late to save Claude. The station was full of people. She
+saw a lad among them--he seemed to be about fifteen--and she went up to
+him.
+
+"Are you going to Ostend?" she asked.
+
+He doffed his hat and bowed.
+
+"I am going by this train," he replied. "Can I be of any service to the
+_Fraulein_?"
+
+"I am always nervous in a crowd," she said--"will you buy my ticket?"
+
+He took the money. He could not see her face, for it was veiled, but he
+could distinguish its white, rigid mystery, and, full of wonder, he
+complied with her request. In a short time he returned with the ticket.
+
+"Can I do anything else for you, _Fraulein_?" he asked.
+
+"No," she replied, thanking him; and all the way to Ostend, the lad
+mused over the half-hidden beauty of that face, and the dreary tones of
+the sad young voice.
+
+"There is some mystery," he said; and afterward, when he had read the
+papers, he knew what the mystery was.
+
+She was safely seated in the furthest corner of a second-class carriage
+at last, her heart beating so that each throb seemed to send a thrill of
+fiery pain through her. Would she be in time? The train was an express,
+and was considered an unusually fast one, but it seemed slow to her--so
+slow. Her heart beat fast and her pulse throbbed quickly. Her face
+burned as with a flaming fire.
+
+"What shall I do," she thought, with a terrified face, "if I fall ill,
+and cannot save him? Suppose--my brain is on fire now--suppose it
+becomes worse, and when the train stops I have no sense left to speak?
+They will try him--they will sentence him to death before I arrive. He
+will perhaps be dead when I am able to speak. What shall I do?" And the
+dread so overpowered her that she cried aloud in her anguish.
+
+"Are you ill?" asked a fellow-traveller, kindly.
+
+"No, I was dreaming," she replied, hurriedly.
+
+She pressed her hand on her hot brow--she tried to still the quick
+nervous beating of her heart; but all was in vain. The night was hot;
+the atmosphere seemed overcharged with electricity; there was not a
+breath of air stirring; the noisy clang of the wheels seemed to pierce
+her brain; a sound as of rushing torrents filled her ears. She tried to
+calm herself--to steady those quivering nerves--to remember what she
+would have to say in a short time, when she would be standing before a
+tribunal of justice to save Claude's life. She tried and failed in the
+effort; she broke down and laughed a strange, unnatural laugh. The noise
+of the train drowned it, the monotonous clangor of the wheels dulled all
+other sounds. The next minute the overstrained nerves--the over-taxed
+brain--had given away, and she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The train drew near to Ostend, and those who loved her had not
+discovered Hyacinth's flight. Lady Vaughan wondered she did not come
+down as usual to breakfast. Pincott went to see if she was up. She
+tapped at the door; there was no answer, and the maid went to tell her
+lady. "I am almost glad," said Lady Vaughan; "she looked very ill last
+night. She is sleeping; do not awaken her, Pincott."
+
+But when noon came, and Hyacinth had not rung, Pincott went to her room
+again. She opened the door this time and walked in. The room was empty,
+the bed had not been slept in, and there was no trace of Miss Vaughan.
+The woman turned quite white and sunk, half-fainting, on a chair. She
+was frightened. Presently, recovering herself a little, she looked
+round. "How foolish I am!" she thought. "Miss Vaughan must have gone
+down unknown to me and her room has been arranged." Still she trembled
+with a strange presentiment of dread. Suddenly her eyes fell upon the
+note addressed to Mr. Darcy--it was sealed. "There can be no harm in my
+giving him this," she said.
+
+She went down-stairs and made inquiries about Miss Vaughan. No one had
+seen her--she could hear nothing of her. Then Pincott went to her lady.
+It so happened that Mr. Darcy was chatting with her.
+
+"What do you say?" interrupted Lady Vaughan, sharply. "You cannot find
+Miss Vaughan? Pray use your common sense, Pincott; do not say such
+absurd things."
+
+But Adrian had caught sight of the note in the maid's hand. "What is
+this?" he asked.
+
+"I found it in Miss Vaughan's room, sir," said Pincott; "it is addressed
+to you."
+
+He took it from her and opened it. As he read a deadly pallor came over
+his face.
+
+"Great Heaven!" he cried. "What can this mean?"
+
+Lady Vaughan asked what had happened. He passed the note to her and she
+read:
+
+"I have looked at you and have spoken to you for the last time, Adrian.
+I am going away and I shall never see any of you again. You will try to
+comfort Lady Vaughan. Pray Heaven my sin and my disgrace may not kill
+her.
+
+"You will find out from the newspapers what I have gone to do; and oh,
+my lost dear love, when you read this, be merciful to me! I was so
+young, and I longed so for some of the brightness of life. I never loved
+him; and, as you will see, I repented--ah, me, so sorely!--before half
+the journey was accomplished. I have never loved any one but you--and
+that I have lost you is more bitter than death.
+
+"Many people have died from less suffering than that which I am
+undergoing now. Oh, Adrian, I do not think I deserved this terrible
+punishment! I did not mean to do anything wrong. I do not ask you to
+forgive me! I know you never can. You will fling off all thought of me
+as of one unworthy. I told you I was unworthy, but I--oh, Adrian--I
+shall love you till I die! All my thoughts will be of you; and I pray
+to Heaven that I may die when I have achieved what I am going to do.
+Living, you must loathe me; dead, you will pity me.
+
+"Adrian, I have written your name here. I have wept hot, bitter tears
+over it; I have kissed it; and now I must part from you, my heart's own
+love! Farewell for ever and ever!
+
+                                                       "HYACINTH."
+
+"What does it all mean?" he cried, great drops of anguish gathering on
+his brow. "Where is the child? What has she done?"
+
+"I do not know," said Lady Vaughan--"I cannot understand it, Adrian. She
+has done nothing. What can she have done? All her life has been passed
+with me."
+
+"I shall see in the newspapers what she has done, she says. What can she
+mean?"
+
+A sudden light seemed to break in upon him: he turned to Lady Vaughan.
+"Rely upon it," he said, "it is some fancy of hers about that murder. I
+shall not lose a moment. I shall go in search of her."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+
+The court at Loadstone was crowded to excess. Since the town was built
+there had never been so great a sensation. The terrible murder at Oakton
+had been a subject of discussion over all England. The colonel was one
+of the most prominent men in the county; he had always been very proud
+and very exclusive, and the county had grown proud of the old
+aristocrat. It was a terrible blow to him when his nephew was charged
+with wilful murder.
+
+All the _élite_ of the county had crowded to the trial. Loadstone had
+never been so full; the hotels could not hold half the number who
+flocked to hear Claude Lennox tried. There were no more lodgings to be
+had for love or money. It was not only the county people who testified
+their interest. Claude Lennox was well-known, and had been courted,
+popular, and eagerly _fêted_ in London drawing-rooms. Many of his old
+friends, members of his club came to see him tried.
+
+It was an unusual case because of the rank, wealth, and position of the
+accused--Claude Lennox, the idol of London coteries, the Adonis of the
+clubs, the heir of grand, exclusive Colonel Lennox. Then the murder
+seemed so utterly motiveless. The young man swore most solemnly that he
+knew nothing of the deceased--that she was a stranger whom he had
+relieved. The handkerchief found upon her he said was his, and that it
+had been given from motives of charity, to bind her bruised hand. The
+address on the scrap of paper he admitted was in his own writing--he had
+given it to her, hoping that either his mother or his aunt would be able
+to find her work. More than that he refused to say. He refused to
+account for his time--to say where he had been that night--to make any
+attempt to prove an _alibi_. He was asked who was his companion at
+Oakton station, and he refused to answer. His lawyer was in despair. The
+able counsel whom his distracted mother had sent to his assistance
+declared themselves completely nonplussed.
+
+"Tell us how you passed the night," they had said, "so that we may know
+what line of defense to adopt."
+
+"I cannot," he replied. "I swear most solemnly that I know nothing of
+the murder. More than that I cannot say."
+
+"It is probable you may pay for your obstinacy with your life," said
+Sergeant Burton, one of the shrewdest lawyers in England.
+
+"There are things more painful than death," Claude replied, calmly; and
+then the sergeant clapped his hands. "There is a woman in the case," he
+said--"I am sure of it."
+
+Sergeant Burton and Mr. Landon were retained as counsel for Claude; but
+never were counsel more hopeless about their case than they. They could
+call no witnesses in Claude's favor--they did not know whom to call. "He
+will lose his life," said Mr. Landon, with a groan. "What infatuation!
+What folly! It strikes me he could clear himself if he would."
+
+But the twenty-third of July had come round, and as yet Claude had made
+no effort to clear or defend himself. The morning of his trial had
+dawned at last. It was a warm, beautiful summer day, the sun shone
+bright and warm. Loadstone streets were filled, and Loadstone Assize
+Court was crowded. There was quite a solemn hush when "The Crown _vs._
+Lennox" came on. Most of those present knew Claude Lennox--some
+intimately, others by sight. They looked curiously at him, as he stood
+in the dock; the air of aristocratic ease and elegance that had always
+distinguished him was there still, but the handsome face had lost its
+debonair expression; there were deep lines upon it--lines of thought and
+care.
+
+"How do you plead, prisoner at the bar--Guilty, or Not Guilty?"
+
+The silence was profound.
+
+"Not guilty, my lord," replied the clear voice; and in some vague way a
+thrill of conviction shot through each one that the words were true.
+
+Then the business of the trial began. All present noticed the depressed
+air of the prisoner's counsel and the confident look of the counsel for
+the prosecution.
+
+"No rebutting evidence," seemed to be the mysterious whisper circulating
+through the court.
+
+Then the counsel for the prosecution stated his case. It seemed clear
+and conclusive against the accused; yet the dauntless face and upright
+figure were hardly those of a murderer. The prisoner was absent from
+home the whole of the night on which the murder was committed; he was
+seen at Leybridge station with a woman; he was observed to walk with her
+toward the meadow where the body was found; his handkerchief was found
+tightly clinched in her hands, and his London address in her pocket;
+witnesses would swear to having seen him return alone to Oakton Park,
+looking terribly agitated. At the same time, the counsel for the Crown
+admitted that there had been no witnesses to the deed; that no possible
+motive could be ascribed for the murder; that against the moral
+character of Mr. Lennox there was not one word to say; that no weapon
+had been found near the scene of the murder; that on the clothes worn by
+Mr. Lennox at the time there was not the least stain of human blood.
+These were points, the counsel admitted, that were in favor of the
+accused.
+
+At this juncture, just as people were remarking how depressed the
+prisoner's counsel were looking, there was a slight commotion in the
+crowded court. A note, written in pencil, was handed to Sergeant Burton;
+as he read it a sudden light came over his face, and he hastily quitted
+his seat, first handing the note to the junior counsel, who read:
+
+"I have evidence to give that will save Mr. Lennox's life. Can you spare
+a few minutes to hear what I have to say?
+
+                                               "HYACINTH VAUGHAN."
+
+Sergeant Burton was absent for a little while; but he returned in time
+to hear the concluding part of the opposing counsel's speech. It told
+hard against the accused, but the learned sergeant only smiled as he
+listened. He seemed to have grown wonderfully composed. Then the
+witnesses for the prosecution were called, and gave their evidence
+clearly enough. Some in court who had felt sure of Claude's innocence
+began to waver now. Who was with him at Leybridge? That was the point.
+There was no cross-examination of the witnesses.
+
+"I have no questions to ask," said the counsel. "My client admits the
+perfect truth of all the evidence."
+
+"This is my case, gentlemen of the jury," concluded the counsel for the
+prosecution, as he sat down.
+
+"And it is a strong one, too," thought most of the people present. "How
+can all these facts be explained away?"
+
+Then Sergeant Burton rose.
+
+"Gentlemen of the jury," he said, "this is the most painful case I have
+ever conducted; a more grievous mistake than this accusation of murder
+against an innocent gentleman has never been made. I will prove to you
+not only that he is quite innocent of the crime, but that, in his
+chivalrous generosity, he would rather have forfeited his life than
+utter one word in his own defense which would shadow, even in the
+slightest, a woman's honor. I will prove to you that, although the
+accused was at Leybridge with a lady, and not only spoke to, but
+relieved the deceased, yet that he is entirely innocent of the crime
+laid to his charge."
+
+The silence that followed was profound. For the first time Claude's face
+grew anxious and he looked hurriedly around.
+
+"The first witness I shall call," said the learned counsel, "is one who
+will tell you where Mr. Lennox spent his time on the night of the
+murder; will tell you how he relieved the poor woman; will, in short,
+give such evidence as shall entirely free him of the most foul charge.
+Call Miss Hyacinth Vaughan."
+
+At the mention of the name the prisoner started and his face flushed
+crimson.
+
+"Why did she come?" some one near heard him murmur. "I would have died
+for her."
+
+Then, amid profound and breathless silence, there entered the
+witness-box a graceful girlish figure, on which all eyes were
+immediately bent. She raised her veil, and a thrill of admiration went
+through that thronged assembly as the beautiful, colorless face, so
+lovely, so pure, so full of earnest purpose, was turned to the judge.
+She did not seem to notice the hundreds of admiring, wondering eyes--it
+was as though she stood before the judge alone.
+
+"Do not speak, Hyacinth," said the prisoner, vehemently; and in a low
+voice he added: "I can bear it all--do not speak."
+
+"Silence!" spoke the judge, sternly. "This is a court of justice; we
+must have no suppression of the truth."
+
+"Your name is Hyacinth Vaughan?" was the first question asked.
+
+"My name is Hyacinth Vaughan," was the reply; and the voice that spoke
+was so sweet, so sad, so musical, that people bent forward to listen
+more eagerly. Sergeant Burton looked at the beautiful, pallid, high-bred
+face.
+
+"You were in the company of the accused on the night of Wednesday, the
+12th of June?"
+
+"Yes," she said.
+
+"Will you state what happened?" asked the sergeant, blandly.
+
+Hyacinth looked at the judge: her lips opened, and then closed, as
+though she would fain speak, but could not. It was an interval of
+intense excitement in court.
+
+"Will you tell us why you were in his company, Miss Vaughan, and whither
+you went?" said the sergeant.
+
+"My lord," she said--for it was at the judge she looked always--of the
+presence of the jury she seemed totally ignorant--"I will tell you all
+about it. I went away with Mr. Lennox--to go to London--to be married
+there."
+
+"Unknown to your friends?" asked the judge.
+
+"Unknown to anyone."
+
+Here Hyacinth paused, and the lips that had been speaking turned deathly
+white.
+
+"Tell us about it in your own way, Miss Vaughan," said the judge--the
+sight of that tortured young face moved him to deepest pity--"do not be
+afraid."
+
+Then the fear seemed to die away from her: in all that vast assembly she
+saw no face but that of the judge looking steadily and intently at her
+own.
+
+"My lord," she said, "I was very dull at home; everyone was kind to me,
+but there was no one there of my own age, and I was very dull. I made
+Mr. Lennox's acquaintance, and liked him very much--I thought I loved
+him--and when he asked me to run away from home and marry him I was
+quite willing."
+
+"But what need was there to run away?" asked the judge, kindly. He knew
+the question pained her, for her lips quivered and her whole face
+changed.
+
+"In our folly there were reasons that seemed to us to make it
+imperative," she replied. "My friends had other views for me, and I was
+to start for the Continent on Friday, the fourteenth of June. It seemed
+certain to us that unless we were married at once we should never be
+married at all."
+
+"I understand," put in the judge, kindly; "go on with your story."
+
+"I did not think much about it, my lord," continued Hyacinth,--"that is,
+about the right and the wrong of it--I thought only of the romance; and
+we agreed to go up to London by the train that passed Oakton soon after
+midnight. I left my home and met Mr. Lennox at the end of my
+grandparents' grounds; we went to the station together. I kept out of
+sight while he took tickets for both of us at the booking-office."
+
+"The clerk at Oakton station will prove that the accused purchased two
+tickets," interrupted Sergeant Burton. The judge nodded, and the young
+girl continued:
+
+"We got into the train and went as far as Leybridge. There the train
+stopped. Mr. Lennox told me that the mail train we were to meet had been
+delayed by an accident, and that we should have to wait some hours at
+the station. The morning was breaking then, and we were alarmed lest
+someone should come to the station who might recognize me. Mr. Lennox
+suggested that, as the morning was bright and pleasant, we should go
+through the fields, and I gladly consented."
+
+All this time the clear, sweet young voice sounded like music in the
+warmth and silence of the summer air.
+
+"We reached the field called Lime Meadow, and stood there, leaning over
+the stile, when I thought I saw something under a hedge. We went to see.
+It was a woman who had been sleeping there. My lord, she looked very
+faint, very wild and weak. We spoke to her. She told us that her name
+was Anna Barratt, and that she was married, but that she was very
+unhappy. She was going with her husband to Liverpool. She told us her
+story, my lord, and it frightened me. She told us that she had once been
+a bright happy girl at home, and that against her mother's advice she
+had eloped with the man who had sought her hand, and married him. Her
+words struck me like a sharp blow. She said it was better to break one's
+heart at home than to run away from it. Mr. Lennox was very sorry for
+her; and, when I saw her poor bruised hand lying on the grass, I bound
+it up. My lord, I asked Mr. Lennox for his handkerchief, and I wrapped
+it around her hand."
+
+There was such a murmur of excitement in the court that the speaker was
+obliged to pause.
+
+"Go on, Miss Vaughan," said the judge. Still looking at him, and him
+only, she continued:
+
+"Mr. Lennox gave her some money. She told us that her husband beat her;
+that he had bruised her hand, and that she was quite sure he would come
+back to murder her. Then Mr. Lennox told her, that if she feared that,
+to get up and come away; he gave her two sovereigns and told her to go
+to London. He wrote down his address on a piece of folded paper, and
+told her if she would either come or write to that address, his mother
+would befriend her. She asked Heaven to bless us, my lord, and turned
+away her head, as though she were tired. We walked on, and did not see
+her again."
+
+And again Hyacinth paused, while those in court seemed to hang upon the
+words that came from her lips.
+
+"Then, my lord," she continued, "I began to think of what she had
+said--that it was better to break one's heart at home than to run away
+from it. All at once the folly and wickedness of what I was about to do
+appeared to me. I began to cry, and begged of Mr. Lennox to take me
+home."
+
+"A very common termination to an elopement," observed the judge.
+
+"Mr. Lennox was very kind to me," continued the earnest voice. "When he
+saw that I really wanted to go home, he took me back to Oakton, and left
+me in the grounds where we had met so short a time before. My lord, I
+swear to you most solemnly that this is the whole truth."
+
+"Will you explain to us," inquired the prosecution, "why, knowing all
+this, you have allowed matters to proceed so far against the accused?
+Why did you not come forward earlier, and reveal the truth?"
+
+"My lord," she said, still looking at the quiet face of the judge, "I
+knew nothing of the case until twenty-four hours ago. I started with my
+grandparents on the Friday morning for the Continent, and have been
+living at Bergheim since. I knew of the trial only the night before
+last, and I came hither at once."
+
+"You came alone; and immediately?"
+
+"Yes," she replied. "I have lost everything by so coming. I can never go
+back among my kindred again. I shall never be forgiven."
+
+There was a brief pause. The foreman of the jury gave a written paper to
+the usher to be handed to the judge--a paper which intimated that the
+jury did not think it necessary to go on with the case, feeling
+convinced, from the evidence of Miss Vaughan, that Mr. Lennox was
+perfectly innocent of the crime imputed to his charge. The judge read
+the paper carefully, and then, looking at the witness, said:
+
+"Miss Vaughan, you committed a great error--an error perhaps in some
+degree excusable from your youth. But you have atoned for it more nobly
+than error was ever atoned for before. At the risk of losing all most
+dear to you, and of exposing yourself to the comments of the world, you
+have come forward to save Mr. Lennox. I, for one, must express my
+admiration of your conduct. Your evidence has acquitted the
+prisoner--the jury have intimated that there is no need to proceed with
+the case."
+
+Then arose cheers that could not be silenced. In vain the judge held up
+his hand in warning and the usher cried "Silence!"
+
+"Heaven bless her," cried the women, with weeping eyes.
+
+"She is a heroine!" the men said, with flushed faces.
+
+There was a general commotion; and when it had subsided she had
+disappeared. Those who had watched her to the last said that when the
+judge, in his stately manner, praised her, her face flushed and her lips
+quivered; then it grew deathly pale again, and she glided away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+
+The famous trial was over; the "sensation" was at an end. The accused
+Claude Lennox stood once more free among his fellow-men. Loud cheers
+greeted him, loud acclamations followed him. He was the popular idol.
+His friends surrounded him. "Bravo, Claude, old friend! I thought it
+would come right. We knew you were innocent. But what a terrible thing
+circumstantial evidence is!" Claude stood in the midst of a large circle
+of well-wishers. Colonel Lennox, whose anger had all vanished when he
+found his nephew in real danger, stood by his side. He seemed to have
+grown older and grayer.
+
+"It was a narrow escape for you, Claude," he said, and his voice
+trembled and his limbs shook.
+
+"My thanks are due to Heaven," said the young man, reverently. "Humanly
+speaking, I owe my life to that brave girl who has risked everything to
+save me. Oh, uncle, where is she? We are talking idly here when I owe my
+life to her; and I know all she has suffered and lost to save me."
+
+They went back hurriedly to the court, but there was no trace of
+Hyacinth. People stood in little groups in the street, and of every
+group she was the subject of conversation.
+
+"I shall never forget her," said one woman, "if I live to be a hundred
+years old. They may talk of heroines if they like, but I never heard of
+one braver than she has been."
+
+"Did you hear that, uncle?" cried Claude. "How they admire her! She is
+noble, good, and true. I know what it has cost her to come forward; I
+know what a home she has had--her people all so rigid, so cold, so
+formal. How am I to thank her?"
+
+"Marry her at once, Claude," said Colonel Lennox.
+
+"She would not have me. You do not know her, uncle; she is truth itself.
+How many girls do you think would have had the resolution to turn back
+on such a journey as she had begun? She does not love me, I am sure; but
+after what has happened to-day, I would die for her. Where is she? My
+mother must take her home at once."
+
+They made inquiries, but there was no trace of her. In the general
+confusion that ensued, amid the crowding of friends to congratulate
+Claude, and the hurrying of witnesses, no one had noticed her. She had
+been the centre of observation for a brief interval, and then she had
+disappeared, and no one had noticed which way she went. Colonel Lennox
+and Claude were both deeply grieved; they sought Hyacinth everywhere,
+they sent messengers all over the town, but no trace of her could be
+found. Claude was almost desperate; he had made every arrangement--his
+mother was to take her back to Belgrave Square, and he himself was to go
+at once to Bergheim to win Hyacinth's pardon from her relatives there.
+
+"There is nothing," he said to himself, over and over again, "that I
+would not do for her."
+
+He was bitterly disappointed; he would not leave Loadstone until every
+instruction had been given for communication with him or with Colonel
+Lennox, if any news should be heard of her. When this was done, he
+complied with his mother's anxious entreaty and returned with her to
+London.
+
+"It has been a narrow escape," she said, with a shudder, "and a terrible
+disgrace. I cannot bear to think of it. You, with your unblemished name,
+your high position and prospects in life, to be accused of wilful
+murder! I do not believe you will ever live it down, Claude!"
+
+"Yes, he will," cried the colonel, heartily; "whoever remembers his
+disgrace, as you term it, will remember also that he was saved by the
+truth and bravery of the finest and noblest girl in England."
+
+"I will redeem my character, mother," said Claude, earnestly; "this has
+made a true man of me. I was not very earnest before, but I have paid a
+terrible price for my boyish escapade. The future with me shall atone
+for the past."
+
+"The boy is right enough," cried the colonel; "what he says is perfectly
+true. He wanted more of earnest purpose, and the ordeal that he has just
+undergone will give it to him. He shall not suffer for the mistake. I
+will say now what I have never said before--Claude shall be my heir;
+and," added the colonel, with unconscious egotism, "the world will
+easily pardon the youthful escapades of the master of Oakton Park."
+
+So Claude's mother did not return quite broken-hearted to London. The
+trial had been a nine days' wonder--a great sensation; but people seemed
+more inclined to blame the stupidity of Hyacinth's relatives than the
+young man, whose fault had been simply that of loving a lovely girl too
+well. Mrs. Lennox watched anxiously to see if her son had lost caste;
+but she could not perceive that he had. He was heir of the rich old
+Indian colonel--heir of Oakton Park. The Duchess of Grandecourt invited
+him to Rummere Park, and Lady Ansley gave him pretty clearly to
+understand that her daughter knew how to appreciate him.
+
+"No great harm has been done," sighed the anxious mother, "and I may
+thank that brave young girl for matters being no worse."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the third day after the assizes had begun a gentleman--a
+stranger--drove up hurriedly to the Loadstone court-house. His handsome
+face was white and haggard, his eyes were dim with fear. He looked as
+though he had been travelling night and day, and had known neither sleep
+nor rest. He sprung impatiently from the carriage and hurried up the
+steps of the court-house. He saw one of the officers standing inside,
+and he went up to him eagerly.
+
+"Has the trial for murder commenced?" he asked.
+
+"It is over, sir. It was finished the day that it was begun."
+
+"Tell me all about it, please. Make haste--my time is precious. Was
+there a young lady--did a young lady come to give evidence?"
+
+"Yes; and her evidence saved the prisoner's life, sir. I will tell you
+as briefly as I can."
+
+He repeated what had taken place, and as he spoke, an expression of pity
+came over the handsome face of the listener.
+
+"Poor child," he murmured to himself--"my brave, noble love! What was
+the young lady's name?" he asked, aloud.
+
+"Vaughan, sir--I remember it well--Hyacinth Vaughan."
+
+"Thank you," said the gentleman, remunerating his informant. "And now
+can you tell me where she is? Where did she go after the trial?"
+
+"There are many who would like to know that, sir. Colonel Lennox has
+offered a hundred pounds to anyone who will bring him news of her. I
+should say every inch of ground in Loadstone had been searched over and
+over again."
+
+Adrian Darcy--for it was he--looked at the man in bewildered surprise.
+
+"You don't mean to tell me that she is lost?" he cried.
+
+"She is indeed, sir. There have been advertisements, and rewards have
+been offered; but all has been in vain. The gentleman whose life she
+saved--Mr. Lennox--is almost wild about her disappearance. But, if you
+are interested in the case, read the report in the _Loadstone Journal_.
+It is a splendid one."
+
+"Lost one!" repeated Adrian. "It is impossible! Oh, my darling, my
+child-like, innocent love, what terrible fate has befallen you?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+
+The search that Adrian Darcy made proved as unsatisfactory as that which
+had been conducted by Colonel Lennox. Do what he would, Adrian could
+find no trace of Hyacinth. He was not long in procuring a copy of the
+_Loadstone Journal_, and there, in simple, truthful words, he read her
+story. His first feeling was one of intense indignation against Claude
+Lennox.
+
+"She is so young," he said to himself--"so young and so easily led. Her
+very simplicity ought to have been her shield. How could he betray the
+trust she placed in him?"
+
+Then he saw what was said of Claude. He was young, handsome, gifted,
+eagerly sought after, greatly admired. It was not to be wondered at that
+a girl who had led the retired, dull, monotonous life of Hyacinth
+Vaughan should have been dazzled by him and have placed implicit faith
+in him. But, after all, she did not love him. If she had she would not
+have repented of her elopement before it was concluded--she would not
+have returned home. It had been but a temporary charm after all. She
+had, doubtless, been captivated by his handsome face. Youth invariably
+loves youth. It must have been a novelty to her, living as she did in
+the midst of old people, who, though kind, were cold and formal, to meet
+someone lively, gay, and fascinating. It was not wonderful that she
+should let her calmer, better judgment sleep, and act under his
+influence.
+
+It was such a simple story, and she had told it so clearly, with such
+humble acknowledgment of her own fault in every word--with such an
+entire conviction that in coming forward to save Claude Lennox she had
+lost every hope in life--that his heart ached as he read. He could
+picture that fair sweet face, with its sorrowful eyes and quivering
+lips, the centre of all observation in that crowded court. He could
+almost feel the shock and the horror that had mastered her when she
+found that she must appear in public and tell the story that she had
+never dared to tell even him.
+
+"My poor Hyacinth!" he said. "Oh, if she had but trusted me--if she had
+but trusted me--if she had but told me herself of this error, and not
+left me to hear it from others! I can forgive that half-elopement; it
+was but the shadow of a sin, after all, repented of before it was half
+committed, and atoned for by bitter suffering. But I find it hard to
+forgive her for not having trusted me." Then, again he remembered how
+young, how shy, how timid she was. "I must not be hard on her, even in
+my thoughts," he said; "perhaps she intended to tell me when she was
+more at her ease with me."
+
+Then, as the simple story of her heroism told upon him, he ceased to
+think of her fault, and was lost in admiration of her courage.
+
+"How many there are," he thought, "who would have let the prisoner take
+his chance, and would have thought more of saving their reputation than
+of preserving his life! How simple and brave, how true and loyal she is!
+Oh, Cynthy, my lost love, if you had but trusted me!"
+
+He took up the _Times_, and there he found the story told again. All
+notice of her fault was quite hidden by the admiration expressed for her
+courage, her unselfish heroism, her undaunted bravery. "If I could but
+find her," he said--"find her and tell her the world admires instead of
+condemning her!"
+
+He understood better than anyone her sensitive disposition; he knew that
+she would deem herself all unworthy--that she would look upon herself as
+lost to home, to friends, to hope, to happiness, to love; he knew how
+her tender conscience magnified even trifling faults, and his heart grew
+heavy for her. Where was she? What was she doing? What would become of
+her? He redoubled his efforts, but they were all in vain. After days and
+weeks fruitlessly spent, he returned to Bergheim, having no good news to
+tell. By the stately baronet and his wife Adrian's story was heard
+without one comment. Lady Vaughan's fair old face grew cold and sad.
+
+"Did she--the child I trusted--deceive me so far as to leave my roof
+with a stranger? Tell me no more, Adrian; my heart is heavy and sore.
+This is the first taint that has ever fallen on the Vaughans."
+
+"You must not call it a taint," cried Adrian. "Do not forget how young
+she was, how full of poetry and romance, how easily persuaded--a girl
+like Hyacinth would be but as a reed in the hands of Claude Lennox."
+
+"The Vaughans are never weak, Adrian; they have ever been a brave and
+noble race."
+
+"Not one of them has been braver or more noble than Hyacinth," cried
+Adrian, hotly. "I do not say that she is without fault, or that she is
+not to blame; but I do say the atonement made far exceeds the fault;
+think of the courage required of a young girl like her to stand up in a
+public court and tell the story of an error like hers, even though it
+was so quickly repented of."
+
+"Think of the shame," said Lady Vaughan, with a shudder. But Adrian
+would not have it so. He told Lady Vaughan what the newspapers said of
+her granddaughter.
+
+"To me," remarked the lady, "it is almost immaterial whether the papers
+praise her or blame her; the disgrace lies in such a name as hers being
+in the newspapers at all."
+
+But Sir Arthur was not quite so hard.
+
+"She must have been very dull at Queen's Chase," he said. "I have often
+thought so. There was not a young face about the place but hers. That
+young Lennox is very handsome--just the man to take a girl's fancy."
+
+"You have used the right word, Sir Arthur," observed Adrian. "He did
+stir her fancy, but not her heart; he stirred her imagination. I have no
+doubt that in his eloquent way he made her believe that in leaving home
+she was doing something grand and heroic. See how quickly her better
+judgment came to her aid, and how quickly she repented of her error."
+
+"It is very noble of you to defend her," said Lady Vaughan, "but--but I
+cannot hold with you. She was the dearly loved child of my old age--all
+my hopes rested on her. I thought I had preserved her like a lily in the
+shade, and the result of all my care was an elopement and a public
+appearance in a court of justice. Oh, Adrian, say no more to me--say no
+more!"
+
+He found it was useless to defend Hyacinth; the proud and stately old
+lady could not brook the idea.
+
+"No lady--mind, I mean no true lady--ever makes a public sensation. The
+child has ruined, blighted her whole life, and no one can help her."
+
+But even Lady Vaughan, after her first resentment had died away, began
+to share Adrian's uneasiness. "It would have been better," she said, "if
+the child had returned to us and lived it down!"
+
+It dawned upon her at last, as it did upon all of them, that Hyacinth
+believed herself cut off from them forever. "It shows at least," said
+Lady Vaughan, "how keenly she felt the enormity of the wrong done."
+
+As the long months passed on and no news came of Hyacinth, the hot,
+proud anger died from Lady Vaughan, the fair old face grew wistful and
+sad; her grandchild's offence grew less in her eyes, and the great
+atonement made grew greater; and then other events happened: Lord
+Chandon died, and then Adrian was obliged to return to England. Sir
+Arthur absolutely refused to remain at Bergheim without him.
+
+"We must go home some time, my lady," he said; "why not now? After all,
+I think you exaggerate what you call the disgrace: let us go! People, I
+am sure, will not distress us by even mentioning the matter."
+
+And Sir Arthur was right: whatever opinions might have been expressed
+among the inhabitants at Oakton, they had, one and all, too much respect
+for the stately mistress of Queen's Chase to speak their minds before
+her. It was understood that Miss Vaughan preferred remaining abroad, so
+there was nothing more to be said. No one knew how sorely the sweet face
+was missed from the old mansion, or what long hours Lady Vaughan spent
+in wondering what had become of Hyacinth. Sir Arthur and his wife
+settled down to the old life again, but they found out then how much
+brightness had vanished with the fair face they missed so sorely.
+
+The new Lord Chandon took possession of his estate; there was no
+difficulty about it; he was the direct heir, and the old lord had always
+spoken of him as his successor. He took possession of Chandon Court,
+with its magnificent rent-roll, and its thousand treasures of art; but
+despite his wealth, his position, and his grandeur, Lord Adrian was the
+most unhappy of men. He would have given all he had, and all he ever
+hoped to enjoy, to find Hyacinth Vaughan; he would have poured out his
+wealth like water, so that he might find her. But long months had passed
+now since the day on which she disappeared, and no news had been heard
+of her yet.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+
+As Hyacinth Vaughan left the Loadstone Assize Court she drew her veil
+tightly over her face, and, looking neither to the right nor left, made
+her way through the dense crowd of people. No one noticed her; they were
+all too busily engaged in discussing the events of the trial. She had
+not the least idea whither she was going, or what she was about to do;
+all she remembered was that she had broken every tie that bound her to
+her past life, that it was all dead to her, and that she had saved
+Claude. How vividly, as she walked through the long street, there came
+back to her a remembrance of one day when she had driven over with Sir
+Arthur and Lady Vaughan to Loadstone. What a deep gulf lay between that
+time and this! Then people had bowed to her as though she had been some
+great lady, and honor and respect had been shown to her. Now, homeless,
+friendless, she was a fugitive in that same town, and knew not where to
+lay her head.
+
+She walked until her limbs ached, and then she stopped suddenly, for the
+first time asking herself where she was going--what she was to do. "For
+I am dead," she said to herself, with a low moan, "to all who know
+me--dead to my beautiful past. There is no Hyacinth Vaughan. And what is
+to become of the wretched girl who once bore the name? I do not know."
+
+She must go somewhere--she could not pace the long street and the silent
+road all night; she must rest or she should fall, a helpless inert mass,
+on the ground. Suddenly she came to the railway station; a porter was
+shouting--"Train for London! Passengers for London, take your seats!"
+
+She could not account for the impulse which led her to purchase a ticket
+and take her place in a second-class carriage for London. She had no
+idea what she should do when she reached her destination.
+
+It was a rest to sit alone in the carriage--a luxury to close the tired
+eyes, and say to herself that she had no more to do, for Claude was
+saved; yet, when her eyes were closed, so many strange scenes flashed
+before them, that she opened them with a terrified cry. It seemed to her
+that she was too tired even to rest, and that the aching pains in her
+limbs grew worse, her eyes burned, and her head throbbed with pain.
+
+Yet through it all--through fatigue and pain--there was the great relief
+that Claude was saved. Of Adrian she dared not think. She knew that this
+"fiery sorrow" was waiting for her when she should regain strength and
+calmness, when she could look it in the face; as it was, she shrunk,
+sick and shuddering, from it. She put it from her. She would have none
+of it. If she had then remembered all about Adrian Darcy, she would have
+gone mad and nothing would have saved her.
+
+The train sped on. When she dared not keep her eyes closed any longer,
+she watched the fields and trees as the train whirled by. It was strange
+how mingled were her thoughts; at one time she was at Queen's Chase,
+sitting with Lady Vaughan in the silent rooms; at another she was with
+Claude in the faint rosy morning dawn, and the murdered woman was lying
+under the hedge; then she was with Adrian by the waterfall, and he was
+telling her, that he should love her for evermore; then she stood beside
+a green grave in a country churchyard, over which the foliage of a large
+tree drooped--beneath was a stone with the inscription, "Hyacinth
+Vaughan--aged eighteen."
+
+From all these mingled dreams and visions she woke with a terrible
+scream.
+
+"If I cannot sleep," she thought to herself, "I shall go mad."
+
+Then everything went black before her eyes, her head fell back, and she
+knew no more until loud, strange voices shouted "Euston Square."
+
+She was in the great Babylon at last. So young, so lovely, so simple in
+her child-like innocence; alone, unprotected, unknown in the streets of
+that great city: having neither home nor friends--having neither brain
+nor mind clear--what was to save her? She left the carriage and sat for
+some time on one of the seats on the platform; the same heaviness, the
+same strange mixture of past and present confused her.
+
+"I must sleep," she said to herself--"I must sleep or I shall go mad."
+She rose and walked out of the station. What a labyrinth of streets,
+squares, and houses! Where could she find rest? Suddenly across the
+bewildered mind came one clear thought.
+
+"I have money, and I must take lodgings--I can pay for them; and, in a
+room of my own, I can sleep until my brain is clear."
+
+She walked slowly down one street, and up another, but saw no
+announcement of "Lodgings to Let." Then she fancied all the houses were
+reeling, and the sky closing in upon her. The next moment they were
+steady again, and she was standing, looking wildly around. Again she
+walked on a little farther, and then became sick, faint and giddy.
+
+"This is something more than the want of sleep," she said to herself. "I
+am ill. I cannot walk--I cannot stand. Everything is reeling around
+me."
+
+Suddenly her eyes fell on a brass plate on the door of a house quite
+near--"Dr. Chalmers."
+
+"I will consult him," she thought. "Perhaps he can prescribe something
+that will take this dreadful feeling away."
+
+She went up the little flight of steps and knocked. Then it seemed as
+though the door were falling on her, and she seized one of the iron
+railings to save herself from falling. A neat maid-servant opened the
+door.
+
+"Is Dr. Chalmers at home?" asked Hyacinth; and the sound of her voice
+struck her as being so strange that she hardly knew it.
+
+"Yes, miss," was the smiling reply.
+
+"I wish to see him," said Hyacinth.
+
+"What name shall I give?" asked the maid.
+
+"None--I am quite a stranger."
+
+She was shown into the surgery, and sat down on a large low lounge. A
+strange drowsy calm came over her. She pulled off her hat and veil, and
+laid back her tired head on the cushion.
+
+Some few minutes elapsed before Dr. Chalmers entered the surgery; and
+when he did so, he started back in wonder that was half alarm. There on
+the lounge sat a girl, quite young, and lovely as a vision. The whole
+face, so white and rigid, was peacefully beautiful--he had never seen
+anything like it before. A profusion of golden hair had fallen over the
+cushions, and two little white hands were clasped convulsively together.
+Dr. Chalmers went a few steps nearer, and then his professional instinct
+told him that this was no sleep. The girl seemed perfectly unconscious.
+
+He spoke to her, and she seemed to arouse partially, and sat up, gazing
+before her in a dazed, vacant way. Her little hands fell helplessly upon
+her lap, and she seemed wholly unconscious of the presence of another in
+the room. The good doctor looked at her in anxious alarm. He spoke to
+her once, twice, thrice. She did not hear him. The doctor was wondering
+what he should do, when she started up with a loud cry.
+
+"He is innocent--he is quite innocent. Oh, shall I be in time to save
+him?"
+
+She sprung toward the door, but never reached it, for, with a low
+moaning cry, she fell senseless on the floor. He raised her and laid her
+on the couch, and then opened the door hastily and went to the foot of
+the stairs.
+
+"Mother," he called, "will you come down? I want you at once!"
+
+A kindly-looking lady with a pleasant, comely face entered the room.
+
+"Look here," said Dr. Robert Chalmers, pointing to the white figure.
+"What are we to do, mother?"
+
+Mrs. Chalmers went up to Hyacinth; with a soft womanly touch she put
+back the rich, clustering hair, with keen womanly eyes she noted the
+loveliness of the white face.
+
+"Has she fainted? Who is she?" she asked of her son.
+
+"I do not know--I had no time to speak to her. She is some lady who has
+called for medical advice, no doubt. It seems to me more like a case of
+incipient brain fever than of mere fainting; by the strange way in which
+she cried out I should imagine her to be quite delirious."
+
+Then they both stood for some minutes gazing in silence on that
+exquisite face.
+
+"She does not look more than eighteen," said the doctor--"she is very
+young. What shall we do with her, mother?"
+
+The lady laid her hand on her son's arm.
+
+"We must do as the good Samaritan did when he found his fellow-man
+wounded and helpless by the wayside," was the gentle reply.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+
+It was in September that the poor distraught girl went in the madness of
+her grief and pain to the doctor's house, and if she had been a child of
+the house, she could not have been more kindly treated. It was October
+when she opened her eyes with a faint gleam of reason in their troubled
+depths. She looked around in wonder; she had not the least idea where
+she was. The room she was in was exquisitely neat and clean, there were
+some fine engravings on the walls, the furniture was of quaint design,
+and there were a few vases and ornaments; yet it was neither the almost
+royal grandeur of Queen's Chase nor the simple luxury of the hotel at
+Bergheim. Where was she? Why was she lying in this strange place with
+this feeling of weakness and weariness upon her?
+
+Presently a kind, motherly, comely face bent over her, and a quiet,
+soothing voice said: "I am so glad to find you a little better, my
+dear."
+
+"Have I been very ill?" she asked; and the sound of her voice was so
+faint, so unlike her own that it seemed as though it came from a great
+distance.
+
+"Yes, you have been very ill, dear child."
+
+"Where am I?" she asked; and the kind face smiled again.
+
+"I will tell you all about it when you are a little better. You are
+quite safe and with good friends. Try to drink this and go to sleep
+again."
+
+Hyacinth drank something that was warm and nice, and then looked up in
+the kindly face.
+
+"Do you know," she said, "it is very strange, but I have really
+forgotten my own name!" She laughed a little hysterical laugh, and Mrs.
+Chalmers looked anxious.
+
+"I must forbid you to speak again," she said; "my son is the doctor,
+and, if you disobey me, I shall summon him."
+
+Hyacinth closed her eyes; a quiet sense of rest fell over her, and she
+was asleep again.
+
+"Poor child," said Mrs. Chalmers, looking at her. "Who is she? I wonder
+what is her name?"
+
+She slept so long that the kind-hearted woman began to feel uneasy. She
+went down and told her son.
+
+"Sleeping, is she? Then do not wake her; sleep is the best medicine for
+her. Mind she has plenty of port wine and beef-tea."
+
+"She says she has forgotten her own name," said Mrs. Chalmers,
+anxiously.
+
+"She will be all right by and by, mother. I only hope the return of
+memory will not bring her pain."
+
+The next time Hyacinth opened her eyes, she saw a keen, kind, shrewd
+face looking at her own, and a pair of dark eyes that smiled as she
+smiled.
+
+"You are getting better," said Dr. Chalmers.
+
+She raised her hand to her head, and then a slight look of alarm crossed
+her face. "Where is my hair?" she asked, wonderingly.
+
+"We sacrificed your hair to save your brain," he replied; "it was all
+cut off."
+
+Then he heard her give a profound sigh, and he guessed that memory was
+returning. He took one of the thin worn hands in his.
+
+"I do not want you to think of painful things just now," he said. "Will
+you bear in mind that nothing but absolute rest will restore you to
+health, and compose yourself accordingly?"
+
+Hyacinth did as she was advised: she discarded all painful thoughts from
+her mind, and consequently slept as she had not slept for many long
+weeks. She awoke one morning calm and composed, with reason and memory
+fully restored. She knew that she was Hyacinth Vaughan. Slowly and by
+degrees the terrible past returned to her.
+
+"I was in time, thank Heaven!" she said. "I was in time!" She remembered
+the crowded court--the hundreds of eyes that had been turned upon
+her--the thunder of applause that none of the officers could
+repress--the ringing cheers that followed Claude's release. But after
+that all was a blank. She remembered nothing that had passed since she
+stood in the assize court, blind and dizzy, until she opened her eyes in
+that pretty room.
+
+White, fragile, worn almost to a shadow, helpless as a child, she lay
+there now with reason in full sway. Dead to her old life, to her
+friends, her hopes, her plans--dead to her lover and her love--she was
+painfully beginning a new life, in which none of these had any part--a
+new life into which she felt that hope, love, or happiness could never
+come.
+
+A week later, and Hyacinth Vaughan, looking like a frail shadow of her
+former self, sat, propped up by pillows, in a large easy-chair that had
+been placed for her near the window; her nerveless hands were clasped,
+her large eyes, so sad and dreamy, lingered on the clouds that drifted
+rapidly over the sky.
+
+She was alone and deeply engrossed in thought; the time had come when
+she must speak to these people who had been so kind to her--when she
+must tell something of herself. They had been so kind to her, so
+attentive, so considerate--they had not even asked her name. Mrs.
+Chalmers always called her "child." Her son had a variety of names for
+her, the principal of which was Queen Mab. Such kindness could spring
+only from noble and generous hearts. Both mother and son had refrained
+from asking her any questions. Said Dr. Chalmers to his mother:
+
+"When she knows us, and feels that she can trust us she will speak."
+
+They had both divined that there had been some terrible sorrow in the
+girl's life--some sorrow that had struck her down and brought her to the
+brink of the grave. They knew, too, that she must be a lady of good
+birth and refinement. But never by word or deed did they distress her by
+the least symptom of curiosity. They had gone still further--when she
+attempted to say anything, Mrs. Chalmers had laid kindly fingers on her
+trembling lips, and said:
+
+"Hush! Wait till you are stronger and better, my dear and then you shall
+talk."
+
+But now the time had come when she knew that she must speak to
+them--must thank them for such kindness as the world rarely shows--must
+tell them how she was dead, but had risen to this new, fresh life in
+which the past was to have neither share nor place. The task was
+terrible to her, but she must undergo it. It seemed a direct answer to
+her thoughts when the door opened, and Dr. Chalmers came in with his
+mother. The doctor carried with him a bunch of purple grapes, which he
+laid before her.
+
+"How kind you are to me!" she said, with trembling lips. "I have been
+thinking all the morning. How can I thank you? How can I ever repay
+you?"
+
+"Doctors never expect thanks," said Dr. Chalmers; "and we are repaid by
+your recovery."
+
+But the beautiful eyes were filled with tears. She took the old lady's
+hand and raised it to her lips. The doctor held up his finger in
+warning, but Hyacinth said:
+
+"Let me speak--do let me speak. I cannot live in this silence and
+constraint any longer."
+
+"Let her speak, Robert," said his mother; "it is best."
+
+Hyacinth kissed again the kindly hand she held in hers. She took the
+doctor's and clasped them both together.
+
+"You have been so kind to me," she said. "I can never repay you. I have
+no money to pay even for the necessaries you have given me. I know you
+do not want it, but I cannot understand how it is that you have been so
+good to me."
+
+"My dear child," cried Mrs. Chalmers, "we have done nothing but what
+every Christian should. You came by accident to us, sick unto death,
+unhappy, friendless, and homeless, as it seemed--what less could we do
+than to take you in and succor you? We could not send you sick and
+almost dying into the streets."
+
+"No! but you might have sent me to some hospital. I am sure that few
+would have done to me as you have done."
+
+"We have only done what we thought to be right--no more."
+
+"What you have done to me," returned Hyacinth, "I pray Heaven to return
+to you a thousandfold. I can never sufficiently thank you, but I want to
+say something else to you."
+
+Her face grew so white, and her lips trembled so, that the doctor was on
+the point of forbidding another word. She looked piteously at him.
+
+"Let me speak," she said; "the weight on my heart is so great I can
+hardly bear it. Were I to do what I wish, I should tell you all my
+story; but think of me as mercifully as you can--I am dead in life."
+
+They looked at her in utter wonder. In the same faint voice she
+continued:
+
+"I am dead to my home--I shall never see it again, and to my friends--I
+shall never see them again. I am dead to all the hopes that once made
+earth like heaven for me."
+
+Her voice died away in a faint, moaning sob, and there was
+silence--silence that was broken at last by the clear, deep voice of the
+doctor.
+
+"Will you tell us why this is?" he asked.
+
+"I cannot," she replied, "I can only trust to your mercy. I cannot tell
+you either my name or my station, or what has slain me, when life was
+most sweet."
+
+"Did you do something very wrong?" asked Mrs. Chalmers, with a shadow on
+her kindly face.
+
+Hyacinth raised her beautiful eyes to the drifting clouds, which she
+could see from the window.
+
+"I did something," she replied--"but, no--I don't think it was so very
+wrong; hundreds do it, and never think it wrong at all. I only planned
+it; a fear that it might be wrong came over me, and I did not do it. But
+the consequences of even the little I did--the shadow as it were of a
+sin--fell over me, and my whole life is darkened."
+
+"You can tell us no more?" said the doctor.
+
+"No!" she replied; mournfully; "I throw myself on your mercy."
+
+"She has never done anything wrong, Robert," interrupted Mrs. Chalmers,
+addressing her son; "take my word for it. Look at that innocent face,
+those clear, true eyes--no one could believe they were coupled with
+guilt. I trust you, my dear," she added, turning to Hyacinth. "Keep your
+secret--never mind it; I believe in you, and shall never ask what it
+is."
+
+A grateful look came over the girl's face.
+
+"Thank you," she said. "You are right; I am not wicked. In one action of
+my life I was imprudent and foolish; the consequences of that action,
+which could not have been foreseen by any one, have crushed me. I am not
+wicked. See, I ask you to let me kiss your face; if my lips were stained
+with false words, I would not--I could not do so. I clasp your
+hands--ah, such true, kind hands they have been to me!--in my own; but,
+if mine were stained with crime, I could not do it."
+
+"I believe you, my dear child," said Mrs. Chalmers; "you need say no
+more."
+
+"I may tell you this," continued the girl. "I had a name as old and
+honored as any in the land; but I have laid it down and shall never use
+it again. I had friends--kind, strict, noble, generous; I have looked my
+last upon them. I had--oh, dear Heaven, it is hard to say!--I had a
+lover, whom I loved dearly, and his face I have looked upon for the last
+time. I am dead to all--dead in life!"
+
+Her voice faltered, she broke into a passionate fit of weeping. During
+this time the doctor had spoken never a word, but now he bent over her.
+
+"Child," he said, "you are so young, so simple, that, if any wrong has
+been done, you have been sinned against, not the sinner. Like my mother,
+I trust you. We have neither daughter nor sister; you shall be both. Our
+home shall be your home--what we have you shall share with us as long as
+life lasts."
+
+She kissed the strong hand clasped in her own; her warm tears fell on
+it.
+
+"You are very good to me," she said, "and though I tell you that I come
+to you as one risen from the dead--though I have no name, no
+friends--you will trust me, you will believe in me?"
+
+"Yes," replied Dr. Chalmers, calmly. "I have not studied the human face
+all these years to be mistaken at last. I trust you implicitly."
+
+"You must have a name," cried Mrs. Chalmers; "all the world need not
+know what we know. People will think you are a ward or _protégée_ of
+mine; but you must have a name."
+
+"Let her take ours, mother," suggested her son. But Hyacinth's face
+flushed.
+
+"That would hardly do," said Mrs. Chalmers. "I will give you mine, my
+dear--the name that was mine in my girlhood--people used to think it a
+pretty one--Millicent Holte."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+
+"Millicent Holte--that is the name you must assume," said Mrs. Chalmers
+to Hyacinth; "and, though I never was so pretty or so sweet as you are,
+still I was a very happy girl--and I do not like to see a young life
+blighted. Kiss me, Millicent; you shall be like a daughter to me."
+
+"I do not remember my own mother," observed the girl, simply, laying her
+fair head on the kindly breast, "and I thank Heaven for sending me to
+you."
+
+"Before we finish this subject at once and forever," said the doctor,
+"let me ask you, Millicent, is there anything that I can do for you in
+connection with your secret? If so, speak to me just as freely as though
+I were your brother, and command me as you will."
+
+"You can do nothing," she answered, mournfully. "I should not have given
+up but that I knew all hope was past, nothing can undo what has been
+done--nothing can remove, nothing lighten its shadow."
+
+"Are you unjustly punished?" he asked.
+
+"Sometimes I think so, but I cannot tell."
+
+"We will not mention the matter again," said the doctor, kindly; "we
+will think only of the new life and getting well. As a preparatory step
+to the latter, let me tell you that you must eat all these grapes, and
+then lie down and sleep again."
+
+For the sweet face had grown so white and worn, so pale and tired--he
+saw that the effort she had made had been a most painful one.
+
+"We will leave her alone, mother," he said.
+
+But before Mrs. Chalmers quitted the room she unlocked a drawer and took
+from it a small purse; this she placed in Millicent's hand.
+
+"This is yours, my dear," she said; "it fell from your pocket the
+evening you came here."
+
+The sight of the little purse almost unnerved her. She remembered how
+Adrian had laughed at it, and had promised to buy her one with golden
+clasps. She took it, and then looked wistfully in the lady's face.
+
+"No, my dear," said Mrs. Chalmers, "it is not to be thought of for one
+moment. What my son and I have done has not been for gain. Keep it, my
+poor child; you will need it in this new life that lies before you."
+
+Then they left her alone, and the thoughts that mastered her were very
+sad ones. This new life looked almost terrible now that she was brought
+face to face with it. She began to wonder what they were doing at home,
+whether she should hear their names again, whether Adrian was still with
+them, and what he now thought of her. How he must despise himself for
+having ever loved her--she who had been the subject of popular comment
+and gossip--she whose name had been upon every lip! He who admired
+delicacy and refinement, how he must dislike her! She checked herself.
+
+"I must not think of it," she said, "or I shall go mad."
+
+Meanwhile mother and son had gone down to the cozy dining-room, and
+stood looking at each other in silence.
+
+"It is a strange story, mother," said Dr. Chalmers; "I cannot understand
+it. What should you think the poor girl has been doing?"
+
+"I cannot even form an idea," replied Mrs. Chalmers; "she has done
+nothing wrong--I am quite sure of that."
+
+"Yet it must have been something very grave and serious to drive a girl
+from her home and her friends--to cause her to give up her name, and to
+be, as she says, dead to life."
+
+"Something unusually grave, no doubt, but without wrong on her part; I
+could no more doubt her than I could myself. However unhappy or
+unfortunate she may be, she is good, true, pure, innocent, and simple as
+a child."
+
+"Yes, I believe so, but it puzzles me greatly to know what her story can
+be. Still, we have taken her to ourselves, poor child; so we must make
+her strong and well and happy."
+
+"Robert," said Mrs. Chalmers, gently--and she looked anxiously at her
+son's handsome, clever face--"be as kind as you will to her, but, my
+dear, do not fall in love with her."
+
+"You may depend upon it, mother," he returned--and his face flushed and
+he laughed uneasily--"that, even if I should do so, I will never say
+one word about it. I shall think of Millicent, poor child, as of some
+petted younger sister, and do my best for her." Then the doctor opened a
+ponderous volume, and his mother knew that all conversation was at an
+end.
+
+They were not rich, those good Samaritans, although the doctor was
+making rapid strides in his profession. Theirs had been a hard struggle.
+The mother had been left a widow when quite young; she had only a small
+income, the son was desirous of a good education, and then he chose the
+profession he felt most inclination for. But it had been up-hill
+work--they had no friends and no influence. They had nothing but his
+skill and industry to rely upon. Both, however, soon made their way. His
+practice increased rapidly, and when Hyacinth found refuge with him he
+had begun to save money, and was altogether in what the people of the
+world call comfortable circumstances. It was most probably the
+remembrance of their early struggles that made both mother and son so
+kind and charitable to the unhappy girl who had fallen under their
+hands. Perhaps, had they always been prosperous, they might have had
+harder hearts. As it was, the memory of their past struggles softened
+them and made them kinder to the whole world.
+
+Mrs. Chalmers, well-born and well-bred herself, was quick to recognize
+that Hyacinth was a gentlewoman--one who had been accustomed not only to
+a life of refinement, but of luxury. She was quick also to recognize the
+pure mind, the innocent, simple, gentle heart.
+
+It was all settled, and Millicent--as Hyacinth Vaughan was now
+called--became one of the family. Mrs. Chalmers always treated her as
+though she was her own daughter. The doctor spoiled, indulged, teased,
+and worshipped her. They did all that was possible for her; still the
+girl was not happy. She regained her health and strength very slowly,
+but no color returned to that delicate, lovely face--the beautiful eyes
+were always shadowed--no one ever saw her smile. As she grew stronger,
+she busied herself in doing all kinds of little services for Mrs.
+Chalmers; but this life among the middle class was all new to her. She
+had never known anything but the sombre magnificence of Queen's Chase
+and the hotel life at Bergheim. She was lost, and hardly knew what to
+do. It was new to her to live in small rooms--to be waited on by one
+servant--to hear and know all that passed in the household--new,
+strange, and bewildering to her. But she busied herself in attending to
+Mrs. Chalmers. She did many little services, too, for the doctor; and at
+last he grew to love the beautiful, sad face and plaintive voice as he
+had never loved anything before. She grew stronger, but not happier, and
+they became anxious about her.
+
+"It is so unnatural in a girl of her age," said Mrs. Chalmers; "the
+trouble must have been a great one, since she cannot forget it. In my
+opinion, Robert, nothing will rouse her but change of scene and work.
+She seems to be always in a sorrowful dream."
+
+What Mrs. Chalmers said the young girl often thought. After a time she
+wearied inexpressibly of the dull routine of her every-day life.
+
+"I am dying," she would say to herself--"dying of inanition. I must
+begin to work."
+
+One day, when the doctor sat alone in his surgery, she went to him and
+told him.
+
+"If you will only be kind enough to let me work," she said. "I shall
+always love this my home; but it seems to me that in body and mind I
+should be much better if I could work."
+
+"And work you shall," decided the doctor; "leave all to me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+
+Dr. Chalmers was getting on in the world. His practice had at first been
+confined exclusively to the locality in which he lived; but of late
+noble ladies had sent for him, and his name was mentioned with great
+honor in the medical journals. He had been consulted in some very
+difficult cases, and people said he saved Lady Poldean's life when all
+the physicians had pronounced her case hopeless. Honors were falling
+thick and fast upon him.
+
+Lady Dartelle, of Hulme Abbey, was one of those who placed implicit
+faith in him. Her ladyship was credited with passing through life with
+one eye firmly fixed on the "main chance." She never neglected an
+opportunity of saving a guinea; and she was wont to observe that she had
+much better advice from Dr. Chalmers for five guineas than she could
+procure from a fashionable physician for twenty. Her youngest daughter,
+Clara, had been ailing for some time, and Lady Dartelle decided on
+leaving Hulme Abbey and coming up to town for the benefit of the
+doctor's advice.
+
+Lady Dartelle was a widow--"left," as she was accustomed to observe,
+emphatically, "with four dear children." The eldest, the son and heir,
+Sir Aubrey, was travelling on the Continent; her two daughters, Veronica
+and Mildred, were accomplished young ladies who had taken every worldly
+maxim to heart, and never bestowed a thought upon anything save of the
+most frivolous nature.
+
+They had made their _début_ some years before, but it had not been a
+very successful one. The young ladies were only moderately good looking,
+and they had not the most amiable of tempers. Perhaps this latter fact
+might account in some degree for several matrimonial failures. The young
+ladies had not accompanied Lady Dartelle to town--they objected to be
+seen there out of season--so that her ladyship had the whole of the
+mansion to herself.
+
+Dr. Chalmers had one day been sitting for some time by the child,
+examining her, talking to her and asking her innumerable questions. She
+was a fair, fragile, pretty child, with great earnest eyes and sensitive
+lips. The doctor's heart warmed to her; and when Lady Dartelle sent to
+request his presence in her room, he looked very anxious.
+
+"I want you to tell me the truth, doctor," she said. "The child has
+never been very well nor very ill. I want to know if you think she is in
+any danger."
+
+"I cannot tell," he replied. "It seems to me that the child's chances
+are equal for life or death."
+
+"I may not send her to school, then?" she said; and a shade of annoyance
+passed over the lady's face.
+
+"Certainly not," was the prompt reply. "She will require the most
+constant and kindly home-care. She should have a kind and cheerful
+companion. I should not advise you entirely to forget her education, but
+it must not be forced."
+
+"That is tantamount to saying that I must have a governess at home--and
+I do not see my way clear to that at all. Servants are bad enough; but
+the real plague of life are governesses. I have no idea where to find a
+suitable one. One's troubles seem to have no end."
+
+To which remark the doctor wisely made no reply. Lady Dartelle looked up
+at him.
+
+"You must see a great deal of the world, Dr. Chalmers. Can you tell me
+where I can find a trustworthy governess? I must have a gentlewoman, of
+course; yet she must not be one likely to thrust herself forward. That I
+could not endure. What is the matter, doctor?" she asked; for Dr.
+Chalmers' face had suddenly flushed scarlet, and his eyes intimated
+something which my Lady Dartelle did not quite understand.
+
+"I was thinking," he replied, "that I do know a young lady who would be
+all that you require."
+
+"I am very glad," said Lady Dartelle, looking much relieved. "Who is
+she? What is her name?"
+
+"She is a _protégée_ of my mother's--her name is Millicent Holte. She is
+highly educated, and most sweet-tempered--in fact, I do not think, if
+all England were searched, that any one so exactly suited for the
+position could be found. She is of gentle birth, and has a quiet,
+graceful manner that is very charming. There is only one objection."
+
+"What is that?" asked Lady Dartelle, anxiously.
+
+"She has never been a governess, and might not, perhaps, like the
+position--I cannot tell."
+
+"She has never taught--of course that would make some difference in the
+stipend. I do not know that the deficiency need cause concern in respect
+of anything else. Where is the young lady now?"
+
+"She is staying with my mother," said the doctor, his honest face
+flushing at the need of concealment.
+
+"That is recommendation sufficient," vouchsafed Lady Dartelle,
+graciously. "I shall require no other. When will it be convenient for me
+to see her?"
+
+"I dare say mother could call upon you to-morrow and bring Miss Holte
+with her."
+
+"That would be very nice. Three o'clock would be a convenient time for
+me. Suppose Miss Holte should accept the engagement, would she be able,
+do you think, to return to Hulme Abbey with me at the end of the week?"
+
+"I should imagine so. I do not know of anything to prevent it."
+
+Yet as he spoke, that fair, sweet, sad face seemed to rise before him,
+and he wondered how he should bear his home when she was there no
+longer.
+
+Still, he had done what she wanted. She had asked him to find her some
+work to do, and he had complied with her request. Yet his heart smote
+him as he thought of her--so fair, so fragile, so sensitive. How would
+she like to be among strangers? Fortunately he had no conception of the
+true life of a governess in a fashionable family; if he had had, it
+would have been the last work of the kind he would have chosen for her
+in whom he was interested.
+
+"The work will brace her nerves; it will do her good," he said to
+himself; "and if by chance she does not like it, she need not
+stay--there will always be a home for her with us."
+
+When he reached home he told her. She appeared neither pleased nor
+regretful; it seemed to him that the common events of every-day life no
+longer possessed the least interest for her. She asked no questions
+about either Lady Dartelle or her place of residence, or how many
+children she would have to teach. The young girl agreed with him that
+she would do well to accept the offer.
+
+"Are you pleased?" he asked. "Do you think you will like the duties?"
+
+"I am very thankful to have some work to do," she replied; "and I am
+deeply grateful to you, Dr. Chalmers."
+
+"You may well be that. I have never made such a sacrifice in my life as
+that of letting you go, Millicent. I should not have done so but that I
+think it will be for your good. Your home is still here, and if you do
+not like Hulme Abbey, I will fetch you away at once."
+
+That night when the unhappy girl was alone in her room, she threw up her
+arms with a despairing cry. "How many years have I to live? How many
+years can I bear this, and live? Oh! Adrian, Adrian, if I could only
+look once upon your face and die! Oh, my love, my love, how am I to live
+and never see your face again?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+
+"There is one thing we are quite forgetting," said Dr. Chalmers,
+"although we call ourselves such clever people."
+
+He pointed as he spoke to the little rings of golden hair, soft, fine as
+silk, light as gold in color, like the small tendrils of a vine in
+shape. She raised her beautiful, blushing face to his.
+
+"You did it," she said, half-reproachfully. "I look just like a boy.
+What shall I do?"
+
+The doctor touched one of the soft golden rings with his finger. "This
+is anything but the conventional governess style; Millicent should have
+plain, Madonna-like braids of a dull gray tint--should she not, mother?"
+
+"I do not like your plan at all, Robert," said Mrs. Chalmers, looking at
+her sweet, sad face. "I do not see why Millicent cannot be happy with
+us, nor why she can not recover her strength here. I suppose you know
+best. One thing is certain; she cannot leave us thus. Should you like,
+my dear, to wear hair that was not your own?"
+
+"No, I should not like it at all," she replied, her face flushing.
+
+The doctor laughed aloud.
+
+"You will never make a woman of fashion, Millicent, as far as I
+understand such beings. A lady with a magnificent head of hair of her
+own carefully puts it out of sight and covers it with some one else's
+hair. I think the fashion most hateful, but my opinion of course matters
+little. Seriously speaking, Millicent, my mother must take you to a
+hair-dresser's, as something must be done; this beautiful, graceful,
+infantile head would never suit her ladyship."
+
+Much against Millicent's will a hair-dresser was taken into their
+confidence.
+
+"Could I not wear a cap?" asked Millicent, looking shyly at the
+magnificent coiffures of all colors.
+
+"It would be very unbecoming," said the hair-dresser.
+
+"A governess in a cap!" spoke Mrs. Chalmers. "No, that will not do at
+all."
+
+"What does it matter?" thought the girl. "After all, my appearance will
+really interest no one."
+
+And she submitted passively while a plain band of hair was chosen for
+her by the hair-dresser and Mrs. Chalmers. When it had been arranged,
+and she looked in the glass, she hardly recognized her face, the wavy
+golden hair had always given such a graceful, fairy-like character to
+her beauty. She looked many years older than she was--sad and subdued.
+The plain band of hair seemed quite to alter her face. Mrs. Chalmers
+kissed her.
+
+"Never mind, my dear," she said; "you will soon be your own pretty self
+again," and the kindly words smote the young girl with deadliest pain.
+Her own self? Ah, no!--that self was dead, never to live again. It was
+but fitting that the old, graceful beauty--the girlish beauty Adrian had
+loved so dearly--should die with it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"A very proper person indeed," thought Lady Dartelle, when the interview
+was nearly at an end; "evidently knows her place and mine; and I may own
+to myself that the outlay is very little."
+
+For Lady Dartelle had, during the course of the interview, been
+delighted with the brilliant accomplishments of the young girl. Her
+playing was magnificent, her singing most exquisite--the pure, sweet
+contralto voice had been highly cultivated. Then she spoke French and
+German with such a pure, perfect accent, that Lady Dartelle began to
+think that the terms expected would be high. She managed the matter
+skilfully. She carefully concealed her admiration, and dwelt principally
+on the fact that the young lady had never before been engaged in
+teaching.
+
+"That makes an immense difference," said her ladyship, diplomatically.
+"Still, as Miss Holte's appearance pleases me, I will not think of the
+deficiencies. In addition, Miss Holte, to your teaching my youngest
+daughter, I should wish you to speak French and Italian with my eldest
+girls."
+
+Miss Holte bowed acquiescence, and her ladyship, finding that she
+offered no objection to any amount of work, then mentioned a few other
+"little duties" she wished to be attended to--"duties" she would not
+have dared to exact from any one else.
+
+All arrangements were concluded greatly to her satisfaction, and then
+Lady Dartelle asked Millicent if she would not like to see her new
+pupil. The young girl said "Yes," and in answer to a summons from her
+ladyship, the child came into the room.
+
+Then, for the first time, Millicent's heart was touched; the large,
+earnest eyes looked into her own with an appealing expression, the
+little burning hand trembled as it lay in her own. Millicent bent down
+and kissed the sweet face. Something stirred in her heart that had long
+seemed dead--something that brought with it exquisite pleasure and
+exquisite pain.
+
+"In cases of this kind," said Lady Dartelle, "I find there is nothing
+like a clear and straightforward understanding. I should like to tell
+you, Miss Holte, that when we are quite alone you will sometimes dine
+with us, and occasionally spend the evening in the drawing-room; but
+when we have visitors such an arrangement will be impossible. My reasons
+for saying this," continued her ladyship, blandly, turning to Mrs.
+Chalmers, "are these. My son Aubrey is a frequent visitor at Hulme
+Abbey; he often brings friends with him; and then I think precautions
+with young people are necessary. I have seen sad results among my
+friends where the precautions I think so necessary have not been taken."
+
+"I shall never wish for any society but that of my little pupil, Lady
+Dartelle," said Millicent.
+
+And her ladyship was graciously pleased to observe that Miss Holte
+seemed to be very sensible.
+
+It was all arranged; but as they drove home a sudden doubt came to
+Hyacinth. Lady Dartelle spoke of her son's bringing visitors with him.
+Suppose among them there should be any one she knew--any one who would
+recognize her? The very thought of it made her sick and faint. No, it
+was not likely; she had seen so few people, she had known so
+few--besides, when visitors came, it was Lady Dartelle's wish that she
+should not appear.
+
+"Even if I do appear," she said, "who that has known me in my bright
+happy days--who that has known me as Hyacinth Vaughan--would recognize
+me now?"
+
+Who could discover the lovely, smiling, radiant face under that sad,
+careworn look? Where was the light that had shone in the beautiful
+eyes--where were the smiles that had played round the perfect
+lips--where the grace and happiness that had made the face like
+sunshine? Years seemed to have passed over that bowed head--years of
+sorrow, of care, of misery. No one could recognize her. She need have no
+fear.
+
+She blushed crimson when Dr. Chalmers, on seeing her, laughed. She had
+forgotten the false braids of hair. Nothing had the power to interest
+her long. Her thoughts always flew to Adrian. What had he thought of
+her? Had he forgotten her? What was he doing? She had completely
+forgotten the braids. The doctor's mischievous laugh made her remember
+them.
+
+"I declare, Millicent," he said, "I should have passed you in the street
+without recognizing you. Why, you look ten years older, child, and so
+altered!" His face grew serious and sad as he remembered the girl as he
+had seen her first.
+
+"Shall you like Lady Dartelle?" he asked.
+
+Severe suffering had not blunted her keen instinct--the instinct that
+had shown her that Claude was more enthusiastic than sincere, and that
+Adrian was the most noble of men.
+
+"I shall like my pupil," she said, "I shall love her in time."
+
+"Now," observed the doctor, "I have hopes of you. This is the first time
+you have used that word. Millicent," he continued, kindly, yet gravely,
+"to love any thing, even though it be only a child, will be the
+salvation of you."
+
+It was arranged that Millicent--Hyacinth had even learned to think of
+herself by that name--should join Lady Dartelle on the Friday evening;
+and on the following Saturday they were to go down to Hulme Abbey
+together. Dr. Chalmers had promised to find time to run down in the
+course of a few months.
+
+"You will naturally be anxious to see how Miss Holte gets on," said her
+ladyship, adroitly; "and I shall be glad of your advice about Clara."
+
+Then the time for parting came. The separation proved harder than they
+had thought. Millicent had grown to love the place and the people, as it
+was characteristic of her grateful, loving nature, to care for all those
+who were kind to her. It was her only home now; and the friends who
+dwelt there had been goodness itself. Her sad heart grew heavier as she
+thought of leaving them.
+
+"Yet, if I live on here as I have been doing," she said to herself, "I
+shall lose my reason."
+
+When the time came to say farewell, Dr. Chalmers held her hands in his.
+
+"I am not a man of many words," he said, "but I tell you this--the
+sunshine and joy of my heart go with you. How much I care for you, you
+will never know; but Heaven's best blessing go with you and prosper you!
+If you ever want a friend, send for me."
+
+In another minute Hyacinth had left the house that had been to her as a
+haven of refuge and a heaven of rest.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+
+The beautiful November day was drawing to a close as Lady Dartelle and
+Hyacinth neared the end of their journey. It had been a lovely day. The
+branches of the trees were all bare of leaves, but the sun shone
+brightly and the sky was clear.
+
+After the railway journey was ended, as they drove along the country
+roads, a faint color came into Millicent's face, faint and exquisite as
+the delicate bloom on the inner leaf of a wild rose, and a light shone
+in her eyes. New life had come to her. The trees seemed to spread out
+their grand branches as though to welcome her. The time was not so long
+since she had talked to them in her pretty childlike way, believing they
+could hear if not answer her. The life in that dull London house, where
+no green leaf was to be seen, faded like a heavy dream. She could have
+stretched out her hands to the trees, in fondest welcome. How had she
+lived so long without seeing them? A long, deep sigh escaped her. Lady
+Dartelle looked up.
+
+"I hope you are not tired, Miss Holte?" she said.
+
+"No, not at all, thank you; but the country looks so beautiful, and the
+trees are like dear old friends."
+
+Her ladyship did not look very well pleased; she had not bargained for a
+sentimental governess.
+
+"I hope," she returned stiffly, "you will find better friends at Hulme
+Abbey than the trees are likely to prove."
+
+Another cry of delight escaped Hyacinth, for, on turning a sharp corner
+of the road, the sea lay spread out before them.
+
+"Is Hulme Abbey near the sea?" she asked.
+
+"Almost too near," said Lady Dartelle, "for when the wind blows and the
+tide is high we can hear the noise of the surf too plainly--that is the
+only fault that any one could possibly find with Hulme. Do you like the
+sea, Miss Holte?"
+
+She did not know. She had seen it twice--once when the world was all
+fair and she was going to Bergheim, and again when the waves had sobbed
+a dull requiem to all her hope and her love. Did she like it? The very
+music seemed full of the sorrow of her life. She thought that she would
+soon grow to love it with a passion that only poets lavish on the fair
+beauties of nature. Then the gray turrets of the Abbey came in sight.
+
+"We are at home," said Lady Dartelle.
+
+Hulme Abbey was neither so spacious nor so magnificent as Queen's Chase.
+It was an ancient building of imposing aspect, with square towers and an
+old-fashioned gateway, the windows were large, and the exterior of the
+house was ornamented with heavy carvings of stone. The building stood in
+the midst of the beautiful grounds; a long chestnut avenue at the back
+led to the woods, and these last sloped down to the very edge of the
+sea.
+
+"We are not many minutes' walk from the shore," said Lady Dartelle, "and
+one of your most important duties, Miss Holte, will be to take Miss
+Clara down to the sea every day. The walk will be most beneficial to
+her."
+
+The lonely, sorrowful heart clung to that idea of the sea; it would be a
+companion, almost a friend to her. It had a voice that would speak to
+her, that would tell her of her love, lost forever, and that would
+whisper of the mysteries of life, so hard to understand. Lady Dartelle
+almost wondered at the rapt, sublime expression that came over the
+sweet, sad face. In another moment they were in the spacious
+entrance-hall, servants bowing, Lady Dartelle proud and patronizing.
+
+"You are tired, and will like to go to your room," she said. "King, show
+Miss Holte to her room."
+
+So for that one night the young girl escaped the ordeal she had
+dreaded--the introduction to the daughters of Lady Dartelle.
+
+Hyacinth rose early the next morning. She could not control her
+impatience to see the sea; it was as though some one she loved were
+waiting for her. After a few inquiries from one of the servants, she
+found her way to the shore; her whole heart went out in rapture to the
+restless waters. She sat down and watched the waves as they rolled in
+and broke on the shore. The smell of the salt breeze was delicious, the
+grand anthem of the waves was magnificent to hear; and as she sat there
+she wept--as she had not wept since her sorrow fell upon her--tears that
+eased her heart of its burning load, and that seemed to relieve her
+brain of its terrible pressure.
+
+Where was Adrian? The waves murmured his name. "My love, my lost, my
+own," they seemed to chant, as the murmur died along the shore. Where
+was he? Could it be that these same waves were chanting to him?
+
+"If I could only go to him," she said, "and fall sobbing at his feet,
+and tell him how I love him!"
+
+Presently she went back to the house, feeling better than she had felt
+for long months, and found, to her great relief, that none of the ladies
+were up yet. The servant who had attended to her the night before was in
+her room.
+
+"My name is Mary King, miss," she said, "and my lady told me I was to
+attend the school-room. Would you like to see it?"
+
+Millicent followed her and the girl led the way to a pretty little room
+that overlooked the woods. It was plainly furnished; but there was a
+piano, an easel, and plenty of books and flowers.
+
+"This is the school-room, miss," said the maid, "and my lady thought
+that, as Miss Clara will be here for only six hours during the day--that
+is, for study--it would answer as a sitting-room for you as well."
+
+Hyacinth desired nothing better than the grand old trees to look at. The
+maid wondered that she looked from the window instead of round the room.
+
+"I will bring you your breakfast at once, miss," said the girl. "Miss
+Clara takes hers with you."
+
+After breakfast Lady Dartelle came in with the written order of studies
+in her hand, and then Millicent found that her office was no sinecure.
+There was one thing pleasant--every day she must spend two hours out of
+doors with the young ladies in order to converse in French and Italian
+with them.
+
+Lady Dartelle added that she had one remark to make, and that was that
+she had noticed in Miss Holte a tendency to dreaminess--this was always
+bad in young people, but especially out of place in a governess. She
+trusted that Miss Holte would try and cure herself of it. When the lady
+had gone away, the girl looked round the room, she wondered how long she
+would have to live in it, and what she would have to pass through. What
+sorrowful thoughts, what ghosts of her lost love and lost happiness
+would haunt her! But in her wildest dreams she never fancied anything so
+strange as that which afterward came to pass.
+
+She found that it was not without reason that she had dreaded the ordeal
+of meeting the young ladies. They were not amiable girls. They were
+tall, with good figures and high-bred faces--faces that, if they had
+taken the trouble to cultivate more amiability and good temper, would
+even have been passable, if not comely, but they wore continually an
+expression of pride, discontent, and ill-temper. Lady Dartelle, like the
+valiant and enterprising lady that she was, did her best with them and
+tried to make the most of them. She tried to smooth down the little
+angularities of temper--she tried to develop the best traits in their
+characters and to conceal their faults. It was a difficult task, and
+nothing but the urgency of the case would have given her ladyship
+courage. The Misses Dartelle had been for three years in society, and
+all prospect of their settlement in life seemed remote. It was a serious
+matter to Lady Dartelle. She did not care to pass through life with two
+cross old maids hampering her every movement.
+
+Sir Aubrey had listened to his mother's complaints, and had laughingly
+tried to comfort her. "I shall come down some time in February," he
+said; "and I will bring some of the most eligible bachelors of my
+acquaintance with me. If you make good use of the opportunity, you will
+surely get one of the girls 'off.' I know how fatal country-house life
+is to an idle man."
+
+The prospect was rather a poor one; still Lady Dartelle was not without
+hope.
+
+The gentleman who was to win one of the Misses Dartelle was not to be
+envied for the exceeding happiness of his lot. They treated the
+governess with a mixture of haughty scorn and patronizing disdain which
+at times even amused her. She was, as a rule, supremely indifferent, but
+there were times when a sarcasm from one of the young ladies brought a
+smile to her lips, for the simple reason that it was so very
+inappropriate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+
+Time passed on and Christmas came at last. By that time Hyacinth had
+grown accustomed to her new home. Dr. Chalmers had been to see her, and
+had professed himself delighted with the change in her appearance. She
+did not regain all of her lost happiness, but she did regain some of her
+lost health and strength. Though she had not a single hope left, and did
+not value her life, the color slowly returned to her face and the light
+to her eyes. The fresh sea-breeze, the regular daily exercise, the quiet
+life, all tended to her improvement. She did not seem the same girl when
+Christmas, with its snow and holly, came round.
+
+Hyacinth found wonderful comfort in the constant childish prattle and
+numerous questions of little Clara; the regular routine of studies took
+her thoughts in some measure from herself. She was obliged to rouse
+herself; she could not brood over her sorrows to the exclusion of
+everything else. She had thought her heart dead to all love, and yet at
+Hulme Abbey she had learned to love two things with a passion of
+affection--one was her little pupil; the other, the broad, open,
+restless sea. How long her present mode of life was to last she did not
+know--she had not asked herself; some day or other she supposed it would
+end, and then she must go somewhere else to work. But it was certain she
+would have to work on in quiet hiding till she died. It was not a very
+cheerful prospect, but she had learned to look at it with resignation
+and patience.
+
+"The end will come some day," she thought; "and perhaps in a better
+world I shall see Adrian again."
+
+Adrian--he was still her only thought. When she was sitting at times, by
+the sea-shore, with the child playing on the sands, she would utter his
+name aloud for the sake of hearing its music.
+
+"Adrian," she would say; and a light that was wonderful to see would
+come over the lovely face. "Adrian," the winds and waves would seem to
+re-echo; and she would bend forward, the better, as she thought, to hear
+the music of the name.
+
+"Mamma," said Veronica to Lady Dartelle one day, "I think you have done
+a very foolish thing."
+
+"What is that, my dear?" asked the lady, quite accustomed to her
+daughter's free criticism.
+
+"Why, to bring that girl here. Do you not see that she is growing
+exceedingly beautiful? You do not give her enough to do."
+
+"I quite agree with Veronica, mamma," put in Mildred; "you have let your
+usual judgment sleep." Lady Dartelle looked up in astonishment.
+
+"I assure you, my dears, that when I saw her first she did not look even
+moderately pretty."
+
+"She has very much altered then," said Veronica. "When she came in with
+Clara yesterday, I was quite astonished. I have never seen a color half
+so lovely on any face before."
+
+"I hope," observed Mildred, "that you will keep to your resolution, and
+not allow her to appear when we have visitors. You know how Aubrey
+admires a pretty face. Remembering how many plain women there are in the
+world, and how few pretty ones, it seems odd that you did not bring a
+plain one here."
+
+A slight expression of alarm came over Lady Dartelle's face.
+
+"If you think there is any danger of that kind," she said, "I will send
+her away at once. But I am of opinion that you exaggerate her good
+looks. I see nothing so very noticeable about the girl. And you know I
+shall never be able to secure another governess so thoroughly
+accomplished on the same terms; that, of course, is a consideration."
+
+"You can please yourself, mamma," returned Veronica. "But I warn you
+that, if you are not very careful, you will most bitterly repent having
+a girl of that kind about the place when Aubrey comes home. You may do
+your best to keep her out of the way; but, depend upon it, she will
+contrive to be seen. Where there's a will there's a way."
+
+"I think you are alarming yourself unnecessarily, my dear Veronica,"
+said Lady Dartelle.
+
+"Am I, mamma? Then judge for yourself. I see the gleam of Clara's
+scarlet cloak through the trees--they are just returning. Send for Miss
+Holte; ask her some trifling question; and when she is gone tell me if
+you have ever seen a more beautiful face."
+
+Lady Dartelle complied with her daughter's request and in a few minutes
+"Miss Holte" and her little pupil entered the room. Lady Dartelle asked
+Hyacinth some unimportant question, looking earnestly as she did so at
+the lovely face. She owned to herself that she had had no idea how
+perfectly beautiful it was; the faintest and most exquisite bloom
+mantled it, the sweet eyes were bright, the lips like crimson flowers.
+
+"She must have been ill when I engaged her," thought her ladyship--"I
+will ask her." Smiling most graciously, she said: "You are looking much
+better, Miss Holte; the air of Hulme seems to agree with you. Had you
+been ill when I saw you first?"
+
+The beautiful face flushed, and then grew pale. The young ladies looking
+on were quick to note it. "Yes," she replied, quietly, "I had been very
+ill for some weeks."
+
+"Indeed! I am glad to see you so fully restored;" and then a gracious
+bow intimated to "Miss Holte" that the interview was at an end.
+
+"There, mamma," cried Mildred; "you see that we are perfectly right. You
+must acknowledge that you have never seen any one more lovely."
+
+Lady Dartelle looked slightly bewildered.
+
+"To tell the truth, my dears," she said, "I have hardly noticed the
+young girl lately. All that I can say is that I did not observe
+anything so very pretty about her when I engaged her. I thought her very
+pleasant-looking and graceful, but not beautiful."
+
+"I hope she is what she is represented," remarked Mildred; "but Mary
+King says that she has all the ways of a grand lady, and that she does
+not understand what I should have imagined every governess to be
+familiar with."
+
+"My dear Mildred, you are saying too much. She is highly respectable--a
+ward or _protégée_ of Mrs. Chalmers--the doctor would never have named
+her to me if she had not been all that was irreproachable."
+
+"We will hope for the best; but I advise you again, mamma, to keep her
+out of sight when our visitors come."
+
+Lady Dartelle smiled calmly--of the success of anything that she
+undertook that far-seeing lady never doubted. It was the end of January
+when Lady Dartelle received a letter from her son.
+
+"Here is good news, my dear children," she said, smiling. "Your brother
+is coming; and he brings with him Lord Chandon and Major Elton. We shall
+have a very pleasant time, I foresee."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+
+February came in mild and clear, with a pleasant foretaste of spring. In
+the woods the early violets were peeping out and the snow-drops were
+bowing their white heads; the buds were beginning to form on the hedges
+and trees, there was a faint song from the birds and silence reigned in
+the woods, as though the goddess of spring were hovering over them. It
+was Valentine's Day--in after-years Hyacinth remembered every incident
+of it--Clara had complained of not feeling well, and they had gone out
+into the woods--the governess and child. They sat down near a brook on
+some moss-covered stones. The child was unconsciously a poet in her way.
+
+"Miss Holte," she said, suddenly, "do you never pity the flowers for
+being obliged to hide so long in the dark cold earth? How they must be
+longing for sunshine and for spring! It is just as though they were in
+prison, and the sun is the good fairy that lets them out."
+
+Hyacinth made a point of never checking the child's thoughts; she
+always allowed her to tell them freely as they came.
+
+"I think so much about the flowers," continued the little one; "it seems
+to me that in some distant way they are related to the stars. I wonder
+if they live as we do--if some are proud of their color, and some of
+their fragrance--if they love and hate each other--if some are jealous,
+and others contented; I should like to know."
+
+"The world is full of secrets," returned Hyacinth, musingly--"I cannot
+tell. But, if flowers could have souls, I can imagine the kind of soul
+that would belong to each flower."
+
+"So can I," cried the child, joyously. "Why is the world full of
+secrets, Miss Holte? Men are so clever; why can they not find all the
+secrets out?"
+
+"Ah, my darling," sighed the young girl, "the skill of man does not go
+very far. It has mastered none of the great problems of life."
+
+They walked down to the shore and watched the waves rolling in; great
+sheets of white foam spread over the sand, the chant of the sea seemed
+on that day louder and more full of mystery than ever.
+
+"The salt breeze has blown away all my headache," said the child; "shall
+we go home, Miss Holte? Mildred says this is Valentine's Day. I wonder
+if it will bring anything pleasant to us. I wonder if it is a day we
+shall remember."
+
+The young governess smiled sadly.
+
+"One day is very much like another," she said, little dreaming that this
+was to be one of the most eventful of her life.
+
+"My lady wishes to see you, Miss Holte," said the footman to Hyacinth as
+she entered the room; "she is in her own room."
+
+The young girl went thither at once.
+
+"I want to speak to you, Miss Holte," she said. "As I have already
+mentioned, I always like sensible, straightforward dealings. My son, Sir
+Aubrey Dartelle, comes home to-morrow and brings some visitors with
+him."
+
+My lady was seated at her writing-table, the room was shaded by
+rose-colored curtains, half drawn, and the young governess fortunately
+did not stand where her face could be seen.
+
+"I have told you before that when we have visitors at the Abbey I shall
+wish you and Miss Clara to keep to your own apartments; she is far too
+young and too delicate to be brought forward in any way."
+
+"I will be careful to comply with your wishes, Lady Dartelle," replied
+Hyacinth.
+
+"I am sure you will; I have always found you careful, Miss Holte. I wish
+Clara to take her morning walk before the day's study begins; and, as we
+do not breakfast until nearly ten, that will be more convenient. If she
+requires to go out again, half an hour while we are at luncheon will
+suffice. I do not know," continued the lady--"I am almost afraid that I
+shall have to ask you to give up your room for a short time; if it
+should be so, you can have the one next to Miss Clara--Lord Chandon,
+Major Elton, and Sir Richard Hastings bring so many servants with them."
+
+Fortunately she did not see the ghastly change that came over that
+beautiful face as she uttered the name of Lord Chandon; it was as though
+some one had struck the girl a mortal blow. Her lips opened as though
+she would cry out, but all sound died on them; a look of fear and dread,
+almost of horror, came into the violet eyes.
+
+"If I see any necessity for the change," said her ladyship, "I will tell
+King to attend to it."
+
+No words came from those white, rigid lips. Lady Dartelle never turned
+her head but concluded, blandly:
+
+"That was what I wanted to speak to you about, Miss Holte."
+
+She evidently expected the young girl to go. But all strength had
+departed from the delicate frame. Hyacinth was as incapable of movement
+as she was of speech. At last, in a voice which Lady Dartelle scarcely
+recognized, it was so harsh and hoarse, Hyacinth said: "I did not hear
+plainly; what name did you mention, Lady Dartelle?"
+
+"My lady" was too much taken by surprise to reflect whether it was
+compromising her dignity to reply. A rush of hope had restored the
+girl's strength. She said to herself that she could not have heard
+aright.
+
+"Lord Chandon, Major Elton, and Sir Richard Hastings," said Lady
+Dartelle, stiffly.
+
+"Great heavens," groaned the girl to herself, "what shall I do?"
+
+"Did you speak, Miss Holte?" inquired the elder lady.
+
+"No," replied Hyacinth, stretching out her hand as though she were
+blinded.
+
+Then Lady Dartelle took up her pen and began to write. This was a
+signal of dismissal. Presently a sudden idea occurred to her.
+
+"I had almost forgotten to say that I should wish the rules I have
+mentioned to be conformed to to-day. It is possible my son may arrive
+this evening or to-morrow morning. Good morning, Miss Holte."
+
+One meeting Hyacinth would have thought she had been struck with sudden
+blindness. She stumbled as she walked; with one hand outstretched she
+touched the wall as she went along. It seemed to her that hours elapsed
+before she reached her own room; but she found herself there at last.
+Blind, dizzy, bewildered, unable to collect her thoughts, unable to cry
+out, though her silence seemed to torture her, she fell on her knees
+with a dull moan, and stretched out her hands as though asking help from
+Heaven. How long she knelt there she never knew. Wave after wave of
+anguish rolled over her soul--pain after pain, each bitter and keen as
+death, pierced her heart. Then the great waves seemed to roll back, and
+one thought stood clearly before her.
+
+He from whom she had fled in sorrowful dismay--he whom she loved more
+dearly than her own life--he whose contempt and just disdain she had
+incurred--was coming to Hulme Abbey. She said the words over and over
+again to herself. "Adrian is coming--Heaven help and pity me, Adrian is
+coming!" Great drops stood on her white brow, her whole body trembled as
+a leaf trembles in the wind.
+
+A wild idea of escape came to her--she could run away--there was time
+enough. Ah, now! they were coming perhaps to-night, and if Adrian heard
+that some one had run away from the house, he would suspect who it was.
+She wrung her hands like one helpless and hopeless.
+
+"What shall I do?" she cried. "Dear Heaven, have pity on me, for I have
+suffered enough. What shall I do?"
+
+Another hope came to her. Perhaps, after all, her fears were groundless.
+Lady Dartelle had said "Lord Chandon." It must be the old lord; she had
+never heard or read of his death. Adrian was to be Lord Chandon some
+day; but that day might be far distant yet. She would try to be patient
+and see; she would try to control her quivering nerves. If it were
+indeed Adrian, then she must be careful; all hope of escape was quite
+useless; she must keep entirely to her room until he was gone. She tried
+to quiet the trembling nerves, but the shock had been too great for
+her. Her face was ghastly in its pallor and fear. Clara looked at her in
+dismay. "I do not feel well," she said, in a trembling voice; "you shall
+draw instead of read."
+
+She would have given anything to escape the ordeal of reading to the
+young ladies. But it must be gone through; they made no allowances for
+headaches. She found them as little disposed to receive as she was to
+give a lesson.
+
+"Sit down, Miss Holte," said Veronica; "we will not attend to our French
+just now; it's such nonsense of mamma to insist upon it! Would you mind
+threading these beads? I want to make a purse."
+
+She placed a quantity of small gold and silver beads in the young girl's
+hands, and then eagerly resumed her conversation with her sister.
+
+"I am the elder," she argued; "the first chance and the best chance
+ought to be mine. I have set my heart on winning Lord Chandon, and I
+shall think it very unkind of you to interfere."
+
+"You do not know whether he will be willing to be won," said Mildred,
+sneeringly.
+
+"I can but try; you could do no more. I should like to be Lady Chandon,
+Mildred. Of course I shall not be unsisterly. If I see that he prefers
+you, I shall do all in my power to help you; but, if he shows no decided
+preference, it will not be fair for you to interfere with me."
+
+"He may not like either of us," said Mildred, who enjoyed nothing so
+much as irritating her sister.
+
+"I have an idea that he is to be won; I feel almost certain of it. Sir
+Richard Hastings would be a good match, too; he is very wealthy and
+handsome--and so, for that matter, is Major Elton."
+
+"What has that to do with it?" asked Mildred. "You have such confused
+ideas, Veronica. What was that story mamma was telling you about Lord
+Chandon?"
+
+"Some doleful romance--I did not listen attentively. I think she said he
+was engaged, before his uncle's death, to marry some girl he was much
+attached to, and she ran away. She did something or other horrible, and
+then fled; I think that was it."
+
+"And does he wear the willow for her still?" asked Mildred.
+
+"I should say he has more sense. When girls do anything horrible, they
+ought to die. Men never mourn long, you know."
+
+"But what did the girl do?" pursued Mildred. "Did she deceive him and
+marry some one else--or what?"
+
+"I did not feel interested enough to listen," replied Veronica. "Mamma
+seemed to imply everything most terrible; you must consult her if you
+want to know the particulars. Aubrey says that a man's heart is often
+caught at a rebound; and he seems to think that if we are kind and
+sympathizing to Lord Chandon--smoothing his ruffled plumes, you
+know--one of us cannot fail to win him."
+
+"How long will our visitors remain?" asked Mildred.
+
+"A month; and much may be done in a month, you know. What is that?"
+
+Well might she ask. First the gold and silver beads fell upon the floor;
+and then the unhappy girl who held them, white and senseless, fell from
+the seat, and lay like a crushed and broken lily on the ground.
+
+"Ring the bell," said Veronica; "she has fainted, I suppose. How
+tiresome! I wonder how it is that governesses have such a propensity to
+faint."
+
+"She looks like a beautiful statue; but if she takes to this kind of
+thing, mamma will not find her so very useful after all. Here, King," to
+the servant who entered, "Miss Holte has fainted; tend to her."
+
+And the two sisters swept from the room with the air of two very
+superior beings indeed. They never dreamed of helping the unconscious
+girl; such condescension would have been far too great. Mary King and a
+fellow-servant carried Hyacinth to her room, and laid her on her bed.
+Kindly hands ministered to her; she was respected and beloved by the
+servants, who, quick to judge, pronounced her "a real lady"--much more
+of a lady than the Misses Dartelle. So now in her distress they
+ministered unto her.
+
+"If I might but die," she said, with a great tearless sob--"if I might
+but die!"
+
+That she should be looked upon as so utterly lost--as having done
+something so terrible--seemed worse to her than all.
+
+"I did right to leave them," she said, "and now I shall never look upon
+them again. I did right to hide myself from the faces of all who knew
+me. Adrian despises me. I cannot bear it."
+
+Her face burned and her heart beat wildly as she thought of Veronica's
+insulting words and sneering tones. What she had done was too terrible
+even for Lady Dartelle to speak of. How rightly she had judged that her
+proper position was past for ever! How rightly she had decided that her
+own deed had banished her forever from those whom she loved best!
+
+Lady Dartelle, with unusual consideration, had sent word that Miss Holte
+was not to rise; so Hyacinth lay through the day in a stupor of fear and
+dread, one longing in her heart, one prayer on her lips, and that was to
+die. She lay trying to form feeble plans of escape, and breaking down
+every now and then with a terrible cry. Dr. Chalmers had told her if she
+wanted a friend to send for him; but if he came now, exposure must
+follow. She was hopeless, helpless, bewildered.
+
+Then she began to think how heavily she had been punished for her sin.
+Some girls ran away from their home, were married, and lived happily.
+Why had so cruel a fate befallen her? She lay until evening, her brain
+burning, her head aching, her whole body one throb of pain. A new fear
+came to her: what if that terrible fever came back, robbing her of her
+senses and reason? They would find out then that she was here in some
+kind of disguise. It was night when she heard the sound of carriage
+wheels; this was followed by a noise as of many arrivals. Her heart gave
+one great bound, and then seemed to stand still. She did not know how
+time passed until Mary King entered with a basin of soup.
+
+"They are all gone to dinner, miss," she said, "and cook has sent you
+this."
+
+"Have the visitors arrived?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, miss; there seems to be quite a crowd of them. Try to take
+this--it will do you good."
+
+She tried, but failed. Adrian was there under the same roof, and the
+wonder was that her sorrow did not kill her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+
+When Hyacinth rose the next morning, it was as though long years had
+passed over her. Lady Dartelle was not unkind or ungrateful. She sent to
+ask if Miss Holte was better and able to resume her work; she also
+desired the housekeeper to see that the governess had all she required,
+and then, thinking that she had done her duty, she forgot all about
+her.
+
+Hyacinth resumed her work, but a burning thirst was upon her--a thirst
+that could not be quenched. Adrian was near her, he was under the same
+roof, breathing the same air, his eyes would rest on the same scenes, he
+would speak every day to the same people. A fever that nothing could
+cool seemed to run riot in her veins; her heart burned, her eyes were
+hot and weary with watching--a thirst, a longing, a fever, a very
+madness possessed her, and she could not control it. She must see him;
+she must look upon his face, even should his glance slay her--for she
+had loved him so dearly, and in all her lonely life she had never loved
+any one else. As flowers thirst in the sultry heat for dew, as the tired
+deer longs for cooling streams, so she craved for one glance at the face
+that had made all the sunshine and brightness of earth for her.
+
+So she watched and waited. She promised herself this one short glimpse
+of happiness. She would look on his face, giving full vent to all the
+passionate love of her heart, and then welcome darkness, oblivion, and
+death.
+
+Once, in crossing the upper corridor, the door of the billiard-room
+suddenly opened, and she heard the sound of laughter and of many voices;
+his was among them--clear, rich, distinct--the old musical tone that had
+so often made her heart thrill. The sound of it smote her like a deadly
+blow. She shrunk back, pale with the pallor of death, faint, trembling.
+
+"My love, my love," murmured the white lips. Hyacinth bent eagerly
+forward--she would have given much to hear the sound again, but it had
+ceased--the door was closed, and she went on to her room like one who
+had stood outside the gates of an earthly paradise, yet knew that those
+gates were never to be opened.
+
+Her recent experiences increased the fever of her longing--a fever that
+soon began to show itself in her face. She became unwontedly lovely, her
+beautiful violet eyes shone with a brilliancy and light almost painful
+to see, the red lips were parted as the lips of one who suffers from
+intensity of pain, the white hands grew burning hot; the fever of
+longing was wearing her very life away, and she thought she could still
+it by one look at his face. She might as well have tried to extinguish
+flame by pouring oil upon it. At last the chance she had waited and
+watched for came. Veronica sent to ask her to go to her room.
+
+"I want you to grant me a great favor," she said. "My maid is correct in
+her ideas of dress, but she has no idea of flowers. I have some flowers
+here, and knowing your great taste, I should be obliged to you if you
+would arrange a spray for my hair."
+
+This speech was so unusually civil for Miss Dartelle that the young
+governess was quite overpowered.
+
+"I will do it with pleasure," she replied.
+
+"I want it to be very nice," said Miss Dartelle, with a conscious smile
+that was like a dagger in the girl's breast; "one of our visitors, Lord
+Chandon, seems to have a mania for flowers. I had almost forgotten--are
+there any white hyacinths among the collection?"
+
+"Yes," was the brief reply.
+
+"Do you think there are sufficient to form a nice spray, mixed with some
+maiden-hair fern?" she asked. "I should be so pleased if you could
+manage it."
+
+"I will try; but, Miss Dartelle, there are so many other beautiful
+flowers here--why do you prefer the white hyacinths?"
+
+Her voice faltered as she uttered her name--a name she had never heard
+since she fled from all that was dearest to her. Miss Dartelle, who
+happened to be in the most gracious humors, smiled at the question.
+
+"I was talking to that same gentleman, Lord Chandon, yesterday, and I
+happened to ask him what was his favorite flower. He said the white
+hyacinth--oh, Miss Holte, what are you doing?"
+
+For the flowers were falling from the nerveless hand. How could he have
+said that? Adrian used to call her his white Hyacinth. Had he not
+forgotten her? What could he mean?
+
+"So you see, Miss Holte," continued Miss Dartelle, blandly, "that, as I
+should like to please his lordship, I shall wear his favorite flowers."
+
+Yes, she saw plainly enough. She remembered one of those happy days at
+Bergheim when she too had worn some fresh, fragrant hyacinths to please
+him; and she remembered how he had caressed her, and what loving words
+he had murmured to her--how he had told her that she was fairer in his
+eyes than any flower that had ever bloomed--how he had taken one of the
+hyacinths from her, and, looking at it, had said: "You were rightly
+named, my love. You are a stately, fair, fragrant hyacinth indeed."
+
+Now--oh, bitter irony of fate!--now she was to make another beautiful
+with these same flowers, in order to charm him.
+
+She was dead to him and to all the bright past; yet at the very thought
+of his loving another she grew faint with anguish that had no name. She
+went to the window and opened it to admit the fresh, cool air; and then
+the opportunity she had waited and longed for came. It was a bright,
+clear morning, the sun was shining, and the promise of spring filled the
+air. She did not think of seeing Adrian then; but the window overlooked
+the grove of chestnut trees, and he was walking serenely underneath
+them.
+
+She sunk on her knees, her eyes were riveted on his face with deepest
+intensity. It was he--Heaven bless him!--looking graver, older, and more
+careworn, but still the same brave, handsome, noble man. Those were the
+true, clear eyes that had looked so lovingly into her own; those were
+the lips, so firm, so grave, so kind, that had kissed hers and told her
+how dear she was to him; those were the hands that had clasped her own.
+
+Shine on him, blessed sun; whisper round him, sweet wind; for there is
+none like him--none. She envied the sun that shone on him, the breeze
+that kissed his face. She stretched out her hands to him. "My love," she
+cried--"my dear lost love!" Her wistful longing eyes followed him.
+
+This was the one glance that was to cool the fever preying upon her;
+this was to be her last look on earth at him--and the chestnut grove was
+not long--he had passed half through it already. Soon--oh, so soon--he
+would pass out of her sight forever. Suddenly he stood still and looked
+down the long forest glade; he passed his hand over his brow, as though
+to drive away some saddening thought, and her longing eyes never left
+him. She thanked Heaven for that minute's respite, and drank in the
+grave manly beauty of his face with eyes that were pitiful to see.
+
+"My love," she murmured, in a low hoarse voice, "if I might but die
+looking at you."
+
+Slowly the large burning tears gathered in the sorrowful eyes, and sob
+after sob rose to the quivering lips: it seemed to her that, kneeling
+there with outstretched hands, she was weeping her life away; and then
+he began to walk again, and had almost passed out of her sight.
+
+She held out her hands to him with weeping eyes.
+
+"Adrian," she called, "good-by, my love, good-by!"
+
+And he, all unconscious of the eyes that were bent upon him, turned
+away, while the darkness and desolation of death fell over the girl who
+loved him so dearly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+
+Hyacinth had looked upon Adrian. In her simplicity she had believed that
+with that one look all her fever of pain would vanish. Had it been so?
+Three days since she had stood in Miss Dartelle's room and watched him
+from the window; and now she looked like one consumed by some hidden
+fire. In that great busy household no one noticed her, or possibly
+remarks would have been made. There was a brilliant flush on the
+beautiful face, the light in her eyes was unnaturally bright, no lips
+were ever more crimson. She had slept but little. She had spent the
+nights in pacing her room, doing battle with her sorrow and her love;
+she had spent the days in fighting against the physical weakness that
+threatened to overwhelm her.
+
+"It would have been better," she owned to herself in a passion of
+despair, "never to have seen him. That one look upon his face has made
+me more wretched than ever."
+
+"It is all my own fault," she would say again--"all my own fault--no one
+is in the least degree to blame but myself. I have brought it all upon
+myself. If I had been content with my home--satisfied with the gifts
+Heaven had given me--if I had refused to listen to Claude's
+suggestions--if I had been true to my teachings and true to myself, all
+this would never have happened--I should have been Adrian's wife. There
+is no one--no one to blame but myself. I have shipwrecked my own
+happiness, and all I suffer is just punishment."
+
+Like a vision sent purposely to torture her, there came before her a
+picture of what might have been but for her folly in consenting to meet
+Claude. By this time she would have been Adrian's wife, living with him
+in that grand old house he had described to her, loving and beloved,
+going sometimes to see Lady Vaughan, and brightening the fair old face
+by the sight of her own great happiness. All this was impossible now
+because she had been guilty of a terrible folly. It was all at an end.
+She had to live her own dreary life, and never while the sun shone or
+the flowers bloomed would the faintest ray of happiness reach her. What
+Lady Dartelle had foreseen came to pass. She had so many guests to
+accommodate that she was obliged to ask Miss Holte to give up her large
+airy room and take a smaller one on the floor above.
+
+"I hope it will not inconvenience you," said her ladyship. "It will not
+be for long; we are all going to London in May."
+
+The young governess appeared quite unconcerned, and Lady Dartelle felt
+more pleased with her than ever.
+
+The window of Hyacinth's new apartment looked upon the rose-garden; and
+at the end of the rose-garden there ran a long path, where the gentlemen
+visitors were accustomed to smoke their cigars.
+
+One morning Miss Dartelle, with a smiling face, entered the school-room
+where the young governess and her little pupil sat. She bowed graciously
+to "Miss Holte" and kissed Clara.
+
+"We are all alone to-day," she said. "Our visitors have gone over to
+Broughton Park. Mamma thinks Clara may have a holiday."
+
+The child did not look so pleased as the elder sister expected.
+
+"And Miss Holte," continued the young lady, "I want to ask you
+something. You sketch very beautifully, I know. I have seen some of your
+drawings, they are exceedingly good." This was a preamble that meant
+work of some kind. "Have you noticed that very remarkable tree in the
+park, called 'The King's Oak?' It is a large spreading tree, with an
+enormous trunk overgrown with ivy, and huge overhanging boughs."
+
+"Yes," was the quiet reply, "I know it very well."
+
+"Lord Chandon has asked me to sketch it for him, Miss Holte. It appears
+that he is as fond of trees as he is of flowers. I draw very well, but I
+should like the sketch to be something better than I can do. Will you
+help me, please?"
+
+"Certainly--if you wish it;" and Hyacinth smiled in bitter scorn. "If he
+had asked me for a sketch," she thought, "no other fingers should have
+touched it."
+
+"I thought," resumed Miss Dartelle, "that, as the gentlemen are all away
+to-day, we might spend a few hours over it."
+
+"If you will put on your hat," said Miss Holte, "I will be ready in a
+few minutes."
+
+Both sisters appeared presently, and they were unusually gracious to
+Miss Holte. After a pleasant walk they came in sight of the grand old
+forest-giant. A servant had followed them, bearing camp-stools and all
+the necessaries for sketching.
+
+"Will you make a sketch of the tree, please, Miss Holte? And, as I must
+do something toward it, I will work at the minor details."
+
+Hyacinth sat down at some little distance from the tree and began her
+task. The morning was bright and almost warm. The sisters at times sat
+and watched her progress, at others, walked up and down. They conversed
+before her as unconcernedly as though she had been one of the branches
+of the oak-tree, and their conversation was all about Lord Chandon.
+Hyacinth could not hear all they said, but it was evident that Veronica
+Dartelle was in the highest spirit, and felt sure of her conquest.
+
+Tired of walking, they sat down at last close to Hyacinth, and Miss
+Dartelle, turning to her sister, said:
+
+"You have no idea how he has altered since he has been here; he was so
+dull, so reserved, so gloomy at first--now he talks quite freely to me."
+
+"He does not seem to say anything to the purpose," sneered Mildred.
+
+"But he will in time, you will see, Milly. If he could only forget that
+horrid girl!"
+
+"What 'horrid girl?'" asked Mildred, with some curiosity.
+
+"The girl he used to like--the one who did something or other
+discreditable. Aubrey told mamma she was a heroine, and one of the
+truest and noblest girls that ever lived. When Lord Chandon spoke of her
+to Aubrey, the tears were in his eyes. The girl gave some evidence at a
+trial, it seems, which saved somebody's life, but lost her home, her
+friends, and her lover; and has never been seen since."
+
+"She must have been a great simpleton," said Mildred, contemptuously.
+
+"What would you have done in her place?" asked Veronica.
+
+"I should have let the man die," replied her sister. "Self-preservation
+is the first law of nature. I would not have lost my home, friends,
+character, lover, and, above all, the chance of being Lady Chandon of
+Chandon Court, to save the life of any man;" and Mildred Dartelle
+laughed at the notion of such heroism.
+
+"This girl did. Aubrey says that when Lord Chandon speaks of her it is
+as though she had done something no other woman could do. All the men
+are the same. Major Elton said he would give his right hand to see her.
+What nonsense!"
+
+"Then does Lord Chandon care for her still?" asked Mildred.
+
+"Not as a lover, I should imagine. He affects the greatest admiration
+for her, and talks of her incessantly; but I should not think he would
+ever marry a girl who had compromised herself--besides, he cannot find
+her. She disappeared after the trial, and the general impression seems
+to be that she is dead. I will teach him to forget her. You shall come
+to Chandon Court when I am mistress there, and perhaps we may find a
+rich husband for you."
+
+"Many thanks," returned Mildred; "perhaps I may find one before you do.
+Who knows? If Lord Chandon has been so much in love, I do not see how
+you can hope that he will ever care for you."
+
+"We shall see. Time works wonders."
+
+And then Veronica stood up and looked over the governess's shoulders.
+"This is beautifully done," she said; "but you have not done much--and
+how your fingers tremble! How pale you are too! Surely you are not ill
+again, Miss Holte?" she added, impatiently.
+
+"I am quite well," answered Hyacinth, coldly; and then with an iron will
+she put back the surging thoughts and memories that were gradually
+overcoming her. "I will think when I am alone," she said to
+herself--"now I must work." And work she did--so well that in a short
+time the sketch was almost completed. Presently Veronica came up to her
+again, and took the pencil from her hands.
+
+"I must do a little," she said; and she finished some of the shading,
+and then signed her initials in the corner--"V. D."--and laughed as she
+did so.
+
+"If Lord Chandon praises the sketch, Miss Holte," she said, "I will
+repeat his compliments to you. He cannot help being pleased with it, it
+is so beautifully done. You are a true artist."
+
+"I am glad that you are pleased with it," Hyacinth replied.
+
+And then she began to wonder. She had often been out sketching with
+Adrian, and he had given her many valuable hints. Would he recognize her
+pencil? Would it be possible? And then she laughed to herself, and said
+it was only an idle fear--only her nervous imagination that troubled
+her.
+
+If what they said was true--and they had no motive for speaking
+falsely--Adrian did not hate her--he did not even despise her. He had
+called her true and brave; he had spoken of her with admiration and
+with tears in his eyes. Ah, thank Heaven for that! Her heart had almost
+withered believing in his contempt. She knew his estimation of women to
+be so high that she had not believed it possible he could do anything
+but hate her. Yet he did not hate her. Tears such as she had not shed
+since her troubles fell like rain from her eyes--tears that cooled the
+cruel fever, that were like healing drops. It seemed as though one-half
+her sorrow had vanished--Adrian did not hate her.
+
+Life would be a thousand times easier now. She felt that no greater
+happiness could have been bestowed upon her than to know that he thought
+well of her. Of course, as Miss Dartelle said, he could never marry
+her--she had compromised herself. The old sweet tie between them could
+never be renewed. Less than ever now could she bear the thought of
+meeting him; but the sharpest sting of her pain was gone--he did not
+hate her.
+
+She was still dead to him, but how much lighter the load was to her. His
+hatred and contempt had weighed her to the very earth--had bowed her
+beautiful head in unutterable shame. That was all gone now; he knew the
+worst there was to know of her, and yet he had called her brave and
+true. He had mourned for her, he liked to talk about her, and they all
+believed her dead.
+
+"So I am, my darling," she sobbed; "I would not make myself known for
+all the world. In time you will forget me and learn to be happy with
+some one else. I would not be so selfish as to let you know that I am
+living. He will love me dead--he will forget all my errors, and remember
+only that I cared for him so much more than any one can care. I little
+thought, a few weeks since, that so much happiness was in store for me.
+I have looked upon his face again; and I know that he speaks kindly of
+me. I shall never see him more, but my life will be brighter."
+
+The rest of that day passed like a tranquil dream; a deep sweet calm had
+fallen over her, the hot flush dried from her face, her eyes lost their
+unnatural brilliancy. Little Clara, looking at her governess, said:
+
+"How beautiful you are, Miss Holte! You look as though you had been
+talking to angels."
+
+"So I have," she replied; "the angels of comfort and peace."
+
+That night Hyacinth slept, and when she stood before her glass the next
+morning so much of her beauty had been restored to her that she blushed
+as she looked at herself. On this eventful morning Clara was not well.
+
+"Let us go down to the shore," she begged; "I cannot learn any lesson or
+do anything until we have been there."
+
+The young governess complied with the child's wish. It was not nine
+o'clock when they left the house.
+
+"The sea is rough this morning," said Clara. "Do you hear how hollow the
+sound of the waves is? I like high waves--they are all foam."
+
+They hurried down to the shore. The waves ran high; they broke on the
+sands in great sheets of foam; they seemed to be contesting with each
+other which should be highest and which should be swiftest.
+
+"I am sure they are playing, Miss Holte," cried the child, clapping her
+hands for joy. "Let us sit down and watch them."
+
+"I am afraid it is too cold for you to sit down; I must wrap you in my
+shawl and hold you in my arms, Clara."
+
+So they sat, the child crying out with delight when one wave higher than
+the others broke at their feet. The fresh salt breeze brought a lovely
+color into Hyacinth's face, and there were peace and serenity in the
+depths of her beautiful eyes. Governess and pupil were suddenly startled
+by seeing a gentleman hastening to them across the sands. The child
+sprung from the gentle arms that encircled her.
+
+"It is my brother," she cried, "my brother Aubrey!"
+
+The gentleman caught the little figure in his arms.
+
+"I thought it was a mermaid, Clara--upon my word I did. What are you
+doing here?"
+
+"We came to watch the waves--Miss Holte and I both love the waves."
+
+Sir Aubrey looked round, and with some difficulty repressed a cry of
+astonishment as his eyes fell upon Hyacinth's lovely face. He raised his
+hat and turned to his little sister. "You must introduce me, Clara," he
+said. The child smiled.
+
+"I do not know how to introduce people," she returned, with a happy
+little laugh. "Miss Holte, this is my big brother, Aubrey--Aubrey, this
+is Miss Holte, and I love her with all my heart."
+
+They both laughed at the quaint introduction.
+
+"This is charming, Clara. Now, may I stay for a few minutes and watch
+the waves with you?"
+
+"You must ask Miss Holte," said the child.
+
+"Miss Holte, will you give me the required permission?" he inquired.
+
+"You must ask Lady Dartelle, Sir Aubrey," she replied, "we are supposed
+to take our walks by ourselves."
+
+The blush and the smile made her so attractive that without another word
+Sir Aubrey sat down by her side. He was careful to keep Clara in his
+arms lest Miss Holte should take her by the hand and retire. "How is it,
+Miss Holte," he said, "that I have not had the pleasure of seeing you
+before?"
+
+"I do not know," she replied, "unless it is because my duties have never
+brought me into the part of the house where you, Sir Aubrey, happened to
+be."
+
+"I knew Clara had a governess but I did not know--" that she was young
+and beautiful, he was about to add; but one look at the lovely face
+checked the words on his lips. "I did not know anything more," he said.
+"Are you in the habit of coming to the shore every morning?"
+
+"Yes," said Clara, "we love the waves."
+
+"I wish I were a wave," said Sir Aubrey, laughingly.
+
+The child looked up at him with great solemn eyes. "Why, brother?" she
+asked.
+
+"Because then you would love me."
+
+"I love you now," said Clara, clasping her arms around his neck and
+kissing his face.
+
+"You are a dear, loving little child," he said, and his voice was so
+sincere that Miss Holte forgot her shyness and looked at him.
+
+He was a tall, stately gentleman; not handsome, but with a face of
+decision and truth. He had frank, clear eyes, a good mouth, with kindly
+lines about it, a quantity of clustering hair, and a brown beard. It was
+a true, good face, and the young governess liked him at once. Nothing in
+his appearance, however, caused her to take such a deep interest in him,
+but solely the fact that he was Adrian's friend.
+
+Perhaps even that very morning he had been conversing with Adrian--had,
+perhaps touched his hand. She knew for certain that Adrian had spoken to
+him of her. Her beautiful eyes lingered on his face as though she would
+fain read all his thoughts. On his part, Sir Aubrey Dartelle was charmed
+with the young governess. He said to himself that he had never seen any
+one half so fair, half so lovely; and he vowed to himself that it should
+not be his fault if he did not meet her again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+
+Sir Aubrey Dartelle did not forget that interview; the beautiful face of
+the young governess haunted him. He went to the sea-shore in the hope of
+meeting her, but she was prudent and did not go thither. She knew Lady
+Dartelle's wish that she should not meet any of her visitors--above all,
+her son. Indeed, when the young girl thought of all that might arise
+from even that interview, she became frightened.
+
+Those words of Veronica's were always present to her--"he cannot marry
+her because she has compromised herself." She would not have Adrian see
+her in this, her fallen and altered state, for the whole world. More
+than ever she wished to hide herself under the mantle of obscurity. He
+believed her dead; and, in her noble, self-sacrificing love, she said it
+was better it should be so. Suppose that Sir Aubrey should say something
+to Lord Chandon about her, and he should ask to see her? She must be
+prudent, and not let Sir Aubrey see her again. So the baronet walked
+disconsolately along the shore; but the lovely face he had seen there
+once was not to be met again. He determined that he would see her. She
+evidently loved Clara, and Clara loved her. It was plain, too, that they
+spent all their time together. Consequently, wherever Clara went, she
+would go. He would propose to take the child over to Broughton Park,
+under the pretext of showing her the beautiful swans there. Most
+certainly if the child went, the governess would go.
+
+He was absorbed in his plan. Walking one morning with Lord Chandon, he
+was so long silent that his companion looked into his face with a smile.
+
+"What are you thinking about, Aubrey?" he asked. "I have never seen you
+so meditative before."
+
+The baronet laughed in his gay, careless fashion.
+
+"I have never had the same cause," he said. "I have seen a face that
+haunts me, and I cannot forget it."
+
+One of the peculiarities of Lord Chandon was that he never laughed after
+the fashion of many men, and never jested about _affaires du coeur_.
+There was no answering smile on his face, and he said kindly: "There is
+no cure for that; I know what it is to be haunted through long days and
+longer nights by one fair face."
+
+"My mother has such a lovely governess," said Sir Aubrey confidingly. "I
+have never seen a face so beautiful. It seems to me that they keep her a
+close prisoner, and I am quite determined to see her again."
+
+"Of what use will that be?" inquired Lord Chandon. "Her face haunts you
+now, you say; the chances are that if you see her again it will trouble
+you still more. You cannot marry her; why fall in love with her?"
+
+"I have not fallen in love with her yet," said Sir Aubrey; "but I shall
+if I see much more of her. As for marrying her, I do not see why I
+should not. She is fair, graceful, and lovely."
+
+"Still, perhaps, she is not the kind of lady you should marry. Let the
+little child's governess remain in peace, Aubrey. Straight ways are the
+best ways."
+
+"You are a good fellow," returned the young baronet, easily touched by
+good advice. "I should like to see you happier, Adrian."
+
+"I shall live my life," said Lord Chandon--and his voice was full of
+pathos--"do my duty, and die like a Christian, I hope; but my earthly
+happiness died when I lost my love."
+
+"That was a sad affair," remarked Sir Aubrey.
+
+"Yes; we will not discuss it. I only mention it to warn you as to
+admitting the love of any woman into your heart, for you can never drive
+it away again."
+
+That day, after the gentlemen had entered the drawing-room, Sir Aubrey
+went up to Lady Dartelle. She was both proud and fond of her handsome
+son, who as a rule could do pretty much as he liked with her.
+
+"Mother," he said, "why does not little Clara come down sometimes?"
+
+"She can come, my dear Aubrey, whenever you wish," was the smiling
+reply.
+
+"And her governess--what has she done that she is never asked to play
+and sing?"
+
+At the mention of the word "governess" Lady Dartelle became suspicious.
+"He has seen her," she thought, "and has found out how pretty she is."
+
+"One of our arrangements," she said aloud, "was that Clara's governess
+was not to be asked into the drawing-room when we had visitors."
+
+"Why not?" inquired the baronet, carelessly.
+
+"My dear boy, it would not be prudent; and it would displease your
+sisters very much, and perhaps interfere with their plans and wishes."
+
+"Being a very pretty--nay, a most lovely girl, she is to be punished for
+her beauty, then, by being shut out of all society?"
+
+"How do you know she is beautiful?" asked Lady Dartelle. "Do not speak
+too loudly, my dear; your sisters may hear you."
+
+"I saw her the other morning on the shore, and I tell you honestly,
+mother, I think her the most beautiful girl I have ever seen; and she is
+as good as she is beautiful."
+
+"How do you know that?" asked Lady Dartelle a little anxiously.
+
+"Because she told me quite frankly that you did not wish her to be in
+the way of visitors, and because she has kept out of my way ever since."
+
+"She is a prudent girl," said Lady Dartelle. "Aubrey, my dear, I know
+how weak young men are in the matter of beauty. Do not try to get up a
+flirtation with her. Your sisters do not like her very much; and if
+there should be anything of what I have mentioned, I shall be obliged to
+send her away at once. Your own good sense will tell you that."
+
+"My sisters are--what are they?" returned Sir Aubrey, indignantly; "all
+women are jealous of each other, I suppose."
+
+"Aubrey," said Lady Dartelle, thinking it advisable to change the
+subject of conversation, "tell me whether you think either Veronica or
+Mildred has any chance of succeeding with Lord Chandon?"
+
+"Not the least in the world, I should say," he replied, "I fancied when
+he came down that he would take a little consolation; now I know there
+is not the least chance."
+
+"Why not?" inquired his mother.
+
+"Because of his love for that brave girl, Miss Vaughan, he will never
+care for any one else while he lives."
+
+Lady Dartelle's face fell considerably.
+
+"I thought he fancied her dead," she observed.
+
+"So he does; and so she must be; or, with all the search that has been
+made for her, she would have been found."
+
+"But, Aubrey, if she were living, and he did find her, do you really
+think that he would marry her?"
+
+"Indeed he would, mother. Were she alive he would marry her to-morrow,
+if he could."
+
+"After that terrible _exposé_?" cried Lady Dartelle.
+
+"There was nothing terrible in it," he opposed. "The worst thing the
+girl did was to half-elope with one of the best _partis_ in England. If
+she had completed the elopement, every one would have admired her, and
+she would have been received at once amongst the spotless band of
+English matrons. The very truth and sincerity with which the girl told
+her story ennobled her in the eyes of every sensible person."
+
+"Well," said Lady Dartelle, with a sigh, "if you really think, my dear,
+that there is no chance of his liking either of the girls, I should not
+ask him to prolong his visit." Lady Dartelle hardly liked the hearty
+laughter with which her son received her words.
+
+"I will remember, mother," he said. "Will it console you to know that
+Sir Richard told me yesterday that he never saw such a perfectly-shaped
+hand as Mildred's?"
+
+"Did he? Mildred likes him, I think. It would be such a comfort to me,
+Aubrey, if one or the other were married."
+
+"While there's life there's hope. Here comes Major Elton to remind me of
+my engagement to play a billiard match. Good-night, mother."
+
+But after a few days the good-natured baronet returned to the charge,
+and begged hard that Clara might be allowed to go to Broughton Park to
+see the swans. He thought, as a matter of course, that the governess
+would go with her, but, to make sure, he added: "Be good-natured for
+once, mother, and let the governess go. I promise neither to speak to
+her nor to look at her."
+
+But the next morning when the carriage came round, and little Clara,
+flushed with excitement, took her seat by Lady Dartelle's side, Sir
+Aubrey looked in vain for the lovely face and graceful figure. He went
+to the side of the carriage.
+
+"Mother," he said in a low voice, "where is Miss--I do not even know her
+name--the governess?"
+
+"My dear Aubrey," replied Lady Dartelle, "the governess is fortunately a
+very sensible young woman, and when I mentioned the matter to her, she
+positively and resolutely declined to come. I quite approve of her
+resolution. I have no doubt that she will greatly enjoy a day to
+herself."
+
+They little dreamed what this day was to bring forth. They were to lunch
+and dine at Broughton Park, and then drive home in the evening. Veronica
+was in the highest spirits, for Lord Chandon, declining to ride, had
+taken his seat in the carriage.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+
+"A day to myself," said the young governess, as she heard the carriage
+drive away. "I have not been alone for so long, and I have so much to
+think of."
+
+A great silence had fallen over the house; there was no sound of
+laughing voices, no busy tread of feet, no murmur of conversation; the
+silence seemed strange after the late gayety and noise. At first a great
+temptation came over her to roam through the rooms and seek out the
+traces of Adrian's presence. She might see the books he had been
+reading, the papers he had touched. She remembered how precious at
+Bergheim everything seemed to her that he had ever used. It was a great
+temptation, but she resisted it. She would not disturb the calm that had
+fallen on her.
+
+"It is of no use," she said to herself, "to open my old wounds. I will
+go out, and then, if the temptation comes to me again, I cannot yield to
+it. I will go down to the shore and read; there is no one to interrupt
+me to-day."
+
+She found a volume that pleased her; and then, book in hand, she walked
+through the woods and down to the shore, where the restless waves were
+chanting their grand old anthem. It was only the middle of April, but
+the day was warm and bright; the sun shone on the blue heaving sea. She
+sat down under the shelter of a huge bowlder and opened her book, but
+the beautiful eyes soon wandered from the printed pages; a fairer and
+far more wonderful volume lay open before her. The place where she sat
+was so retired and solitary that it seemed as though she were alone in
+the world. She gave herself up entirely to thought. Past and present
+were all mingled in one long dream.
+
+It was too delightful to be alone, the luxury was so great. She gave a
+sigh of unutterable relief. Presently the hat she wore incommoded her;
+she took it off and laid it on the sands. In removing it she disarranged
+the brown plaits which Mrs. Chalmers had thought such a success. With
+impatient fingers she removed them, and the graceful head appeared in
+all its beauty of clustering hair--golden waves of indescribable
+loveliness. She laughed as the wind played among them.
+
+"I am my own self again," she said; "and I may be myself for a few
+minutes without any one seeing me."
+
+The wind that stirred the clustering hair had brightened her eyes and
+brought the most exquisite bloom to her face.
+
+She began to think of Adrian, and forgot all about the brown plaits; she
+was living over and over again those happy days at Bergheim. She was
+recalling his looks and words, every one of which was impressed on her
+heart. She had forgotten even where she was; the song of the sea had
+lulled her into a half-waking dream; she forgot that she was sitting
+there--forgot the whole world--all save Adrian--when she was suddenly
+startled by a shadow falling between herself and the sunshine, while a
+voice, half frightened, half wondering, cried out, in tones she never
+forgot:
+
+"Miss Vaughan!"
+
+With a low cry she rose from her seat and stood with blanched lips; a
+great dark mist came before her eyes; for one terrible moment it seemed
+to her that the waters and the sky had met. Then she steadied herself
+and looked into the face of the man who had uttered her name.
+
+She recognized him; it was Gustave, the favorite valet and confidential
+servant of Lord Chandon. She clasped her hands with a low moan, while he
+cried again, in a wondering, frightened voice--"Miss Vaughan!" He looked
+at her, a strange fear dilating his eyes.
+
+"I am Hyacinth Vaughan," she said, in a low hoarse voice.
+
+The next moment he had taken off his hat, and stood bareheaded before
+her. "Miss Vaughan," he stammered, "we--we thought you dead."
+
+"So I am," she cried passionately--"I am dead in life! You must not
+betray me, Gustave. For Heaven's sake, promise not to tell that you have
+seen me!"
+
+The man looked anxious and agitated.
+
+"I cannot, miss," he replied--"I dare not keep such a secret from my
+lord."
+
+She stepped back with a moaning cry and white lips. She wrung her hands
+like one who has no hope, no help.
+
+"What shall I do?" she cried. "Oh, Heaven take pity upon me, and tell me
+what to do!"
+
+"If you knew, miss," said the man, "what my lord has suffered you would
+not ask me to keep such a secret from him. I do not think he has ever
+smiled since you went away. He is worn to a shadow--he has spent a
+fortune in trying to find you. I know that night and day he knows no
+peace, no hope, no comfort, no happiness, because he has lost you. I
+love my lord--I would lay down my life to serve him."
+
+"You do not know all," she cried.
+
+"I beg your pardon, miss," he returned, sturdily. "I do know all; and I
+know that my lord would give all he has on earth to find you--he would
+give the last drop of blood in his heart, the last shilling in his
+purse. How could I be a faithful servant to him, and see him worn,
+wretched, and miserable under my very eyes, while I kept from him that
+which would make him happy?"
+
+"You are wrong," she said, with dignity. "It would not add to your
+master's happiness to know that I am living; rather the contrary.
+Believing me dead, he will in time recover his spirits; he will forget
+me and marry some one who will be far better suited to him than I could
+ever be. Oh, believe me--believe I know best! You will only add to his
+distress, not relieve it."
+
+But the man shook his head doubtfully.
+
+"You are mistaken, Miss Vaughan," he said. "If you had seen my master's
+distress, you would know that life is no life to him without you."
+
+A sudden passion of despair seemed to seize her.
+
+"I have asked you not to betray me," she said. "Now I warn you that if
+you do, I will never forgive you; and I tell you that you will cause
+even greater misery than now exists. I am dead to Lord Chandon and to
+all my past life. I tell you plainly that if you say one word to your
+master, I will go away to the uttermost ends of the earth, where no one
+shall recognize me. Be persuaded--do not--as you are a man yourself--do
+not drive a helpless, suffering woman to despair. My fate is hard
+enough--do not render it any harder. I have enough to bear--do not add
+to my burden."
+
+"Upon my word, Miss Vaughan," returned the man irresolutely, "I do not
+know what to do."
+
+"You can think the matter over," she said. "Meanwhile, Gustave, grant me
+one favor--promise me that you will not tell Lord Chandon without first
+warning me."
+
+"I will promise that," he agreed.
+
+"Thanks," said Hyacinth, gratefully, to whom even this concession was a
+great deal. "I shall not, perhaps, be able to see you again, Gustave;
+but you can write to me and tell me what you have decided on doing."
+
+"I will, Miss Vaughan," he assented.
+
+"And pray be careful that my name does not pass your lips. I am known as
+Miss Holte here."
+
+With a low bow the man walked away; and they were both unconscious that
+the angry eyes of a jealous woman had been upon them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+
+Kate Mansfield, Miss Dartelle's maid, had taken, as she expressed it, "a
+great fancy" to Gustave. She was a pretty, quick, bright-eyed girl, not
+at all accustomed to giving her smiles in vain. Gustave--who had been
+with Lord Chandon for many years--was handsome too in his way. He had an
+intelligent face, eyes that were bright and full of expression, and a
+somewhat mocking smile, which added, in Kate's mind, considerable to his
+charms. He had certainly appeared very attentive to her; and up to the
+present Kate had felt pretty sure of her conquest. She heard Gustave
+say, as his master was out for the day, he should have a long ramble on
+the seashore; and the pretty maid, having put on her most becoming
+bonnet, made some pretext for going to the shore at the same time. She
+quite expected to meet him, "And then," as she said to herself, with a
+smile, "the seaside is a romantic place. And who knows what may happen?"
+
+But when Kate had reached the shore, and her bright eyes had wandered
+over the sands she saw no Gustave. "He has altered his mind," she
+thought, "and has gone elsewhere."
+
+She walked on, somewhat disappointed, but feeling sure that she should
+meet him before she returned home. Presently her attention was attracted
+by the sound of a man's voice, and, looking round a bowlder, she saw
+Gustave in deep conversation with the governess, Miss Holte.
+
+Kate was already jealous of Miss Holte--jealous of her beauty and of the
+favor with which Lady Dartelle regarded her.
+
+"I do hate governesses!" Kate was wont to observe to her friends in the
+kitchen. "I can do with the airs and graces of real ladies--they seem
+natural--but I cannot endure governesses; they always seem to me neither
+the one thing nor the other."
+
+Then a sharp battle of words would ensue with Mary King, who was devoted
+to the young governess.
+
+"You may say what you like, Kate, but I tell you Miss Holte is a lady. I
+know one when I see one."
+
+And now the jealous eyes of Kate Mansfield dwelt with fierce anger on
+Hyacinth.
+
+"Call her a lady!" she said to herself sneeringly. "Ladies do not talk
+to servants in that fashion. Why, she clasps hands as though she were
+begging and praying him about something! I will say nothing now, but I
+will tell Miss Dartelle; she will see about it." And Kate went home in
+what she called a "temper."
+
+Gustave walked away full of thought. He would certainly act honorably
+toward Miss Vaughan--would give her fair warning before he said anything
+to Lord Chandon. Perhaps, after all, she knew best. It might be better
+that his master should know nothing of her being there; it was just
+possible that there were circumstances in the case of which he knew
+nothing, and there was some rumor in the servant's hall about his master
+and Miss Dartelle. Doubtless it would be wise to accede to Miss
+Vaughan's request and say nothing.
+
+But during the remainder of that day Gustave was so silent, so
+preoccupied, that his fellow-servants were puzzled to discover the
+reason. He did not even take notice of Kate's anger. He spoke to her,
+and did not observe that she was disinclined to answer; nor did he seem
+to understand her numerous allusions to "underhand people" and "cunning
+ways."
+
+"I almost think," said Gustave to himself, "that I will send Miss
+Vaughan three lines to say that I have decided not to mention anything
+about her; she looked so imploringly at me, I had better not interfere."
+
+Of all the blows that could have fallen on the hapless girl, she least
+expected this. She had feared to meet Lord Chandon, and had most
+carefully kept out of his way; she had avoided Sir Aubrey lest any
+chance word of his should awaken Adrian's curiosity. She had taken every
+possible precaution, but she had never given one thought to Gustave. She
+remembered now having heard Lady Vaughan say how faithful he was, and
+how highly Adrian valued his services--how Gustave had never had any
+other master, and how he spared no pains to please him.
+
+And now suddenly he had become the chief person in her world. Her
+fate--nay, her life--lay in his hands--honest hands they were, she knew,
+and could rely implicitly on his word.
+
+He would give her fair warning. "And when I get the warning," she said
+to herself, "I shall go far away from England. No place is safe here.
+For I would not drag him down--my noble, princely Adrian, who has
+searched for me, sorrowed for me, and who loves me still. I would not
+let him link his noble life with mine; the name that he bears must not
+be sullied by me. It shall not be said of the noblest of his race that
+he married a girl who had compromised herself. People shall not point to
+his wife and say, 'She was the girl who was talked about in the murder
+case.' Ah, no, my darling, I will save you from yourself--I will save
+you from the degradation of marrying me!"
+
+She spent the remainder of the day--her holiday--in forming plans for
+going abroad. It was not safe for her to remain in England; at some time
+or other she must be inevitably discovered. It would be far better to go
+abroad--to leave England and go to some distant land--where no one would
+know her. She had one friend who could help her in her new decision. Her
+heart turned gratefully to Dr. Chalmers. Heaven bless him--he would not
+fail her.
+
+She must tell him that she was not happy--that a great danger threatened
+her; and she must ask him to help her to procure some situation abroad.
+Nor would she delay--she would write that very day, and ask him to begin
+to make inquiries at once. Soon all danger would be over, and she would
+be in peace. The long day passed all too quickly, she was so busy with
+her plans. It was late in the evening when she heard the carriage
+return, and soon afterward she knew that Adrian was once more under the
+same roof.
+
+Veronica Dartelle was not in the most sunny of tempers. She had spent a
+long day with Lord Chandon, yet during the whole of it he had not said a
+word that gave her the least hope of his ultimately caring for her,
+while she liked him better and better every day. She wondered if that
+"tiresome girl" was really the cause of his indifference, or if there
+was any one else he liked better.
+
+"Perhaps," she thought to herself, "I have not beauty enough to please
+him. I hear that this girl he loved was very lovely."
+
+An aversion to all beautiful girls and fair women entered her mind and
+remained there. She was tired--and that did not make her more amiable;
+so, when Kate Mansfield came in with her story, Veronica was in the
+worst possible mood to hear it.
+
+"What are you saying, Kate?" she cried, angrily. "It cannot be
+possible--Miss Holte would never go to meet a servant. You must be
+mistaken."
+
+"I am not, indeed, Miss Dartelle. I thought it my duty to mention it to
+you. They were talking for more than half an hour, and Miss Holte had
+her hands clasped, as though she were begging and praying him about
+something."
+
+"Nonsense," said Miss Dartelle--"you must be mistaken. What can Miss
+Holte know of Lord Chandon's servant?"
+
+Even as she said the words a sudden idea rushed through her mind. "What
+if the servant was taking some message from his master?"
+
+"I will make inquiries," she said aloud. "I will go to Miss Holte."
+
+But further testimony was not needed, for, as Miss Dartelle crossed the
+upper corridor, she saw Hyacinth standing by the window. To her came
+Gustave, who bowed silently, placed a note in her hand, and then
+withdrew.
+
+"I have had absolute proof now," she said. "This shall end at once."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+
+Lady Dartelle sat alone in her own room. The evening had suddenly grown
+cold and chilly; heavy showers of rain were beating against the windows;
+the fine warm day had ended in something like a tempest. Then there came
+a lull. They could hear the beating of the waves on the shore, while
+from the woods came the sobbing and wailing of the wind; the night came
+on in intense darkness and cold. Lady Dartelle had ordered a fire in her
+room, and told the maid to bring her a cup of warm tea there, for her
+ladyship was tired with the long day in the fresh air.
+
+She was reclining comfortably, and at her ease, with a new novel in her
+hand, when the door suddenly opened, and Veronica entered, her face
+flushed with anger. Lady Dartelle's heart sunk at the sight; there was
+nothing she dreaded more than an ebullition of temper from her
+daughters.
+
+"Mamma," cried the young lady, "be good enough to attend to me. You
+laughed at my advice before; now, perhaps, when the mischief is done,
+you will give more heed."
+
+Lady Dartelle laid down her book with a profound sigh of resignation.
+
+"What is the matter, Veronica?" she asked calmly.
+
+"The matter is, mamma, that everything has turned out as I foresaw it
+would. Your governess has contrived to get up some kind of acquaintance
+with Lord Chandon." Veronica's face broke down with anger and emotion.
+
+"I feel sure you are mistaken, Veronica. I have reason to think very
+highly of Miss Holte's prudence. I have not mentioned it before, but I
+have really been delighted with her. She might have caused your brother
+to make a fool of himself; but she refrained, and would have nothing to
+say to him." Veronica laughed contemptuously.
+
+"Why trouble herself about a baronet, when she can flirt with a lord? I
+tell you, mamma, that girl is a mask of deceit--all the worse, doubly
+worse, because she tries to blind you by her seeming simplicity."
+
+"What has she done?" asked Lady Dartelle, gravely.
+
+"Yesterday she declined to go with us; but the reason was not, as you
+imagine, self-denial. She remained at home purposely to meet Gustave,
+Lord Chandon's valet; and my maid saw her talking to him for more than
+an hour on the sands. Now, mamma, you and I know what such a proceeding
+means. Of course Miss Holte's refinement and education forbid the notion
+that she went out to meet a servant for his own sake. It was simply to
+receive a message from, or arrange some plan about, his master."
+
+"Servants' gossip, my dear," decided Lady Dartelle.
+
+"Nothing of the kind, mamma. Perhaps you will believe me when I say that
+as I was passing the upper corridor--on my way, in fact, to see Miss
+Holte--I saw Gustave go up to her; she was standing at the window. He
+put a note into her hand and went away, after making her a low bow."
+
+"You really witnessed that, Veronica, yourself?"
+
+"I did, indeed, mamma; and I tell you that, with all her seeming
+meekness, that girl is carrying on an underhand correspondence with Lord
+Chandon. In justice to myself and my sister, I demand that she be sent
+from the house--I demand it as a right!" she added passionately.
+
+"I will inquire into it at once," said Lady Dartelle; "if she be guilty,
+she shall go. I will send for her."
+
+While a servant was sent to summon Miss Holte to her ladyship's
+presence, Lady Dartelle looked very anxious.
+
+"This is a serious charge, Veronica. Aubrey has taught us to look upon
+Lord Chandon as a man of such unblemished honor that I can hardly
+believe he would lower himself to carry on an intrigue in any house
+where he was visiting, least of all with a governess."
+
+"It is quite possible," said Veronica, "that Miss Holte may have known
+him before he came here; there is evidently something of the adventuress
+about her."
+
+But when, a few minutes afterward, Miss Holte entered the room, there
+was something in the pure lovely face that belied such words.
+
+"Miss Holte," said Lady Dartelle, "I have sent for you on a very painful
+matter. I need hardly say that during your residence with me I have
+learned to trust you; but I have heard that which makes me fear my trust
+may have been misplaced. Is it true that yesterday you met and talked
+for some time with the servant of Lord Chandon?"
+
+Veronica noted with malicious triumph how the sweet face grew white and
+a great fear darkened the violet eyes.
+
+Hyacinth opened her lips to speak, but the sound died away upon them.
+
+"Is it true?" asked Lady Dartelle.
+
+"It was quite accidental," she murmured, and she trembled so violently
+that she was obliged to hold the table for support.
+
+"Governesses do not meet men-servants and talk to them by the hour
+accidentally," said Veronica.
+
+"You do not deny it, then, Miss Holte?"
+
+"I do not," she replied, faintly. She was thinking to herself, "I shall
+have time to run away before the blow falls;" and that thought alone
+sustained her.
+
+"I am sorry for it," continued Lady Dartelle. "May I ask also if that
+servant brought a note for you this evening, and gave it in your hand?"
+
+"I refuse to answer," she replied, with quiet dignity.
+
+"No answer is needed," said Veronica; "I saw you receive the note."
+
+A deeper pallor came over the fair face--a hunted look came into the sad
+eyes. The girl clasped her hands nervously.
+
+"I am sorry that this should have happened," said Lady Dartelle.
+"Knowing you to be a person of refinement and education, I cannot
+believe you to be guilty of an intrigue with a servant--that I am sure
+is not the case. I can only imagine that you have some underhand
+correspondence with a gentleman whom I have hitherto highly
+respected--with Lord Chandon."
+
+"I have not. Oh, believe me, Lady Dartelle, indeed I have not! He has
+never seen me--at least, I mean--O Heaven help me!"
+
+"You see," said Veronica to Lady Dartelle, "that confusion means guilt."
+Miss Dartelle turned to the trembling, pallid girl.
+
+"Do you mean to tell us," she asked, "that you do not know Lord
+Chandon?"
+
+"I--I mean," murmured the white lips, and then Hyacinth buried her face
+in her hands and said no more.
+
+"I think, mamma," said Miss Dartelle, "that you have proof sufficient."
+
+"I am very sorry that you have forgotten yourself, Miss Holte," said her
+ladyship, gravely. "I shall consider it my duty to speak to his lordship
+in the morning; and you must prepare to leave Hulme Abbey at once."
+
+The girl raised her white face with a look of despair which Lady
+Dartelle never forgot. "May I ask your ladyship," she said, faintly,
+"not to mention my name to--to the gentleman, and to let me go away in
+the morning?"
+
+This was the most unfortunate question that, for her own sake, she could
+have asked--it only confirmed Lady Dartelle's opinion of her guilt and
+aroused her curiosity.
+
+"I shall most certainly speak to Lord Chandon; it is only due to him
+that he should have the opportunity of freeing himself from what is
+really a most disgraceful charge."
+
+Hyacinth wrung her hands with a gesture of despair, which was not lost
+upon the two ladies.
+
+"You can retire to your room," said Lady Dartelle, coolly; "we will
+arrange to-morrow about the time of your going."
+
+As the unhappy girl closed the door, Veronica turned to her mother with
+an air of triumph.
+
+"That girl is an adventuress--there is something wrong about her. You
+will act very wisely to let her go." At a violent blast of the tempest
+without Veronica paused in her remarks about Miss Holte, and exclaimed,
+"What a terrible storm, mamma! Do you hear the rain?"
+
+"Yes," replied Lady Dartelle; "they who are safe and warm at home may
+thank Heaven for it."
+
+The young governess went to her room and stood there a picture of
+despair. What was she to do? Gustave, in the little note that he had
+brought, told her he had decided to obey her and say nothing; so that
+she had begun to feel a sense of security again. The present discovery
+was more dreadful than anything she had ever imagined, more terrible
+than anything else that could have happened. What would Adrian say or
+think? Oh, she must go--go before this crowning shame and disgrace came!
+In the morning Lord Chandon would be asked about her, and would, of
+course, deny all knowledge of her. She would probably be forced to see
+him then--dear Heaven, what misery!
+
+"I would rather," she said to herself, "die ten thousand deaths. I have
+wronged you enough, my love--I will wrong you no more."
+
+Perhaps her brain was in some degree weakened by the continued shocks
+and by bitter suffering, but there came to her in that hour, the crisis
+of her life, no idea but of flight--anyhow, anywhere--flight where those
+cruel words could not follow her--flight were it even into the cold arms
+of death.
+
+She would go to Dr. Chalmers and ask him at once to take her abroad, to
+guide her to some place where those who persecuted her could never reach
+her more. She did not stop to think; every footstep made her tremble,
+every sound threw her into a paroxysm of fear. What if they should be
+coming to confront her now with Lord Chandon?
+
+"I cannot see him," she said; "death rather than that!"
+
+At last she could bear the suspense no longer. What mattered the rain,
+the wind, the blinding tempest to her? Out of the house she would be
+safe; in the house danger greater than death threatened her--danger she
+could not, would not, dared not face.
+
+She did not stop to think; she did not even go to the bedside of the
+little one she loved so dearly to kiss her for the last time; a wild,
+half-mad frenzy had seized upon her.
+
+She must go, for her persecutors were close upon her, were hunting her
+down. She must go, or her doom was sealed. She put on her cloak and hat,
+and went down the staircase and out by one of the side doors, unseen,
+unnoticed. The wind almost blinded her, the rain beat fast and heavy
+upon her; but the darkness, the storm, the leaden sky, the wailing wind,
+seemed preferable to what lay before her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+
+It appeared to Adrian, Lord Chandon, on the morning following, that
+there was some unusual confusion in the house. Lady Dartelle was late in
+coming down to breakfast. When breakfast was over, she asked to speak
+with Lord Chandon alone, and he followed her to the library.
+
+"My lord," she began, "pray tell me, do you know anything of the
+whereabouts of this unfortunate girl? I had perhaps better explain to
+you that much scandal has been caused in my household by the fact that
+my governess met your valet on the sands, and was seen talking to him
+for more than an hour. One of my daughters also saw him give Miss Holte
+a note. Now, as we could not imagine her capable of any correspondence
+with a servant it was only natural to suppose that he was acting for his
+master. I sent for Miss Holte and spoke to her, and she evinced the
+utmost confusion, and terrible agitation. She did not deny that she was
+acquainted with you. I told her I should consider it my duty to speak to
+you; this morning we find she must have left the house last night. Had I
+not reason to seek an explanation, Lord Chandon?"
+
+"You had, indeed," he replied, "but I can throw no light on the mystery.
+Here is Gustave; perhaps he can enlighten us."
+
+"Gustave," asked Lord Chandon, "for whom have you been carrying notes to
+Lady Dartelle's governess?"
+
+"For no one, my lord. I took her one note, but it was written by
+myself."
+
+"Gustave," said Lord Chandon, sternly, "I command you to tell all you
+know of the lady."
+
+"I promised not to betray her, my lord," and as he spoke he looked
+wistfully at his master. Adrian thought that he saw tears in his eyes.
+
+"Gustave," he said, "you have always been faithful to me. Tell me, who
+is this lady?"
+
+"Oh, my lord!" cried the man, in a strange voice, "can you not guess?"
+Lord Chandon was puzzled, and then his face changed, a ghastly pallor
+came over it.
+
+"Do you mean to tell me," he demanded, in a trembling voice, "that it
+is--it is Miss Vaughan?"
+
+A look of wild excitement came over Adrian's face, as he turned to Lady
+Dartelle.
+
+"I believe," he said, "that the lady you call your governess is the one
+I have so long searched for--the lady who is betrothed to me--Miss
+Vaughan. Where is she?" he cried, "she must be looked for. Thank heaven,
+I have found some trace of her at last!"
+
+"Where is Aubrey?" he asked, and in a few minutes the young baronet had
+heard the story. He could scarcely conceal his excitement and wonder. "I
+will find her," said Adrian to Sir Aubrey. "Will you go down to the
+seashore, Aubrey? And I will take Gustave with me through the woods. I
+will find her, living or dead."
+
+They were half way through the woods, walking on in profound silence,
+when Gustave, looking through a cluster of trees, suddenly clutched his
+master's arm. "Look, my lord, there is something lying under that tree!"
+
+It was Hyacinth's silent, prostrate form.
+
+"She is dead!" cried Gustave.
+
+But Lord Chandon pushed him away. With a cry of agony the man never
+forgot, he raised the silent figure in his arms. "My darling!" he cried,
+"Oh, heaven, do not let me lose her! Give me the brandy, Gustave,
+quickly," he said, "and run--run for your life. Tell Lady Dartelle that
+we have found Miss Vaughan, and ask her to send a carriage to the
+entrance to the woods, telegraph for a doctor, and have all ready as
+soon as possible."
+
+Adrian would allow no other hands to touch her. He raised her, carried
+her to the carriage, and held her during the short drive. When they
+reached the house, and she had been carried to her room, he went to Lady
+Dartelle and took her hands in his. Tears shone in his eyes.
+
+"Lady Dartelle," he said, "I would give my life for hers! Will you do
+your best to save her for me?"
+
+"I will," she replied, "you may trust me."
+
+Adrian did not leave the house, but Sir Aubrey Dartelle telegraphed Sir
+Arthur and Lady Vaughan the glad tidings that the lost one had been
+found. Dr. Ewald was astonished, when he went down stairs, to find
+himself caught in a most impulsive and excited manner by the hand.
+
+"The truth, doctor," said Lord Chandon, "I must know the truth! Is there
+any danger?"
+
+"I think not. If she is kept quiet, and free from excitement for two
+days, I will predict a perfect recovery."
+
+On the third day Lady Dartelle sought Lord Chandon. "Miss Vaughan is
+much better, and is sitting up," she said, with a quiet smile. "Would
+you like to go up and see her?"
+
+Hyacinth rose when Adrian entered Lady Dartelle's sitting-room. She
+stretched out her hands to him with a little imploring cry, and the next
+moment he had folded her to his heart--he had covered her face with
+passionate kisses and tears. She trembled in his strong grasp.
+
+"Adrian," she whispered, "do you quite forgive me?"
+
+"My darling," he said, "I have nothing to forgive; it was, after all,
+but the shadow of a sin."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Never had the May sun shone more brightly. It was the twenty-second of
+the month, yet everyone declared it was more like the middle of June
+than of May.
+
+Hyacinth and Adrian were to be married in the old parish church at
+Oakton. Long before the hour of celebration, crowds of people had
+assembled, all bearing flowers to throw beneath the bride's feet.
+
+Sir Aubrey Dartelle--best man--with Lord Chandon, was already waiting at
+the altar, and to all appearances seemed inclined to envy his friend's
+good fortune.
+
+The ceremony was performed, the marriage vows were repeated, and Adrian
+Lord Chandon and Hyacinth Vaughan were made husband and wife--never to
+be parted more until death.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Three years have passed since that bright wedding day. Looking on the
+radiant face of Lady Chandon, one could hardly believe that desolation
+and anguish had marked her for their own. There was no shadow now in
+those beautiful eyes, for the face was full of love and of happiness.
+
+One morning Lady Chandon was in the nursery with Lady Vaughan, who had
+gone to look at the baby. They were admiring him, his golden curls, his
+dark eyes, the grace of his rounded limbs, when Lord Chandon suddenly
+appeared on the scene.
+
+"Hyacinth," he said, "will you come down stairs? There are visitors for
+you."
+
+"Who is it, Adrian?" she asked.
+
+"The visitors are Mr. and Mrs. Lady Claude Lennox."
+
+She drew back with a start, and her face flushed hotly. "Claude," she
+repeated. "Oh, Adrian, I would rather not go."
+
+"Go for my sake, darling, and because I ask it."
+
+Her husband's wish was sufficient. She entered the room, and Claude
+advanced to meet her. "Lady Chandon," he said, "I am delighted to see
+you."
+
+She was introduced to his wife, and Hyacinth speedily conceived a liking
+for her. Lady Geraldine was very fond of flowers, and during the course
+of conversation she asked Lord Chandon to show her his famous
+conservatories. They all four went together, but Claude, who was walking
+with Lady Chandon, purposely lingered near some beautiful heliotrope.
+
+"Pardon me," he said, "Lady Chandon, I wish to ask you a great favor.
+You will like my wife, I think. Will you be her friend? Will you let us
+all be friends? We should be so happy."
+
+She answered, "Yes." And to this day they are all on the most intimate
+and friendly terms.
+
+After Claude and Lady Geraldine had driven away, Lord Chandon returned
+to the drawing-room, and saw his wife standing by the window, with a
+grave look on her beautiful face. He went to her.
+
+"What are you thinking about, Hyacinth?" he asked.
+
+"I am thinking, Adrian," she said, "that, remembering my great fault, I
+do not deserve to be half as happy as I am."
+
+But he kissed the sweet lips, and said--
+
+"Hush! That is passed and done with. After all, my darling, it was but
+the Shadow of a Sin."
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
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+HERMAN'S BLACK ART
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+Self-Induced; Dangers; People Hypnotised Against Their Will;
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+
+
+Transcriber's Notes
+
+
+Bertha M. Clay is a pseudonym sometimes used by American publishers when
+reprinting books written by Charlotte M. Brame; this novel has been
+published at different times under both names.
+
+Italics are represented using _underscores_. Bold is represented with
+=equals signs=.
+
+Added Table of Contents.
+
+Retained some inconsistent hyphenation from the original (e.g. dewdrops
+vs. dew-drops; fairylike vs. fairy-like).
+
+Title page, added close quote after "Lady Damer's Secret."
+
+Marriage Guide ad, changed "Gastation" to "Gestation" and "PUPLISHING"
+to "PUBLISHING."
+
+Page 7, changed single to double quote before "You need not marry
+him..."
+
+Page 13, changed "to night" to "to-night" and added missing quote after
+'Yes; I will go.'
+
+Page 15, changed comma to period after "queen allowed herself."
+
+Page 16, changed "then" to "than" in "more toward magnificence than
+cheerfulness."
+
+Page 36, changed "thick-notted" to "thick-knotted."
+
+Page 58, added missing "s" to "Darcy's" at end of first line of Chapter
+XIII.
+
+Page 69, changed "to sure" to "too sure."
+
+Page 77, changed "pursuaded" to "persuaded."
+
+Page 79, added missing period after "life and death were in the
+balance."
+
+Page 83, changed "seen hear" to "seen her."
+
+Page 84, moved letter signature to its own line and added an opening quote
+for more consistent formatting.
+
+Page 106, added missing quote before "take my word for it."
+
+Page 119, added missing close quote after "dear old friends."
+
+Page 132, changed "correet" to "correct."
+
+Page 137, changed question mark to exclamation point after "If he could
+only forget that horrid girl!"
+
+Page 142, changed oe ligature to oe in "coeur" for text edition.
+
+Page 153, added missing "an" to "more than an hour."
+
+Page 158, changed "brady" to "brandy."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Shadow of a Sin, by 
+Bertha M. Clay and Charlotte M. Brame
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42320 ***