THE TWO GUARDIANS

or, HOME IN THIS WORLD

by CHARLOTTE MARY YONGE

THE AUTHOR OF "THE HEIR OF REDCLYFFE, " "HENRIETTA'S WISH, " "KENNETH, ""HEARTSEASE, " "THE CASTLE BUILDERS, " ETC. 

1871

[Illustration: "Stay here, Marian! I don't care if all the world heardme. "]

PREFACE. 

In putting forth another work, the Author is anxious to say a few wordson the design of these stories; not with a view to obviate criticism, but in hopes of pointing to the moral, which has been thought notsufficiently evident, perhaps because it has been desired to convey, rather than directly inculcate it. 

Throughout these tales the plan has been to present a picture ofordinary life, with its small daily events, its pleasures, and itstrials, so as to draw out its capabilities of being turned to the bestaccount. Great events, such as befall only a few, are thus excluded, and in the hope of helping to present a clue, by example, to theperplexities of daily life, the incidents, which render a storyexciting, have been sacrificed, and the attempt has been to make theinterest of the books depend on character painting. 

Each has been written with the wish to illustrate some principle whichmay be called the key note. "Abbeychurch" is intended to show the needof self-control and the evil of conceit in different manifestations;according to the various characters, "Scenes and Characters" was meantto exemplify the effects of being guided by mere feeling, set incontrast with strict adherence to duty. In "Henrietta's Wish" theopposition is between wilfulness and submission--filial submission asrequired, in the young people, and that of which it is a commencement aswell as a type, as instanced in Mrs. Frederick Langford. The design ofthe "Castle Builders" is to show the instability and dissatisfaction ofmind occasioned by the want of a practical, obedient course of dailylife; with an especial view to the consequences of not seeking strengthand assistance in the appointed means of grace. 

And as the very opposite to Emmeline's feeble character, the heroineof the present story is intended to set forth the manner in which aChristian may contend with and conquer this world, living in it but notof it, and rendering it a means of self-renunciation. It is thereforepurposely that the end presents no great event, and leaves Marianunrecompensed save by the effects her consistent well doing hasproduced on her companions. Any other compensation would render herself-sacrifice incomplete, and make her no longer invisibly above theworld. 

_October 14th_, 1852. 

CHAPTER I. 

 "With fearless pride I say That she is healthful, fleet, and strong And down the rocks will leap along, Like rivulets in May. "

 WORDSWORTH. 

Along a beautiful Devonshire lane, with banks of rock overhung by tallbowery hedges, rode a lively and merry pair, now laughing and talking, now summoning by call or whistle the spaniel that ran by their side, orcareered through the fields within the hedge. 

The younger was a maiden of about twelve years old, in a long black andwhite plaid riding-skirt, over a pink gingham frock, and her dark hairhidden beneath a little cap furnished with a long green veil, whichwas allowed to stream behind her in the wind, instead of affording theintended shelter to a complexion already a shade or two darkened by thesummer sun, but with little colour in the cheeks; and what there was, only the pale pink glow like a wild rose, called up for the momentby warmth and exercise, and soon to pass away. Still there was noappearance of want of health; the skin was of a clear, soft, fresh shadeof brown; the large dark eyes, in spite of all their depth of melancholysoftness, had the wild, untamed animation of a mountaineer; the face andform were full of free life and vigour, as she sat erect and perfectlyat ease on her spirited little bay pony, which at times seemed so livelythat it might have been matter of surprise to a stranger that so young ahorsewoman should be trusted on its back. 

Her companion was a youth some ten or eleven years her senior, possessing a handsome set of regular features, with a good deal offamily likeness to hers; dark eyes and hair, and a figure which, thoughslight, was rather too tall to look suitable to the small, stout, strongpony which carried him and his numerous equipments, consisting of a longrod-case, a fishing-basket and landing-net, in accordance with the linesof artificial flies wreathed round his straw hat, and the various oddlycontrived pockets of his grey shooting-coat. 

In the distance at the end of the lane there appeared two walkingfigures. "Mrs. Wortley!" exclaimed the young lady. 

"No, surely not out so soon!" was the answer. "She is in the depth oflessons. "

"No, but Edmund, it is, look, and Agnes too! There, Ranger has bettereyes than you; he is racing to them. "

"Well, I acknowledge my mistake, " said Edmund, drawing up his rein asthey came upon the pair, --a pleasing lady, and a pretty blue-eyed girlof fourteen. "I did not believe my eyes, Mrs. Wortley, though Mariantried to persuade me. I thought you were always reading Italian at thistime in the morning, Agnes". 

"And I thought you were reading Phædrus with Gerald, " said Mrs. Wortley. 

"Ay, " said Agnes, "we did not know what to make of you coming up thelane; you with your lance there, like the Red Cross Knight himself, andMarian with her palfry for Una. "

"The knight must have borrowed the dwarf's ass, " said Edmund, laughing, and putting his lance in rest. 

"And where have you been, then, at this portentous time of day, Agnes?"asked Marian. 

"We heard a report of Betty Lapthorn's child having another fit, " saidAgnes, "and set off to see; but it turned out to be a false alarm. Andnow we are going up to the Manor House to ask Lady Arundel if she hasany arrowroot for it, for ours is all used up. "

"Shall we find her at leisure?" added Mrs. Wortley. 

"Yes, " said Marian. "Gerald has finished his lessons by this time. Mamma thought it would be too far for him to go with us, and besides hefrightens the fish. "

"Which you are in too good training to do, Marian, " said Mrs. Wortley. "And how is your papa to-day?"

"Oh, it is a good day, " said Marian: "he was up before we set off. "

"Down stairs? For perhaps we had better not go now, just after he istired with coming down, " said Mrs. Wortley. "Now, Mr. Arundel, you willtell me honestly, and this arrowroot will do just as well another time;or if Marian will carry home the message--"

"Well, " said Edmund, smiling, "to give you a proof of my sincerity, Ithink you had better perhaps go rather later in the day. My uncle veryunnecessarily hurried himself, thinking that he was keeping me waitingto help him down stairs, and I thought he seemed rather tired; but hewill be very glad to see you in the afternoon. Indeed, he would be veryglad now, only you asked me as a question of prudence. "

"Don't make civil speeches at the end to spoil just such a reply as Iwanted, " said Mrs. Wortley. "I am afraid you do not think Sir Edmundmuch better since you were last at home. "

Edmund shook his head. "If he has not lost ground, it is well, " said he, "and I think at least there is less pain. "

"Well, I will not keep you any longer, " said Mrs. Wortley; "good-bye, and good sport to you. "

And with a wave of the hand on rode the two cousins, Edmund and MarianArundel. 

"What an excellent thing it is for the village that those Wortleys arecome!" said Edmund. 

"Yes; now that mamma cannot attend much to the school and poor people, Idon't know what we should do without them. How different it was in oldMr. May's time! I hope we shall get the Church set to rights now, whenpapa is well enough to attend to it. "

"It is high time, certainly, " said Edmund; "our Church is almost adisgrace to us, especially with the Arundel aisle, to show what ourancestors did. "

"No, not quite to us, " said Marian; "you know papa would have done itall long ago, if the idea had not vexed poor old Mr. May so much. ButRanger! Ranger! where is Ranger, Edmund?"

Edmund whistled, and presently, with whirring, rushing wing, there flewover the hedge beside them a covey of partridges, followed by Ranger'seager bark. Marian's pony started, danced, and capered; Edmund watchedher with considerable anxiety, but she reined it in with a steady, dexterous, though not a strong hand, kept her seat well, and rode on intriumph, while Edmund exclaimed, "Capital, Marian!" Then looking back, "What a shot that was!" he added in a sort of parenthesis, continuing, "I am proud, Mayflower is not a bit too much for you now, though I thinkwe must have given her up if you had had another tumble. "

"Oh, no, no, I do so delight in Mayflower, pretty creature!" saidMarian, patting her neck. "I like to feel that the creature I ride isalive--not an old slug, like that animal which you are upon, Edmund. "

"That is decidedly ungrateful of you, Marian, when you learnt to rideupon this identical slug, and owe the safety of your neck to its quietpropensities. Now take care down this stony hill; hold her up well--thatis right. "

Care was certainly needed as they descended the steep hill side; theroad, or rather pathway, cut out between high, steep, limestone rocks, and here and there even bare of earth. Any one but a native would havetrembled at such a descent but though the cousins paid attention totheir progress, they had no doubts or alarms. At the bottom a clearsparkling stream traversed the road, where, for the convenience of footpassengers, a huge flat stone had been thrown across from one high bankto the other, so as to form a romantic bridge. Marian, however, did notavail herself of it, but rode gallantly through the shallow water, onlylooking back at it to observe to Edmund, "We must make a sketch of thatsome day or other. "

"I am afraid we cannot get far enough off, " said Edmund, "to make a gooddrawing of it. Too many things go to the making of the picturesque. "

"Yes, I know, but that is what I never can understand. I see by woefulexperience that what is pretty in itself will not make a pretty drawing, and everyone says so; but I never could find out why. "

"Perhaps because we cannot represent it adequately. "

"Yes, but there is another puzzle; you sometimes see an exactrepresentation, which is not really a picture at all. Don't you knowthat thing that the man who came to the door did of our house, --thetrees all green, and the sky all blue, and the moors all purple?"

"As like as it can stare; yes, I know. "

"Well, why does that not satisfy us? why is it not a picture?"

"Because it stares, I suppose. Why does not that picture of my auntat Mrs. Week's cottage satisfy you as well as the chalk sketch in thedining-room?"

"Because it has none of herself--her spirit. "

"Well, I should say that nature has a self and a spirit which must becaught, or else the Chinese would be the greatest artists on the face ofthe earth. "

"Yes, but why does an archway, or two trees standing up so as toenclose the landscape, or--or any of those things that do to put in theforeground, why do they enable you to make a picture, to catch this selfand spirit. "

"Make the phial to enclose the genie, " said Edmund. "Abstruse questions, Marian; but perhaps it is because they contract the space, so as tobring it more to the level of our capacity, make it less grand, and morewhat we can get into keeping. To be sure, he would be a presumptuous manwho tried to make an exact likeness of that, " he added, as they reachedthe top of the hill, and found themselves on an open common, with hereand there a mass of rock peeping up, but for the most part covered withpurple heath and short furze, through which Ranger coursed, barkingjoyously. The view was splendid, on one side the moors rising onebehind the other, till they faded in grey distance, each crowned witha fantastic pile of rocks, one in the form of a castle, another ofa cathedral, another of a huge crouching lion, all known to the twocousins by name, and owned as familiar friends. On the other side, between two hills, each surmounted by its own rocky crest, lay nestledin woods the grey Church tower and cottages of the village of Fern Torr;and far away stretched the rich landscape of field, wood, and pasture, ending at length in the blue line of horizon, where sky and sea seemedto join. 

"Beautiful! how clear!" was all Marian's exclamation, though she drewup her horse and gazed with eager eyes, and a deep feeling of theloveliness of the scene, but with scarcely a remark. There was somethingin the sight which made her heart too full for words. 

After a time of delighted contemplation, Ranger was summoned from aclose investigation of a rabbit-hole, and turning into a cart track, the cousins rode down the side of the hill, where presently appearedan orchard full of gnarled old apple trees, covered with fruit of allshades of red, yellow, and green. A little further on were the largestone barns, and picturesque looking house, which enclosed a farm-yardstrewn with heaps of straw, in which pigs, poultry, and red cows wereenjoying themselves. The gate was opened by a wild-looking cow-boy, whovery respectfully touched his cap; and at the house door appeared a niceelderly looking old fashioned farmer's wife, who came forward to meetthem with bright looks of cordiality, and kindly greetings to MasterEdmund and Miss Marian. 

"Thank you, thank you, Mrs. Cornthwayte, " said Edmund, as he heldMarian's pony; "we are come to ask if you will give our ponies stableroom for a couple of hours, while we go fishing up the river. "

"O yes, certainly, sir, but won't you come in a little while and rest?it is a long walk for Miss Marian. "

They did comply with her invitation so far as to enter the large cleankitchen; the kitchen for show, that is to say, with the sanded floor, the bunch of evergreens in the covered kitchen-range, the dark oldfashioned clock, the bright range of crockery, and well polished oakentable; and there, while Marian laid aside her riding-skirt, the goodwoman commenced her anxious inquiries for Sir Edmund. 

"Pretty much the same as usual, thank you, " said Edmund. 

"No better, then, sir? Ah! I was afraid how it was; it is so long sinceI have seen him at church, and he used to come sometimes last summer:and my husband said when he saw him last week about the rent, he was sofallen away that he would hardly have known him. "

"It has been a very long illness, " said Edmund. 

"Yes, sir; I do wish we could see him about among us again, speaking ascheerful as he used. "

"Why he is very cheerful now, Mrs. Cornthwayte, " said Edmund. "No onewho only heard him talk would guess how much he has to suffer. "

Mrs. Cornthwayte shook her head with a sort of gesture of compassionateadmiration, and presently added, "But do you think he gets better on the whole, Master Edmund? Do thedoctors say there is much likelihood of his being well again, and comingamong us?"

Edmund looked down and did not reply very readily. "I am afraid we mustnot hope for that; we must be satisfied as long as he does not loseground, and I certainly think he has had less pain of late. "

A little more conversation passed between Edmund and the good wife, anda few words from Marian; after which they set off across one or twofields towards the place of their destination, Marian carrying herlittle sketching-basket in silence for some distance, until she suddenlyexclaimed, "Edmund, is papa really getting worse?"

"Why should you think so, Marian?"

"I don't know, only from what you say when people inquire after him; andsometimes when I come to think about it, I believe he can do less thanlast year. He gets up later, and does not go out so often, and now yousay he will never get quite well, and I always thought he would. "

"No, I am afraid there is no likelihood of that, Marian: the doctors sayhe may be much better, but never quite well. "

"But do you think he is better?"

"He has had less suffering of late, certainly, and so far we must bethankful; but, as you say, Marian, I am afraid he is weaker than lasttime I was at home, and I thought him much altered when I came. Still Ido not think him materially worse, and I believe I might have thoughthim improved, if I had been here all the winter. "

Marian became silent again, for her disposition was not to express herfeelings readily, and besides, she was young enough to be able to putaside anxiety which, perhaps, she did not fully comprehend. It was theordinary state of things for her father to be unwell, and his illnessscarcely weighed upon her spirits, especially on a holiday and day ofpleasure like the present; for though she often shared Edmund's walksand rides, a long expedition like this was an unusual treat. 

After traversing several fields, they entered a winding path through acopse, which, descending a steep hill side, conducted them at length tothe verge of a clear stream, which danced over or round the numerousrocks which obstructed its passage, making a pleasant, rippling sound. Here and there under the overhanging trees were deep quiet pools, wherethe water, of clear transparent brown color, contained numbers of littletrout, the object of Edmund's pursuit. But more frequently the watersplashed, dashed, and brawled along its rocky way, at the bottom ofthe narrow wooded ravine in which the valley ended. It was indeed abeautiful scene, with the sun glancing on the green of the trees andthe bright sparkling water; and Marian could scarcely restrain herexclamations of delight, out of consideration for the silence requiredby her cousin's sport. She helped him to put his rod together, andarrange his reel, with the dexterity of one who well understood thematter; and then sat down under a fern-covered rock with a book in herhand, whilst he commenced his fishing. As he slowly proceeded up thestream, she changed her place so as to follow him at a distance; now andthen making expeditions into the wood at the side of the hill to studysome remarkable rock, some tree of peculiar form, or to gather ahandsome fern-leaf, or nodding fox-glove with its purple bells. Or thelittle sketch-book came out, and she caught the form of the rock with afew strokes of bold outline and firm shading, with more power over hersoft pencil than is usual at her age, though her foliage was not of themost perfect description. Her own occupations did not, however, preventher from observing all her cousin's proceedings; she knew whenever hecaptured a trout, she was at hand to offer help when his hook, wascaught in a bramble, and took full and complete interest in the sport. 

At last, after a successful fishing up the glen, they arrived at a placewhere the ravine was suddenly closed in by a perpendicular rock ofabout twenty feet in height, down which the water fell with its fullproportion of foam and spray, forming a cascade which Marian thought"magnificent, "--Edmund, "very pretty. "

"Edmund, I am afraid the Lake country has spoilt you for Devonshire. Iwish they had never sent your regiment to the north!"

"That would not prevent the falls in Westmoreland from being twice theheight of this. "

"It would prevent you from saying that here it is not as beautiful asany thing can be. "

"And nothing short of that will satisfy you. You had better stand in anarrow pass, and challenge every passer-by to battle in defence of thebeauty of Fern Torr. "

"I don't care about every body; but you, Edmund, ought to be moredutiful to your own home. "

"You are exclusive, Marian; but come, " and he stuck his rod into theground, "let us have some of your sandwiches. "

"Not till you confess that you like Fern Torr better than all the fineplaces that you ever saw. "

"Liking with all one's heart is one thing, admiring above all others isanother, as you will find when you have seen more of the world, Marian. "

"I am sure I shall never think so. "

While this contest was going on, Marian had unpacked some sandwiches andbiscuits, and they sat down to eat them with the appetite due to sucha walk. Then came a conversation, in which Marian submitted to hearsomething of the beauties of the Lakes, in the shape of a comment on the"Bridal of Triermain, " which she had brought with her; next an attemptat sketching the cascade, in which Edmund was successful enough to makeMarian much discontented with her own performance, and declare that shewas tired of sitting still, and had a great mind to try to climb up therocks by the side of the fall. She was light, active, and well able toscramble, and with a little help here and there from her cousin's stronghand, the top was merrily gained; and springing along from rock to rock, they traced the windings of the stream even to the end of the copse andthe opening of the moor. It was a great achievement for Marian, for evenEdmund had only once been this way before when out shooting. She wouldfain have mounted to the top of a peak which bounded her view, but beingassured that she would only find Alps on Alps arise, she submitted toEdmund's judgment, and consented to retrace her steps, through wood andwild, to Mrs. Cornthwayte's, where they found a feast prepared forthem of saffron buns, Devonshire cream, and cyder. Then mounting theirsteeds, and releasing Ranger from durance in the stable, they rodehomewards for about three miles, when they entered the village in thevalley at the foot of the steep rocky hill, from which it was named FernTorr. Excepting the bare rugged summit, this hill was well covered withwood, and opposite to it rose more gently another elevation, dividedinto fields and meadows. The little old Church, with its square tower, and the neat vicarage beside it, were the only buildings above the rankof cottages, of which some twenty stood irregularly ranged in theirgardens and orchards, along the banks of the bright little stream whichbounded the road, at present scarcely large enough to afford swimmingspace for the numerous ducks that paddled in it; but the width of itsstony bed, and the large span of the one-arched bridge that traversedit, showing what was its breadth and strength in the winter floods. 

A little beyond this bridge was a wicket gate, leading to a path upthe wooded height; and Edmund at this moment seeing a boy in a stablejacket, asked Marian if he should not let him lead the ponies roundby the drive, while they walked up the steps. She readily agreed, andEdmund helping her to dismount, they took their way up the path, whichafter a very short interval led to a steep flight of steps, cut outin the face of the limestone rock, and ascending through ferns, mountain-ash, and rhododendrons for about fifty or sixty feet, when itwas concluded by what might be called either a broad terrace or narrowlawn, upon which stood a house irregularly built of the rough stoneof the country, and covered with luxuriant myrtles and magnolias. Immediately behind, the ground again rose so precipitously, thatscarcely could coign of vantage be won for the garden, on a successionof narrow shelves or ledges, which had a peculiarly beautiful effect, adorned, as they were, with gay flowers, and looking, as Edmund was wontto say, as gorgeous and as deficient in perspective as an old piece oftapestry. 

"There is papa out of doors, " exclaimed Marian, as she emerged uponthe lawn, and ran eagerly up to a Bath chair, in which was seated agentleman whose face and form showed too certain tokens of long andwasting illness. He held out his hand to her, saying, "Well, Marian, good sport, I hope, and no more tumbles from Mayflower. "

"Marian sits like a heroine, " said Edmund, coming up; "I am glad to seeyou out. "

"It is such a fine evening that I was tempted to come and see themagnolia that you have all been boasting of: and really it is worthseeing. Those white blossoms are magnificent. "

"But where is mamma?" asked Marian. 

"Carried off by Gerald, to say whether he may have a superannuated seakale pot for some purpose best known to himself, in his desert island. They will be here again in another minute. There, thank you, Edmund, that is enough, " he added, as his nephew drew his chair out of a streakof sunshine which had just come over him. "Now, how far have you been? Ihope you have seen the cascade, Marian?"

"O yes, papa, and scrambled up the side of it too. I had no idea of anything so beautiful, " said Marian. "The spray was so white and glancing. Oh! I wish I could tell you one half of the beauty of it. "

"I remember well the delight of the first discovery of it, " said SirEdmund, "when I was a mere boy, and found my way there by chance, as Iwas shooting. I came up the glen, and suddenly found myself in the midstof this beautiful glade, with the waterfall glancing white in the sun. "

"I wish we could transplant it, " said Edmund; "but after all, perhapsits being so remote and inaccessible is one of its great charms. Ah!young monkey, is it you?" added he, as Gerald, a merry bright-eyed boyof seven years old, came rushing from behind and commenced a rompingattack upon him. "Take care, not such a disturbance close to papa. "

"O mamma, we have had the most delightful day!" cried Marian, springingto the side of her mother, who now came forward from the kitchen garden, and whose fair and gentle, but careworn, anxious face, lighted up with abright sweet smile, as she observed the glow on her daughter's usuallypale cheek, and the light that danced in her dark brown eye. 

"I'm glad you have had such a pleasant day, my dear, " said she. "It isvery kind in Edmund to be troubled with such a wild goose. "

"Wild geese are very good things in their way, " said Edmund; "water andland, precipice and moor, 'tis all the same to them. "

"And when will you take me, Edmund?" asked Gerald. 

"When you have learnt to comport yourself with as much discretion asMarian, master, " said Edmund, sitting down on the grass, and rolling thekicking, struggling boy over and over, while Marian stood by her papa, showing him her sketches, and delighted by hearing him recognize thedifferent spots. "How can you remember them so well, papa, " said she, "when it is so very long since you saw them?"

"That is the very reason, " he answered, "we do not so much dwell on whatis constantly before us as when we have long lost sight of it. To beconfined to the house for a few years is an excellent receipt forappreciating nature. "

"Yes, because it must make you wish for it so much, " said Marian sadly. 

"Not exactly, " said her father. "You cannot guess the pleasure it hasoften given me to recall those scenes, and to hear you talk of them;just as your mamma likes to hear of Oakworthy. "

"Certainly, " said Lady Arundel. "I have remembered much at poor oldOakworthy that I never thought of remarking at the time I was there. Even flaws in the glass, and cracks in the ceiling have returned uponme, and especially since the house has been pulled down. "

"I cannot think how the natives of an old house can wilfully destroy alltheir old associations, their heirloooms, " said Edmund. 

"Sometimes they have none, " said his aunt. 

"Ay, " said Sir Edmund, "when Gerald brings home a fine wife fromfar away, see what she will say to all our dark passages and cornercupboards, and steps up and steps down. "

"Oh! I shall not be able to bear her if she does not like them, " criedMarian. 

"I suppose that was the case with Mrs. Lyddell, " added Sir Edmund, "thatshe discovered the deficiencies of the old house, as well as broughtwherewith to remedy them. He does not look like a man given to change. "

"He has no such feeling for association as these people, " said LadyArundel, pointing to Edmund and Marian; "he felt his position, in thecountry raised by her fortune, and was glad to use any means of addingto his consequence. "

"I should like to see more of them. I wish we could ask them to stayhere, " said Sir Edmund, with something like a sigh. "But come, had wenot better go in? The hungry fishers look quite ready for tea. "

CHAPTER II. 

 "And now I set thee down to try How thou canst walk alone. "

 _Lyra Innocentium_. 

Scarcely eight months had passed since the last recorded conversation, when Marian, in a dress of deep mourning, was slowly pacing the gardenpaths, her eyes fixed on the ground, and an expression of thoughtfulsadness on her face. Heavy indeed had been the strokes that had fallenupon her. Before the last summer had closed, the long sufferings of herfather had been terminated by one of the violent attacks, which hadoften been expected to be fatal. Nor was this all that she had to mourn. With winter had come severe colds and coughs; Lady Arundel was seizedwith an inflammation of the chest, her constitution had been muchenfeebled by watching, anxiety, and grief, and in a very few days herchildren were orphans. 

It was the day following the funeral. Mrs. Wortley was staying in thehouse, as were also the two guardians of the young Sir Gerald Arundeland his sister. These were Mr. Lyddell, a relation of Lady Arundel; andour former acquaintance, Edmund Arundel, in whom, young as he was, hisuncle had placed full confidence. He had in fact been entirely broughtup by Sir Edmund, and knew no other home than Fern Torr, having beensent thither an orphan in earliest childhood. His uncle and aunt hadsupplied the place of parents, and had been well rewarded for all theyhad done for him, by his consistent well doing and completely filialaffection for them. 

Marian was startled from her musings by his voice close at hand, saying, "All alone, Marian?"

"Gerald is with Jemmy Wortley, somewhere, " she replied, "and I beggedMrs. Wortley and Agnes to go down the village and leave me alone. I havebeen very busy all the morning, and my head feels quite confused withthoughts!"

"I am glad to have found you, " said Edmund. "I have seen so little ofyou since I have been here. "

"Yes, you have been always with Mr. Lyddell. When does he go?"

"To-morrow morning. "

"And you stay longer, I hope?"

"Only till Monday; I wish it was possible to stay longer, but it issomething to have a Sunday to spend here. "

"And then I am afraid it will be a long time before we see you again. "

"I hope not; if you are in London, it will be always easier to meet. "

"In London! Ah! that reminds me I wanted to ask you what I am to say toSelina Marchmont. I have a very kind letter from her, asking us to cometo stay with her directly, and hoping that it may be arranged for us tolive with them. "

"Ah! I have a letter from her husband to the same effect, " said Edmund. "It really is very kind and friendly in them. "

"Exceedingly, " said Marian. "Will you read her letter, and tell me how Iam to answer her!"

"As to the visit, that depends upon what you like to do yourself. Ishould think that you would prefer staying with the Wortleys, since theyare so kind as to receive you. "

"You don't mean, " exclaimed Marian, eagerly, "staying with them forever!"

Edmund shook his head. "No, Marian, I fear that cannot be. "

"Then it is as I feared, " sighed Marian. "I wonder how it is that I havethought so much about myself; but it would come into my head, what wasto become of us, and I was very much afraid of living with the Lyddells;but still there was a little glimmering of hope that you might be ableto manage to leave us with the Wortleys. "

"I heartily wish I could, " said Edmund, "but it is out of my power. Myuncle--"

"Surely papa did not wish us to live with the Lyddells?" cried Marian. 

"I do not think he contemplated your living any where but at home. "

"But the Vicarage is more like home than any other place could ever be, "pleaded Marian, "and papa did not like the Lyddells nearly so well asthe Wortleys. "

"We must abide by his arrangements, rather than our own notions of hiswishes, " said Edmund. "Indeed, I know that he thought Mr. Lyddell a verysensible man. "

"Then poor Gerald is to grow up away from his own home, and never seethe dear old moors! But if we cannot stay here, I had rather be withSelina. She is so fond of Gerald, and she knows what home was, and sheknew and loved--them. And we should not meet so many strangers. Onlythink what numbers of Lyddells there are! Boys to make Gerald rude, andgirls, and a governess--all strangers. And they go to London!" concludedpoor Marian, reaching the climax of her terrors. "O Edmund, can you donothing for us?"

"You certainly do not embellish matters in anticipation. You will findthem very different from what you expect--even London itself, which, bythe by, you would have to endure even if you were with Selina, whom Isuspect to be rather too fine and fashionable a lady for such a homelylittle Devonshire girl. "

"That Mrs. Lyddell will be. She is a very gay person, and they havequantities of company. O Edmund!"

"The quantities of company, " replied her cousin, "will interfere withyou far less in your schoolroom with the Miss Lyddells, than alone withmy Lady Marchmont, where, at your unrecognized age, you would be inrather an awkward situation. "

"Or I could go to Torquay, to old Aunt Jessie?"

"Aunt Jessie would not be much obliged for the proposal of giving hersuch a charge. "

"But I should take care of her, and make her life less dismal andlonely. "

"That may be very well some years hence, when you are your own mistress:but at present I believe the trouble and change of habits which havingyou with her would occasion, would not be compensated by all yourattention and kindness. Have you written to her yet?"

"No, I do not know how, and I hoped it was one of the letters that youundertook for me. "

"I think I ought not to relieve you of that. Aunt Jessie is your nearestrelation; I am sure this has been a great blow to her, and that it hascost her much effort to write to you herself. You must not turn herletter over to me, like a mere complimentary condolence. "

"Very well, " said Marian, with a sigh, "though I cannot guess what Ishall say. And about Selina?"

"You had better write and tell her how you are situated, and I will dothe same to Lord Marchmont. "

"And when must we go to the Lyddells? I thought he meant more than merecivility, when he spoke of Oakworthy this morning, at breakfast. "

"He spoke of taking you back to London immediately, but I persuaded himto wait till they go into Wiltshire, so you need not be rooted up fromFern Torr just yet. "

"Thank you, that is a great reprieve. "

"And do not make up your mind beforehand to be unhappy at Oakworthy. Very likely you will take root there, and wonder you ever shrank frombeing transplanted to your new home. "

"Never! never! it is cruel to say that any place but this can be likehome! And you, Edmund, what shall you do, where shall you go, when youhave leave of absence?"

"I shall never ask for it, " said he with an effort, while his eye fellon the window of the room which had been his own for so many years, andthe thought crossed him, "Mine no more. " It had been his home, as fullyas that of his two cousins, but now it was nothing to him; and whilethey had each other to cling to, he stood in the world a lonely man. 

Marian perceived his emotion, but rather than seem to notice it, sheassumed a sort of gaiety. "I'll tell you, Edmund. You shall marry a verynice wife, and take some delightful little house somewhere hereabouts, and we will come and stay with you till Gerald is of age. "

"Which he will be long before I have either house or wife, " said Edmund, in the same tone, "but mind, Marian, it is a bargain, unless you grow sofond of the Lyddells as to retract. "

"Impossible. "

"Well, I will not strengthen your prejudices by contending with them. "

"Prejudice! to say that I can never be as happy anywhere as at my owndear home! To say that I cannot bear strangers!"

"If they were to remain strangers for all the years that you are likelyto spend with them, there might be something in that. But I see youcannot bear to be told that you can ever be happy again, so I will notsay so any more, especially as I must finish my letters. "

"And I will try to write mine, " said Marian with a sigh, as she reachedthe door, and went up to take off her bonnet. 

Edmund lingered for a moment in the hall, and there was met by Mrs. Wortley, who said she was glad to see that he had been out, for he waslooking pale and harassed. "I did not go out for any pleasant purpose, "said he. "I had to pronounce sentence on poor Marian. "

"Is it finally settled?" said Mrs. Wortley. "We still had hopes ofkeeping her. "

"Sir Gerald and Miss Arundel are of too much distinction in Mr. Lyddell's eyes to be left to their best friends, " said Edmund. "It washard to persuade him not to take possession directly, on the plea ofchange being good for their spirits. "

"It is very kind of you to put off the evil day, " said Mrs. Wortley; "itwill be a grievous parting for poor Agnes. "

"A grievous business for every one, " said Edmund. 

"How? Do not you think well of Mr. And Mrs. Lyddell?"

"I know my uncle never thought of these poor children's living withthem. He thought Mr. Lyddell a good man of business, but neither he normy aunt ever dreamed of such a home for them. "

"Would they have preferred Lady Marchmont's? Marian is very fond ofher, and was much gratified by a very nice affectionate letter that shereceived this morning. "

"Yes, but I am glad she is out of the question. It is offering a greatdeal both on her part and her husband's to take charge of these two, butit would never do. She is almost a child herself, --a bride and beautyunder twenty, --excessively admired, very likely to have her head turned. No, it would be too absurd. All her kindness, amiability, desire to makeMarian her friend and companion, would only serve to do harm. "

"Yes, you are right; yet I cannot help half wishing it could be, if itwas only to save poor Marian her terrors of going among strangers. "

"I know exactly how it will be, " said Edmund. "She will shut herselfup in a double proof case of shyness and reserve. They will neverunderstand her, nor she them. "

"But that cannot go on for ever. "

"No; and perhaps it might be better if it could. "

"Well, but do you really know anything against them? He seems inclinedto be very kind and considerate. "

"Electioneering courtesy, " said Edmund. "But now you begin to questionme, I cannot say that my--my mistrust shall I call it--or aversion? ismuch better founded than the prejudices I have been scolding poor Marianfor. Perhaps it is only that I am jealous of them, and cannot think anyone out of Fern Torr worthy to bring up my uncle's children. All I knowof them is, that Mrs. Lyddell was heiress to a rich banker, she goes outa good deal in London, and the only time that I met her I thought herclever and agreeable. In their own county I believe she is just what apopular member's wife should be--I don't mean popular in the sense ofradical. I think I have heard too something about the eldest son notturning out well; but altogether, you see, I have not grounds enough tojustify any opposition to their desire of having the children. "

"How are they as to Church principles?"

"That I really cannot tell. I should think they troubled themselves verylittle about the matter, and would only dislike any thing strong eitherway. If my aunt had but been able to make some arrangement! No doubt itwas upon her mind when she asked so often for me!"

"Yes, but there is this comfort, " said Mrs. Wortley, seeing him muchtroubled, "that she did not seem to make herself anxious and restless ontheir account. She trusted them, and so may we. "

"Yes, that is all that one can come to, " said Edmund, sighing deeply. "But Gerald! One pities Marian the most now, but it is a more seriousmatter for him. "

"Gerald will be more in your power than his sister, " said Mrs. Wortley. 

"As if that was much comfort, " said Edmund, half smiling, then againsighing, "when even for my own concerns I miss my uncle's advice atevery turn. And probably I may have to go on foreign service next year. "

"Then he will be at school. "

"Yes. He was not to have gone till he was ten years old, but I shall tryto hasten it now. He must go with his sister to Oakworthy though, for tobegin without him there would be complete desolation in her eyes. "

Here the conversation was concluded by Marian's coming down to write herpainfully composed letters. That to her cousin, Lady Marchmont, who, as Selina Grenville, had been a frequent and favourite visitor at themanor, ran glibly enough off the pen, and the two or three quiet tearsthat blotted the paper, fell from a feeling of affection rather than ofregret; but the letter to old Mrs. Jessie Arundel, her great aunt, andone or two others which Edmund had desired her to write, were works oftime. Marian's feelings were seldom freely expressed even to those whomshe loved best, and to write down expressions of grief, affection, orgratitude, as a matter of course, was positively repugnant to her. 

The great work was not finished till late, and then came in Gerald andAgnes, and the tea drinking among themselves was rendered cheerful byAgnes' anticipations of pleasure in their going the next day to theparsonage for a long visit. Gerald began to play with her, and soon gotinto quite high spirits, and Marian herself had smiled, nay, almostlaughed, before the gentlemen came in from the dining room, when thepresence of Mr. Lyddell cast over her a cloud of dull dread and silence, so that she did not through the rest of the evening raise her head threeinches from her book. 

Yet as Mrs. Wortley had said, Mr. Lyddell was evidently inclined to bekind to her and her brother. He patted Gerald on the head as he wishedhim good night, and said good-naturedly to Marian that she must be greatfriends with his girls, Caroline and Clara. 

Marian tried to look civil, but could not find an answer both sincereand polite, and Mrs. Wortley, speaking for her, asked if they werenearly of the same age as she was. 

"Well, I can't exactly tell, " said Mr. Lyddell. "I should think she wasbetween them. You are thirteen, aren't you, Marian? Well, Caroline maybe a couple of years older, and Clara--I know her birthday was the otherday, for I had to make her a present, --but how old she was I can'texactly recollect, whether it was twelve or thirteen. So you see youwill not want for companions at Oakworthy, and you will be as happythere as your poor mamma used to be in the old house. Many was the laughshe has had there with my poor sister, and now they are both gone--well, there, I did not mean to overset you, --but--"

Marian could not bear it. She could talk of her mother to Mrs. Wortley, Agnes, or Edmund, with complete composure, but she could not bear Mr. Lyddell's hearty voice trying, as she thought, at sentiment, and forcingthe subject upon her, and without a word or a look she hurried out ofthe room, and did not come back all the evening. Agnes followed her, and pitied her, and thought Mr. Lyddell should have said nothing of thekind, and sat down over the fire with her in her own room to read hymns. 

The next day Mr. Lyddell left Fern Torr, and Marian was so glad togee him depart as to be able to endure much better his invitations toOakworthy. That same day Marian and Gerald went to the parsonage, andEdmund, after spending a quiet Sunday at Fern Torr, bade them farewellon the Monday morning. 

CHAPTER III. 

 "Where once we dwelt our name is heard no more, Children not thine 'may tread' my nurseryfloor. "

 COWPER. 

The way of life at Fern Torr parsonage was so quiet as to afford fewsubjects for narration. Mrs. Wortley was a gentle, sensible person, veryfond of Marian and Gerald, both for their own sake and their mother's, and to be with her was to them as like being at home as anything couldbe. Agnes was quite wrapped up in her friend, whom she pitied soheartily, and was to lose so soon. She had known no troubles exceptthrough Marian, she reverenced Marian's griefs, and in her respect forthem was inclined to spoil her not a little. Then, through nothingagainst the Lyddells had ever been said to Agnes, she had caughtall Marian's prejudiced dislike to them, and sometimes in livelyexaggeration, sometimes in grave condolence, talked of them "as thesehorrid people. "

Marian felt every day was precious as it passed, and the time seemed toher far less than two months, when one day there arrived a letter fromMrs. Lyddell to announce that the family were about to leave London, andin the course of a week Mr. Lyddell would come to fetch her and Geraldto Oakworthy. 

The letter was kindly expressed, but this was lost upon Marian in thepain its purport gave her, and the difficulty of composing an answer. She chose her smallest sheet of writing-paper with the deepest blackedge, wrote as widely as she could, and used the longest words, but withall Mrs. Wortley's suggestions, she could not eke out what she had tosay beyond the first page. She would not even send her love to hercousins, for she said she could have no particular affection for them, and to express any pleasure in the prospect of seeing so many strangerswould be an actual untruth. 

What a week was that which followed! Marian loved her home with thatenthusiasm which especially belongs to the inhabitants of mountainousdistricts, and still more acutely did she feel the separation from allthat reminded her of her parents. If she had not had Gerald to go withher she did not know how she could have borne it, but Gerald, her ownbeautiful brother, with his chestnut curls, dark bright eyes, sweettemper, and great cleverness and goodness, he must be a comfort to herwherever she was. Gerald was one of those children who seem to have apeculiar atmosphere of bright grace and goodness around them, who makebeautiful earnest sayings in their simplicity which are treasured up bytheir friends, who, while regarding them with joy and something likeveneration, watch them likewise with fear and trembling. Thus had hismother looked upon Gerald, and thus in some degree did Mrs. Wortley; butMarian had nothing but pride, joy, and confidence in him, unalloyed savenow and then by the secret, half superstitious fear that such goodnessmight mark him for early death. 

By Marian's own especial desire, she went to almost every cottage totake leave, but all she could do was to stand with her head averted andher lips compressed, while Mrs. Wortley spoke for her. Her next task wasto look over the boxes and drawers at the manor house, in case it shouldbe let; for no one else could be trusted to decide what hoards of highlyprized trifles should be locked up, and what must be thrown away. Shealone could choose the little keepsakes to be given to old servants andvillage friends, and she must select what she would take to Oakworthy. 

She stood lingering before each picture, viewing the old familiarfurniture with loving eyes, and sighing at the thought that strangerswould alter the arrangements, look carelessly or critically on herfather's portrait, think her wild garden a collection of weeds, and rootup the flowering fern which Edmund had helped her to transplant. Shewent into her own room, and felt almost ready to hate the person whomight occupy it; she lay down on the bed, and looking up at the samebranch of lime tree, and the same piece of sky which had met her eyesevery morning, she mused there till she was roused by hearing Gerald'svoice very loud in the nursery. Hastening thither, she found himinsisting that his collection of stones and spars was much too preciousto mend the roads with, as their maid Saunders proposed, and Agnessettling the matter satisfactorily by offering to take them to adorn acertain den in the vicarage garden with. The ponies were to be turnedout to grass, the rabbits were bestowed on James Wortley, and Rangerwas to be kept at the vicarage till Edmund could come and fetch him, together with his books, which Marian had to look out, and she found ita service of difficulty, since "Edmund Gerald" could scarcely be said toanswer the purpose of a proper name in the Arundel family. 

The last day at home arrived, the eve of S. James. Marian went toprepare her class at the weekly school, resolved to do just as usual tothe last. She had to read them the conversation on S. James's Day in"Fasts and Festivals, " but she could hardly get through with it, theseparation between early friends reminded her so much of herself andAgnes, and then the comparison of the two roads, one in burning andscorching sunshine, the other in the cool fresh shade, almost oversether, for though she could not tell why, she chose to be persuaded thatthe first must be hers. But they both ended in the same place. She felttears coming into her eyes, but she kept them down, and went on readingin a steady monotonous voice, as if the meaning was nothing to her; sheasked the children questions in a dry, grave, matter-of-fact way, as ifshe had not the slightest interest in them or in the subject, though herheart was full of affection to the dullest and roughest among them, andwhen she went away, her nod, and "well, good morning, " to the schoolmistress were several shades further from warmth than usual. 

All the way back from the school she was eagerly telling Agnes exactlythe point where she left each child in her class, and begging her tosay the kind things which she meant to have said to Grace Knight, themistress. 

Agnes laughed and said, "I hope she will take my word for it all. Whycould you not speak to her? At least I thought you were not afraid ofher. "

"I don't know, " said Marian. "I thought I could, but it is very odd. Yousee, Agnes, how it is; the more I care, the more I can't speak, and Ican't help it. "

"Well, don't be unhappy about it, " said Agnes. "I know what you mean, and am ready to take you as you are, and if other people don't, it istheir own fault. "

Agnes was rather too fond of Marian to be exactly right here, for it wasnot at all a good thing that she should be encouraged in a reserve whichled her not always to do as she would be done by. 

The two girls came in, lingered in each other's rooms while theydressed, and at last were called down stairs by Mrs. Wortley, who wasready to finish with them the last chapter of the book they had beenreading aloud together. Gerald sat in the window, his friend Jemmyhanging over him, and the two together composing a marvellousbattlepiece, in which Gerald drew horses, men, cannon, and arrows, andJemmy, like a small Homer, suggested the various frightful wounds theyshould be receiving, and the attitudes in which they should fall. Thegeneral, with a tremendous Turkish sabre, an immense cocked hat, anda horse with very stiff legs, was just being represented receiving anunfortunate-looking prisoner, considerably spotted with vermillionpaint, when a sound of wheels was heard, and both boys starting up, exclaimed, "Here he comes!"

He, as Marian knew full well, was Mr. Lyddell; and a chilliness cameover her as he entered, tall, broad, ruddy, treading heavily, andspeaking loudly: and Gerald pressed close to her, squeezing her handso tight that she could hardly withdraw it to shake hands with herguardian. With one hand he held her cold reluctant fingers, with theother gave Gerald's head a patronizing pat. "Well, my dears, how d'yedo? quite well? and ready to start with me to-morrow? That is right. Caroline and Clara have had their heads full of nothing but you thislong time--only wanted to have come with me. "

Here Marian succeeded in drawing back her hand, and retreated to thewindow; Gerald was creeping after her, but Mr. Lyddell laid hold of hischin, and drew him back, saying. "What, shy, my man? we shall cure youat Oakworthy My boys will give you no peace if they see you getting intoyour sister's pocket. "

Gerald disengaged himself, and made a rapid retreat. It was a long timebefore he again appeared, and when Mrs. The housekeeper at the ManorHouse, came down in the course of the evening to say good-bye, she said, "And ma'am, where do you think I found that dear child, Sir Gerald, nottwo hours ago?" She wiped away a gush of tears, and went on. "I thoughtI heard a noise in the drilling room, and went to see, and there, ma'am, was the dear little fellow lying on the floor, the bare boards, for thecarpet is taken up, you know, Miss Marian, before his papa's picture, crying and sobbing as if his heart would break. But as soon as I openedthe door, and he saw me, he snatched up his hat, and jumped out at theopen window, which he had come in by, I suppose, for I never heard himopen the door. "

Marian, after her usual fashion, had no reply, but it was pleasant toher to think of what had taken place, since Gerald had not in generalshown much concern at the leaving home. 

They all met at breakfast next morning; Marian, was firmly determinedagainst crying, and by dint of squeezing up her lips, and not uttering aword, succeeded in keeping her resolution; but poor Agnes could eat nobreakfast, and did nothing but cry, till Mr. Lyddell, by saying that hertears were a great honour both to herself and Marian, entirely checkedthem. 

"I hope, " said Mr. Wortley, "that Mrs. Lyddell will not be very strictin inquiring into the quantity of Marian's idle correspondence. Thefriends there mean to console themselves with multitudes of letters. "

"Oh, certainly, certainly, " said Mr. Lyddell. "Old friends for ever! Somind, Marian, I mean to be very angry if you forget to write to MissWortley. "

"Thank you, " said Marian, knowing that she was saying something silly, and trying to smile. 

"Come, then, " said Mr. Lyddell, "thank your friends once more for theirkindness, and let us be going. "

Thanks from Marian were out of the question, and she tried to get outof hearing of the sentences beginning, "I am sure we shall always besensible, " "Nothing could be kinder, " which her guardian was pouringout. She moved with Agnes to the door: the summer sky was deeply blue, without a cloud, the fresh green branches of the trees stood up againstit as if bathed in light, the flower beds were glowing with gayblossoms, Gerald and Jemmy were playing with Ranger under the verandah, and the Church bells rang cheerfully for morning service, but alas! atthe gate was the carriage, Saunders sitting sobbing on the outside, and David Chapple, Mr. Wortley's man, standing on one leg on the steptalking to her. Near at hand was the gardener from the Manor House, waiting with his hands full of Miss Arundel's favourite flowers, andthere stood old Betty Lapthorn and her grandchild, Gerald's nurse whohad married, and the old man to whom the children had so often carriedthe remains of their dinner; all the school children too, and Grace inthe middle of them, waiting for the last view of Miss Arundel and littleSir Gerald. 

Mr. Lyddell finished his acknowledgments, and Marian and her brotherreceived an embrace and good-bye from their friends, David jumped downand shut the door, Saunders sobbed aloud, there was another good-byefrom each of the Wortleys, and a hearty response from Gerald, Mr. Lyddell called out, "All right, " and away they went. 

On went the carriage, past the Church, with its open door and pealingbell, the rocky steps up to the Manor House, nestled in the shrubs, thewell known trees, the herds of longhorned, red cattle, the grey stonecottages, and the women and tiny children at the doors, the ford throughthe sparkling shallow brook, the hill with the great limestone quarry, the kiln so like a castle, the river and its bridge of one narrow, highpitched, ivy grown arch, the great rod rock, remembered as having beenthe limit of papa's last drive, the farm house in the winding valleybeyond, with its sloping orchard and home field, the last building inthe parish. They drove through the little market town, slowly wound upthe heights beyond, looked down into the broad, beautiful space wherethe river Exe winds its blue course amid wood, field, and castled hill, descended, losing sight of the last of the Torrs, glanced at Exeter andits Cathedral, arrived at the station, and there, while waiting hand inhand on the platform, gazing at the carriage, and starting at each puff, snort, cough, and shriek of the engines, Marian and Gerald did indeedfeel themselves severed from the home of their childhood. 

It was not till the afternoon that they left the railroad, and then theyhad a two hours' drive through a country which Marian found very unlikeher own: the bleak, bare downs of Wiltshire, low green hills risingendlessly one after the other, the white road visible far away beforethem, the chalk pits white and cold, a few whitey brown ponds now andthen, and at long intervals a farm house, looking as if it had been setdown there by mistake, and did not like it, carts full of chalk, andflocks of sheep the chief moving objects they met, and not many of them. 

Marian sighed, yawned, and looked at Gerald many a time before they atlength came to a small, very neat-looking town, where the houses stoodfar back from the street, and had broad clean pavement in front of them. "This is Oakworthy, " said Mr. Lyddell, and Marian looked with interest. The church was just outside the town, white, and clean looking, likeeverything else, and with a spire. That was all she could see, for theydrove on by the side of a long park wall, enclosing a fir plantation. The gate of a pretty lodge was thrown back, and they entered upon agravelled carriage-road, which, after some windings, led to a largehouse, built of white brick, regular and substantial. They stopped underthe portico at the door, and Mr. Lyddell, as he handed Marian out of thecarriage, exclaimed, "Welcome to Oakworthy Park!"

It seemed to Marian that there was a whole crowd waiting for her in thehall, and she had received at least three kisses before she had time tolook around her, and perceive that this formidable troop consisted of atall, fresh-coloured lady, two girls, and two little boys. Each ofthe girls eagerly grasped one of her hands, and drew her into thedrawing-room, exclaiming, "I am glad you are come!" Here were two morestrangers, youths of the age at which their juniors call them men, andtheir seniors, boys. They did not trouble the guests with any particulardemonstrations of welcome, only shaking hands with them carelessly, andafter another moment or two Marian found herself sitting on a chair, very stiffly and upright, while Gerald stood about two feet from her, afraid of a second accusation of getting into her pocket, looking down, and twisting the handles of her basket. 

"Lionel, Johnny, " said Mrs. Lyddell, "have you nothing to say to yourcousin? Come here, my dear, and tell me, were you very sorry to leaveFern Torr?"

Gerald coloured and looked at his sister, who replied by a hesitating, faltering, "Yes, very. "

"Ah! yes, I see, " said Mrs. Lyddell, "but you will soon be at homehere. It shall not be my fault or your cousins' if you are not, --eh, Caroline?"

"Indeed it shall not, " returned Caroline, again taking Marian's hand, at first pressing it cordially, but letting it go on feeling the limp, passive fingers, which were too shy and frightened to return thepressure. 

Mr. Lyddell came in, and while his wife was engaged in speaking to him, Marian had time to make her observations, for the chilling embarrassmentof her manner had repelled the attentions of her cousins. Though she hadnever seen them before, she knew enough about them to be able to fit thenames to the persons she saw before her, and make a few conjectures asto how she would like them. 

That youth in the odd-looking, rough, shapeless coat, yet with a certainexpensive, fashionable air about the rest of his dress, who stoodleaning against the chimney-piece in a nonchalant attitude, washer eldest cousin, Elliot Lyddell. The other, a great contrast inappearance, small, slender, and pale, with near-sighted spectaclesover his weak, light grey eyes, dressed with scrupulous precision andquietness, who had retreated to the other end of the room and taken upa book, was Walter. The elder girl, Caroline, was about fifteen, a verypleasing likeness of her mother, with a brilliant complexion, brightblue eyes, and a remarkably lively and pleasant smile, which Marian wasso much taken with, that she wished she could have found something tosay, but the dress and air both gave her the appearance of being olderthan Agnes, and thus made Marian feel as if she was a great way aboveand beyond her. The other sister had a fair, pretty face, much morechildish, with beautiful glossy light hair, and something sweet andgentle in her expression, and Marian felt warmly towards her because shewas her mother's god-child, and bore the same name. 

The younger boys, Lionel and John, were nice-looking little fellows ofnine and seven. They had drawn towards Walter, gazing all the time atGerald, and all parties were rejoiced when Mrs. Lyddell, after a fewmore attempts at conversation, proposed to take the guests to theirrooms. 

With a light, quick step, she led the way up two staircases and a longpassage, to a good-sized, comfortable room intended for Marian, whileGerald's was just opposite. With a civil welcome to Saunders, kind hopesthat Marian would make herself at home, and information that dinnerwould he ready at seven, she left the room, and Saunders proceeded withthe young lady's toilette. Gerald stood gazing from the window at thetrees and little glimpse of the town in the distance. He said little, and seemed rather forlorn till leave was given him to unpack some goodswhich he could not easily damage. Just as Marian was dressed, there wasa knock at the door, and without waiting for an answer, Carolineand Clara entered, the former saying, "I hope you find everythingcomfortable: you see we make you quite at home, and stand on noceremony. "

It was pleasantly said, but Marian only gave a constrained smile, andanswered, "Thank you, " in such an awkward, cold way, that Caroline wasthrown back. Her sister, only conscious of freedom from the restraintsof the drawing-room, began exclaiming in short sentences, "O what apretty basket! so you have out your work already! what a lovely pattern!how quick you have been in dressing! we came to see how you were gettingon. O what is this pretty box? do let me see. "

"A work-box, " said Marian, by no means disposed to turn out all thesmall treasures it contained for Clara's inspection. --Caroline perceivedthis, and said with a little reproof to Clara, "You curious child! Perhaps Marian would like to come and see theschoolroom before going down. "

"Oh, yes, " said Clara; "you must come. You have not seen Miss Morleyyet, --our governess, --poor, unfortunate, faithful Morley, as we alwayscall her. "

This manner of mentioning the governess, and before Saunders too, greatly surprised Marian, and she felt little inclination to faceanother stranger; but she could think of no valid objection, and allowedherself and Gerald to be conducted down one of the flights of stairsinto a passage less decorated than the rest of the house. Clara threwopen a door, calling out, "Here they are!" and Marian found herself inthe presence of a little, nicely dressed lady, who looked very littleolder than Caroline, and had a very good-natured face. Coming forwardwith a smile, she said, "Miss Arundel, I believe. I hope you are quitewell, and not tired. Sir Gerald, how d'ye do? We shall be good friends, I am sure. "

Gerald shook hands, and Marian thought she ought to do so too; but ithad not been her first impulse, and it was too late, so she only madea stiff bend of head and knee. Clara, happily unconscious of theembarrassment with which Marian had infected Caroline, went on talkingfast and freely:

"So, you see, this is the schoolroom. There is Caroline's desk, and hereis mine; and we have made room for you here. I suppose you have a desk. And here are all our books, and our chiffonnière; Caroline has one sideand I the other. Oh, I must show you my last birthday presents. Ah!aren't we lucky to have got such a nice view of the terrace and theportico from here! We can always see the people coming to dinner, andwhen the gentlemen go out riding, it is such fun, and--"

"My dear Clara, " interposed Miss Morley, seeing Marian's bewilderedlooks, "your cousin is not used to such a chatterbox. I assure you, Miss Arundel, that Clara has been quite wild for the last week with theprospect of seeing you. I have actually not known what to do with her. "

Marian gave one of her awkward smiles, and said nothing. 

"You left Devonshire this morning, I think?" said Miss Morley. 

"Yes, we did. "

"Fern Torr is in a very beautiful part of the country, is it not?"

"Yes, very. "

They were getting on at this rate when Mrs. Lyddell came in, and tookMarian and Gerald down to the drawing-room with her, as it was almostdinner time. No sooner had the door closed behind them, than governessand pupils at once exclaimed, "How pale!" "how shy!" "how awkward!"

"I dare say that is only shyness, " said Caroline, "but I must say Inever saw anything so stiff and chilly. "

"Yes, that she is, " said Clara, "but it's only shyness; I am sure she isa dear girl. But how white she is! I thought she would have been pretty, because they say the Arundels are all so handsome. "

"She has fine eyes, " said Miss Motley; "and that dear little Sir Gerald, I am sure we shall all be in love with him. "

"Well, I hope we may get on better in time, " said Caroline, taking up abook, and settling herself in a most luxurious attitude in spite of theunaccommodating furniture of the schoolroom. 

Marian recovered a little at dinner, and was not quite so monosyllabicin her replies. Her netting was a great resource when she went into thedrawing-room after dinner, and she began to feel a little less rigid andconfused, made some progress in acquaintance with Clara, and when shewent to bed was not without hopes of, in time, liking both her andCaroline very much. 

CHAPTER IV. 

 "A place where others are at home, But all are strange to me. "

 _Lyra Innocentium. _

Marian began the next morning by wondering what a Sunday at Oakworthywould be like, but she was glad the formidable first meeting was over, and greeted Gerald cheerfully when he came into the room. 

After a few minutes a bell rang, and Marian, thinking it must be forfamily prayers, hastened into the passage, wondering at herself fornot having asked last night where she was to go. She was glad to meetCaroline coming out of her room, and after quickly exchanging a "goodmorning, " she said, "Was that the bell for prayers?"

"No, it was for the servants' breakfast, " said Caroline "and for ours inthe schoolroom too. "

"But don't you have prayers in the morning?" said Gerald, "No, " answered Caroline gravely. 

"Why not, " the little boy was beginning but Marian pressed his handto check him, shocked herself, and sorry for Caroline's sake that thequestion had been asked. 

Caroline spoke rather hurriedly, "I wish we could, but you see papa isout so often, and there are so many people staying here sometimes: andin London, papa is so late at the House--it is very unlucky, but itwould not do, it is all so irregular. "

"What?" said Clara, hopping down stairs behind them. "O, about prayers!We have not had any in the school room since Miss Cameron's time. "

"Miss Cameron used to read a chapter and pray with us afterwards, " saidCaroline; "but when she was gone, mamma said she did not like the bookshe used. "

"Besides, it was three quarters out of her own head, and that wasn'tfair, for she used to go on such a monstrous time, " said Clara. 

"Hush, Clara, " said her sister, "and mamma has never found a book shedoes think quite fit. "

"There's the Prayer Book, " said Gerald. 

"O that is only for Church, " said Clara, opening the schoolroom door;"O she is not here! Later than ever. Well, Marian, what do you think ofher?"

"Of whom?" asked Marian. 

"Of poor unfortunate faithful Morley, " said Clara. 

"You call her so after Queen Anne?"

"Yes, " said Caroline, "and you will see how well the name suits her whenyou are fully initiated. "

"But does she like it?"

"Like it?" and Clara fell into a violent fit of laughing, calling out toLionel, who just then came in, "Here is Marian asking if we call MissMorley 'poor unfortunate' whenever we speak to her. "

"She is coming, " said Lionel, and Clara sunk her boisterous laughterinto a titter, evident enough to occasion Miss Morley to ask whatmade them so merry, but the only answer she received was from Lionel, "Something funny, " and then both he and Clara burst out again intolaughter, his open, and hers smothered. 

Marian looked amazed. "Ah! you are not used to such ways, " said thegoverness; "Clara and Lionel are sometimes sad creatures. "

Breakfast took a very long time, and before it was quite over, Mrs. Lyddell came in, spoke in her rapid, good-natured tone to Marian andGerald, and remarked rather sharply to Miss Morley that she thought theygrew later and later every Sunday. Nevertheless, no one went on at allthe faster after she was gone. Miss Morley continued her talk withCaroline and Clara about some young friends of theirs in London, andLionel and Johnny went on playing tricks with their bread and butter, accompanied by a sort of secret teasing of Clara. Nothing brought themabsolutely to a conclusion till one of the servants appeared in order totake away the things, and unceremoniously bore away John's last piece ofbread and cup of tea. 

Johnny looked up at the man and made a face at him; Miss Morley shookher head, and Caroline said, "How can you be so naughty, Johnny? itserves you quite right, and I only wish it happened every morning. "

"Come, Gerald, and see the ponies, " said Lionel. 

"My dears, " said Miss Morley, "you know your mamma never likes you to goout before Church especially to the stables; you only get hot, and youmake us late with waiting for you. "

"Nobody asked you to wait for us, " said John. "Come, Gerald. "

"No, I see Sir Gerald is a good little boy, and is coming steadily withus, " said Miss Morley. 

"Yes, Gerald, do, " said Marian. 

"There will be plenty of time by and by, " said Gerald, sitting downagain. 

"O very well, " said John. "Well, if you won't, I will; I want to seeElliot's colt come in from exercising, and he will be sure to be therehimself now. "

Lionel and Johnny ran off, Caroline looked distressed, and went out intothe passage leaving the door open. Walter was coming along it, and asshe met him, she said, "Walter, the boys are off to the stable again;we shall have just such a fuss as we had last Sunday if you cannot stopthem. Is Elliot there again?"

"I am afraid he is, " said Walter. 

"Then there is no chance!" said Caroline, retreating; but at that momentLionel and John came clattering down from their own distant abode at thetop of the house. "Who likes to walk with me through, the plantations toChurch?" said Walter; "I was coming to ask if you liked to show that wayto Gerald. "

Lionel and John, who had a real respect for Walter, thought it best tokeep silence on their disobedient designs, and accept the kind offer. Gerald gladly joined them, and off they set. Miss Morley, Caroline, andClara, had all gone different ways, and Marian remained, leaning herforehead against the window, thinking what her own dear Sunday-schoolclass were doing at Fern Torr, and feeling very disconsolate. She hadstood in this manner for some minutes when Clara came to tell her it wastime to prepare for Church, followed her to her room, and contrived tomake more remarks on her dress than Marian could have thought couldpossibly have been bestowed on a plain black crape bonnet and mantle. 

Through all the rather long walk, Clara still kept close to her, tellingwho every one was, and talking incessantly, till she felt almostconfused, and longed for the quietness of the church. Mr. Lyddell's pewwas a high, square box, curtained round, with a table and a stove, sothat she hardly felt as if she was in church, and she was surprised notto see Elliot Lyddell there. 

They had to walk quickly back after the service, dine hurriedly, andthen set off again for the afternoon service. Miss Morley sighed, andsaid that the second long hot walk almost killed her, and she went soslowly that the schoolroom party all came in late. They found no one inthe pew but Mrs. Lyndell and Walter, and Marian once more sighed andwondered. 

On coming home, Miss Morley went in to rest, but as it was now cool andpleasant, her pupils stayed out a little longer to show the park andgarden. They were very desirous of making the Arundels admire all theysaw, and Lionel and John were continually asking, "Have you anythinglike that at Fern Torr?"

Gerald, jealous for the honor of home, was magnificent in hisdescriptions, and unconscious that he was talking rhodomontade. According to him, his park took in a whole mountain, his house was quiteas large and much handsomer than Mr. Lyddell's, the garden was like thehanging gardens of Babylon, and greenhouses were never wanted there, for"all sorts of things" would grow in the open air. His cousins were soamazed that they would hardly attend to Marian's explanations, andthought her description of the myrtle, which reached to the top of thehouse, as fabulous as his hanging gardens. 

"And, Marian, what do you think of this place?" asked Clara. 

After some pressing, the following reply was extracted:--"It is so shutin with fir-trees, but I suppose you want them to hide the town, andthere is nothing to see if they were away. "

"O Marian!" said Caroline, "when we showed you the beautiful view overthe high gate. "

"But there was no hill, and no wood, and no water. "

"Did you not see Oakworthy Hill?"

"That tame green thing!" said Marian. 

"The truth is, " said Johnny, "that she likes it the best all the time, only she won't own it. "

"Nonsense, Johnny, " replied Lionel, "every one likes their ownhome best, and I like Marian for not pretending to be polite andnonsensical. "

"And I tell you, " said Gerald, "that you never saw anything so good asmy Manor house in your whole life. "

Here they went in, and Marian gently said to Gerald as they cameinto her room, "I wish you would not say _my_, Gerald, it seems likeboasting. My park--my house--"

Gerald hung his head, and the colour came deeply into his cheeks. "Marian, " said he, "you know how I wish it wasn't mine now, " and thetears were in his eyes. "But they boast over me, and they ought not, forI'm Sir--"

"Oh! hush, Gerald. You used never to like to hear yourself called so, because it put you in mind--. Yes, I know they boast; but this is notthe way to stop them, it only makes them go on; and what does it signifyto you? it does not make this place really better than home. "

"Yes, but I want them to know it. "

"But you should not want to set yourself up above them. If you don'tanswer, and, let them say what nonsense they please, it would be thebest way, and the right way, and so you would humble yourself, which iswhat we must all do Gerald. "

Gerald was silenced, but looked dissatisfied; however, there was nomore time to talk, for Clara came to say that tea was almost ready, andMarian rang for Saunders. Gerald looked as if he was meditating whenfirst they sat down to tea, and after some little time he abruptlybegan, "I don't like your church at all. It is just like a room, andnobody makes any noise. "

"Nobody makes any noise, " repeated Caroline, smiling; "is that Fern Torrfashion?"

"I do not mean exactly a noise, " said Gerald, "but people read theirverse of the psalm, and say Amen, and all that, quite loud. They don'tleave it all to the clerk in his odd voice. "

Lionel mimicked the clerk so drolly, that in spite of "Don't, my dear, "and "O! Lionel, " nobody could help laughing; and Johnny added animitation of the clerk at their church in London. After the mirth wasover, Gerald went on, "Why does not every one say Amen here?"

"Like so many charity children, " said Lionel, with a nasal drawl. 

"No, indeed!" cried Gerald, indignantly; "Edmund does it, andeverybody. "

"Everybody! as if you could tell, who never went to church in your life, except at that little poky place, " said Johnny, Gerald's colour rose, but Marian's eye met his, and he remembered whatshe had said, and answered quietly, "I don't know whether Fern Torr ispoky, but it is a place where people are taught to behave well. "

"Capital, Gerald, excellent!" cried Caroline, laughing heartily, "thatis a hit, Lionel, for you!" while Gerald looked round him, amazed at theapplause with which his speech, made in all simplicity, was received. 

As soon as tea was over, Miss Morley called Lionel and John to repeatthe Catechism, and added doubtfully, "Perhaps Sir Gerald would ratherwait for next Sunday. "

"O no, thank you, " said Marian, "we always say it. "

"You need not, Marian, " said Caroline, "we never do, only it would be sotroublesome for the boys to have to learn it at school. "

"I should like to say it if Miss Morley has no objection, " said Marian. 

"Oh! yes, certainly, " was the answer. "See, Lionel, there is an examplefor you. "

Marian and Gerald stood upright, with their hands behind them, just asthey had stood every Sunday since they could speak; Lionel was astrideon the music stool, spinning round and round, and Johnny balancinghimself with one leg on the floor, and one hand on the window sill. Whenthe first question was asked, the grave voice that replied, "EdmundGerald, " was drowned in a loud shout--

 "Jack Lyddell, Jack Lyddell, Shall play on the fiddle"--

evidently an old worn out joke, brought to life again in the hope ofmaking the grave cousins laugh, instead of which they stood aghast. MissMorley only said imploringly, "Now, Johnny, my dear boy, _do_, " andproceeded to the next question. Throughout the two boys were carelessand painfully irreverent, and the governess, annoyed and ashamed, hurried on as fast as she could, in order to put an end to theunpleasant scene. When it was over she greatly admired the correctnessof Gerald's answers, seeming to think it extraordinary that he shouldnot have made a single mistake; whereas Marian would have been surprisedif he had. Gerald whispered to his sister as they went down to thedrawing-room, "Would it not be fun to see what Mr. Wortley would say toLionel and Johnny, if he had them in his class?"

On Monday, Marian and Gerald began to fall into the habits of the place, and to learn the ways of their cousins, though it was many years beforethey could be said really to understand them. 

Of their guardian himself, they found they should see very little, fortheir four schoolroom companions, his own children, had but littleintercourse with him. Sometimes, indeed, Johnny, who enjoyed theprivileges of the youngest, would make a descent upon him, and obtainsome pleasure or some present, or at least a game of play; and sometimesLionel fell into great disgrace, and was brought to him for reproof, butCaroline and Clara only saw him now and then in the evening, and neverseemed to look to him as the friend and approver that Marian thought allfathers were. As to Miss Morley, she had only spoken twice to him sinceshe had been in the house. 

Mrs. Lyddell seemed supreme in everything at home. She was quick, active, and clever, an excellent manager, nor was she otherwise thanvery kind in word and deed; and Marian could by no means understand thecause of the mixture of dread and repugnance with which she regardedher. Perhaps it was, that though not harsh, her manner wantedgentleness; her tones were not soft, and she would cut off answersbefore they were half finished. Her bright, clear, cold, blue eye hadlittle of sympathy in it, and every look and tone showed that sheexpected implicit obedience, to commands, which were far from unpleasantin themselves, though rendered ungracious by the want of softness andmildness with which they were given. Marian often wondered, apart fromthe principle, how her cousins, and even Miss Morley, could venture todisregard orders given in that decided manner; but she soon perceivedthat they trusted to Mrs. Lyddell's multifarious occupations, which kepther from knowing all their proceedings with exactness, and left them agood deal at liberty. 

Marian was disposed to like Miss Morley, with her gentle voice and kindmanner, but she was much surprised at her letting things go on among herpupils, which she must have known to be wrong in themselves, as well asagainst express commands of Mrs. Lyddell. Once or twice when she heardher talking to Clara, she said to herself, "Would not mamma say that wassilly?" but at any rate it was a great thing to have a person of whomshe was not in the least shy or afraid, and who set her quite at herease in the schoolroom. 

The first business on Monday morning, after the little boys had gone offfor two hours to a tutor, was an examination into Marian's attainments, beginning with French and Italian reading and translation, in which sheacquitted herself very well till Mrs. Lyddell came in, and put her insuch a state of trepidation that she no longer knew what she was about. In truth, Marian's education had been rather irregular in consequenceof her father's illness, and its effect had been to give her a generalcultivation of mind, and appreciation of excellence, to train her to doher best, and fed an eagerness for information, but without instructingher in that routine of knowledge for which Mrs. Lyddell and Miss Morleylooked. She was not ready in answering questions, even upon what sheknew perfectly well; she had no tables of names and dates at finger'sends, and when she saw that every one thought her backward and ignorant, the feeling that she was not doing justice to her mamma's teaching addedto her confusion, her mistakes and puzzles increased, and at last shewas almost ready to cry. At that moment Caroline said, "Mamma, you havenot seen Marian's drawings yet. Do fetch them, Marian. "

The drawings served in some degree to save Marian in the opinion; atleast, of Miss Morley: for an artist-like hand and eye were almost aninheritance in the Arundel family, and teaching her had been a greatamusement to Sir Edmund. Miss Morley and Caroline thought her drawingswonderful; but Mrs. Lyddell, who had never learnt to draw, was, asMarian quickly perceived, unable to distinguish the merits from thefaults, and was only commending them in order to reassure her. Her musicwas the next subject of inquiry, and here again she did not shine, forpractising had been out of the question during the last two years of herfather's life; but as she could not bear to offer this as an excuse, she only said she knew she could hardly play at all, but she hoped toimprove. To her great relief, Mrs. Lyddell did not stay to listen toher performance, but went away, leaving her to Miss Morley, who foundsomething to commend in her taste and touch. 

When the business of learning actually commenced, Marian grew moreprosperous; for she had the good custom of giving her whole attention, and learnt therefore fast and correctly. Her exercise was very welldone; her arithmetic, in which Edmund had helped her, was almost beyondMiss Morley's knowledge; and she was quite at home in the history theywere reading aloud. Moreover, when they came to talk of what they hadread, it proved that Marian was well acquainted with many books whichwere still only names to Caroline; and when Gerald came in with hisbooks, his reference to her showed that she knew as much Latin as hedid. 

They dined in the schoolroom at half-past one, then took a walk on thelong, dull, white road, and came back at a little past four; after whichthe girls had each to practise for an hour, to look over some lessonsfor the next day, and to dress; but all the rest of their time was attheir own disposal. There was to be a dinner-party that evening, andClara advised her not to dress till after tea. "For we don't go downtill after dinner, " said she, "and I don't like to miss seeing thepeople come. Gerald, you had better get ready, though, for you boysalways go down before. "

"Must I?" said Gerald. 

"O yes, that we must!" said Lionel; "and you will see how Johnny therelikes to be petted by all the old ladies, and called their pretty dear. "

Johnny rushed upon his brother, and there was a skirmish between them, during which Miss Morley vainly exclaimed by turns, "Now Lionel!" and"Now Johnny!" It ended by John's beginning to cry, Lionel laughingat him, and declaring that he had done nothing to hurt him, and bothwalking off rather sullenly to dress for the evening. Gerald was bent onthe same errand; and no sooner was he gone than Miss Morley, Caroline, and Clara all broke out into loud praises of him. He was so docile, heshut the door so gently, he seemed so very clever. He had quite won MissMorley's heart by running back to the schoolroom to fetch her parasolfor her when she found she had left it behind; Caroline admired him forbeing so merry and playful without rudeness, and Clara chimed in withthem both. All expressed wonder at not finding him a spoiled child; andthis, though the praises gratified Marian greatly, rather offended herin her secret soul; and she wondered too that Caroline and Clara seemeddisposed to make the very worst of their own little brothers, so as toset off Gerald's perfections by force of contrast. 

Mrs. Lyddell came in while they were still talking. She was beautifullydressed, and looked very handsome, and, in Marian's eyes, veryformidable; but she sat down and joined heartily in the praises ofGerald, till Marian thought, "What could they have expected poor Geraldto be, if they are so amazed at finding him the dear good little fellowhe is!" It was in fact true that he was an agreeable surprise, for asan only son--a great treasure--and coming so early to his title, hewas exactly the child whom all would have presumed most likely to bespoiled; and his ready obedience struck the Lyddells as no less unusualthan those habits in which he had been trained, in consequence of thenecessity of stillness during Sir Edmund's long illness. It was morenatural to him to shut the door quietly than to bang it, to speak thanto shout, and to amuse himself tranquilly in the house than to make agreat uproar. He was courteous, too, and obliging; and though Lionel andJohnny were in consequence inclined to regard him as a "carpet knight sotrim, " the ladies fully appreciated these good qualities. Mrs. Lyddellperhaps made the more of her satisfaction, because she was conscious ofnot liking his sister's stiff, formal, frightened manners. 

Mrs. Lyddell waited till the boys came from dressing, and took them allthree down with her. Clara sat down in the window-seat to watch thearrivals, as soon as she had recovered from her amazement at hearingthat Marian had not been in a house with a dinner-party since Gerald wasborn. "Is it possible!" she went on saying, and then bursting into alaugh, till Caroline said sharply, "How can you be so silly, Clara! youknow the reason perfectly well. "

"But it is so odd, " continued Clara. "Why, we are never a week without aparty, and sometimes two!"

"Hush, " said Caroline, "or I shall never finish my Italian. "

The little boys came up to tea; Gerald would not make much answer whenClara asked if the ladies had talked to him, but Johnny looked cross, and Lionel reported "it was because his nose was put out of joint. "Coming up to Marian, to whom he seemed to have taken a fancy, Lionelfurther explained confidentially how all the ladies made a fuss withJohnny, and admired his yellow curls, and called him the rose-bud, andall sorts of stuff; and how Johnny liked to go down in his fine crimsonvelvet, and show off, and have all his nonsense praised, "And the prettydear is so jealous, " said Lionel, "that he can't bear any one to say oneword to poor me--oh no!"

"Why, do you wish for them to do so?" said Marian. 

"Oh no, not I--I never did; and I'm glad I'm grown too big and ugly forthem. I always get as near Elliot as I can and try to hear if they aresaying any thing about the hunt; and the ladies never trouble theirheads about what is good for any thing, so they never talk to me. "

"That is no great compliment to Gerald, " said Marian. 

"Ah! you'll soon see. If there is any fun in him, they will soon casthim off; but now he is new, and he has not found them out yet, and they_do_ dearly like to say Sir Gerald; so Johnny is regularly thrown out, and that is what makes him look sulky. "

"Well, but it is using him very ill to desert him for Gerald, " saidMarian. 

"Oh, they won't desert him. They like mamma's good dinners too well forthat; only Johnny can't bear any one else to be taken notice of. Trustthe county member's son for their making much of him. "

"But that applies to you too, Lionel. "

"Ay, and I could soon get their civility if I cared for it, " said Lionelgrandly. "But I know well enough what it is worth. Why, there is Walter, who is the best of us all--nobody cares one straw for him, exceptCaroline and--"

"And you?" asked Marian. 

"Why--why--yes, if he was not so much of a parson already. "

"Oh, Lionel!" said Marian, shocked; and he turned it rather hastily into"I mean, he is not up to any thing; he does not shoot, and he does notcare for dogs, or horses; nothing but books for ever. "

A summons to the tea-table put an end to Lionel's communications, whichhad so amazed Marian that she could do nothing but ponder on them allthe time that Clara would leave her in quiet. 

The going into the drawing-room was to her a most awful affair; andSaunders seemed to be very anxious about it, brushing and settling herhair, and arranging the plain black frock, as if she would never havedone; seeming, too, not a little worried by Clara, who chose to look onat all her proceedings. At last it was over Marian wished Gerald goodnight, and descended with her two cousins and Miss Morley. Carolineand Clara were in blue, Miss Morley in white; and as they entered justopposite to a long pier glass, Marian thought that with her white face, straight dark hair, and deep mourning dress, she looked like a blotbetween them, and wished to shrink out of sight, instead of beingconspicuous in blackness. 

The ladies came in a few minutes after, and Caroline and Clara wentforward, shaking hands, smiling, and replying in a way which was by nomeans forward, and with ease that to Marian was marvellous. If peoplewould but be kind enough not to look at her! But Mrs. Lyddell was agreat deal too civil for that too come to pass, and presently Marian wascalled and introduced to two ladies. She was seated between them, andthey began talking to her in a patronising manner; telling her theyremembered her dear mamma at her age; saying that they had seen herbrother, and congratulating her on having two such delightful companionsas the Miss Lyddells. Then they asked about Devonshire; and as Marian'scold short replies let every subject fall to the ground in a moment, they proceeded to inquire whether she could play. Truth required her toconfess that she could, a very little; and then they begged to hear her. Poor Marian! this was too much. She felt as if she was in a horriblemist, and drawing up her head as she always did in embarrassment, sherepeated, "Indeed, indeed I cannot!" protestations which her tormentorswould not believe, and which grew every moment more ungracious, as, toaugment her distress, she saw that Mrs. Lyddell was observing her. Atthe moment when she was looking most upright and rigid, Caroline came toher relief. The same request had just been made to her, and she came topropose to Marian to join in the one thing she knew she could play--aduet which she had that morning been practising with Clara. It was verykind, and Marian knew it; for Caroline had said that she never likedthat duet, and was heartily tired of it; but all the acknowledgement herstrange bashfulness would allow her to make was a grateful look, and awhisper, "Oh, thank you!"

Afterwards one of the young lively visitors sang, and Marian, who hadnever heard much music, was quite delighted; her stiff company-facerelaxed, a tear came to her eyes, and she sat with parted lips, forgetting all her fears and all the party till the singing was over, and Caroline touched her, and told her it was bed-time. Marian wonderedto see how well Caroline and Clara managed to escape without beingobserved; but she marvelled at their going to bed so much as if it was athing of course to have no "good night" from father or mother. When theywere outside the door, in the hall, Marian, her heart still full of themusic, could not help exclaiming, "How beautiful!"

"What? Miss Bernard's singing?" said Clara. "I declare, Caroline, Marianwas very nearly crying! I saw you were, Marian. "

"She does sing very nicely, " said Caroline, "but that song does not suither voice. It is too high. "

"And she makes faces, " said Clara, "she strains her throat; and she hassuch great fingers--I could never cry at Miss Bernard's singing, I amsure. "

Marian did not like this. "Good night, " said she, abruptly. 

"You are not vexed, are you?" said Clara, kindly. "I did not think youwould mind my noticing your crying. Don't be angry, Marian. "

"Oh, no, I am not at all angry, " said Marian, trying to speak with ease, but she did not succeed well. Her "good nights, " had in them a tone asif she was annoyed, as in fact she was; though not at all in the wayClara supposed. She did not care for the notice of her tears, but shesaid to herself, "This is what Edmund calls destroying the illusion. Ifthey would but have let me go to bed with the spell of that song restingon me!"

She sighed with a feeling of relief and yet of weariness as she cameinto her own room, and found Saunders there. Saunders looked rathermelancholy, but said nothing for the first two or three minutes; then asshe combed Marian's hair straight over her face, she began, "I hope youenjoyed yourself, Miss Marian?"

"Oh, Saunders, " said Marian, "I'm very tired; I don't think I shall everenjoy myself anywhere but at home. "

"Ah--hem--ah, " coughed Saunders, solemnly; then, after waiting for someobservation from Marian, and hearing only a long yawn and a sigh, shewent on. "Prettily different is this place from home. "

"Indeed it is, " said Marian, from her heart. 

"Such finery as I never thought to see below stairs, Miss Marian. I amsure the Manor House was a pattern to all the country round for comfortfor the servants, and I should know something about it; but here--sucha number of them, such eating and drinking all day long, and the verykitchen maids in such bonnets and flowers on Sundays, as would perfectlyhave shocked Mrs. White. And they are so ignorant. Fancy, Miss Marian, that fine gentleman the butler declaring he could not understand me, andthat I spoke with a foreign accent! I speak French indeed!"

"But, Saunders, " said Marian, rather diverted, "you do speak Devonshirea little. "

"Well, Miss Marian, perhaps I may; I only know 'tisn't for them toboast, for they speak so funny I can't hardly make them out; and withmy own ears I have heard that same Mr. Perkins himself calling you MissHarundel. But that is not all. Why, not half of them ever go to churchon a Sunday; and as to Mrs. Mitten, the housekeeper, not a bit does shecare whether they do or not; and no wonder, when Mr. Lyddell himselfnever goes in the afternoon, and has gentlemen to speak to him. And thendown at the stables--'tis a pretty set of drinking, good-for-nothingfellows there. I hope from my heart Sir Gerald won't be for getting downthere among them; but they say Master Lionel and Master John are alwaysthere. And that Mr. Elliot--"

In this manner Saunders discoursed all the while she was putting Marianto bed. Both she and her young lady wore doing what had much better havebeen let alone. Saunders had no business to carry complaints and gossip, Marian ought not to have listened to them; but the truth was thatSaunders was an old attached confidential servant, who had come toOakworthy, more because she could not bear to let her young master andmistress go entirely alone and unfriended among strangers, than becauseit would be prudent to save a little more before becoming Mrs. DavidChapple. Fern Torr was absolute perfection in her eyes; and had thehousehold at Oakworthy been of superior excellence, she would have foundfault with everything in which it differed from the Manor House. Herheart was full; and to Miss Marian, her young lady, a Fern Torrite, aDevonian like herself, she must needs pour it out, where she had noother friend. On the other hand, Saunders was still in Marian's eyes asuperior person--an authority--one whom she could never dream of keepingin order, or restraining; and here a friend, a counsellor, the onlyperson, except Gerald, who had known the dear home. 

So a foundation was laid for confidences from Saunders, which were notlikely to improve Marian's contentment. When she had bidden her maidgood night, and sat thinking before she knelt down to say her prayers, she felt bewildered; her head seemed giddy with the strangeness of thisnew world; she knew not what in it was right and what was wrong; allthat she knew was, that she felt lonely and dreary, and as if it couldnever be home. Her heart seemed to reach out for her mother's embraceand support, and then Marian sank down on her knees, rested her face onher arms, and while the tears began to flow, she murmured, "OUR FATHER, Which art in heaven. "

Soon after, her weary head was on her pillow, and the dim grey light ofthe summer night showed the quiet peace and calmness that had settled onher sleeping face. 

CHAPTER V. 

 "That is not home where, day by day, I wear the busy hours away. "

In a short time, Marian had settled into her place at Oak Worthy, lostsome part of her shyness towards the inhabitants, and arrived at theterms which seemed likely to continue between her and her cousins. 

There was much that was very excellent about Caroline Lyddell; she hadwarm feeling, an amiable and obliging disposition, and great sweetnessof temper; and when first Marian arrived she intended to do all in herpower to make her at home, and be like a sister to her. But she did notunderstand reserve; and before Marian had got over her first shynessand awkwardness, Caroline felt herself repulsed, and ceased to makedemonstrations of affection which met with no better response. Marianmade none on her side; and so the two cousins remained very obliging andcourteous to each other, but nothing more. 

Clara had begun by making herself Marian's inseparable companion inrather a teasing manner, caressing her continually, and always wantingto do whatever she was doing; but as novelty was the great charmin Clara's eyes, and as she met with no very warm return to herendearments, all this soon wore off; and though she always came toMarian whenever she had any bit of news to tell, --though she oftenconfided to her little complaints of the boys or Miss Morley, --this wasno great compliment, for she would have done the same to anything thathad ears. Her talk was no longer, as it had been at first, exclusivelyfor Marian; and this wag rather a relief, for it was not at all like thetalk Marian was used to with Agnes or with Edmund. 

Young and unformed as Marian was, it would be hard to believe how much, without knowing it, she missed the intercourse with superior minds, towhich she had been accustomed. It was just as her eye was dissatisfiedwith the round green chalk hills, instead of the rocks and streams ofher own dear home; or as she felt weary of the straight, formal walksshe now took, instead of her dear old rambles, "Over bank and over brae, Where the copsewood is the greenest, Where the fountain glistens sheenest, Where the lady-fern grows strongest, Where the morning dew lies longest. "

Edmund's high spirits, Agnes' playful glee, --how delightful they were!and though Marian often laughed now, it was not as she had laughed athome. Then, too, she grew shy of making remarks, or asking questions, when Clara had nothing to say but "How odd!" or Miss Morley would givesome matter-of-fact answer, generally either quite beside the point, orelse what Marian know before. Caroline understood what she meant, andwould take up the subject, but not always in a satisfactory manner; forshe and Marian always seemed to have quite opposite ways of viewingevery thing. Each felt that the other had more serious thoughts andprinciples than most of those around them, but yet their likings anddislikings were very different in the matter of books. "Anna Ross" wasalmost the only one of Caroline's favourites that Marian cordiallyliked; and this, as Caroline suspected, might he owing to a certainanalogy between Anna's situation and her own, by no means flattering tothe Lyddell family. It was wonderful how many were the disparitiesof tastes, views, and opinions between them; but the root of thesedifferences seemed undiscoverable, since Marian would not or could notargue, replied to all objections with a dry, short, "I don't know, " andadhered unalterably to her own way of thinking. 

Miss Morley settled the matter by pronouncing that Sir Edmund and LadyArundel must have been very narrow-minded people; and this judgment wasso admired by Caroline and Clara, that it was sure to be brought forwardas conclusive, whenever Marian was the subject of conversation. At lastLionel broke in one day, "Stuff! Marian is a good, sensible, downrightgirl, and it is my belief that all that you mean by narrow-mindedness isthat she cares for what is right, and nothing else. "

"How much you know about it, Lionel!" said Clara, laughing; but Carolineanswered in earnest, "There is reason in what you say, Lionel--Mariandoes care for what is right; but the question is, whether her views ofit are not narrow?"

"The narrower the better, say I, " said Lionel, as he plaited hiswhip-lash. 

"Strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, that leadeth unto life, "came into Caroline's head, and she stood thoughtful. Clara exclaimed, "Well done, Lionel! I wonder what he'll say next to defend his dearMarian. "

"I know what I mean well enough, " said Lionel. "I suppose you call itbeing broad-minded to trace your drawings through against the window, when mamma goes on telling you not. Better have her narrow mind, say I. "

"Then why don't you, " said Clara, "instead of going down to the stablesfor ever with that man of Elliot's that mamma said you were never tospeak to?"

Lionel whisked his whip-lash before Clara's eyes, so as to make herwink. "I did not say I was good myself;" said he; "I said Marian was. "And he ran out of the room. 

Clara laughed at Lionel's admiration of Marian, which had begun to bea joke in the schoolroom; but Caroline, as she practised her music, thought a good deal over the conversation. "Is a narrow mind really afear of doing wrong?" was a question she asked herself severaltimes; and then she thought of all the things she had heard callednarrow-minded and scrupulous in Marian or others, but she soon foundherself lost in a mist, and wished she could talk it over with herformer governess, Miss Cameron. As to what Lionel had said about thedrawing, she was conscious she was very wrong; her mamma had called itan idle practice to trace the outline through against the glass, andhad forbidden it; but a difficulty had soon brought her back to thewindow-pane, exclaiming, "Just for this one thing, I am sure mamma wouldnot object. "

"If Miss Cameron had been here, it would not have happened, " saidCaroline to herself with a sigh, and for a few days she kept away fromthe window; but another difficulty occurred, again she yielded to thetemptation, and whoa she heard her mother's step in the passage, hurriedback to her desk with guilty precipitation. A few days after, Clara wasactually caught in the fact by Mrs. Lyddell, and then Miss Morley beganmaking an excuse, evidently quite as much out of kindness to herself asto her pupil. Marian looked up in surprise, with a wondering, inquiringexpression in her eyes. They were cast down the instant the governessturned towards her; but Miss Morley always felt abashed, by meeting thatlook of astonishment, which awoke in her a sensation of self-reproachsuch as she had seldom known before. 

Miss Morley was a little afraid of Marian's eyes, though not of her inany other respect; nor did she like her much better than Caroline did, though she gave her much less trouble than any of her other pupils, except Caroline. Those questions and observations puzzled her, and shethought the poor child had been reading books beyond her years--it wassuch a great disadvantage to be an only daughter. Besides, she reallybelieved Marian Arundel had no affection for any one, --no warmth offeeling; she would ten times prefer a less diligent and more troublesomepupil, in whom she could take some interest, and who showed someaffection, to one so steady and correct in behaviour, without the frankopenness of heart which was so delightful. To make up, however, for thisgeneral want of liking for poor Marian, on the other hand, every one wasfond of Gerald. His behaviour in the schoolroom was so very nice andgood, and out of doors his climbing, running, and riding were no lessadmired by his contemporaries. Now and then, indeed, a dispute arosebetween him and the other two boys, when Gerald criticised, and declaredthat "Edmund and everybody" thought as he did; or when he would try tooutdo the sporting exploits reported of Elliot, by Edmund's shooting atFern Torr. One day there was a very serious quarrel, Gerald havingtaken up the cause of an unfortunate frog, which Lionel and Johnny wereproposing to hunt, by rolling their marbles at it. 

Gerald declared they should not, that frogs were harmless, innocentcreatures, and that Edmund and everybody liked them. This only madeLionel and Johnny more determined; partly from the absurdity of Gerald'sappeal, and partly for the sake of mischief; and Gerald was overpowered, unable to save his protégé, and obliged to witness its cruel death. Heburst into tears, and then, came the accusation of crying for a frog. Poor little boy, he burst away from his tormentors, and never stoppedtill, he was safe in his sister's room pouring out his grief to herand Saunders (for it was her dressing-time), and comforted by theirsympathising horror and pity. 

Saunders said it gave her a turn, and Marian's feelings were much of thesame nature. She could not have thought it of Lionel. He was, indeed, reckless and unruly; by reputation _the_ naughty one of the set; butMarian had often thought that much of Johnny's misbehaviour was unjustlycharged on him, and there was an honesty about him, together with acordiality towards herself, which made her like him. And that he shouldhave been wantonly cruel!

She comforted Gerald as well as she could, and they went back to theschoolroom together. Lionel, as he often did, brought her a knot in apiece of string to be untied; she felt almost ready to shrink from him, as capable of such a deed, and gave it back to him after untying it, without a word. Lionel stood leaning against the shutter looking at herfor some minutes, while she fetched her books, and sat down to learn herlessons. Tea came in; and while there was something of a bustle, and allthe others were talking, and engaged in different ways, Lionel crossedover to her and said in a low voice, "So Gerald has made you angry withme?"

"No; but Lionel, I could not have thought you would have done such athing. "

"'Twas only a frog, " said Lionel; "besides, I only did it to teaseGerald. "

"I do not see that that makes it any better, " said Marian, gravely. 

"Why, Gerald was so ridiculous, to say Edmund and everybody liked frogs;but I didn't--I only mean that, if he had not made a fuss, I would neverhave hurt the frog, and I did not mean to kill it as it was; so nevermind, Marian. I'll tell you what, Marian, " added he, sinking his voice, "I'd rather Caroline and Clara, and poor unfortunate into the bargain, scolded me till they were black in the face, than that you looked at meas you did just now. "

"Did I?" said Marian, rather alarmed. "I am sure I did not know I lookedanyhow. "

"Didn't you, though? It is just the way you look at poor unfortunatewhen she sports her humbug. "

"Hush, Lionel! this will never do. You know you ought not to talk inthat way, " said Marian, rising to put an end to the conversation. 

"But we have made it up?" said Lionel, holding her dress. 

"Yes, yes, " said Marian hastily, and with full forgiveness in lookand tone. As she took her place at the tea-table, she wondered withinherself what was the matter with her eyes to cause such remarks, andstill more why she could not help liking Lionel so much the best of hercousins, in spite of all the naughtiness of word and deed, which shockedher so much. 

The nest day she was walking in the garden with Clara, when Gerald camerunning up, with an entreaty that she would come and have a game atcricket with him and Lionel. Clara exclaimed, laughed, and stared inamazement. 

"She plays famously, " said Gerald; "she, and Agnes, and I, beat all theother Wortleys one day last summer. Come, Marian, don't say no; we havenot had a game for a very long time. "

"Who is playing?" asked Marian. 

"Only Lionel and me; Johnny is out with Mrs. Lyddell Come, we want youvery much indeed; there's a good girl. "

To Clara's astonishment and Lionel's admiration, Marian complied; andthough, of course, no great cricketer, her skill was sufficient tomake her a prodigy in their eyes. But the game was brought to a suddenconclusion by Miss Morley, who, seeing them from the window, came outvery much shocked, and gave the girls a lecture on decorum, which Marianfelt almost as an insult. 

When they went in, Gerald told Saunders the whole adventure; and she, who at Fern Torr had been inclined to the same opinion as Miss Morley, and had often sighed and declared it to be unlike young ladies whenMarian and Agnes had played, now agreed with him that it was very hardon Miss Marian not to have a little exercise, lamented that she shouldalways be cooped up in the schoolroom, and declared that there could beno harm in playing with such a little boy as Master Lionel. 

The most unpleasant result was, that Miss Morley and the cousins took animpression that Agnes Wortley must be a vulgar romp, and were inclinedto think her an unsuitable friend for Marian. Their curiosity wasexcited by the frequent letters between the two friends. Marian alwaysread those which she received with the utmost eagerness, hardly evertelling any part of their contents, but keeping them to be enjoyed withGerald in her own room; and half her leisure moments were employed infilling fat, black-edged envelopes, which were sent off at least asoften as once a week. 

"I wonder what she says about us!" said Clara, one day. 

"I don't think it would suit you, " said Caroline; "I should not thinkshe painted us _couleur de rose_. "

"Except Lionel, " said Clara, "if their admiration is mutual. But, by theby, Miss Morley, why do you not desire to see her letters? You alwayslook at mine. "

"She is not quite in the same situation, " said Miss Morley. 

"But could not you?" continued Clara. "It would be very entertainingonly to look for once. "

"And I think it would be only proper, " said Caroline. "Who knows whatshe may say of us to these dear friends of hers?"

The subject was not allowed to drop; the girls' curiosity led them tofind numerous reasons why their cousin's correspondence should not passwithout examination, and Miss Morley found she must either endure theirimportunity, or yield to it. She was driven to choose the part of theoppressor; and one day, when Clara had been tormenting her more thanusual, she addressed Marian, who was folding up a letter. "I think, "said she, speaking in a timid, deprecating tone--"I think, Marian, ifyou please, it might be as well, perhaps, if I were sometimes to lookover your letters; it has always been the custom here. "

Then; was no encouragement to proceed in the look of blank amazementwith which Marian replied, "Edmund Arundel and Mr. Lyddell both approveof my writing to Agnes Wortley. "

"Ah!" interposed Clara; "but did they mean that your letters shouldnever be looked over?"

"I heard nothing about it, " said Marian. 

"Miss Cameron always looked over mine, " said Caroline. 

"I will ask Mr. Lyddell himself as soon as he comes home, " said Marian, determinedly. 

There was a pause, but Caroline and Clara did not look satisfied. MissMorley knew they would leave her no peace if she desisted, and she wenton, --"I wish I could sometimes see a proof of willingness to yield. "

Marian was out of patience, and putting her letter into the desk, lockedit up; and Caroline laughingly remarked, "Really, there must be sometreason in that letter!" If the observation had been taken as it wasmeant, all would have been well; but Marian bit her lip with an air thatconvinced the sisters that Caroline had hit the mark; and their glancesstimulated Miss Morley to say, as decidedly as she could, "Marian, yourpresent conduct convinces me that it is desirable that I should see thatletter. "

Marian's dark eyes gave one indignant flash, as she proudly drew up herhead, opened her desk, laid her letter on the table before Miss Morley, and slowly walked out of the room; but as soon as she had shut the door, she ran at full speed along the passage to her own room, where, throwingherself on the bed, she gave way to a fit of violent weeping, and sobswhich shook her whole frame. Proud, passionate feelings at first almostchoked her, and soon these were followed by a flood of the bitter tearsof loneliness and bereavement. "Who would have dared insult her thus, had her father and mother been living?" and for a minute her agony fortheir loss was more intense than it had ever been. Gradually, "theturbid waters brightening as they ran, " became soothing, as she dwelt onthe sweet, holy memory of her parents, and wholesome as she mourned overher fit of pride and anger. But for what were they accountable, whoseselfish weakness and thoughtless curiosity had caused the orphan's tearsto flow?

Caroline had not seen those flashing eyes without an instant perceptionof the injustice of the accusation. Her half-jesting speech had ledthe matter much further than she had intended; and alarmed at theconsequences, she ran after her cousin to entreat her pardon; butMarian, unconscious of all save the tumult within herself, hurried ontoo fast to be overtaken, and just as Caroline reached her door, hadshut it fast, and drawn the bolt, and a gentle knock and low call of"Marian, dear Marian, " were lost in the first burst of sobs. Caroline, baffled and offended, turned away with feelings even more painful thanhers; and too proud to repeat the call, walked up and down, waiting tillthe door should be opened, to assure her cousin that nothing shouldinduce her to touch the letter, and to beg her forgiveness; but asminutes passed away in silence, she grew tired of waiting, thoughtMarian sullen and passionate, and at length, returned to the schoolroom. As soon as she entered, Clara exclaimed, "O Caroline, only think, howodd--"

"I don't want to hear anything about it, " said Caroline, sitting down tothe piano; "I wish we had never thought of it. "

She began, playing with all her might, but gradually she abated hervehemence, as she caught a few sounds of a conversation between Claraand Miss Morley. At last she turned round, asking, "What? who is hisgodfather?"

"Mr. Arundel, 'Edmund and every body, ' you know, " answered Clara. "Inever heard anything like it. Only fancy his hearing that boy say hiscatechism!"

"What? I don't understand, " said Caroline; "Mr. Arundel and Gerald!Nonsense! He can't be his godfather. Mamma said he was onlyfour-and-twenty, and Gerald is almost nine. "

"Here is Marian's authority for it, " said Clara; "and certainly thoseArundels are a curious family. "

"Mr. Arundel is the next heir, is he not?" inquired Miss Morley. 

"Yes, " said Caroline; "I heard mamma telling old Mrs. Graves the wholestory. His father and mother both died when he was very young, and SirEdmund brought him up entirely, and every one looked upon him as theheir till Gerald was born; and a groat disappointment it must have been, for now he has next to nothing. But they all were just as fond of eachother as before; and it does seem very strange that Sir Edmund shouldhave made him their guardian, at his age, when there was Lord Marchmont, who is their cousin, too. "

"I dare say, " said Clara, as if a most brilliant thought had struck her, "I dare say there is a family compact, such as one reads of in books, that he is to marry Marian. "

"My dear Clara!" said Miss Morley laughing, "How should such a notioncome into your little head?"

"Now see if it is not so!" said Clara; "I do believe she is in love withhim already, and he is coming to see her. "

"Is he?" cried Caroline, "I am very curious to sec him. Mamma says he isvery handsome, and quite a distinguished looking person. When does hecome?"

"You had better read, " said Clara; "I can tell you that there arewonderful things in the letter. "

Curiosity again asserted its power, and Caroline yielded. The letter hadbeen opened, and it would not signify if one more person looked at it. She took it, and read eagerly and stealthily, starting at every sound. 

 "My dear Agnes--I hope you and Jemmy are getting on well in your solitude without the schoolboys. Tell Charles, when you write, that a gentleman staying here caught a trout last week that weighed three pounds, but I believe that those which are caught in these rivers taste of mud, and are not nearly so good as our own. I was very much afraid that Gerald would go to school this summer, but now Mrs. Lyddell has heard that it was settled that he should not go till he was ten, and it is arranged for him to stay till next year, when I hope he will be happier than Charles was at first. You asked after his drawing, so I have put in the last scrap I met with, and in case you should not be able to find out what it is meant for, I must inform you that it is the dog springing on the young Buecleuch. The other day he sent Edmund a letter in hieroglyphics, with pictures instead of nouns, and Edmund answered it in the same way with funny little clever drawings throughout. His regiment is going abroad nest spring, he thinks, to the Cape, but he has promised to come and see us first, and thinks of going home to see about his things. Thank Mrs. Wortley for being so kind as to scold me for not dating my letters. I shall not be likely to forget the date of this on September 30th, for Mr. Lyddell has just paid me my first quarter's allowance, and I am frightened to think how large it is; ten pounds a quarter only for my dress, and I am to have more when I am seventeen. So matters can go on more as they used in the parish. Will you be so kind as to pay this quarter's schooling for Amy Lapthorn and Honor Weeks and Mary Daw, and find out what clothes they want, and if Susan Grey has not a new bonnet, give her one, and a flannel petticoat for old Betty, and if any body else wants anything else let me know, and pay up for all the children that dear mamma used to put into the penny club, and send me word what it comes to, and I will send the money when Edmund comes to pay his visit. I suppose the apples are gathered by this time; you cannot think how I miss the golden and red piles under the trees, and the droning of the old cyder press. And do those beautiful Red Admiral butterflies come in the crowds they did last year to the heaps of apples in our orchard? Do you remember how we counted five that all came and sat on your pink frock while we were watching them?

 "Will Mr. Wortley be kind enough to tell me of some book of questions on the Catechism, more advanced than the one he gave me? I suppose we ought to go on with the Catechism, till we are confirmed, and so Gerald and I always go through a section every Sunday, taking the book by turns, and he knows our old one perfectly. He is so good and steady about it that I quite wonder, considering that there is no authority to keep him up to it, but he is very anxious to stand a good examination when his godfather comes, and Edmund is sure to ask hard questions. And Gerald has never missed since we have been here, getting up in time to come and read the Psalms with me before breakfast, and really I think that is exceedingly good of him; but I have come to the end of my paper, so good-bye. 

 "Your affectionate

 "MARIAN C. ARUNDEL. "

Caroline's cheeks glowed as she read, both with shame at her ownproceedings, and with respect for her narrow-minded cousin; but she hadno opportunity for making remarks, for just as she had finished theletter, and folded it up again, the boys were heard coming in. The firstthing Gerald said was, "So Marian has not sent her letter; I will rundown with it, or it will be too late. "

"It is not sealed, " said Clara. 

"Clara looks as if she had been peeping, " said Johnny. 

"I should like to see any one peep into Marian's letters, " said Gerald, taking it up, and carrying it away with him. 

Lionel stood with his eyes fixed on Clara. "I do believe it is truethen!" said he, laying hold of Clara's arm; "I have a great mind to sayI'll never speak to you again, Clara. Peeping into people's letters. Why, you ought to be hooted through the town!"

The boys looked nearly ready to put the hooting into effect, but Claraanswered angrily, "Peeping! I have been doing no such thing! Don't be sorude, Lionel. "

"That is humbug, " said Lionel; "you have been looking impudently, if youhave not been peeping slyly. "

"Lionel, you are a very naughty boy indeed!" said Clara, almost crying;"I have done just as Miss Morley and Caroline have been doing; MissMorley always looks over----"

"Let who will do it, " said Lionel, "it is an impudent, ungentlemanlikething, that you all ought to be ashamed of. I declare papa shall hear ofit. "

"Lionel, do you know what you are saying?" said Caroline. 

"This is sadly naughty!" feebly murmured Miss Morley. 

"Lionel, mamma will be very angry, " said Clara. 

"I don't care, " said Lionel loudly and vehemently; "I know that you allought to be ashamed of yourselves, every one of you. Why, if youwere boys you would never hold up your heads again; but girls can doanything, and that is the reason they have no shame. "

"Hush! Lionel, dear Lionel!" said Caroline, coming to him persuasively, but he shook her off:

"I want none of your _dears_, " said he; "ask Marian's pardon, not mine. "

He turned his back, and took up a book. The girls dared say no more tohim; Miss Morley very nearly cried as she thought how impossible it wasfor women to manage great boys. She ought to complain of his rudeness, but the explanation of what gave rise to it was impossible, and so, poorwoman, she thought herself too good-natured. 

Gerald, in the meantime, had gone to his sister's room, where he calledhastily on finding the door fastened. She opened it, and he eagerlyasked what was the matter. 

"Never mind, " said Marian; "thank you for remembering my letter. Willyou fetch the sealing wax out of----"

"Well, but what is the matter?"

"Nothing that signifies; never mind. "

"But I do mind, I can't bear for you to cry. You know I can't, so don'tbegin again, " added he, as his affectionate tones made her lip quiver, and her eyes fill with tears. 

"But, Gerald, pray get the wax, or----. But no, no, " added shehurriedly, "do not, I will not touch it, till----"

"Till when?" asked Gerald; "I wish you would tell me how they havebeen vexing you. I am sure they hare, for they all looked guilty. PoorMarian!" He put his arm round her neck, and drew her cheek to his. Whocould withstand such a brother? Marian whispered. "Only--but don't makea fuss--only Miss Morley made me show her my letter. "

He started from her, and broke forth into a torrent of indignation; andit was not quickly that she succeeded in getting him to listen to herentreaties that he would not tell any one. 

"What do you mean to do?" said he. "O I will write such a letter toEdmund, in hopes she will ask to see it. But she won't venture on mine. Shall I tell Edmund?"

"No, no, Gerald, you do nothing; pray don't say anything. I will speakto Mr. Lyddell, for it was he who gave me leave. "

"And I hope he will give poor unfortunate a good rowing. Won't it befun?"

"Now, Gerald, pray don't say such things, or I shall be sorry I toldyou. I dare say she thought it was right. "

"Stuff and nonsense! Right indeed! I hope Mr. Lyddell will give it toher well!"

"If I may not write without having my letters read, I am sure I shallnever be able to write at all!"

"And when shall you speak? Luckily there is no company to-night, and Ihope I shall be there to hear. "

"No, you will not; I shall wait till you are gone to bed, for I am sureLionel and Johnny ought to know nothing about it. I believe I had betternot have told you; but, Gerald, you are all I have, and I can't helptelling you everything. "

"Of course, Marian, so you ought, for let them laugh at me as they will, I always tell you everything. And won't it be nice when I am grown up, and we can get away from them all, and live at home together, and I goout shooting every day, and you and Ranger stand at the top of the stepsto watch me? For Ranger will be too old to go out shooting by thattime. "

In the midst of this picture of rural felicity, Saunders came to tellMarian that it was time to dress. 

When she returned to the schoolroom, Caroline would have given anythingnot to have read the letter; she was too sure that there was nothingwrong in it, and she could not show the trust in her cousin which wouldhave enabled her to speak freely, and say she was very sorry for herspeech and meant nothing by it; nor did she wish to revive the subjectbefore Lionel, whose indignation would be still more unpleasant inMarian's own presence. She therefore said nothing, and on the other handMarian felt awkward and constrained; Lionel was secretly ashamed of hisown improper behaviour to Miss Morley, and well knowing that he shouldnever dare to perform his threat of telling his father, put on a surlykind of demeanour, quite as uncivil to Marian as to anyone else; and butthat Clara never minded anything, and that Johnny knew and cared littleabout the matter, their tea that evening would have been wonderfullyunsociable. Gerald had not much to say, but the bent of his thoughts wasevident enough when his ever-busy pencil produced the sketch of a catpricking her paw by patting a hedgehog rolled up in a ball. 

Neither Miss Morley nor her pupils ever expected to hear more of theletter, for they knew perfectly well that what Lionel had said was but athreat, for the appeal direct to Mr. Or Mrs. Lyddell was a thing neverthought of at Oakworthy. Marian had, however, made up her mind; heranxiety overpowered her shyness; she knew that Mr. Lyddell was theproper person, and perhaps the fact was that she was less afraid of himthan of his wife. So, though she resisted all the glances cast at herby Gerald, whenever he thought he saw a good opportunity for her, andwaited till all the three little boys had gone to bed, she by no meansgave up her purpose. It was time for her too, to wish good night; andwhile her heart beat fast, she said, "Mr. Lyddell, you gave me leave towrite to Agnes Wortley. Was it on condition of my letters being lookedover?"

"Who meddles with your letters?" said Mr. Lyddell, much surprised. 

Caroline, having helped to get her governess into the scrape, thoughtit but fair to say what she could for her, and answered, "Miss Morleythought that you and mamma would wish it. "

"By no means, " said Mr. Lyddell, turning to Marian, "I have thehighest opinion of Mr. And Mrs. Wortley, the very highest; I wish yourcorrespondence to be perfectly free. "

"Thank you, " said Marian. "Good night!" and away she went, to tellGerald how it had passed; and he, who had been lying awake inexpectation, was much disappointed to hear no more than this. 

As soon as she was gone, Mrs. Lyddell exclaimed, "What could have givenMiss Morley reason to think that her letters were to be inspected?Really, Miss Morley must have some courage! I should be sorry to be theperson to make the request. "

"Ah! Marian was very angry indeed, " said Clara; "quite in a passion. "

"Very proper, " said Mr. Lyddell. "A spirited thing. She is a girl ofsense. "

Mrs. Lyddell let the matter drop with the girls, but going to theschoolroom, she inquired into it more fully, and found that by poorunfortunate faithful Morley's own account, she had allowed herself tobe made the tool of the curiosity of Caroline and Clara. She spokeseverely, and Miss Morley had displeasure to endure, which wasconsiderably more disagreeable than all Clara's importunities could havebeen. 

However, the next morning it appeared as if the whole affair wasforgotten by all parties; Marian win just as usual, and so were hercousins; but, in secret, Caroline felt guilty, and held her in higherestimation since she had seen the contents of the letter, which, asshe could perceive, Marian might well be doubly unwilling to show; shewished that Marian would but be as open to her as she was to Agnes, butthis unfortunate business seemed like another great bar to their everbeing really intimate, and she did not know how to surmount it. 

These reflections were shortly after driven out of Caroline's head bya severe fit of toothache, which for three days made her unfit foranything but to sit by the fire reading idle books. Mrs. Lyddellproposed to take her to Salisbury to consult a dentist, and Lionel wassupposed likewise to require inspection. Then, turning to Marian, Mrs. Lyddell said, "This is not the pleasantest kind of expedition, butperhaps you may like to see Salisbury, and I think your bonnet wantsrenewing. "

"Thank you, " said Marian, pleased with the Invitation. "I shall be veryglad to go; I believe my teeth ought to be looked at. The dentist atExeter said last winter that they were crowded and ought to be watched. "

"Very well, " said Mrs. Lyddell, "we will see what Mr. Polkinghorn says. "

"Polkinghorn, " said Marian, as Mrs. Lyddell left the room; "that is aDevonshire name. "

"You are very welcome to him, I am sure, " said Caroline; "I wish thetrade was abolished. "

"What cowards girls are!" said Lionel. 

"Let us see how boys behave before we say anything against girls, " wasMarian's answer. 

"Shan't you scream?" said Lionel. 

"Of course she will not, " said Caroline, "unless with joy at meeting aDevonshire man. "

Marian laughed, and Lionel began an exhilarating story about anunfortunate who was strapped to the dentist's chair, dragged nine timesround the room, and finally had his jaw broken. 

Marian enjoyed her drive to Salisbury, though it added to her contemptfor Wiltshire scenery, by showing her more and more of desolate down. She watched the tall Cathedral spire from far in the distance, peeringup among the hills like a picture more than a reality, and she admiredthe green meadows and quiet vale where the town stands. Poor Carolinewas taken up with dreadful anticipations of Mr. Pokingtooth, as Lionelcalled him, and when arrived at his clamber of torture, hung back, so asto allow Marian to be the first victim. The result of the examinationwas, that it would be better; though not absolutely necessary, that acertain double tooth should be extracted, and Mr. Polkinghorn, left theroom in search of an instrument. 

"So you think it ought to go?" sighed Marian. 

"I should say so, " said Mrs. Lyddell, "but you may decide for yourself. "

Marian covered her face with her hands, and considered. The dentistreturned; she laid back her head and opened her mouth, and the toothwas drawn. Caroline and Lionel escaped more easily, and they left thedentist's. Mrs. Lyddell said something in commendation of Marian'scourage, and asked if she would like to see the Cathedral, an offerwhich she gladly accepted, expecting to go to the service, as the bellsnow began to ring; but she was disappointed, for Mrs. Lyddell said, "Ah!I had forgotten the hour. We must do our commissions first, and be atthe Cathedral before the doors are shut. " Marian did not venture toexpress her wishes, but she thought of the days when attending theCathedral service had been the crowning pleasure of a drive to Exeter, and in dwelling on the recollection, she spent the attention which Mrs. Lyddell expected her to bestow on her new bonnet. 

Their business did not occupy them very long, and they entered theCathedral before the anthem was over; but Marian felt that it was notfitting to loiter about the nave while worship was going on within thechoir; and the uncomfortable feeling occupied her so much, that shecould hardly look at the fair clustered columns and graceful arches, andseemed scarcely to know or care for the gallant William Longsword, whenled to the side of his mail-clad, cross-legged effigy. The deep notes ofthe organ, which delighted Caroline, gave her a sense of shame; and evenwhen the service was over, and they entered the choir, these thoughtshad not so passed away as to enable her to give full admiration to theexquisite leafy capitals and taper arcades of the Lady Chapel. Perhaps, too, there was a little perverseness in her inability to think that thisCathedral surpassed that of Exeter. 

She thanked Mrs. Lyddell rather stiffly, as she thought to herself, "Idid not reckon upon this!" and they set out on their homeward drive. Caroline looked thoughtful, and did not say much, Lionel fell asleep, and Mrs. Lyddell, after a few not very successful attempts at talking toMarian, took out her bills, and began to look over them and to reckon. Marian sat looking out of the window, lost in a vision of the hills, woods, and streams of Fern Torr, which lasted till they had reachedhome. 

Such an expedition was so uncommon an event in the lives of theinhabitants of the schoolroom, that those who stayed at home were asexcited about it as those who went, and a full and particular accountwas expected of all they had seen and all they had done. Caroline andLionel both seemed to think Marian a perfect miracle of courage involuntarily consenting to lose a tooth. 

"And I am sure, " said Caroline as they sat at tea, "I cannot nowunderstand what made you have it done. "

"To oblige a countryman, " said Marian laughing. 

"Well, but what was your real reason?" persisted Caroline. 

"Mrs. Lyddell thought it best, and so did the dentist, " said Marian. 

"O, " said Caroline, "he only said so because it was his trade. "

"Then how could Mrs. Lyddell depend on him?" said Marian, gravely. 

"Dentists never are to be depended on, " said Caroline; "they only try tofill their own pockets like other people. "

"You forget, " said Lionel, "Devonshire men are not like other people. "

"O yes, I beg their pardon, " said Caroline, while every one laughedexcept Gerald; who thought the praise only their due. 

"But why did you have it done?" said Clara, returning to the charge; "Iam sure I never would. "

"Yes, but Marian is not you, " said Lionel. 

"You would have disobeyed no one, " said Caroline. 

"I do not know, " said Marian, thinking of one whom she would havedisobeyed by showing weakness. 

"Then did you think it wrong not to have that tooth drawn?" saidCaroline. 

"I do not know. "

"Did you think it right to have it done?"

"I do not know, unless that I did not like it. "

"Do you mean to say that not liking a thing makes it right?" exclaimedClara. 

"Very often, " said Marian. 

"Miss Morley, now is not that Popish?" cried Clara. 

"Perhaps your cousin can explain herself, " said Miss Morley. 

"Yes, do, " said Caroline, "you must tell us what you mean. "

"I don't know, " was Marian's first answer; but while uttering the reply, the real reason arranged itself in words; and finding she must speakclearly, she said, "Self-denial is always best, and in a doubtful case, the most disagreeable is always the safest. "

Miss Morley said that Marian was right in many instances, but that thiswas not a universal rule, and so the conversation ended. 

CHAPTER VI. 

 "O Brignal banks are fresh and fair, And Greta woods are green; I'd rather rove with Edmund there, Than reign our English queen. "

 ROKEBY. 

Winter came, and with it the time fixed for that farewell visit fromEdmund Arundel, to which Marian and Gerald had long looked forward. Marian was becoming very anxious for it on Gerald's account, for she wasbeginning to feel that he was not quite the same child as when he firstarrived at Oakworthy. He was less under control, less readily obedientto Miss Morley, less inclined to quote Edmund upon all occasions, moresensible of his own consequence, and more apt to visit that forbiddenground, the stables. 

She longed for Edmund's coming, trusting to him to set everything right, and to explain to her the marvels of this strange new world. 

Several gentlemen were staying in the house, and there was to be adinner party on the day when he was expected, so that she thought thebest chance of seeing him would be to stay in the garden with Gerald, while the others took their walk, so that she might be at hand on hisarrival. Clara, though by no means wanted, chose to stay also, and thetwo girls walked up and down the terrace together. 

"It is so very odd, " said Clara "that you should care about such a greatold cousin. "

"He is only twenty-four, " answered Marian. 

"But he must have been grown up ever since you remember. "

"Yes, but he is so kind. He used to carry us about and play with us whenwe were quite little children, and since I have been older he has mademe almost a companion. He taught me to ride, and trained my bay pony, my beautiful Mayflower, and read with me, and helped me in my music anddrawing. "

"That is more than Elliot would do for us, if he could, " said Clara. "Itis very dull to have no one to care about our lessons, but to be shut upin the schoolroom for ever with poor unfortunate. "

Marian did not choose to say how fully she assented to this complaint, but happiness had opened her heart, and she went on, --"I have had somany delightful walks with him through the beautiful wood full of rocks, and out upon the moor. O, Clara, you cannot think what it is to sit uponone of those rocks, all covered with moss and lichen, and the fernsgrowing in every cleft and cranny, and the beautiful little ivy-leafedcampanula wreathing itself about the moss, and such a soft, free, delicious air blowing all around. And Edmund and I used to take out abook, and read and sketch so delightfully there!"

"Do you know, Marian, " said Clara mysteriously, "I have heard some onesay--I will not tell you who--that it is a wonder that Mr. Arundel is sofond of you, of Gerald, at least, for if it was not for him, he wouldhave had Fern Torr, and have been Sir Edmund. "

"But why should he not be fond of Gerald?"

"Really, Marian, you are a very funny person in some things, " exclaimedClara. "To think of your not being able to guess that!"

Here Mrs. Lyddell interrupted them by calling from the window to ask whythey were staying in the garden?

"We were waiting to see Mr. Arundel, mamma, " answered Clara. 

"I think, " said Mrs. Lyddell, "that as I am going out, it is not quite_the thing_ for you young ladies to wait to receive a gentleman in myabsence. You had better overtake the others. Marian will see Mr. Arundelin the evening. "

"How cross!" exclaimed Clara, as soon as they were out of hearing. "Nowwe have to go along that horrid, stupid path that poor unfortunate isso fond of! If mamma had to go there herself, she would know what anuisance it is!"

Marian was silent, because she was too much annoyed to speak properlyof Mrs. Lyddell, whose interference seemed to her a needless piece ofunkindness. At home she would have thought it strange not to hasten togreet cousin Edmund, and she feared he would think she neglected him, yet she could not, in Clara's presence, leave a message for him with herbrother. Gerald begged her to remain, but she replied, with, a short, blunt "I can't, " and set off with Clara, feeling provoked witheverybody. In process of time she recovered candour enough toacknowledge to herself that Mrs. Lyddell was right as far as Clara wasconcerned, but the struggle kept her silent, her cousin thought hersulky, and the walk was not agreeable. 

Gerald did not as usual attend her toilette, but as she passed along thepassage on her way to the schoolroom, she heard sounds in the hall solike home that her heart bounded, Gerald's voice and Edmund's in reply!She could not help opening the door which separated the grand staircasefrom the schoolroom passage, the voice sounded plainer, she looked overthe balusters, and saw--yes, actually saw Edmund, the top of his blackhead was just below her. Should she call? Should she run half-way downstairs, and just exchange one greeting unrestrainedly? But no; her heartbeat so fast as to take away her breath, and that gave her time forrecollection: Mrs. Lyddell might not think it proper, it would bemeeting him in an underhand way, and that would never do!

Marian turned back, shut the door of communication, and in the nextmoment was in the schoolroom. When Gerald came up to tea, he was in thewildest spirit; making fun, romping with Lionel and John, and puttingeverything in such an uproar that it was quite a relief when the timecame for going down to the drawing-room. 

Now, Marian's great fear was that the gentlemen would be cruel enoughto stay in the dining-room till after half-past nine, when she wouldbe obliged to go to bed. She could hardly speak to anybody, she shrankaway, as near the door as she dared, and half sprang up every time itopened, then sat down ashamed of herself, and disappointed to see onlythe servants with coffee and tea. 

At last, the fatal time had all but come, when the black figures of thegentlemen entered one after the other, Marian scarcely venturing to lookat them, and overpowered with a double access of fright and shyness, which chained her to her seat, and her eyes to the ground. Butnow--Edmund's hand was grasping hers, Edmund was by her side, his voicewas saying, "Well, Marian, how are you?"

She looked up at him for one moment, then on the ground again, withoutspeaking. 

"Oakworthy has put no colour in your cheeks, " said he. "Are you quitewell?"

"Quite, thank you, " said she, almost as shortly and coldly as if she hadbeen answering Mrs. Lyddell. 

"When did you hear from home?"

"Yesterday, " said she, speaking more readily. "Agnes always writes oncea week. When do you go there?"

"Next week, when I leave this place. "

"You come from the Marchmonts, don't you?"

"Yes, Selina sends you her love, and all manner of kind messages. Shehopes to see you in London after Easter. "

"O dear! There is Mrs. Lyddell looking at me, and I see Caroline isgone! Good night, Edmund. "

"So soon? I hoped to have seen more of you to-day; I came early onpurpose. "

"I thought so, but they would not let me stay at home. "

"I understand. Don't squeeze up your lips and look woeful. I knew how itwas. Good night. "

Marian walked slowly up stairs, sighing as she went, and looked intoGerald's room. He was awake, and called out, "Well, Marian, are you notglad he has come?"

"O yes, very, " returned Marian, in a tone of little gladness; "I hopeyou will be very happy with him. "

"Why not you?"

"It will be all disappointment, " she answered in a choking voice, as, sheltered by the darkness, she knelt down by Gerald's bed, and burstinto tears. "It will all be like to-day. "

"No, it shall not!" cried Gerald; "I will tell Edmund all about it, andhe shall send them all to the right about! I can't think why you did nottell Mrs. Lyddell that you always stay at home for Edmund. "

"Miss Arundel, " said Saunders, at the door, "do you know that it is halfan hour later than usual?"

The next morning Marian awoke with brighter spirits. It was possiblethat she might accomplish one walk with him, and Gerald was sure ofbeing constantly at his side, which was the great point. At any rate, she could not be very unhappy while he was in the house. 

She heard nothing of him all the morning, but, just as the schoolroomdinner was over, in came Mrs. Lyddell, and with her Edmund himself, tothe great surprise of all the inhabitants. Marian looked very happy, butsaid very little, while there was some talk with Miss Morley, and thenEdmund asked if she had no drawings to show him. She brought out herportfolio, and felt it like old times when he observed on her improvedshading, or criticised the hardness of her distant hills, while MissMorley wondered at his taste and science. It was delightful to find thatshe and Gerald were really to take a walk with him by themselves. Shealmost flew to fetch her walking dress, and soon the three were on theirway together. 

There was a great quantity of home news to be talked over, for Edmundhad not heard half so often nor so minutely as Marian, and he had to betold how Charles Wortley got on at his new school, that Ranger hadbeen lost for a day and a half, and many pieces of the same kind ofintelligence, of which the most important was that Farmer Bright's widowhad given up the hill farm, and his nephew wanted to take it, but Mr. Wortley hoped that this would not be allowed, as he was a dissenter. 

"Indeed!" said Edmund; "I wonder Carter did not mention that. "

"Had you heard this before?" said Marian; "I thought it news. "

"Most of it is, " said Edmund, "but not about the farm. The letting it ispart of my business here, but I did not know of this man's dissent. Yourcorrespondence has done good service. "

"I am sure it is my great delight, " said Marian; "I do not know what Ishould do without hearing from Agnes. I think I have learnt to prize hermore since I have known other people. "

"You don't find the Miss Lyddells quite as formidable as you expectedthough?" said Edmund; "the eldest has a nice open, countenance. "

"We get on very well, " said Marian. "Caroline is so good-tempered andclever, and Lionel is delightful. "

"O, Edmund, " interposed Gerald, "Lionel and I had such fun the otherday. We caught the old donkey and blindfolded it with our handkerchiefs, and let it loose, and if you could but have seen how it kicked up itsheels----"

They went on with the history of adventures of the same description, enjoying themselves exceedingly, and when Marian went in, she was muchpleased to find how favourable an impression Edmund had made on hercompanions, although some of their commendations greatly surprised her;Miss Morley pronouncing that he had in the greatest degree an _airdistingue_, and was a remarkably fashionable young man. Marian couldendure the _air distingue_, but could hardly swallow the fashionableyoung man, an expression which only conveyed to her mind the idea ofElliot Lyddell and his moustached friends. However, she knew it wasmeant for high praise, and her present amiable fit was strong enough toprevent her from taking it as an insult. 

The next day was Sunday, and she provokingly missed Edmund three times, in the walks to and from church, he being monopolized by "some stupidperson, " who had far less right to him than she had; but at last, when she had been completely worried and vexed with her succession ofdisappointments, and had come into what Lionel would have emphaticallycalled "a state of mind, " Edmund contrived to come to her before goingin doors, and asked if she could not take a few turns with him on theterrace. She came gladly, and yet hardly with full delight, for theirritation of the continually recurring disappointments through thewhole day, still had its influence on her spirits, and she did not atfirst speak. "Where is Gerald?" asked Edmund. 

"I don't know; somewhere with the boys, " said Marian, disconsolately. 

"Well, why not?" said Edmund laughing. 

"I don't know, " said Marian. 

"That is a meditative 'I don't know, ' which conveys more than meets theear. "

"I don't know whether----; I mean I don't think it does Gerald anygood. "

"It?--what?"

"I don't know, " repeated Marian in a tone which to any one else wouldhave appeared sullen. 

"I should like to arrive at your meaning, Marian. Are you not happyabout Gerald!"

"I don't know, " said Marian; but Edmund, convinced that all was notright, was resolved to penetrate these determined professions ofignorance. 

"Is Gerald under Miss Morley?" he asked. 

"Yes, during most of the day. They all say he is very good. "

"And does not that satisfy you?"

"I don't know. "

Edmund perceived that the subject of her brother was too near her heartto be easily approached, and resolved to change his tone. 

"How have you been getting on?" he asked. "Does learning flourish underthe present dynasty?"

"I don't know, " replied Marian for the seventh time, but she did not asusual stop there, and continued, "they think one knows nothing unlessone has learnt all manner of dates, and latitudes, and such things. Notone of them knew Orion when they saw him in the sky, and yet even Clarathought me dreadfully stupid because I could not find out on the globethe altitude of Beta in Serpentarius, at New Orleans, at three o'clockin the morning. "

Edmund could not help laughing at her half-complaining, half-humoroustone, and this encouraged her to proceed. 

"In history they don't care whether a man is good or bad; they only carewhen he lived. O Edmund, the lists of names and dates, kings and Romanemperors----. "

"Metals, semi-metals, and distinguished philosophers, " said Edmund; andMarian, who in days of old had read "Mansfield Park, " laughed as sheused to do at home. 

"Exactly, " said she, "O, Edmund, it is very different learning from whatit used to be. All lesson and no thinking, no explaining, no letting onemake out more about the interesting places. I wanted the other day tolook out in some history book to find whether Rinaldo in Tasso was areal man, but nobody would care about it; and as to the books, all thereal good _grown-up_ ones are down in Mr. Lyddell's library, where noone can get at them. "

"Does not Miss Lyddell enter into these things?"

"O yes, Caroline does, a great deal more than Miss Morley; but I don'tknow--I never can get on with Caroline----. "

Marian had now gone on to the moment when her heart was ready to beopen, and the whole story, so long laid up for Edmund, began to bepoured forth; while he, anxious to hear all, and more sympathizing thanhe was willing to show himself, only put in a word or two here andthere, so as to sustain the narration. Everything was told, how Clarawas frivolous and wearisome; how Caroline was cold, incomprehensible, and unsympathetic; how unjust and weak Miss Morley was; how sharp, hasty, and unmotherly she found Mrs. Lyddell; and then, growing moreeager, Marian, with tears springing to her eyes, told of the harm theinfluence of Oakworthy was doing Gerald; his love of the stables, andSaunders' opinion of the company he was likely to meet there. This ledher to more of Saunders' communications about the general arrangementof the house, and the want of really earnest care for what is right;further still to what Saunders had told of Elliot and his ways, whichwere such as to shock her excessively, and yet she had herself heard Mr. Lyddell say that he was a fine spirited fellow!

Edmund was not sorry to find that he had but small space in which togive the reply for which Marian was eagerly looking. He avoided the mainsubject, and spoke directly to a point on which his little cousin wascertainly wrong. "Well, Marian, who would have thought of your taking togossiping with servants?" Then, as she looked down, too much ashamed tospeak, he added, "I suppose poor Saunders has not sought for charms atOakworthy any more than you have. "

"Indeed I do not think I tried to make the worst of it when I came. "

"Is that a confession that you are doing so now?"

"I do not know. "

"Then let us see if you will give the same account to-morrow; I shallask you whenever I see you particularly amiable. And now I think I havekept you out quite late enough. "

The next day was very pleasant, bright, and frosty; Marian, from havingrelieved her heart, felt more free and happy, and her lessons went offquickly and smoothly. All went well, even though Edmund was obliged togo and call on a friend at Salisbury instead of coming to walk with her. Her walk with Miss Morley and her cousins was prosperous and pleasant;the boys ran races, and Marian and Clara were allowed to join themwithout a remonstrance. Marian was running and laughing most joyously, when she was stopped by hearing a horse's feet near her, and lookinground saw Edmund returning from his ride. "May I keep her out a littlelonger?" said he to Miss Morley, as he jumped off his horse, and Mariancame to his side. Miss Morley returned a ready assent, and afterdisposing of the horse, the two cousins walked on happily together, shetelling him some pleasant histories of Gerald and the other little boys, and lamenting the loss that Lionel would be when he went to school. After they had talked over Salisbury Cathedral, and Marian had heardwith great interest of Edmund's late employments in Scotland, and allhe was to do and see in Africa, and saying much about that never-endingsubject, Fern Torr, Edmund thought her so cheerful that he said, "Well, may I venture to ask your opinion of the people here?"

"I don't know, " said Marian, who was so much ashamed of the accusationof gossiping with Saunders as to be willing to pass over all that hadbeen founded on her information, "perhaps I did say too much yesterday, and yet I do not know I am sure I should never have chosen them forfriends. "

"Perhaps they would return that compliment. "

"Then you really think it is my own fault?"

"No;" (Edmund tried hard to prevent his "no" from being too emphatic, and forced himself to go on thus) "I do not suppose it is entirely yourfault, but at the same time you do not strike me as a person likely tomake friends easily. "

"O, Edmund, I could never bring myself to kiss, and say 'dearest' and'darling, ' and all that, like Clara. "

"There is the thing, " said Edmund; "not that it is wrong to dislikeit, not that I could ever imagine your doing any thing like it;" and, indeed, the idea seemed so preposterous, that both the cousinslaughed; "but the disposition is not one likely to be over and aboveprepossessing to strangers. "

"You mean that I am disagreeable?"

"No, far from it. I only mean that you are chilly, and make almost allwho come near you the same towards you. "

"I cannot help it, " said Marian. 

"Yes, you could in time, if you did not fairly freeze yourself byconstant dwelling on their worst points. Make the best of them with allyour might, and you will soon learn to like them better. "

"But if the things are so, Edmund, how can I see them otherwise?"

"Don't look out for them, and be glad of every excuse for disliking thepeople. Don't fancy harshness and unkindness where no one intends it. Iam quite sure that Mr. Lyddell wishes to give you every advantage, andthat Mrs. Lyddell thinks she treats you like her own child. "

"I don't think I should like to be her own child, " said Marian. "It istrue that she is the same with me as with them, but--"

"Poor Marian, " said Edmund, kindly, "you have been used to suchgentleness at home, that no wonder the world seems hard and unkind toyou. But I did not mean to make you cry; you know you must rough it, andbravely too. "

"Never mind my crying, " said Marian, struggling to speak; "it isnothing, but I cannot help it. It is so very long since any one hasknown what I meant. "

Edmund could not trust himself to speak, so full was he of affectionatecompassion for her, and of indignation against the Lyddells, when thesefew words revealed to him all her loneliness; and they walked on for aconsiderable distance in silence, till, with a sudden change of tone, heasked if she had had any riding since she came to Oakworthy. 

"O no, I have not been on horseback once. What a treat a good canter onMayflower would be!"

"I suspect one victory over her would put you in spirits to be amiablefor a month, " said Edmund. 

"Dear old Mayflower!" said Marian. "How delightful that day was when shefirst came home, and we took that very long ride to the Eastcombe!"

Edmund and Marian fell into a line of reminiscences which enlivened themboth, and she went in-doors in a cheerful mood, while he seriously tookthe riding into consideration; knowing, as he did, that her mother hadthought a great deal of out-of-door exercise desirable for her, andguessing that her want of spirits might very probably arise from want ofthe air and freedom to which she had always been accustomed. The resultof his meditations was, that the next morning she was delighted byGerald's rushing into the school-room, calling out, "Put on your habit, Marian; make haste and put on your habit. You are to have my pony, andI am to have Lionel's, and Edmund is to have Sorell, and we are all toride together to Chalk Down!"

How fast Marian obeyed the summons may well be believed; and thoughGerald's pony was not comparable to Mayflower, it was much to feelherself again in the saddle, with the fresh wind breathing on herchecks, and Edmund by her side. Par and joyously did they ride; so far, that Gerald was tired into unusual sleepiness all the evening; butMarian was but the fresher and brighter, full of life and merriment, which quite surprised her cousins. 

But visits, alas! are fleeting things, and Edmund's last day atOakworthy came only too soon. Precious as it was, it was for the mostpart devoted to business with Mr. Lyddell, though he sent Marian amessage that he hoped for a walk with her and her brother in theafternoon. 

The hour came, but not the man; and while Caroline and Clara went outwith Miss Morley, Marian sat down with a book to wait for him. In aboutan hour's time the boys came to tell her they were going to the pondwith Walter. 

"O Gerald, won't you wait for Edmund?"

"I have waited till I am tired. I cannot stay in this whole afternoon, and I do not think he will come this age. "

"He is shut up in the study with papa, " said Lionel; "I heard theirvoices very loud, as if they were in _such_ a rage. "

"I wish I could see them, " said Johnny, "it would be such fun. "

Away ran the boys, leaving Marian in a state of wonder and anxiety, butstill confident that Edmund would not forget her. She put on her walkingdress, and sat down to her book again, but still she was left to wait. The winter twilight commenced, and still no Edmund; steps approached, but not the right ones; and in came the walking party, with a generalexclamation of "Poor Marian! what, still waiting?" Miss Morley advisedher to take a few turns on the terrace, instead of practising thathorrid Mozart. Marian disconsolately went down stairs, looking wistfullyat the library door as she went past it, and, at a funeral pace, promenaded along the terrace. As she passed beneath the window ofCaroline's room, a head was popped out, and a voice sang--

 "So, sir, you're come at last, I thought you'd come no more, I've waited with my bonnet on from one till half-past four! You know I sit alone--"

At that moment, Edmund himself was seen advancing from the door; thesong ended in a scream of laughter and dismay, and the window washastily shut. Edmund smiled a little, but very little, and said, "Trueenough, I am afraid I have used you very ill. "

"Tiresome affairs, " said Marian, looking up into his harassed face. "Ihope they have not made your head ache?"

"I have been worried, but it is not the fault of the affairs, I wish youhad not lost your walk, " added he abruptly, beginning to stride on sofast that she could scarcely keep up with him, and apparently forgettingher presence entirely in his own engrossing thoughts. She watched himintently as she toiled to keep by his side, longing, but not daring, to inquire what was the matter. At last he broke out into a mutteredexclamation, "destitute of all principle! all labour in vain!"

"What--how--Mr. Lyddell?"

"This whole day have I been at it, trying to bring him to reason aboutthat farm!"

"What? Did he wish the Dissenter to have it?"

"He saw no objection--treated all I said as the merest moonshine!"

"What? all the annoyance to the Wortleys, and the mischief to the poorpeople!" exclaimed Marian, "Why, we should have a meeting-house!"

"Nothing more likely, in the Manor field, and fifty poundssubscribed--all for the sake of toleration and Gerald's interests. "

"You don't mean that he has done it?" said Marian, alarmed, and notquite understanding Edmund's tone of irony, "Cannot you prevent it?"

"I have prevented It; I said that, with my knowledge of my uncle'sintentions, I could never feel justified in consenting to sign thelease. "

"And that puts a stop to it? Oh, I am very glad. But I suppose he wasvery angry?"

"I never saw a man more so. He said he had no notion of sacrificingGerald's interest to party feeling. "

"How could it be for Gerald's interest to bring Dissenters to Fern Torr?I am sure it would be very disagreeable. I thought it, was quite wrongto have any dealings with them. "

"He has been popularity-hunting too long to have many scruples on thatscore. "

Marian could not help triumphing. "Well, Edmund, I am glad you have cometo my opinion at last. I knew you would not like the Lyddells when youknew them better. "

"I never was much smitten with them, " said Edmund, abruptly, as ifaffronted at the imputation of having liked them. 

"But Edmund, " cried Marian, standing still in the extremity of heramazement, "what have you been about all this time? Have you not beentelling me it is all my own fault that I do not get on with them?"

He was silent for a little while; and then turning round half-way, as people do when much diverted, he broke out into a hearty fit oflaughter. "It is plain, " said he, at last, "that nature never designedme for a young lady's counsellor. "

"What do you mean, Edmund?"

"I suspect I have done mischief, " said Edmund, after a littleconsideration, "and I believe all that remains to be done is to tell youall, and come down from my character of Mentor, which certainly I havenot fulfilled particularly well. "

"I am sure I do not understand you, " said Marian. 

"Well, then, " said Edmund, speaking in a more free and unembarrassedtone than he had used since he had been at Oakworthy, "this is the factof the matter, as Mrs. Cornthwayte would say, Marian. I always thoughtit very unlucky that you were obliged to live here; but as it could notbe helped, and I really knew nothing against the Lyddells, there was nouse in honing and moaning about it beforehand, so I tried to make thebest of it. Well, I came here, and found things as bad as I expected, and was very glad to find you steady in the principles we learnt athome. Still, I thought you deficient in kindly feeling towards them, andinclined to give way to repining and discontent, and I think you allowedI was not far wrong. To-day, I must allow, I was off my guard, and havemade a complete mess of all my prudence. "

"O, I am very glad of it, " said Marian. "I understand you now, and youare much more like yourself. "

"Yes, it was a very unsuccessful attempt, " said Edmund, again laughingat himself, "and I am very glad it is over; for I have been obliged tobe the high and mighty guardian all this time, and I am very tired ofit;" and he yawned. 

"Then you don't like them any better than I do, " repeated Marian, in atone of heartfelt satisfaction. 

"Stop, stop, stop; don't think that cousin Edmund means to give youleave to begin hating them. "

"Hating them? O no! but now you will tell me what I ought to do, sincethere is no possibility of getting away from them. "

"No, there is no possibility, " said Edmund, considering; "I could notask the Marchmonts again, though they did make the offer in the firstfulness of their hearts. Besides, there are objections; I should notfeel satisfied to trust you to so giddy a head as Selina's. No, Marian, it cannot be helped; so let us come to an understanding about these sameLyddells. "

"Well, then, why is it that we do not do better? I know there are faultson my side; but what are the faults on theirs?"

"Marian, I believe the fault to be that they do not look beyond thispresent life, " said Edmund, in a grave, low tone. 

Marian thought a little while, and then said, "Caroline does, but I seewhat you mean with the others. "

"Then your conduct should be a witness of your better principles, " saidEdmund. "You may stand on very high ground, and it entirely dependson yourself whether you maintain that position, or sink down to theirlevel. "

"O, but that is awful!" cried Marian; and then in a tone of stillgreater dismay, "and Gerald? O, Edmund, what is to become of him?"

"I must trust him to you, Marian. "

"To me!"

"You have great influence over him, and that, rightly used, may be hissafeguard. Many a man has owed everything to a sister's influence. "Then, as Marian's eye glistened with somewhat of tender joy and yet offear, he went on, "But take care; if you deteriorate, he will be ingreat danger; and, on the other hand, beware of obstinacy and rigidityin trifles--you know what I mean--which might make goodness distastefulto him. "

"O, worse and worse, Edmund! What is to be done? If I can do him so muchharm, I know I can do him very little good; and what will it be when heis older, and will depend less on what I say?"

"He will always depend more on what you _do_ than on what you say. "

"But what can I do? all the schoolboy temptations that I know nothingabout. And Elliot--O, Edmund! think of Elliot, and say if it is notdreadful that Mr. Lyddell should have the management of our own Gerald?Papa never could have known--"

"I think, while he is still so young, that there is not much harm to beapprehended from that quarter, " said Edmund; "afterwards, I believeI may promise you that he shall not be left entirely to Oakworthytraining. "

"And, " said Marian, "could you not make him promise to keep away fromthe stables? Those men--and their language--could you not, Edmund?"

"I could, but I would not, " said Edmund. "I had rather that, ifhe transgresses, he should not break his word as well as run intotemptation. There is no such moral crime in going down to the stables, as should make us willing to oblige him to take a vow against it. "

"Would it not keep him out of temptation?"

"Only by substituting another temptation, " said Edmund. "No, Marian; aboy must be governed by principles, and not by promises. "

"Principles--people are always talking of them, but I don't halfunderstand what they are, " said Marian. 

"The Creed and the Ten Commandments are what I call principles, " saidEdmund. 

"But those are promises, Edmund. "

"You are right, Marian; but they are not promises to man. "

"I could do better if I had any one to watch me, or care about me, " saidMarian. 

Edmund's face was full of sadness. "We--I mean you, are alone indeed, Marian; but, depend upon it, it is for the best. We might be tempted notto look high enough, and you have to take heed to yourself for Gerald'ssake. "

"I do just sometimes feel as I ought, " said Marian; "but it is by fitsand starts. O, Edmund, I would give anything that you were not going. "

"It is too late now, " said Edmund, "and there are many reasons whichconvince me that I ought not to exchange. In a year or two, when I havemy promotion, I hope to return, and then, Marian, I shall find you afinished young lady. "

Marian shuddered. 

"Poor child, " said Edmund, laughing. 

"And you are going home, " said Marian, enviously. 

"Home, yes, " said Edmund, in a tone which seemed as if he did not thinkhimself an object of envy. 

"Yes, the hills and woods, " said Marian, "and the Wortleys. "

"Yes, I am very glad to go, " said Edmund. "Certainly even the beinghackneyed cannot spoil the beauty or the force of those lines ofGray's. "

"What, you mean, 'Ah! happy hills; ah! pleasing shade?'"

"Yes, " said Edmund, sighing and musing for some minutes before he againspoke, and then it was very earnestly. "Marian, you must not go wrong, Gerald must not--with such parents as yours----. " Marian did not answer, for she could not; and presently he added, "It does seem strange thatsuch care as my uncle's should have been given to me, and then his ownboy left thus. But, Marian, you must watch him, you must guard him. Ifyou are in real difficulty or doubt how to act, you have the Wortleys;and if you see anything about which you are seriously uneasy with regardto him, write to me, and I will do my utmost, little as that is. "

"Yes, yes, I am glad to be sure of it, " said Marian. 

"Well, I am glad to have had this talk, " said Edmund. "I did youinjustice, Marian; you are fit to be treated as a friend: but you mustforgive me, for it cost me a good deal to try to be wise with you. "

"I think you have seemed much wiser since you left it off, " said Marian, "Somehow, though I was glad to hear you, it did not comfort me or set meto rights before. "

Edmund and Marian could have gone on for hours longer, but it wasalready quite dark; and the sound of Elliot's whistle approachingwarned them that one was coming who would little understand theirfriendship, --why the soldier should loiter with the little girl, or whythe young girl should cling to the side of her elder cousin. They wentin-doors, and hastened different ways; they saw each other again, butonly in full assembly of the rest of the family. And at last, soon afterbreakfast the nest morning, Marian stood in the hall, watching Edmunddrive from the door; and while her face was cold, pale, and still asever, her heart throbbed violently, and her throat felt as if she wasready to choke. She heard of him at Fern Torr, she heard of him atPortsmouth, she heard of his embarkation; and many and many a lonelymoment was filled up with tears of storm and tempest; of fever andclimate, of the lion and of the Caffre. 

CHAPTER VII. 

 "Child of the town! for thee, alas! Glad nature spreads nor tree or grass; Birds build no nests, nor in the sun Glad streams come singing as they run. Thy paths are paved for five long miles, Thy groves and hills are peaks and tiles, Thy fragrant air is yon thick smoke, Which shrouds thee like a mourning cloak. "

 ALAN CUNNINGHAM. 

And so Edmund was gone! But he had bequeathed to Marian a purpose andan object, which gave her a spirit to try hard and feel out a way forherself in this confused tangle of a world around, her. She was happier, though perhaps more anxious; for now it was not mere vague dislike anddiscontent, but a clearer perception both of the temptations around andof the battle required of her. 

In January the whole family went to London, the object of many ofMarian's terrors. Caroline and Clara were both sorry to go, and the boyslamented exceedingly; Lionel saying it was very hard that the last twomonths before his going to school should be spent boxed up there, withnothing to do. Indeed the life of the schoolroom party was here moremonotonous than that at Oakworthy; for besides the constant regularityof lessons, there was now no variety in the walks; they only paced roundthe square, or on fine days went as far as the park. 

And then there were the masters! Marian was in a state of great fear, under the anticipation of her first lessons from them; but the realityproved much better than she had expected. To be sure, she disliked thedancing with all her heart, and made no great figure in music; butpeople were patient with her, and that was a great comfort; and then shethoroughly liked and enjoyed the lessons in languages and in drawing. There were further advantages in the London life, upon which she had notcalculated, for here she was nobody, less noticed than Caroline, seldomsummoned to see visitors, and, when she went into the drawing-room, allowed to remain in the back-ground as much as she pleased; so that, though her eye pined for green trees and purple hills, and her ear waswearied with the never-ceasing sound of wheels, London so far exceededher expectations, that she wrote to Agnes, that, "if there were nosmoke, and no fog, and no streets, and no people, there would be nogreat harm in it, especially if there was anything for the boys to do. "

The boys were certainly to be pitied; in a house smaller than Oakworthy, and without the occupations out of doors to which they had beenaccustomed, edicts of silence were more ineffectual than ever, and yawnsbecame painfully frequent. Every one's temper fell into an uncomfortablestate of annoyance and irritation; Miss Morley, instead of her usualquiet, piteous way of reproving, was fretful; Caroline was sharp; Clarasometimes rude like the boys, sometimes cross with them; even Marianwas now and then tormented into a loss of temper, when there was noobtaining the quiet which she, more than the others, needed in order tolearn a lesson properly. Each day Lionel grew more unruly, chiefly fromthe want of occupation, leading the other two along with him; and eachday the female portion of the party grew more inclined to fretfulness, as they felt their own helplessness. It even came to consultationsbetween Miss Morley and Caroline whether they must not really tell ofthe boys: but the evil day was always put off till "next time. "

Gerald was riotous when Lionel and John made him so, but not often onhis own account; and he had more resources of his own than they had. Hisdrawing was a great amusement to him, though rather in a perverse way;for he would not be induced to take lessons of the master, seldom drewat the right time, or in the right place, and frequently in the wrongones. 

"I never can learn except when I am drawing, " he said, and his slatewas often so filled with designs, that the sums were jostled into thenarrowest possible space, while his Latin grammar was similarly adorned. There sat the Muse in full beauty, enthroned upon Parnassus, close to_musa musæ; magister_ had a wig, and _dominus_ a great rod; while theextraordinary physiognomies round _facies faciei_ would have been worthyof any collection of caricatures. Moreover the illustrations of the verb_amo_ commemorated the gentleman who was married on Sunday, killed hiswife on Wednesday, and at the preter-pluperfect tense was hanged onSaturday. Other devices were scattered along the margin, and peeped outof every nook--old men's heads, dogs, hunters, knights, omnibuses; andthe habit of drawing so grew upon him, that when he was going to readany book where scribbling was insufferable, Marian generally took theprecaution of putting all pencils out of reach. 

She often warned him to take care of the school-room Atlas; but, incitedby Lionel, he could not resist the temptation of putting a pipe in themouth of the Britannia who sat in a corner of the map of England. Thispipe she carefully rubbed out, but not till it had received from theothers a sort of applause which he took as encouragement to repeat theoffence; and when next Marian looked at Britannia, she found the piperestored, and a cocked hat on the lion's head. Again there was muchmerriment; and though Miss Morley, more than once, told Gerald thiswould never do, and he really must not, she could not help laughing somuch, that he never quite believed her to be in earnest, and proceededto people the world with inhabitants by no means proportioned to thesize of their countries. John-o'-Groat and his seven brothers tookpossession of their house, Turks paraded in the Mediterranean, and inthe large empty space in the heart of Africa, Baron Munchausen causedthe lion to leap down the crocodile's throat. 

It was about this time that Marian was one day summoned to thedrawing-room at an unusual time, and found Mr. And Mrs. Lyddell boththere looking exceedingly gracious. "Here is a present for you, Marian, "said the former, putting into her hands a large thin parcel. 

"For me! O thank you!" said Marian, too much surprised and embarrassedto make much of her thanks; nor did her wonder diminish as, unfoldingthe paper, she beheld a blue watered silk binding, richly embossed, withthe title of "The Wreath of Beauty, " and soon there lay before her, inall the smoothness of India paper and mezzotint, a portrait, beneathwhich she read the name of Selina, Viscountess Marchmont. 

"Selina!" repeated she, in the extremity of her amazement. 

"Yes, " said Mr. Lyddell, resting there in expectation of renewed andeager acknowledgements; but all he received was this--"Can that beSelina?"

"It is said to be a very good likeness, " said Mrs. Lyddell. 

"O!" cried Marian, and there she checked herself. 

"Mr. Lyddell was quite struck with the resemblance to you, " added Mrs. Lyddell. 

The astonishment of Marian's glance was greater than ever, but hereshe bethought herself that Mr. Lyddell had intended to give her greatpleasure, and that she was very ungrateful; whereupon the room seemed toswim round with her in her embarrassment, and with a great effort shestammered out something about his being very kind, and her being verymuch obliged to him; and then, perceiving that she ought to add more, inorder to satisfy that judge of politeness, Mrs. Lyddell, she said thatit was a long time since she had seen Lady Marchmont, and that she couldnot so well judge of the likeness; and then she bore it away to sigh andwonder over it unrestrainedly with Gerald. 

No wonder the Lyddells were surprised, for Lady Marchmont's portrait wasincomparably the most beautiful in the book; the classical regularity ofthe features, the perfect form of nose and chin, the lovely lip, and theundulating line of the hair, all were exquisite; the turn of the longneck, the _pose_ of the tall graceful figure, and the simple eleganceof the dress, were such as to call for great admiration. But all thatMarian saw was an affectation in that twisted position, --a straininground of the eyes, and a kind of determination at archness of expressionin the mouth. Where was the merry, artless, sweet-looking Selina sheremembered, whose yet unformed though very pretty features had fadedfrom her memory, and left only the lively, good-natured expressionwhich, here she sought in vain?

"O Selina, Selina, can you be like this'?" exclaimed she; "and to thinkof their saying I am like it! I am sure I hope one is as true as theother. "

Gerald drew his face into a horrible caricature of the expression in theportrait, and set his sister laughing. 

"I hope I shall never see her If she has grown like it, " said she, sighing. 

"I should take the stick to her if she was, " said Gerald. 

"I am afraid it must be too true, " said Marian, "or she would neverallow herself to be posted up in this absurd way. I wonder LordMarchmont allows it!"

"I'll tell you, Marian, " said the sympathising Gerald, "if I had tenbeauties for my wife--"

"Ten beauties! O, Gerald!"

"Well, one ten times as beautiful as Selina, I mean; I would cure her ofvanity well; for I would tell her that, if she chose to have her picturedrawn in this Book of Beauty, it should only be with a ring through hernose, and two stars tattooed on her cheeks. "

"And a very good plan too, " said Marian, laughing; "but I am afraidpoor Selina cannot be in such good hands. See, here are the impertinentpeople writing verses about her, as if they had any business to askher what she is thinking about. Listen, Gerald; did you ever hear suchstuff?"

 "Lady, why that radiant smile, Matching with that pensive brow, Like sunbeams on some mountain pile Glowing on solemn heights of snow?

 "Lady, why that glance of thought, Joined to that arch lip of mirth, Like shade by fleecy cloudlet brought Over some paradise of earth?

 "Yea, thou may'st smile, the world for thee Is opening all its fairest bowers; Yet in that earnest face I see These may not claim thy dearest hours. 

 "But for thy brow, thy smile we deem The gladsome mirth of fairy sprite; But for thy smile, thy mien would seem Some angel's from the world of light. 

 "Yet laughing lip and thoughtful brow Are depths and gleams of mortal life; Angel and fay, of us art thou, Then art a woman and a wife!"

"What would they have her to be? a husband?" said Gerald. 

Here Caroline and Clara came hastily in, eager to see the portrait andread the verses, and very far were they from being able to imagine whyshe did not like the portrait. Caroline owned that there might be alittle affectation, but she thought the beauty very considerable; and asto Clara, she was in raptures, saying she never _did_ see any one halfso lovely. And as to the verses, they were the sweetest things sheever read; and she carried them off to show to Miss Morley, who fullysympathised with her. Marian found no one to share her opinion butGerald and Lionel, and their criticisms were unsparingly extended toLady Marchmont's features, as well as her expression, "Such mincinglips! such untidy hair! Hollo! who has given her a black eye?" till theyhad not left her a single beauty. 

Marian hoped the subject was quite forgotten, when she had hiddenaway the book under all her others: but the nest time there was adinner-party, Mrs. Lyddell desired her to fetch it, to show to some onewho knew Lady Marchmont. She took it up stairs again us soon as shecould, but again and again was she obliged to bring it, and condemned tohear it talked over and admired. One day when she was going wearily andreluctantly up stairs, she was arrested by a call from Lionel, whowas creeping up outside the balusters in a fashion which had norecommendation but its extreme difficulty and danger. 

"Eh, Marian, what, going after beauty again?"

"I wish it was Beauty and the Beast, " said Marian, disconsolately. "There are different tastes in the world, that is certain; but don'tbreak that neck of yours, Lionel. "

Lionel replied by letting go with one hand and brandishing that and hisfoot over the giddy space below. Marian frowned and squeezed up herlips, but did not speak till it pleased him to draw himself in again, and throw himself over the balusters before her, saying, "That is areward for you, Marian; Clara would have screeched. "

The next time Marian was desired to fetch the book, it was for a morningvisitor, --a broad, stately, pompous old lady, who had had the pleasureof meeting Lady Marchmont, and thought Miss Arundel very like her. 

"Are you going after beauty?" said Lionel, again meeting Marian on thestairs. 

"Yes, " said Marian, with a sigh. 

"Well, I hope she will be pleased, that's all, " said Lionel. 

Marian thought there was a meaning in this speech, but she was in haste, and without considering it, ran down stairs again. As she was openingthe drawing-room door, she saw Gerald on the top of the stairs, callingto her, "Marian, have you that book? O, wait--"

"I cannot come now, Gerald, " said she, entering the room, and shuttingthe door after her. She laid the book on the table, and the page wasopened. 

"O beautiful!" exclaimed the old lady, "How exact a likeness!"

"Why, Marian!" broke involuntarily from Mrs. Lyddell, and Marian, looking at the print, could, in spite of her dismay, hardly keep fromlaughing; for the elegant Lady Marchmont now appeared decorated with ahuge pair of mustachios, an elaborate jewelled ring in the nose, and awavy star on each cheek, and in the middle of the forehead; while overthe balustrade on which she was leaning there peeped a monster withgrotesque eyes, a pair of twisted horns, a parrot's beak, vulture'sclaws, and a scaly tail stretching away in complicated spires far intothe distance. No one could for a moment doubt that this was Gerald'swork, and Marian felt sure that he had been thereto incited by Lionel. Extreme was her consternation at the thought of the displeasure which hehad incurred; but in the mean time there was something very amusingin the sight of the old lady beginning to perceive that something waswrong, and yet not able to make it out, and not choosing to own herdifficulties. Mrs. Lyddell, though vexed and angry, carried it off verywell. "Ah! some mischief of the boys, " said she, decidedly. "I am afraidit is not fit to be seen. " And so saying, she closed the book, andchanged the conversation. 

As soon as the visitor had taken leave, the scene was changed; Mrs. Lyddell walked hastily to the table, threw open the book, and began toexamine into the degree of damage it had suffered. "I suppose you knownothing of this, Marian?" said she, surveying her with one of herquickest and most formidable glances. 

"O no, " said Marian; "I am sure I am very sorry. "

"Well, I must inquire about it, " said Mrs. Lyddell, taking up thebook, and hastening towards the school-room, followed by poor Marian, trembling with all her heart for her brother, and somewhat for Lionel, even though she could not help being angry with him for having gotGerald into such a scrape. 

There stood the boys, looking partly exulting, partly frightened; Lionela little more of the first, Gerald a little more of the second; forthis was Gerald's first desperate piece of mischief, whereas Lionel hadsurvived many such. Besides, Gerald's handiwork was too evident to bemistaken, while his companion's part in the folly could be known to noone; and though it might be guessed at by Marian, Lionel thought shemight be trusted. 

The book was spread upon the table, and the expressions of horror fromthe three ladies of the school-room were as strong as could reasonablybe expected. 

"Indeed, " pleaded Miss Morley, in her deplorable tone, "I am continuallyordering Sir Gerald not to scribble in books, but he never will obey. "

"That is not true!" cried Gerald, in a loud, startling voice. 

"Gerald, " said Mrs. Lyddell, "that is no proper manner of speaking; youhave behaved very ill already--do not add to your fault. Before any moreis said, beg Miss Morley's pardon. "

There was a silence, and she repeated, "I desire that you will ask MissMorley's pardon directly--still silent? what is the meaning of this?"

Gerald stood bolt upright, and very rigid; poor Marian glancingappealingly, first at him, then at Mrs. Lyddell, then at Miss Morley, all equally without effect. She saw it all--that he might have beenbrought to own that be had done wrong about this individual case; butthat the sweeping accusation of disobeying orders, which, as they allknew, were never given with anything like decision, had roused a proud, determined sense of injustice, and that he was ready to suffer anythingrather than apologise. She was wild to speak, to do something; yet whatcould she attempt?

Mrs. Lyddell would not begin upon the book-scribbling subject till shehad conquered the spirit of defiance, and continued to insist on hisbegging Miss Morley's pardon; but the more she ordered, the moredetermined he grew. There he stood, his proud, dark eye fixed on apicture on the wall, his lip curled with a sort of disdain, and anexpression in his whole motionless figure that, had his cause but beengood, would have been resolution, whereas it now was only indomitableself-will and pride. 

At any rate, it was an expression that showed that he was not to beconquered by woman, though he might have been won over by her: and Mrs. Lyddell had tact enough to give up the battle without owning herselfdefeated, and without further discussion said, "Go to your own room, Gerald; I shall give you time to reflect and get the better of yourobstinacy. You may come here again when you are ready to ask Miss Morleyto forgive you for your very improper conduct towards her. "

Without turning to the right or left, --without one look towards hissister, Gerald walked out of the room, and even shut the door after himgently. Poor Marian, who could guess all that she felt?

"This is very extraordinary, " said Mrs. Lyddell, "so well-behaved a boyas he is in general. "

"Ah! boys of his age always get quite beyond ladies' management, " saidMiss Morley. 

"Such determined obstinacy!" said Mrs. Lyddell. 

"Perhaps he did not understand you, " said Marian, unable to keep fromsaying something, though she could not in her agitation think ofanything to the purpose. 

"Understand? that is nonsense, Marian. What was there to understand?He spoke very improperly, find I desire him to apologise; and if he isobstinate, it is very wrong of you to defend him. "

Marian was silenced, though her heart was swelling and her templesthrobbing. In another minute Mrs. Lyddell was summoned to some morecompany, and Marian had nothing worse to hear than her companions'commiseration for the book, and declarations that India rubber would doit no good. 

The afternoon passed away, and nothing was heard of Gerald: indeed, Marian understood him well enough to expect that nothing would be heard. As she was on her way to her own room, looking wistfully at his door, Lionel overtook her; and thumping her hard on the back, exclaimed, "Isn't it a jolly beast, Marian?"

"O, Lionel, it was very naughty of you. How could you make Gerald behaveso ill?"

"Never mind, Marian, he will get out of it soon enough. Come, don't besavage; we did it all for your good. "

"My good! how can you talk such nonsense?"

"Why, I'll bet you anything you like, that mamma will never be forhaving the little beastie down to show the company. "

Marian half smiled; it was pleasant to find that, towards her at least, the boys' intention had been anything but unkind, but still she hardlyknew how to be placable with Lionel when he had led her brother intomischief, and then left him to bear all the blame. 

"It was very wrong, " she repeated. 

"Come, don't be cross, Marian. You don't mean that you really cared forthat trumpery picture?"

"I did not care for it so much, " said she, "but it was a valuable book, and it was very kind of your papa to give it to me, so I was sorry tohave it spoilt. "

"Won't it rub out?" said Lionel. 

"No, of course not. "

"I thought pencil always did. "

"And then, Lionel, why could you not have thought what disgrace you wereleading Gerald into?"

"You don't think, Marian, I was going to be shabby enough to leaveGerald alone in the scrape? No, if I do, I'll give you leave to tell ofme or do whatever you please; but you see now he is not in disgrace fordrawing that pretty little beast, but for giving poor unfortunate a bitof his mind, so what use would there be in my putting my neck into thenoose before my time? No, if Gerald is the fellow I take him for, andstands out about begging her pardon, the whole business of the book willblow over, and we shall hear no more of it. "

Marian shook her head. "O, Lionel, if you would only think whether athing is right before you do it!"

"How can you wish me to be so stupid, Marian?"

"I am sure, Lionel, the funniest, merriest people that I know, thinkmost about what is right. "

"Well, that may do in Devonshire perhaps, " said Lionel, stretchinghimself, "but it won't here except with you. Indeed there is nobody elsethat I know of that does make such a fuss about right and wrong, exceptWalter, and he hasn't got an atom of fun to bless himself with. "

"But, Lionel, what good will all the fun in the world do us when we cometo die?" said Marian, whispering. 

The boy looked full at her, but would not show that he felt any forcein her words. "I don't mean to die just yet, " he said, and by way ofescaping from the subject he mounted on the balusters, and was slidingdown as he had often done before, when by some hitch or some slip helost his balance, and slid down without the power to stop himself. Marian thought him gone, and with suspended breath stood, in an agony ofhorror, listening for his fall on the stones of the hall far beneath;but the next moment she saw that he had been stopped by the turn of thestaircase, and the instinct of self-preservation had made him cling fastto the rail with both hands, though he was unable to recover his footingon the narrow ledge of the steps beyond it. She did not scream or call, she ran down to the landing place--how she did it she knew not--but shethrew her arms round him and succeeded in lifting and dragging him overthe rail, which was not very high, till he stood on the safe side of thebalusters, Her heart beat, her head swam, and she was obliged to sitdown on the step and pant for breath; Lionel leant against the wall, for his nerve was not restored for a moment or two, after his reallyfrightful peril. Not a word was spoken, and perhaps it was better thatnone should pass between them. Mr. Lyddell's step was heard ascending, and they both hurried away as fast as they could. 

No one was told of the adventure, it was not Marian's part to speakof it, if indeed she _could_ have done so, and it did not appear thatLionel chose to mention it. Perhaps it was that he did not like to enterupon it seriously, and it had been too much of an answer to his lightspeech to be made a laughing matter. At any rate he was silent, andMarian was very glad of it. 

Mr. Lyddell was coming up to visit the prisoner and try if he couldbring him to reason, but it soon transpired that all his attempts hadbeen in vain, even though he came to a threat that unless Gerald madehis submission before the next day was at an end, he should be sent toschool with Lionel at the end of another fortnight. 

Marian's distress increased, she was equally wretched at her brother'sincreasing misbehaviour and at its punishment, It was provoking to seeJohnny walking about in all the grandeur and self-consequence of beingquite out of the scrape, and evidently rejoicing that Gerald was init; it was provoking to hear Miss Morley and the girls wondering, evenSaunders' pity was provoking, and there was nothing that gave her theleast comfort but the perception that Lionel was certainly graver andmore subdued. 

She was allowed to go to her brother for a little while that evening, with some hope that she might prevail with him. She found him leaningagainst the window in the failing light, listlessly watching the horsesand grooms in the mews, which his high window overlooked. He turned hishead as she came in, but without speaking, and then looked back at thewindow, till she came up to him, put her arm round his neck and turnedhis face towards her. It was a sullen, dogged countenance, such as shehad seldom or never seen him wear before. 

"Gerald, dear Gerald, what is the meaning of this? You never used tobehave so?"

"I never was served so before, " muttered he. 

"You have drawn it on yourself. Why will you not submit and ask herpardon?"

"What should I ask pardon for? I said nothing but the truth. "

"How can you say so. Gerald? Did you not know that you ought not toscribble in books? Can you say that Miss Morley has not often spoken toyou about the Atlas?"

"If you call 'O Sir Gerald!' and 'O you sad boy, ' desiring me in arational way, I don't, " said Gerald, imitating the tones, "laughing andletting me go on; I thought she liked it. "

"Now seriously, Gerald. "

"Well, I mean that she did not care. If people tell me a thing theyshould make me mind them. "

"You should mind without being made, Gerald. 

"I would if I thought them in earnest. But now, Marian, was it not ahorrid shame of her to speak just as if I had been always disobeyingher on purpose, making Mrs. Lyddell go into a rage with me for what wasentirely her own fault?"

"No, no, Gerald, you cannot say it was her fault that you spoilt thepicture. "

"I think she ought to beg my pardon for telling such stories about me, "repeated Gerald sullenly. 

"Recollect yourself, Gerald, you know she meant that she had put you inmind that you ought not; and don't you think that, true or not, yourspeech was very rude?"

"If I was to beg her pardon it would mean that she spoke the truth, which she did not, for she never took any pains to prevent me fromdrawing in the map-book, or any where else. "

"It would not mean any such thing if you were to say, 'Miss Morley, Imisunderstood you, and I am sorry I was so rude. ' I am sure you must besorry for that, for it was not at all like a gentleman. Will you comeand say so?"

"You're like the rest, " mumbled Gerald, turning his back upon her, andsitting like a stock. 

"Don't you think it would be the best way? Would it not make youhappier? O what is the use of being obstinate and disobedient? Think ofgoing to school in disgrace. O! Gerald, Gerald, what is to be done?"

Still she spoke with earnest pauses and anxious looks, but without theleast effect, and at last she said, "Well, Gerald, I must go, and verymuch grieved I am. How would dear mamma like to see her little boy goingon in this way?"

She went to the door and looked back again there, and beheld Gerald, with his hands over his face, striving to suppress a burst of sobbing. She sprung to him, and would have thrown her arms round his neck, but hepushed her off roughly, and with strong effort, drove back the tears, and put on an iron face again. Again she entreated, but he would notopen his lips or give the least sign of listening, or of attending toany persuasion, and she was obliged to leave him at last without hope ofsubduing his obstinacy. How far he was now from being the gentle, goodchild that he once had been! and by whose fault was it? Her spiritburned with indignation against those who, as she thought, had workedthe change, and O! where was the influence from which Edmund hoped somuch?

The next day was long and miserable, for Gerald gave no sign ofyielding, but remained shut up in his room, maintaining an absolutesilence, when, at different times, Mrs. Lyddell went to visit him, andassure him that Mr. Lyddell was fixed in his determination to send himto school if he did not yield before the time of grace was up. 

The time of grace was at an end the next morning, and at nine o'clock, Gerald was summoned to the dining-room, where Mr. And Mrs. Lyddell wereat breakfast. He wanted to carry it off with a high hand, but his longday of solitude had dulled him, and he looked pale and weary. 

"Gerald, " said Mrs. Lyddell, "I am sorry you have so persisted in yourmisbehaviour to oblige us to punish you, as we threatened to do. Are younow willing to own that you did wrong?"

"I ought not to have spoilt the book, " said Gerald boldly, "and I wasrude to Miss Morley. "

"There is a brave boy, " said Mr. Lyddell, very much relieved. "Well, Gerald, I am glad you have given, in at last; I hate obstinacy, as Itold you yesterday, but that is over, and we will say no more about it;only you know we told you that you should be sent to school, and we mustkeep our word. "

"Yes, " said Gerald, trying not to let a muscle of his face relax; thoughnow the die was cast, his consternation at the thought of school wasconsiderable. 

"Well, you may go, " said Mr. Lyddell, "and remember that obstinacy mustbe got out of a boy some way or other. "

Gerald went, and soon entered the schoolroom, where he walked up to MissMorley, saying, "I am sorry I was rude to you the day before yesterday. "

"Ah! Sir Gerald, I was sure your better sense--your generous spirit--butI hope your submission--I hope Mr. Lyddell forgives--overlooks--"

"I am to go to school when Lionel does, if that is what you mean, "replied Gerald, and then he came up to his sister, and looked earnestly, yet with an inquiring shyness into her face. Marian might have beenhopeful, for his manner showed that it was for her opinion that hereally cared; but she was sad and unhappy at seeing his pride still sofar from being subdued, and though her heart yearned towards him, sheshook her head and looked coldly away from him to her book. 

Gerald was chilled and went back to Lionel, who had plenty of readysympathy for him; a story half caught from his mamma's report, halfguessed at, that the old lady had looked full at the beast's curly tail, and had said she had never seen anything so like Lady Marchmont; theassertion of his own certainty that Gerald would never give in nor ownthat poor unfortunate had spoken the truth, and Gerald felt triumphant, as if his self-will had been something heroic, and his imprisonment andgoing to school a martyrdom. It did not last, Gerald's nature was gentleand retiring; he dreaded strangers, and his heart sank when he thoughtof school. He wanted his sister to comfort him, but he would soon be outof her reach. No Marian--all boys--all strange, and there was no helpfor it now. Gerald rested his forehead against the window and gulpeddown rising tears. But when he found himself on the point of being leftalone with Marian, his pride rose, and he would not confess that he hadbeen wrong or that he was unhappy, so he ran down stairs to find theother boys and to get out of her way. 

So it went on, Marian was very unhappy at this loss of his confidence;but the more she attempted to talk to him, the more he avoided her, being resolved not to show how great his dislike and dread of schoolwas. 

"Gerald, " said Lionel, the last day before they were to go, "I have beenthinking I should like to give Marian something instead of that book. "

"So should I, " said Gerald, delighted with the idea, for he was feelingall the time that he was vexing his sister, and wishing to do somethingby way of compensation. 

"I did not mean you, " said Lionel, "for it----for you would never havebeen sharp enough to think of the beast for yourself. I only told youbecause you could tell me what she would like best. Papa has just givenme a sovereign. "

"He has given me another, " said Gerald, "and we will put them together, and do it handsomely. "

"Well, what shall it be? Not that stupid book over again. "

"O no, no, she has had enough of that already, and there are plenty ofother books that she wants. "

"No, don't let it be a book, " said Lionel; "I can't think how anybodycan like reading, when they can help it. "

"Well, I do like some reading, when it is a shipwreck, or a famousbloody battle, " said Gerald. 

"Yes, but then it makes one's eyes ache so. "

"It does not mine. "

"Well, if I go on long it always makes mine ache, " said Lionel. "Anddon't the letters look green and dance about, when you read by candlelight?"

"No, " said Gerald. "How funny that is, Lionel. But I'll tell you what, we will get Walter to take us out, and we shall be sure to see somethingfamous, in some shop-window or other. "

Walter was at home for the Easter vacation, and under his protection theboys were allowed to go out. Very patient he was, and wisely did hegive his counsel in the important choice which, if left to the boysthemselves, might probably have been really something famous. Marianwould have been grateful to him, had she known all that he averted fromher, a stuffed fox, an immense pebble brooch, a pair of slippers coveredwith sportive demons. At every shop which furnished guns, knives, orfishing tackle, they stopped and lamented that she was not a boy, there was nothing in the world fit for girls; they tried a bazaar, andpronounced everything trumpery, and Walter was beginning to get intodespair, when at last Lionel came to a stop before a print shop, callingout, "Hollo, Gerald, here's Beauty and the Beast itself!"

It was the beautiful engraving from Raphael's picture of

 Saint Margaret in meekness treading Upon the dragon 'neath her spreading. 

And Walter, rejoicing that their choice was likely to fall on anythingwhich a young lady might be so glad to possess, conducted them into theshop, and gave all the desired assistance in effecting the purchase. Itwas a fine impression, and the price was so high as to leave the boys'finances at rather a low ebb; but Walter, in his secret soul, thoughtthis by no means to be regretted, since it was much better for themthat it should be generously spent at once in this manner, than that itshould be frittered away in the unaccountable and vain manner in whichhe had usually seen schoolboys' money wasted. 

So S. Margaret was bought and rolled up, and so afraid were the boysthat she should not be rightly sent home, that they insisted on carryingher themselves, and almost quarrelled as to which should have the firstturn. 

Marian, on coming into her room, found both the boys on the top of thechest of drawers, trying to pin the print up against the wall, andthough her arrival caused them some discomfiture, it was on the wholea fortunate circumstance, since it saved the corners from extensivedamage. 

"O Lionel! O Gerald! how beautiful! how very nice! What a lovely face!Is it really for me? How I do thank you, but I am afraid you have spentall your money. "

"It is a better Beauty and the Beast than the old one, " said Gerald, "Isn't it, Marian?"

"A better beauty, but not a better beast, " said Lionel. 

"It is very beautiful indeed, " said Marian; "I shall get a frame for it, and it will always put me in mind of you both. "

"Yes, you will always think of me when you look at the beauty, " saidLionel, "and of Gerald when you look at the beast. "

"S. Margaret and the dragon! I wish I knew the story, " said Marian;"but I suppose it is an allegory like that of S. George. How good andinnocent she looks! Yes, see, Gerald, she is walking pure and whitethrough the park forest, and conquering the dragon. You see the palm inthe hand for victory. So innocent and so fearless. "

"I thought it would be one of those funny Roman Catholic stories, likewhat Caroline was reading one day, " said Lionel. 

"I don't like making fun of those, " said Marian. "They often mean agreat deal, if you don't laugh at them, and tell them properly. Iam sure this print is to put us in mind of how we are to overcometemptation, and I do like it very much. Thank you both. "

Lionel was here called away, but Gerald remained, and proceeded to amore minute examination of the beauties of the print, of which he wasvery proud. 

"O, Gerald, dear, if we could be like it, " said Marian. 

"Like it? That you'll never be, Marian; your hair is too black. "

"Yes, but like it within. Pure and clear from sin in the midst of a badworld. I shall look at it and think of that very often, and you mustthink too, Gerald. "

"I mean to be good at school, " said Gerald. 

And leaning against his sister, he let her talk to him as in times ofold, advising him with all her might, for he really liked it, and wascomfortable in having it so, though he would have been ashamed toown that he did. Her advice was at once childish and wise; sometimessensible, sometimes impracticable. Let any sister of fourteen think whatcounsel she would give a brother of nine if he would but listen to her, and she will have a very fair idea of it. Gerald listened and promisedearnestly, and she thought, hoped, and trusted that his promises wouldbe kept: she reminded him of all that could strengthen his resolution, and talked of the holidays with what cheer she might. She had copied outa morning and evening prayer from her own treasured book, rather thangive him such another, because she thought he would perhaps heed themmore in her handwriting, and she now gave them to him, folded up in aneat little silk case, which he could keep without observation. How sheput her arm round him and pressed him towards her as she gave them intohis hand, and felt that she was doing what her mother would have done, so earnestly, so tearfully, so much more impressively. O was shewatching them now?

The brother and sister were interrupted at last, and called down to tea. The evening passed away heavily, spent as it was for the most part inthe drawing-room; and the last thing before the boys went to bed, Lionelpushing Gerald roughly off, held Marian fast by the hand, and whisperedin her ear, "I say--you've written out something for Gerald. "

"Yes, " she answered, horrified that he should have found it out. 

"Would you mind doing it for me? Don't tell any one. "

Was not this a pleasure? Marian sat up in her dressing-gown that nightto write the prayers in her very clearest writing, for she knew Lionelnever liked to read what was not large and clear, and she guessed thatlate in the evening, after all his lessons, he would have too many"green and blue monsters, " as he used to call them, before his eyes, to be willing to give them more work than he could possibly help. Shethought her mamma would have been very uneasy if she had heard of thosegreen and blue monsters, and she wondered whether Mrs. Lyddell knewor cared about them, but Lionel was one of the least regarded of thefamily, and nobody but Johnny ever thought it worth while to make atrifling complaint to her. It was far worse that Lionel should be leftto obtain a form of private prayer by such a chance as this. Alas! alasfor them all! She was too unhappy to think more of Lionel, and in themidst of earnest prayers for Gerald, she cried herself asleep. 

Poor child, she was too miserable all the next day to give us anypleasure in contemplating her. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

 "Too soon the happy child His nook of homeward thought will change; For life's seducing wild; Too son his altered day-dreams show This earth a boundless space, With sunbright pleasures to and fro, Coursing in joyous race. "

 _Christian Year_. 

A couple of weeks had passed away, and Marian was beginning to feelrather more accustomed to the absence of Gerald and Lionel, and to findpleasure in the letters which spoke of her brother taking a good place, and from which it did not appear that he disliked school so much as shehad feared. Still she could not but miss him grievously, and feel thewant of some one to cling to her, bring his troubles to her, and watchfor moments of private conference. Her days seemed to follow each otherwithout animation or interest; and if it had not been for some of herlessons, and for his letters and Agnes Wortley's, she felt as if shecould have done nothing but yawn till the holidays. 

One day, as the young ladies were returning from a walk in the park, they saw a carriage standing at their own door, --too frequent anoccurrence, as Marian thought, to call for such warm interest as Claraexpressed. Yet even Marian grew eager when she heard her cousins exclaimthat there was a coronet on it, --a Viscount's coronet. They were nowclose to the house, just about to ring, when the door opened, thevisitor came out, and at that moment Marian sprang forward with a joyfulface, but without a word. The lady held out both hands, and standing onthe top of the steps of the door, she drew Marian up to her, and kissedher on each cheek with great eagerness, completely regardless of thespectators. 

"Marian, dear little Marian herself! I was afraid I had quite missedyou, though I waited as long as I could. You look like your own self, little pale cheeks! Well, I must not stay; I have arranged with Mrs. Lyddell for you to spend to-morrow with me. I will send the carriage foryou, and you know how much I have to show you--my husband and my son!You will come, Marian? Not a word? Ah! your own way. Good-bye; you willfind your tongue to-morrow. Good-bye. "

She let go the hands and sprang into the carriage, giving a smile andnod as she drove off, that filled Marian's soul, almost to overflowing, with a rush of memories. It was as if she was no longer standing on thehard steps, with black streets, and tall, dingy yellow houses boundingher view, and carriages thundering in her ears; no longer lonely amongnumbers, but as if she was on the bright green grass-plat by theManor-House door, the myrtles and sycamore nodding round her; theshadows of the clouds chasing each other in purple spots over themoors; her father at the window; her mother, Gerald, Edmund, Agnes, allstanding round; that sweet voice, with, that same bright smile, thatsame arch little nod, repeating the "good-bye, " and speaking of meetingnext year; and Marian herself thinking how very long a year would be. And now two years had passed since that time, and such years! Howmuch older Marian felt! But there was Selina--Selina herself, not theBeauty--that was enough for joy!

Marian was roused from her dream by exclamations of delight andadmiration from her cousins, "How very beautiful!" "O, I never sawanything so lovely!" "Marian, how could you say that she was not likeher picture?"

"I don't know, " said Marian, gradually waking from her trance. 

"Don't you think her the most beautiful creature you ever saw?"

"I don't know. "

"Don't know!" cried Caroline, impatiently. "Do you know whether yourhead is on or not?"

"I don't--nonsense, " said Marian, laughing heartily, "The fact was, Inever had time to look or think whether she was pretty; I only saw shewas just like herself. "

"Well, Marian; so you met her?" said Mrs. Lyddell's voice in its mostdelighted tone, at the top of the stairs. "I never saw a more charmingperson. So very handsome, and so elegant, and so very agreeable. Youhave heard of her invitation?"

"Yes; thank you for letting me go, " said Marian. 

"O yes, of course! I am delighted that you should have the advantage ofsuch an acquaintance. I hope it will be quite an intimacy. I am surewhenever--Well, certainly, I never met with anything more fascinating. She spoke of you with such affection, my dear; I am sure she must be themost delightful person!"

Marian was not suffered to proceed up stairs till she had been toldall the particulars of Lady Marchmont's visit, and had answered manyquestions respecting her; and, when she went up to the school-room, it was the same thing. The party there seemed to look upon their goodfortune, in having had a sight of her, something as if they had seenthe Queen, or "the Duke;" and it was with a sort of awe that Clarapronounced the words "Lady Marchmont, " as she talked over everyparticular of her dress and deportment. 

All this in some degree perplexed Marian. Titled ladies were by no meansunusual among Mrs. Lyddell's visitors, and did not create anythinglike this sensation; and she had not been used at home to hear SelinaGrenville talked of as anything more than a wild, gay-tempered girl, whose character for wisdom did not stand very high. To be sure she wasnow married, and that might make a difference; but then Edmund had sincespoken of her as giddy, and as if he had not the highest idea of herdiscretion. Moreover, it struck Marian herself that she had spoken ofher husband and child just as if they were two playthings, to be shownoff. Of course that was only in fun, but Marian's was the time of lifeto have great ideas of the requisite gravity of demeanour in a marriedwoman. Altogether, much as she loved Selina, and clever and engagingas she thought her, it astonished her not a little to find that therelationship conferred upon herself such distinction in the eyes of hercousins; and she spent the evening and the next morning alternately inspeculations of this kind, hopes of a home-like day, and fears thatSelina after all might prove the affected Viscountess of the Wreath ofBeauty. 

The time came, the carriage was sent punctually, and in due time Marianwas being marshalled up the broad staircase by the tall servants, in allthe trepidation of making her first visit in state on her own account, and feeling at every step as if she was getting further into the Wreathof Beauty. Across a great drawing-room, --such a beautiful grand room, --afolding door is opened; "Miss Arundel" is announced, and there shestands in all her stiffness. 

There was a little table near the fire, and beside it sat LadyMarchmont, writing notes, in the plainest and most becoming of morningdresses, --a sort of brown holland looking thing, with a plain, stiff, white collar, and a dark blue ribbon, her only ornament, except onelarge gold bracelet. Her hair was twisted in glossy sunny waves behindher ear, as in some Greek statues; her blue eyes were bright andlustrous, and nothing was ever clearer and more delicate than the slighttinge of red on her cheeks. Lord Marchmont was standing leaning on themantelshelf, apparently in consultation with her. 

As soon as Marian entered, Selina's pen was thrown down, and she flewforward, throwing her arms round her little cousin, and kissing herrepeatedly. Then, her arm round Marian's neck, and her hand on hershoulder, she led her towards Lord Marchmont, who stepped forward toreceive her, saying, "Yes, here she is, here is your little cousin; andhero, Marian, here is your great cousin. Now I would give five shillingsto know what you think of each other. "

"I suppose one part of that pleasure will only be deferred till I am outof the room, " said Lord Marchmont, as he shook hands with Marian in akind, cordial, cousinly manner. He was a brown, strong-featured man ofthree or four and thirty, hardly young enough, and far from handsomeenough, in Marian's very youthful eyes, to be suited to his wife, butvery sensible and good-natured looking. 

"No, Marian is a safe person, and will get no further than 'I don'tknow;' at least if she is the Marian I take her for, " said LadyMarchmont. 

"Very prudent, " was his answer, smiling at Marian; and then, incompassion to her confusion, gathering up his papers, and preparing todepart. 

"Are you going?" said his wife. "Well, I do you the justice to say that, under the circumstances, it is the wisest proceeding in your power; forI shall not get three words out of Marian all the time you are here. "

After a few more words of consultation on their own affairs, he left theroom, and then Selina caught hold of Marian again, and said she musthave a thorough good look at her all over, to see how much of dear oldFern Torr she had brought with her. 

Selina Grenville was the youngest daughter of a sister of Sir EdmundArundel, who had, like the rest of her family, died early. She had beena good deal abroad with her father and a married sister. Her uncommonbeauty and engaging manners gained her, when she was little more thaneighteen, the affection of Lord Marchmont, a more distant connectionof the Arundel family; and happily for Selina, she appreciated himsufficiently to return his love so thoroughly, as to lay aside all thelittle coquetries which had hitherto been the delight of her life; andto devote herself to him even as he deserved. 

It might have been that the poem had said too much in pronouncing her tobe a woman as well as a wife; for Selina Marchmont was almost as much ofa child as Selina Grenville had been, and only now and then did thosedeeper shades of thought pass over her face, which showed how much soulthere was within her as yet only half developed. Her manners were almostmore playful than suited her position, though they became her perfectly;her husband delighted in them; but it was this that had given her graveand saddened cousin, Edmund, an impression that her sense was not of ahigh order. 

She was very warm-hearted. She had been exceedingly attached to heruncle and aunt at Fern Torr; and now it seemed as if she could neverfondle Marian enough. The first thing was to show her baby, but shepremised that she did not expect Marian to go into raptures about him;she never did expect any one to like babies. "In fact, Marian, " shewhispered, "don't betray me, but I am a wee bit afraid of him myself. Itis such a very little live thing, and that nurse of his never will letme have any comfort with him, and never will trust me to get acquaintedwith him in a _tête-à-tête_, poor little man! O, here he comes! theHonourable William James Bertram Marchmont--his name nearly as long ashimself. "

In came a broad, tall, dignified nurse, large enough to have made atleast four Selinas, carrying a small bundle of long white robes. Selinatook the little bundle in her arms rather timidly, and held it forMarian to see. Pew babies were ever looked at more silently; he was asmall, but pretty, healthy-looking child of between two and three monthsold, --a very wax doll of a baby, with little round mottled arms movingabout, and tiny hands flourishing helplessly, he looked just fit for hismamma. She held him with the fond, proud, almost over care with whichlittle girls take for a moment some new brother or sister; and as shegazed upon him without a word, the earnest intensity of expressiongathered upon her beautiful face. After about five minutes thus spent, she roused herself, and began gaily to tell Marian not to troubleherself to seek for a likeness in him to anybody, or to say anything sowild as that he in the least resembled her or his papa; and then shenodded and smiled at him, and seemed as if she would have talked to himand played with him, if his nurse had not been standing close by all thetime, looking as if she was being defrauded of her property. 

"It is time Master Marchmont should be taken out before the sun goesoff, my Lady, " said she, authoritatively. 

"Very well, I suppose he must, " said Selina, reluctantly giving him backagain after a timid kiss. 

"There goes my lady nurse and her child, " said she with a sigh, hiddeneven from herself by a laugh. "I am sure he seems a great deal more hersthan mine; but there, I should never know what to do with him. Come, Marian, now for all about yourself, my poor child. How do they use you?"

Much indeed there was to hear; and much to tell on either side, andscarcely for a moment did the two cousins cease from talking as they sattogether in the morning, and drove together in the afternoon. Selina wasone of those people who have a wonderful power of dispelling reserve, chiefly by their own frankness; and when she had told Marian all thehistory of her first sight of Lord Marchmont, and the whole courtship, and all that she had thought "so very noble" in him, and tried to makeher understand how very happy she was, Marian's heart was open in herturn. Not the depths of it, --not such things as by a great effort shehad told to Edmund, and might possibly tell to Mrs. Wortley, but muchmore than she could ever have said to any one else; and free andabundant was the sympathy and pity she received, --pity even beyond whatshe thought she deserved. She was surprised to observe that Selina spokeof the Lyddells with a sort of contempt, as if they were wanting inrefinement; whereas she herself had never thought of their beingotherwise than lady-like, and certainly very fashionable; but shesupposed Lady Marchmont knew best, and was pleased to find herselfconsidered superior. Gerald was of course one of their subjects ofconversation, and gradually Marian, with her strict regard to truth, from a little unguardedness, found herself involved in a tangle fromwhich there was no escape, without telling the whole story of the Wreathof Beauty. 

She need not have been afraid; Selina laughed as if nothing would evermake her cease, and insisted on Marian's bringing the portrait the nexttime she came to visit her. She vowed that she would patronise Lionelfor ever for his cleverness; and when Marian looked sorrowful about theconsequences, she told her that it was much better for Gerald to be atschool, and she was very glad he was gone; and then she patted Marian'sshoulder, and begged that she would not think her very cruel for sayingso. 

Marian was very glad to be able to acquit her of vanity, when she heardthe history of the insertion of the engraving, which had been entreatedfor by persons whom Lord Marchmont did not like to disoblige. Theengraving both he and Selina disliked very much; and when Marian saw theoriginal portrait, she perceived that the affectation did not residethere, for it was very beautiful, and the only fault to be found with itwas chiefly attributable to the fact that miniatures always makepeople look so pretty, that this did not give the idea of a person sosurpassingly lovely as Selina. 

Lord Marchmont came in several times to speak to his wife, but Mariandid not see much of him till dinner-time, and then she liked him verymuch. He was certainly rather a grave person, and she wondered to seehow Selina could be so merry with him; but he was evidently amused, and Marian had yet to learn how a clever and much occupied man likesnonsense to be talked to him and before him in his hours of relaxation. He behaved to Marian herself very kindly, and just as if she was agrown-up person, --a treat which she had scarcely enjoyed since she leftFern Torr; and though she was silent, as usual when with strangers, itwas with no uncomfortable shyness: she was more at ease already with himthan with Mr. Lyddell. 

Selina told him the history of Gerald's works of art in so droll amanner, that Marian herself saw it in a much funnier aspect than she hadever done before. He was much diverted, and turning to Marian, said, with seriousness that would have alarmed her, but for Selina's laughter, and a certain sub-smile about the corners of his mouth, that he hoped hewas not to take the Beast as anything personal. Selina told him that shewanted him to convince Marian that it was a very good thing for Geraldto be sent to school, and he set to work to do so in earnest with muchkindness, and by asking sundry questions about her brother's attainmentsand tastes, he so won her, that she was ready to do him the honour ofacknowledging him as one of her own cousins. 

The evening came too soon to an end, though the carriage had not beenordered to take Marian home, till ten o'clock. It had all been like onedream of brightness, and Marian, when she awoke the next morning, couldhardly believe that it was the truth that she had enjoyed herself somuch, and that a house containing such happiness for her could be inLondon or so near her. 

The schoolroom looked very black and dull after the bright littlesitting-room where she had parted with Selina; the lessons werewearisome, her companions more uncongenial than ever; she felt actuallycross at the examination to which Clara subjected her about every trifleshe could think of, in the house of Marchmont. She could have talked ofits delights if there had been anybody to care about them in her ownway, but that was the great if of Marian's life. She was consciousthat her day's pleasure had unhinged her, and made her present tasksunusually distasteful, and she thought it the fault of the Lyddells, andin a great fit of repining blamed Edmund for injustice to Selina innot letting her house be their home. Her great hope was of another daythere, the only thing that seemed to give a brightness to her life, andshe looked forward to an intercourse between Lady Marchmont and Mrs. Lyddell, which would produce continual meetings. 

However, time passed on, and she did not see Selina. Mrs. Lyddell tookher when she went to return the visit, but Lady Marchmont was not athome. It was not till after more than a fortnight that she received alittle note from her, saying that they were going to a show of flowers, and would send for Marian to go with them. 

There was quite a commotion in the house on the occasion; not that allwere not willing that Marian should go, but that Mrs. Lyddell thoughther dress not at all fit; the plain straw bonnet which Marian _would_buy, in spite of all that could be said to the contrary, and that oldblack silk dress which did very well just for going to Church in, with agoverness, but----

Mrs. Lyddell and Saunders were for once in their lives agreed; andMarian, who thought her money would have served her this time tofulfil her grand scheme of buying Tytler's History of Scotland, wasoverpowered, and obliged to let them have their will, and wear itoutside her head, in white silk; instead of inside, in Robert Bruce'swanderings. 

She was quite ready, in new bonnet and mantle, by the time LadyMarchmont's carriage was at the door, and very happy she was to findherself by her side again. Perhaps there was a little consciousnessof newness in the manner in which she wore them, for Lady Marchmontremarked upon them, and said that they were very pretty, as in fact theywere. Marian looked disconsolate, and Selina laughingly asked why. Shetold her former wishes, and was further laughed at, or rather Mrs. Lyddell was. Selina said the old bonnet would have done just as well;"it was so like such people to smarten up for a great occasion. "

Such people! Marian wondered again, and disliked her white bonnet morethan ever, resolving for the future to trust her own taste. She soonforgot all this, however, in the pleasure of seeing green grass andtrees, and the beautiful, most beautiful flowers, with their deliciousperfume. This was real delight, such as she had never imagined before, and she thought she could have studied the wonderful forms of thosetropical plants for ever, if it had not been for the crowds of people, and for a little awe of Lord Marchmont, who had given her his arm, andwho did not seem to know or care much even for the dove orchis or thezebra-striped pitcher-plant. She wished she could turn him into Edmund, and looked at every plant which she fancied a native of the Cape, almostas kindly as if it had been a primrose of Fern Torr. 

It was another delightful day. Marian went back with her friends, and sat by while Selina was dressed for an evening party, heard adescription of her home in the country, and gave a very unflattering oneof Oakworthy, gained somehow or other a renewed impression of her ownsuperiority to the Lyddells, and went home to indulge in another fit ofdiscontent. 

Such were Marian's visits to Lady Marchmont, and such their effect. Mrs. Lyddell did much indeed that was calculated to give strength to thefeeling by the evident pride which she took in Marian's familiarity withLady Marchmont, and even in the cold, distant, formal civility withwhich she herself was treated. 

There was danger around Marian which she did not understand, the worldwas tempting her in a different way. She disliked what she saw among theLyddells too much to find their worldly tastes and tempers infectious, but her intercourse with Selina was a temptation in a new form. Sheloved Selina so heartily as to see with her eyes, and be led by her inopinions: especially when these were of a kind according with her owncharacter. It was from her that Marian imbibed the idea that she was tobe pitied for living in her present home, not because Mrs. Lyddell'smind was set on earth and earthly things, but because she did not belongto those elite circles which Marian learnt to believe her own properplace. Edmund had told her she might stand on high ground, and shebelieved him, but was this such high ground as he meant? The danger didnot strike Marian, because it did not seem to her like pride, since thedistinction, whatever it was, did not consist in rank; she would havehad a horror of valuing herself on being a baronet's daughter, but thismore subtle difference flattered her more refined feelings of vanity;and though she was far from being conscious of it, greatly influencedher frame of mind, and her conduct towards her cousins. It was notwithout reason now that Caroline thought her proud. 

It must not, however, be supposed that this was Marian's abiding frameof mind; it was rather the temper which was infused into her by eachsuccessive visit to Selina during the next three years. Of course, everytime it was renewed, it was also strengthened, but it was chiefly herLondon disposition, and used in great degree to go off when shewas taken up with the interests of Oakworthy, and removed from theneighbourhood of Lady Marchmont. 

Oakworthy was so preferable to London, except so far as that she wasthere out of Selina's reach, that she began to have a kindness for it. She knew some of the poor people there, in whom Caroline had kept up aninterest ever since Miss Cameron's time; the smoky streets of Londonhad taught her to prize the free air and green turf of the Downs; and, thanks to Edmund, her own dear Mayflower awaited her there, and sheenjoyed many a canter with Caroline and Walter. She began for the firsttime to become acquainted with the latter, and to learn to look upon himwith high esteem, but to obtain a knowledge of him was a very difficultmatter. He was naturally diffident and bashful, and his spirits werenot high; he had been thrown more and more into himself by his mother'shastiness of manner and his father's neglect. His principles were highand true, his conduct excellent, and as he had never given any cause foranxiety, he was almost always overlooked by the whole family. Nor was heclever, and the consciousness of this added to his timidity, which beingunfortunately physical as well as mental, caused him to be universallylooked down upon by his brothers. Even Marian began to share thefeeling when she saw him turn pale and start back from the verge of aprecipitous chalk pit where she could stand in perfect indifference, andwhen she heard him aver his preference for quiet horses. Mayflower'scaperings were to him and Caroline so shocking, and it appeared to themso improper that she should be allowed to mount such an animal, that butfor her complete ease, her delight in the creature's spirit, and herearnest entreaties, a complaint against Mayflower would certainly havebeen preferred to the authorities. 

In spite of all this, there was satisfaction in talking to Walter, forhe saw things as Marian did, right and wrong were his first thoughts, and his right and wrong were the same as hers. This was worth a greatdeal to her, though she was often provoked with him for want of boldnessin condemnation. A man grown up could, she thought, do so much to setthings to rights, if he would but speak out openly, and remonstrate, but Walter shrank from interfering in any way; it seemed to cost him aneffort even to agree with Marian's censure. Yes, she thought, as shestood looking at the print of S. Margaret, Walter might pass by thedragon, nay, fight his own battle with it, but he would never tread itmanfully under, so that it might not rise to hurt others. He might mournfor the sins around him, but would he ever correct them? Marian thoughtif she was a man, a man almost twenty, destined to be a clergyman, shehad it in her soul to have done great things; then she would not be shy, for she should feel it her duty to speak. 

In the meantime, Marian had a trouble of her own, a sore place in herheart, and in its tenderest spot, for Gerald was the cause. The firstholidays had been all she could desire; he was affectionate, open, fullof talk about home and Edmund, with the best of characters; and with theexception of all the other boys being "fellows" and nameless, there wasnothing like reserve about him; but the next time, he had not been threedays in the house, before she perceived that the cloud had come downagain, which had darkened the last few weeks before his going to school. He avoided being alone with her, he would not let her ask him questions, he talked as if he despised his governors and teachers, and regardedrules as things made to be eluded. His master's letter did not give asatisfactory account of him, and when Marian tried to fish out somethingabout his goings on from Lionel, she met with impenetrable silence, Lionel himself seemed to be going through school pretty much in the sameway, with fits and starts of goodness, and longer intervals of idleness, but he made his eyes a reason, or an excuse, for not doing more. Theywere large, bright, blue, expressive eyes, and it was hard to believethem in fault, but strong sunshine or much reading by candle-lightalways brought the green and purple monsters, and sometimes a degree ofinflammation. It was said that he must be careful of them, and how muchof his idleness was necessary, how much was shirking, was a question forhis own conscience. 

Every time Gerald came home, Marian saw something more that pained her. There was the want of confidence that grew more evident every time, though it was by no means want of affection; it was vain to try to keephim away from the stables; he read books on Sunday which she did notapprove, she did not think he wrote to Edmund, and what made her moreuneasy than all was, that Elliot was becoming the great authority withhim. Elliot had begun to take a sort of distant patronising notice ofhint, which seemed to give him great pleasure, and which Marian whoevery year had reason to think worse of Elliot, considered verydangerous. She could not bear to see Gerald search through, thenewspapers for the racing intelligence, and to see him oratingscientifically to Lionel and Johnny about the points of the horses; shedid not like to see him talking to the gamekeepers, and set her face, more than was perhaps prudent, against all the field sports which werelikely to lead him into Elliot's society. 

In her zeal against this danger, she forgot how keen a sportsmanEdmund himself was, and spoke as if she thought these amusements wrongaltogether, and to be avoided, and this, together with the example ofWalter, gave Gerald a very undesirable idea of the dulness of beingsteady and well conducted. That he spent more money than was good forhim, was also an idea of hers gathered from chance observations of herown, and unguarded words of the other boys; but this was one of thepoints on which his reserve was the strictest, and she only could beanxious in ignorance. The holidays, anticipated with delight, ended inpain, though still she cherished a hope that what alarmed her might beboyish thoughtlessness of no importance in itself, and only magnified byher fears. 

She was encouraged in this by finding that Lord Marchmont, when he sawhim once in London, thought him a very fine, promising boy, and that Mr. And Mrs. Lyddell did not seem to see anything seriously amiss. But thenLord Marchmont had not seen enough of him to be able to judge, and wouldnot have told her even if he had thought there probably was anythingwrong; and she could not trust to Mr. And Mrs. Lyddell. It was verypainful to imagine herself unjust to her only brother, and she drove thefears away; but back they would always come, every time Gerald was athome, and every time she looked and longed in vain for a letter fromhim. 

Thus passed, as has already been said, three years, spent for the mostpart without event. Caroline, at eighteen, was introduced; but thoughher evenings were given to company, her mornings were still spent in theschoolroom, of which indeed she was the chief brightness. Marian, thoughshe had the offer of coming out at the same time, was very glad toembrace the alternative of waiting another year. She was now a littlepast her seventeenth birthday, which emancipated her from beingabsolutely Miss Morley's pupil. She breakfasted with the rest of thefamily, dined with them when there was not a large party, learnt moreof masters, and studied more on her own account than she had ever donebefore; and only depended on Miss Morley and Clara for companionship inwalking and meals, when Caroline was otherwise engaged. 

She was more with the Marchmonts than ever during this spring. She rodewith them, kept Selina company when her husband went out without her;went about with her wherever a girl of woman's height, though not yetcome out, could be taken; and was almost always at any of her dinners orevening parties, where she could have the pleasure of seeing anythingthat was distinguished. It was a very pleasant life; for she was new tothe liberty of being loosed from schoolroom restraints, and at the sametime the restraints and duties of society had not laid hold upon her. Among Selina's friends she was not expected to talk, and could listenin peace to the conversation of the very superior men Lord Marchmontbrought around him; or if she chanced to exchange a few words with anyof them, she remembered it afterwards as a distinction. Selina, with allthe homage paid to her beauty, her rank, her fascination of manner, andher husband's situation, was made much of by all, and was able to avoidbeing bored, without affronting any one; and a spoilt child of fashionherself, in her generosity and affection, she made Marian partake herpleasures, and avoid annoyances as far as she could, like herself. Itwas a pleasant life, and Marian thoroughly enjoyed it but was it a safeone?

CHAPTER IX. 

 "So too may soothing Hope thy leave enjoy, Sweet visions of long severed hearts to frame; Though absence may impair or cares annoy, Some constant mind may draw us still the same. "

 _Christian Year_. 

"Here are two letters for you, Marian, " said Mrs. Lyddell, meeting thegirls as they came in from a walk; "Lady Marchmont's servant left thisnote. "

"An invitation to dinner for this evening, " said Marian opening it; "ah!I knew they were to have a party; 'just recollected that Lady JuliaFaulkner used to know Fern Torr, and I must have you to meet her, if itis not a great bore. '"

"Then, my dear, had you not better send an answer? James can take itdirectly. "

"No, no, thank you; the carriage will call at seven. Who can this LadyJulia be? But--" by this time Marian had arrived at her other letter, and, with a sudden start and scream of joy, she exclaimed, "They arecoming!"

"Coming? Who?" asked Caroline. 

"Agnes--and Mr. And Mrs. Wortley! O! All coming to stay with theirfriends in Cadogan Place. I shall see them at any time I please. "

"I am very glad of it, " said Caroline. 

"Tell them that their earliest engagement must be to us, " said Mrs. Lyddell. "When do you expect them?"

"Next week, next week itself, " cried Marian, "to stay a whole fortnight, or perhaps three weeks. Mr. Wortley has business which will occupyhim--"

Few faces ever expressed more joy than Marian's in the prospect of ameeting with these dearest of friends; Mrs. Lyddell and Caroline smiledat her joy as she flew out of the room to make Saunders a partaker inher pleasure. 

"Strange girl, " said Caroline; "so cold to some, so warm to others; Ishall be glad to see these incomparable Wortleys. "

"So shall I, " said Mrs. Lyddell; "but I expect that Marian's opinion ofthem will soon alter, she has now become used to such different society. However we must be very civil to them, be they what they may. "

In the meantime Marian penned a letter to Agnes, in terms of delight andaffection twenty times warmer than any which had ever passed her lips, and then resigned herself to Saunders' hands to be dressed, withoutmuch free will on her own part; too excited to read as usual duringthe operation, sometimes talking, sometimes trying to imagine Agnes inLondon, a conjunction which seemed to her almost impossible. 

The carriage came for her, and in due time she was entering the greatdrawing-room, where Selina, looking prettier than ever in her eveningdress, sat reading a novel and awaiting her guests. 

"O Selina, only think, " she began; "the Wortleys are coming!"

"What say you? Why, Marian, you are in a wild state. Who are coming?"

"The Wortleys, Selina, my own Agnes. "

"O, your old clergyman's daughter! You constant little dove, you don'tmean that you have kept up that romantic friendship all these years?"

"Why, Selina!"

"Yes, yes, I remember all about them now: the daughter was your greatfriend. "

"She was more yours, " said Marian, "when you were at Fern Torr, becauseyou were more nearly the same age. Don't you remember how you used towhisper under the sycamore tree, and send me out of the way?"

"Poor little Marian! Well, those were merry times, and I rather thinkyour Agnes promised to be very pretty. "

"And shall not you be glad to see her?"

"When do they come?"

"Next Monday, to--Cadogan Place. "

"Close to you. Well, that is lucky; but now, my dear, if you can comedown from the clouds for a moment, I want to tell you about Lady Julia. "

"Who is she?" said Marian, bringing back her attention with an effort. 

"A tiresome woman, " whispered Selina, with a sort of affectation ofconfidence; "but the fact is, Lord Marchmont used to know her husband, or his father, or his great grandfather, sometime in the dark ages, andso be wants me to make much of her. She is one of the people that it isreal toil to make talk for; but by good fortune I remembered that I hadheard some legend about her once knowing my uncles, and so I thoughtthat a cross-examination of you about Gerald and Fern Torr would be afamous way of filling up the evening. "

"O!" said Marian in a not very satisfied tone, "so she has a husband, has she? I fancied from your note that she only consisted of herself, "

"She consists of a son and daughters, " said Selina. 

"Her husband is dead, but the rest of the house you will presently see. "

"Eh?" said Lord Marchmont, coming out of the other room where he hadbeen writing, and greeting Marian. 

"You don't mean that you have invited that young Faulkner?"

"You would, not have me leave out the only agreeable one of theparty--something to sweeten the infliction. "

Lord Marchmont smiled at the arch, bold, playful manner with which shelooked up in his face, as if to defy him to be displeased; but still hewas evidently vexed, and said, "It is hard upon Marian only to take herfrom Elliot Lyddell's society to bring her into Mr. Faulkner's. "

"Indeed! but that is hard on Mr. Faulkner, " said his wife. "As to worth, I suppose he and Marian's cousin are pretty much on a par, but it is butjustice to say that he has considerably the advantage in externals. "

"It cannot be helped now, " said Lord Marchmont; "but I wish I had toldyou before, Selina. The esteem I had for that young man's father wouldmake me still more reluctant to cultivate him, considering his presentway of going on. "

"Well, one invitation to dinner is not such a very agriculturalproceeding, that you need waste such a quantity of virtuousindignation, " said Selina; "I daresay he will not grow _very_ much thefaster for it. "

The arrival of some of the party put a stop to the conversation, andpresently Lady Julia Faulkner, Mr. And Miss Faulkner, were announced. The first was a fair, smooth, handsome matron, who looked as if she hadnever been preyed upon by either thought or care; her daughter was awell-dressed, fashionable young lady; and her son, so gentlemanlikeand sensible looking, as to justify Lady Marchmont in saying that inexternals he had the advantage of Elliot Lyddell. Marian sat next him atdinner, and though she meant to dislike him, she could not succeed indoing so; he talked with so much spirit and cleverness of the variousexhibitions and other things, which are chiefly useful as food forconversation. Something too might be ascribed to the store of happinesswithin her, which would not let her be ungracious or unwilling to letherself be entertained, for on the whole, she had never been so wellamused at a dinner party. 

In the drawing-room the examination took place with which she had beenthreatened, but she had grown hardened to such things with time, andcould endure them much better than she used to do. It was always thecustom for her to outstay the guests, so as to talk them over with hercousins; and, on this occasion the first exclamation was, how veryagreeable and clever Mr. Faulkner was. 

"So much the worse, " said Lord Marchmont gravely; "I think worse of himthan I did before, for I find he has taken up Germanism. "

Marian had some notion that Germanism meant that the foundations of hisfaith were unsettled, and she looked extremely horrified, but she hadnot time to dwell on the subject, for the carriage came to the door, and she was glad to be alone to hug herself with delight. The gas lampslooked as bright to her eyes as if there were an illumination speciallygot up in honour of her happiness, and the drive to Mr. Lyddell's wasfar too short to settle a quarter of what Agnes was to see and do. 

It was almost four years since she had parted with her, but thecorrespondence had scarcely slackened, nor the earnestness of heraffection and confidence diminished. There was no one, excepting Edmund, to whom she could look for counsel in the same manner, and the hope oflong conversations with Mrs. Wortley was almost as delightful as thethought of seeing Agnes once more. 

She had begged them to call the first thing, and accordingly soon afterbreakfast one fine Tuesday morning, a loud double-knock caused her heartto leap into her mouth, or rather her throat, and almost choke her. Mrs. Lyddell, Elliot, and Caroline were all present, and she wished themforty miles off, when the announcement was the very thing she wished tohear!

There they were, Mrs. Wortley giving that fond, motherly kiss, Agnescatching both hands, and kissing both cheeks, Mr. Wortley giving onehearty squeeze to her hand! There they really were, she was by Mrs. Wortley's side, their own familiar tones were in her ears! She hardlydared to look up, for fear Agnes should be altered, but no, she couldnot call her altered, though she was more formed, the features were lesschildish, and there was more thought, though not less life and lightthan of old, in the blue eyes. Indeed it came upon Marian by surprise, that she had not known before that Agnes was uncommonly pretty as wellas loveable. She was surprised not to see her friend more shy, but ableto answer Elliot's civilities with readiness and ease; whereas she whostill felt stiff and awkward with a stranger, had supposed that suchmust be doubly the case with one who had lived so much less in theworld. 

That day was to be devoted by the Wortleys to visits and business, butthey reckoned on having Marian to themselves all the next, and were tocall for her early on their way to some of the sights of London. Mrs. Lyddell made them fix an early day for coming to dinner, and they tooktheir leave, Marian feeling as if the visit had not been everything thatshe expected, and yet as if it was happiness even to know that the samecity contained herself and them. 

No sooner were they gone than the Lyddells began with one voice toadmire Agnes, even Elliot was very much struck with her, and positivelygained himself some degree of credit with Marian, by confirming heropinion of her friend's beauty. It was delightful indeed that Agnesshould be something to be proud of; Marian would not have loved her onewhit the less if she had been a plain, awkward country girl, but it wassomething to have her affection justified in their eyes, and to have nofear of Agnes being celebrated only for her cricket. 

They called for Marian early the next morning, and now she received thereal greeting, corresponding to her parting, as Mrs. Wortley's seconddaughter. Then began the inquiries for everything at Fern Torr, animateor inanimate, broken into by Agnes's exclamations of surprise ateverything new and wonderful in the streets, a happy, but a mostdesultory conversation. 

At last they got into a quiet street where Mr. And Mrs. Wortley went tochoose a carpet, and the two girls were left to sit in the carriage. 

"O Marian!" began Agnes, "so you have not quite lost your old self! Iam glad to see how it all is at least, for I have something tangible topity you for. "

"I wonder what it is, " said Marian, too happy for pity at that moment. 

"O, my dear! that Mr. Elliot Lyddell!"

"He is hardly ever in my way, " said Marian. 

"And his sister! Her dress! What study it must have taken! In theextreme of fashion. "

"Caroline's dress is not exactly what she would choose herself, " saidMarian. 

"That must be only an excuse, Marian; for though you have awell-turned-out look, it is not as if you were in a book of fashions. "

"I am not Mrs. Lyddell's daughter, and though I do expect a battle ortwo when I come out, it will not be a matter of obedience with me, as itis with Caroline. "

"Is it very painful obedience?" said Agnes laughingly; "well, you dodeserve credit for not being spoilt among such people. "

"In the first place, how do you know they are 'such people?' and next, how do you know I am not spoilt?"

"You must be the greatest hypocrite in the world, if you are spoilt, towrite me such letters, and sit so boldly looking me in the face. And asto their being 'such people, ' have not I seen them, have not Iheard them, and, above all, has not Mr. Arundel given me their fulldescription?"

"But that was three years and a half ago, " said Marian. 

"And have they changed since then?" asked Agnes. 

"I don't know. "

"O how glad I am to hear that!" cried Agnes. "Never mind them; but tohear you say 'I don't know' in that old considering tone is proof enoughto me that you are my own old Marian, which is all I care for. "

"I don't--" began Marian; then stopping short and laughing, she added, "I mean I was thinking whether it is really so. Can any person live fouryears without changing? Especially at our age. What a little girl I wasthen!"

"Yes, to be sure, you have grown into a tall--yes, quite a tall woman, and you have got your black hair into a very pretty broad braid, and youwear a bracelet and carry a parasol, and don't let your veil stream downyour back; I don't see much more alteration. Your eyes are as black andyour face as white, and altogether you are quite as provoking as ever innever telling one anything that one wishes to know. "

Marian gave a stiff smile, one which she had learnt in company, andgrew frightened at herself to find that she was treating Agnes, as shetreated the outer world. She did not know what to say; her love wasdeep, strong and warm within, but it was too soon to "rend the silkenveil;" and this awkwardness, this consciousness of coldness was positivesuffering. She was relieved that the return of Mr. And Mrs. Wortley putan end to the _tête-à-tête_, then shocked that it should be a relief;for, poor girl, her extreme embarrassment overpowering the happinessin her friend's presence, made her doubt whether it could be that heraffection was really departing, a thought too dreadful to be dwelt upon. 

Who would have told her that she should endure so much pain in her firstdrive with the Wortleys?

They went to call on Lady Marchmont that day, and, as Marian expected, did not find her at home. Agnes renewed the old lamentation that Mariancould not live with her and thus avoid Mrs. Lyddell's finery andfashion. "Now why do you laugh, Marian? you don't mean that SelinaGrenville can have turned into a fashionable lady? she was the simplestcreature in the world. "

"She is what she was then, " said Marian; "but as to being fashionable--. My dear Agnes, you don't understand. "

"We have not to reproach Marian for want of knowledge of the world now, Agnes, " said Mr. Wortley, smiling at his daughter's bewildered look. 

"Ah!" cried Marian, and there stopped, thinking how grievously she mustbe altered, since this was the reproach that the Lyddells used so oftento make her. Some wonderful sight here engaged Agnes, and Marian'sexclamation fell unheeded. 

She spent a good many hours with the Wortleys while they were in London, but usually in the midst of confusion and bustle: Mr. And Mrs. Wortleywere busy, and Agnes almost wild with the novelties around. Marian'sheart ached as she recollected a saying which she had read, that athread once broken can never be united again. Her greatest comfort wasin the prospect of a visit to Fern Torr; for Mrs. Lyddell willinglyconsented to her accepting Mrs. Wortley's invitation to return withthem, and to stay even to the end of her brother's holidays, which hewas also to spend at _home_. She should know better there whether shewas really changed; she could take it all up again there, and now shecould afford to wait, and not feel the necessity of saying everythingthat would not be said in so short a time. 

One thing was certain, she did not like to hear Agnes talk against theLyddells. She could have done it herself; nay, she did so sometimes whenwith Lady Marchmont, but then that was only about "nonsense. " She hadlived with them too long, had shared in too many of their conversationsand employments, was, in fact, too much one of the family, to like tohear them condemned. She thought it very strange, and she could not tellwhether it was from having grown like them, or from a genuine dislike toinjustice; at any rate it was this which convinced her that she had cometo regard them in some degree as friends. 

She wished them to appear to as much advantage as possible, but thisthey really seemed resolved not to do, at least not what was in her eyesand those of the Wortleys, to advantage. Mrs. Lyddell _would_ havea grand dinner party to do honour to her friends, and the choice ofcompany was not what she would have made. To make it worse, Elliotsat next Agnes, Walter was not at home, and the conversation was uponreligious subjects, which had better not have been discussed at all insuch a party, and which were viewed by most present, in the wrong way. All this, however, Marian could have endured, for she did not careto defend Mr. And Mrs. Lyddell or Elliot, individually, only whenconsidered as forming part of "the Lyddells, " but she really wishedAgnes to like Caroline and Clara. 

She did not know whether Agnes was not perverse about Caroline, whom shecontinued to call a mere fashionable young lady, not being able to findany other reproach than this vague one; but as to Clara, Marian herselfcould have found it in her heart to beat her when she made sillierspeeches than usual in Agnes' hearing, and, above all, for having atthis time a violent fit of her affection for Marian herself, whom sheperseveringly called a dear girl, and followed about so closely as to bealways in the way. 

Marian would have been still more provoked with Clara, had Agnes not hadforbearance enough to abstain from telling her all that Clara had said, when once, by some chance, left alone with her for ten minutes. After agreat deal about her extreme friendship for "dearest Marian, " she said, "Some people think her pretty, --do you, Miss Wortley?"

"Not exactly pretty, " said Agnes, "but hers is a fine face. "

"Ah! she has not colour enough to be pretty. She is much too pale, poordear, but some people say that is aristocratic. And she is like hercousin, Lady Marchmont, the beauty. Do you know Lady Marchmont?"

"I used to know her as a girl. "

"Ah! she is very handsome, and so much the fashion. It is such anadvantage for Marian to be there, and I hope she will slyly bring usacquainted some of these days. But then all the Arundels are proud;Marian has a good deal of pride in her own way, though she is a deargirl!"

"Marian!" exclaimed Agnes. 

"O yes! She is a dear girl, but every one in Wiltshire speaks of herpride; all our friends do, I assure you. I always defend her, of course, but every one remarks it. "

Agnes was wondering whether simply to disbelieve anything sopreposterous as that all Wiltshire should be remarking on poor Marian'spride, or whether to explain it by her well-known shyness, when Claramade another sudden transition. "Do you know Mr. Arundel?"

"O yes. "

"Is not he a fine, distinguished looking man? We did admire him so whenhe was here. I assure you we are all quite jealous of Marian. MissMorley says there can be but one _dénouement_. "

Here Marian came into the room, and Agnes proceeded to question withinherself which was most wonderful, --the extreme folly of Clara, or of thegoverness. 

Another vexation to Marian was the behaviour of Lady Marchmont. Sheherself was invited as often as usual to come to her cousin, but shecould not spare a minute from her dear friends, and only was surprisedand vexed that they were not included, and that Selina had not yetcalled upon them. She knew that one of her parties consisted of personswhom Mr. Wortley would have been particularly glad to meet, and shewatched most anxiously for a card for him; she even went so far, as inher own note of refusal to give a very far distant hint, thinking thatSelina only required to be put in mind of his being in London. 

At last, only two days before they left town, Lady Marchmont left hercard for Mrs. Wortley, but without asking if she was at home; andMarian, who was in the house at the time, felt the neglect most acutely. Mrs. Wortley saw the bright glow of red spread all over the pale check, and was heartily sorry on her account. Agnes broke out into exclamationsthat there must be a mistake, --the servants must have misunderstood, and she would have asked questions; but Marian said, in a voice of deepfeeling, "No, Agnes, it is no mistake. You understand me now when I saySelina Marchmont is more of a fine lady than Mrs. Lyddell. But O, Inever thought she would have neglected you!"

"Say no more, my dear, " said Mrs. Wortley; "Lady Marchmont must have toomany engagements to attend to us dull country folks. Indeed, it gives meno pain, my dear, except to see it grieve you. You know she has done herduty by us. "

"Her duty by herself, she may think, " said Marian, "in not doing whatwould be called rude, but not her duty by you; you, to whom all whoever--who ever loved _them_, owe so much. "

The tears glittered in Marian's eyes, and her cheek was flushed. 

"Marian, my dear, cool down a little, " said Mrs. Wortley; "think howlong it is since Lady Marchmont knew us, and recollect that the--thecauses, which you think you have for caring for us, may not appear thesame to her. She only thinks of us as dimly remembered neighbours ofher cousin's, coming to London for a little while; she is full ofengagements, and has no time for us, and just follows the fashions ofother people. "

"That is it, " said Marian. "How shall I ever wish her good-bye incharity?"

They were interrupted; and it was not till Marian was gone that Agneshad the satisfaction of a full outbreak of indignation at all fineladies, and of triumph in the impossibility of their ever spoiling herown dear Marian. 

Marian had to spend the evening with the Marchmonts, and she was moreconstrained with them at first than she had ever been before. Yet itwas not easy to continue constrained with Selina, who was perfectlyunconscious that she had given any offence; and the feeling was quiteremoved by half an hour's play with little Willy, who was now promotedto be a drawing-room child for various short intervals of the day. Hewas under a nursery governess, who let his mamma have a little moreproperty in him. 

Selina asked about the intended journey, and thus renewed Marian'sfeeling of the wrongs of the Wortleys; but when Selina scolded her fornot coming oftener, supposed she had been very happy, and envied her forgoing to dear old Fern Torr, Marian began to forgive, and did so quitewhen she wished she could have seen them, and lamented that she had beenso much engaged. Three times she had gone out, fully meaning to call onthem, and have a good long chat, but each time something delayed her;and the last, and fourth, she really was obliged to be at home early, and could not possibly make a call. 

The charm of manner made all this appease Marian; but when the immediatespell of Selina's grace and caressing ways was removed, she valued itrightly, and thought, though with pain, of the expressive epithet, "fudge!" Could not Selina have gone to her aunt's old friends if shewould? Had not Marian known her to take five times the trouble for herown gratification? Marian gained a first glimpse of the selfishness ofrefined exclusiveness, and doubted whether it had not been getting ahold of herself, when she had learnt of Selina to despise and neglectall that was unpleasing. 

O the joy of knowing that she should turn her back on the great wickedworld again, and measure herself by the old standard of home! And yetshe trembled, lest she should find that the world had touched her morethan she had thought. 

CHAPTER X. 

 "Yes, friends may be kind, and vales may be green, And brooks, may sparkle along between; But it is not friendship's kindest look, Nor loveliest vale, nor clearest brook, That can tell the tale which is written for me On each old face and well known tree. "

 R. H. FROUDE. 

It was a happy day for both Agnes Wortley and Marian Arundel when theyagain entered Devonshire. Agnes seemed to feel her four weeks as seriousan absence as Marian did her four years, and was even more rapturous inher exclamations at each object that showed her she was near home. 

They walked up the last and steepest hill, or rather bounded along thewell known side path, catching at the long trailing wreaths of thedogrose, peeping over the gates which broke the high hedge, whereMarian, as she saw the moors, could only relieve her heart bypronouncing to herself those words of Manzoni's Lucia, "_Vedo i mieimonti. _" ("I see my own mountains. ") She beheld the woods and thechimneys of the Manor House, but she shrank from looking at it, andgazed, as if she feared it was but a moment's vision, at the roughcottages, the smoke curling among the trees, the red limestone quarry, and the hills far away in the summer garb of golden furze. It was home, her heart was full, and Agnes respected her silence. 

Down the hill, along the well-known paling, past the cottages, the dearold faces smiling welcome; the Church, always the same, the green railof the Vicarage garden, the paint was the only thing new; the porch, with roses hanging thicker over it than ever; Ranger, David Chapple, Jane, the housemaid, all in ecstasy in their different ways. 

That first evening was spent in visiting every nook of the garden withAgnes, and hearing the history of each little innovation; then, after aslight interval of sleepiness, came those fond, cordial "good nights, "which dwell no where but at home. 

She woke to the reality of a Fern Torr Sunday, not to shake off withdisappointment and wearinesss, the dream of such a day. There was thepinkthorne, dressed in all its garlands, before her window, the dewlying heavy and silvery on the grass; the cart-horses enjoying theirholiday in the meadow, the mass of blossom in the orchard, the skyabove, all blueness, the air full of a delicious quietness, as if thesunshine itself was repose, Marian leant out at her window, and wonderedif it was possible she should have been so long away, so familiar, sonatural did it all seem. 

The hurried breakfast, the walk to school, the school itself, how wellshe knew it all, and within the school how old a world it was, and yethow new! The benches, the books, the smiles, the curtsies, the verynosegays, redolent of southernwood, were unchanged, but all the greatgood girls of her day, the prime first class, where was it? Here was thefirst class still, Agnes' pride; but, behold, these are the little onesof her day, and the babies for whom she had made pink frocks and frilledcaps, now stared up in her face responsible beings, who could say morethan half the Catechism. Her own little pets of school-days were grownout of knowledge into the uninteresting time of life, the "old ageof childhood, " and looked as if they found it equally difficult torecognize "little Miss" in a lady taller than Miss Wortley. Nextfollowed the walk to Church, full of meetings and greetings, admirationof her growth, and inquiries after Sir Gerald. 

Yes, Marian did feel like the old self: her four years' absence was likea dream that had passed away, and was nothing to her; she could thinkonly of home, home thoughts and home interests; the cares and theteasings, the amusements and the turmoils of Oakworthy and London, wereas things far distant, which had never really concerned her, orbelonged to some different state of existence. She was at home, as shecontinually said to herself; she felt as if she was in some way more inthe presence of her parents, as if their influence was sheltering her, and shielding her from all external ill, as in the days of yore. Happythey who can return after four years' trial as Marian did. 

She was preparing for Confirmation; for, to her great joy, she was intime to form one of Mr. Wortley's own flock, He gave her half an hourevery other morning; and now it was that all the difficulties raisedin her mind in arguments with Caroline, doubts with right or wrong, orquestions why and wherefore, were either solved or smoothed down. Herprinciples were strengthened, her views were cleared up; she learnt thereasons of rules she had obeyed in ignorance, and perceived her ownfailures and their causes. 

These were her graver hours. At other times she read, drew, and studiedGerman with Agnes, who gladly availed herself of the aid of one wellcrammed by London masters, and who could not but allow, even to thecredit of her enemies, that they had made Marian very accomplished. 

There were long walks to every well-remembered hill and dell, withfurther expeditions planned against the return of the boys, and numerousvisits to old friends at the cottages to present Marian's gifts, whichhad fairly overpowered Saunders' powers of packing. Delightful walks, how different from the parade on the chalk roads, over high hedges, through gaps doubly fenced with thorns, scrambling, at the risk ofneck us well as of dress, over piles of fern and ivy-covered rocks, orhopping across brooks on extemporised stepping-stones, usually in thevery thick of some _mauvais pas_, discussing some tremendous point ofmetaphysics or languages and breaking off in it to scream at the beautyof the view, or to pity a rent muslin. 

Marian and Agnes talked considerably now, and, allowing for thedifference in age, just as they used to do. Marian's fears of her owncoldness and doubts of her confidence in Agnes had all melted in hernative atmosphere, and were quite forgotten. She could speak of theLyddells now, though still she did not find fault with them, nor makecomplaints; indeed, it was Agnes' abuse of them that made her firstdiscover that she had a regard for them. 

This prejudice, as she began to call it, seemed to her unaccountable, since she had never written complainingly, until she found at last, (which made her inclined to treat it with more respect, ) that itwas founded on what Edmund had reported. He had come to Fern Torrimmediately after his visit to Oakworthy, very much out of spirits, andhad poured out his anxieties to his friends, talking of Mr. And Mrs. Lyddell with less caution than he had used with Marian, and lamentingover the fate of his poor little cousins like something hopeless. Marianthought of Gerald, and her heart failed her, then she hoped again, forGerald was coming home, and then she understood what Edmund had thoughtof it all, and knew that it was perfectly consistent with his lastconversation with her. So she said that was four years ago, and thatEdmund was very kind. 

The time of Gerald's arrival came. Charles and James Wortley precededhim by about a fortnight, and all that Marian saw of them made herrejoice in such companionship for him. Mr. Wortley drove her to meet himat Exeter, and never was greeting more joyful. Lionel had sent her amessage that Oakworthy would be as dull as ditch water without her, and if she did not come back before the end of the holidays, he shouldcertainly be obliged to go back to Eton again to find something to do. Having delivered this message, Gerald made both his companions laugh bygazing about as if surprised to find Exeter still in the same place, andwondering at reading all the old names over the shops. 

Marian was delighted that he recognised all the torrs on the drive home, and very proud of his height, his beauty, and his cordial, well-bredgentlemanlike manners, which gave the Wortleys general satisfaction. 

The first thing he did was to go out and visit his old pony in thepaddock, patting it very affectionately, though he seemed much surprisedthat it was so small. 

In the evening they went to the Manor House. Marian had spent many hoursthere, sat in the empty rooms, wandered in the garden, and mused on pastdays, or dwelt on them with Agnes, and she had looked forward with greatpleasure to having her brother there. 

She wished to have had him alone, but he asked Agnes and the boys tocome, and they all set out together up the rocky steps, Gerald farbefore the rest, and when Marian came up to him he was standing on thelawn, at the top of the steps, looking at the house. 

"I thought it was larger, " exclaimed he. 

"But, Gerald, see how high the magnolia has grown, and how nice andsmooth old Lapthorn keeps the lawn. Does it not look as if we had goneaway only yesterday?"

"Yes, and there is the little larburnum that we planted. How it isgrown! But how very small the house is. "

By this time the door had been opened by the old housekeeper, andMarian, running up to her, exclaimed, "Here he is, Mrs. White! Come, come, Gerald, come and speak to Mrs. White!"

Gerald came, but with no readiness of manner. His "how d'ye do?" wasshy and cold, and not at all answerable to her eager, almost tearful, "Pretty well, thank you, Sir. It is something to see you at home again, Sir Gerald; so tall, and looking so well. 'Tis almost old times again, to see you and Miss Marian. "

He stood silent, and Agnes spoke, "Yes, Mrs. White, is not he grown? Itdoes not seem to be so very long before we shall really have them herefor good. "

"Ah! Miss Wortley, that is what I have always wished to live for; I havealways said, let me only live to see Sir Gerald come back, and findthings in order as he left them, and then I would die contented. "

"No, no, live to keep his house many more years, " said Marian. "It isfour years less now you know, Mrs. White; only eight more before weshall be able to live here. For, I suppose you would like to have meback too. "

"I don't know Miss Marian; you will he married long before that, such afine young lady as you are grown to be. "

Marian laughed and passed on into the house, sorry that Gerald had takenno part in the conversation. They went into the drawing-room, that roomwhere he had wept so bitterly the day before his departure. Again hisobservation was, "I thought this room was twice the size. And so low!"

"You have been looking in at the large end of a telescope lately, Gerald, " said his sister with some sorrow in her tone, as she sat downon one of the brown holland muffled sofas, and looked up at her father'sportrait, trying to find a likeness there to the face before her. Therewas the same high brow, the same dark eyes, the same straight features, the same bright open smile. Gerald was more like it, in some respects, than he had been, but there was a haughty, impetuous expression nowand then on eye, brow, and lip, that found no parallel in the gentlecountenance which, to Marian's present feelings, seemed to be turnedtowards him with an air of almost reproachful anxiety. 

Perhaps he saw some of the sadness of her expression, and; alwaysaffectionate, wished to please her by manifesting a little more of thefeelings which really still existed. He came and stood by her, andwhispered a few caressing words, which almost compensated for thevexation his carelessness had occasioned. He looked earnestly at thepicture for a few moments, then, turning away, suddenly exclaimed, "Ishould like to see the old dressing-room. "

This was Lady Arundel's morning room, where many a lesson had beenrepeated, many a game played, and where, perhaps, more childishrecollections centered than in any other part of the house. The brotherand sister went thither alone, and much enjoyed looking into everywell-known corner, and talking of the little events which had theretaken place. This lasted for nearly a quarter of an hour, when theyrejoined their companions to make the tour of the garden, &c. All waspleasant here, Gerald recollected every nook, and was delighted to findso much unchanged. 

"Let us just look into the stable yard, " said he, as they were comingaway. It was locked, but a message to Mrs. White procured the key, andthey entered the neat deserted court, without one straw to make it lookinhabited, though the hutch where the rabbits had lived was still in itsplace; and even in one corner the reversed flower-pot, which Geraldwell remembered to have brought there to mount upon, in order to makeinvestigations into a blackbird's nest, in the ivy on the wall. 

He now used the same flower-pot to enable him to peep in at the hazywindow of the stable, and still more lamentable was his exclamation, "Can this be all! How very small!"

"Nothing but low and little, you discontented boy, " said Agnes. 

"Why, really, I could not believe it was on such a small scale, " saidGerald. "Marian, now is it possible there can be only six stalls here?"

"Why, what would have been the use of more?" said Marian. 

"Ah! why to be sure, there was no one to ride much, " said Gerald. "Butyet I can hardly imagine it! What could my father have done in hisyounger days? Only six stalls! And no loose box. Well, people hadcontracted notions in those days! And the yard so small! Why, the one atOakworthy would make four of it. "

"And you had really managed to persuade yourself that this was a granderplace than Oakworthy?" said Marian. 

Gerald made no answer; but after walking backwards till he had afull view of the stable and surrounding regions, broke out into theexclamation, "I see what is to be done! Take down that wall--let ina piece of the kitchen garden--get it levelled--and then extend it alittle on the right side too. Yes, I see. "

"You are not talking of spoiling this place!" cried Agnes, in dismay. 

"Spoiling! only making it habitable, " said Gerald. "How can a man livehere with a stable with six stalls, and nothing like a kennel?"

The utter impossibility of such an existence was so strongly impressedon the mind of the young baronet, that as soon as tea was over hecommenced a sketch of his future stables, adding various explanationsfor the benefit of Charles and James. There was almost a daily quarrelon the subject with Agnes, and much laughing on each side; but Marian, afraid of making him more determined, took no part in it. 

Much might happen in eight years to make him change his mind, and thisstable in the clouds might be endured, if everything else had been fullysatisfactory. 

Very happy were the boys next morning, setting off to the woods to studythe localities of the game; very happy were they fishing and rabbitshooting; very happy, galloping over the country by turns on the twoponies; very happy were the whole party in pic-nic expeditions, and inmerry evening sports; but these could not take up every hour and everyminute; and Marian could not help observing, that while Charles andJames could always find some work on which to be employed in theintervals, Gerald was idle and listless. There were hours in the morningwhen they had their Latin and Greek to study, while Gerald was usuallyloitering in the drawing-room. That he should voluntarily touch Latinor Greek in the holidays was perhaps more than mortal could expect;but that he should not read anything was disappointing. The vicarageafforded no periodical novels, no slang tales of low life, no manualsof sporting. The Waverley novels he had read long ago, and nothing ofa more solid description would he touch; so his mornings were chieflyspent in drawing caricatures, and chattering to his sister and Agnes. Hewas indeed very amusing, but this was not all that could be desired. Nowand then there were stories of feats which did not seem likely to bethose of the best and wisest set of boys; and his idea of the life ofa boy, if not of man, was plainly that it was to be spent in takingpleasure and shirking work. Then he took in a sporting paper, and usedto entertain them with comments on the particulars of the races, and ofbets, which no one in the house understood but himself; but these werenever in the presence of either Mr. Or Mrs. Wortley, where he was on hisguard. 

In these intervals of idleness, Marian tried to persuade him severaltimes to write to Edmund, who would be glad to have a report fresh fromhome. He always said he would soon set about a letter, but the timenever came, though she more than once arranged pen, paper, and ink inreadiness for him. He had recently received a letter from his cousin, but he had torn it up, and could not remember anything about thecontents. 

Something between bashfulness and pride produced conduct which couldnot but appear like arrant haughtiness to the villagers, who had lookedforward eagerly to seeing their young landlord. If Marian tried tobring him to speak to some poor old man, his answer was, "Give him thishalf-crown, then, that will do just as well!" and he walked off outof reach, while she remained to present the gift, and hear in answer, "Thank you kindly, Miss; I should like to see the young gentlemanhimself, but I daresay he does not like poor people. "

If this was the feeling where there was half-a-crown to sweeten theneglect, what was it where such a propitiatory offering was out of thequestion, and where the original connection had been closer, among theold servants, the dependants and tenants? His lofty acknowledgmentof their bows, --his short, reluctant "Good morning, " when forced tospeak, --and his willingness to escape from their presence, contrastedill with the cordial greetings with which his cousin Edmund had alwayshailed each Fern Torr person as a friend. Indeed, "that nice younggentleman, Master Edmund, " began to be recollected with regrets, which, had the Manor been a kingdom, might have amounted to treason towards theyoung heir. 

Marian grieved at this behaviour, and would have attempted to arguehim out of it, but he gave her scarcely any opportunity of a seriousconversation; and Mr. Wortley gave him more than one hint, which, thoughbe took it with perfect courtesy, never mended matters. Yet with allthis, he was so agreeable, so good-natured and gentlemanlike, sopleasant a guest, and so affectionate a brother, that Mr. And Mrs. Wortley could not help liking him very much; and if they saw anythingamiss, they did not pain his sister by speaking of it. Her misgivingswere too vague and undetermined for her to be willing to consultMr. Wortley; if she thought at one time that she would, she grew sofrightened and reluctant whenever an occasion came, that she let it passby; and she was divided between blame to herself for doing nothing, whena few words might be the rescue of her brother, and self-reproach fordoing him cruel injustice. 

Nay, she even defended him more than once, when Agnes was shocked. Sheprotected a shirt, illustrated by his own hand, in marking-ink, withcricketers, which caused infinite scandal to the washerwomen of FernTorr. She defended slang words, which Agnes, from not understandingthem, fancied worse than they really were; and she never failed to sayhe did not mean to be unkind, whenever he was neglectful of the poorpeople. She was displeased with herself afterwards for speaking infavour of these things, for she well knew them to be only parts of thewhole system which grieved her; but still she could not help it. 

These thoughts were suspended by the solemn time approaching. Herconfirmation-day came, and she stood among the maidens of her own homeand village, who had been baptized in the same font, and shared with herthe same instructions. Simultaneously with them she pronounced her vow;and perhaps it was a repining thought which crossed her mind, --"Why amI not like these, to remain in this peaceful nest, not sent forth tobe wearied and tried by that glittering world of unrest, which I thusrenounce?"

She knelt to receive the blessing, which brought with it the trust thatthe peace of that moment might dwell with her, refresh her, and shieldher "as oft as sin and sorrow tire. " And when her eye fell on herbrother, it was with more hope, for now she could better pray for him. Whatever might happen, it could never hurt the memory of that awfulyet soothing hour, nor of that first Communion when she knelt near herparents' graves between Mrs. Wortley and Agnes; the whole air filledwith the prayers of those on earth and in heaven who loved her best; norof her walk in the garden afterwards with Mr. Wortley, when he plainlyspoke to her of her life as one of peculiar trial and temptation, andwarned her how to be in the world, and yet not of the world. 

The nest event of the visit to Fern Torr was Saunders' wedding. Saundersdid not love Oakworthy, still less Mrs. Lyddell, and least of all Mrs. Price, the ladies' maid; and when she found herself at Fern Torr again, and heard Mr. David Chapple renew his tender speeches, the returnthither became more and more difficult; and one day, while plaiting heryoung lady's hair, she communicated to her with a great gush of tears, that, though she could not bear to think of leaving her, and would noton any account cause her any inconvenience, she began to think it wastime to think about her marriage. 

It was a stroke to Marian to hear of losing any old familiar face, andher look of dismay was a great satisfaction to Saunders; but she couldbear it better than she could once have done, and there were reasonswhich made a change not so very much to be regretted even by her. The quarrels between Saunders and the rest of the household were notagreeable, and what she now felt to be a serious evil, was that habit ofcomplaining to her, and telling her stories against the family, of whichEdmund had warned her long ago. She had tried to discourage it, but, once begun, it had never been entirely discontinued; and Marian felt itto be wrong in every way. 

She made up her mind, therefore, with greater philosophy than could havebeen expected, to the loss of Saunders; and was further consoled byfinding it gave hey an opportunity of promoting a nice young Fern Torrdamsel, too delicate for hard work, who had been taught dressmaking, andwhom Saunders undertook to instruct in the mysteries of the hair, quitesufficiently to carry her on till they went to London, and she couldtake lessons from some grand frizeur. 

Mrs. Lyndell was written to, and gave her consent to the hiring ofFanny, and Marian and Agnes were so delighted at the opening thus madefor her, that Saunders would have been jealous if she had not been toohappily engaged in her own preparations. 

As to Gerald he made a dreadful face when he first heard of Saunders'intentions; but as her going made no difference to his comfort, he soonbecame resigned. David was an old acquaintance, whom he liked becausehe belonged to the genus groom; so he made no objection to his sister'sattending the wedding. He presented the bride with a tea-set, splendidwith gilding, and surprised every one by walking into Mr. Wortley'skitchen in the midst of the bridal entertainment, and proposing thehealth of the happy pair. 

Marian was to return under Gerald's escort, at the end of the holidays. He was to go on to Eton, leaving her at the railway station, where shewas to be met by the Lyddells' carriage. The last letter arrived, in which arrangements respecting time and train were to be finallyconfirmed. It was, as usual, from Caroline; and as she opened it, Mariangave a sudden start. 

"Eh?" said Gerald, "whose mare's dead? Not Elliot's Queen Pomare, Ihope!"

"No, but Miss Morley is going. "

"O!" cried Gerald, "I hope she has been reading some more letters. "

"Not quite, " said Marian smiling. 

"Well, but is it directly? I suppose you did not think she was to staythere for life? Has she been in any mischief, that you look so shocked?"

Marian really could not help discovering that she was not withouttenderness of feeling for Miss Morley, and did not like to proclaim, inCaroline's strong and rather satirical language, across the breakfasttable, that Mrs. Lyddell had discovered by accident that she and herpupil were in the habit of amusing themselves with novels which werefar better unread. After reading quickly to the end of the letter, sheanswered, "O, she has been reading books with Clara that Mrs. Lyddelldid not approve. "

"A triumph! a triumph!" cried Agnes. "Now Marian will never attempt todefend Miss Morley again. "

"What, not the poor unfortunate faithful? How can you think me so base?"returned Marian. "Besides, poor thing, she really is very kind-hearted, and has very little harm in her. I dare say it was more Clara's faultthan hers, "

"Well done, Marian, striking right and left!" observed James Wortley. 

"How long has Miss Morley been at Oakworthy?" asked Mrs. Wortley. 

"She came about a year before we did, " replied Marian. 

"Her predecessor, Miss Cameron, must have been a very different person;Caroline and Walter always speak of her with such respect. "

"Poor unfortunate!" broke out Gerald. "Well, if it had not been forMarian's letters, I should not have hated her so much. When one wasmaking a row, she never did anything worse than say, 'Now Sir Gerald!'"which he gave with her peculiarly unauthoritative, piteous, imploringdrawl. 

"There was something in that title of 'poor unfortunate, ' peculiarlyappropriate, " said Marian, laughing, "as I am afraid that it is now, poor thing. She is to leave Oakworthy immediately, and I do not knowthat she has any relation but an old aunt. "

Mr. And Mrs. Wortley agreed with Marian that it was a melancholy case, but the others were too triumphant to be compassionate; and Geraldamused Agnes half the morning with ludicrous stories of herinefficiency. 

Marian was thoughtful all day; and at last, when sitting alone with Mrs. Wortley and Agnes, exclaimed, "Poor Miss Morley! I really am very sorryfor her; I did not know I liked her so well. "

"Absence is the great charm with Marian, " said Agnes, laughing; "welearn now what makes her so affectionate to us. "

"No, but really, Agnes, when one has been living in constant intercoursefor four years, and often receiving kindness from a person, is itpossible to hear of her being sent away in disgrace and poverty withoutcaring about it?"

"O yes; I know; after having lived in the same house with a kitchenpoker for four years, you get so attached to it that it gives you a pangto part with it. No, but the comparison is no compliment to the poker;that is firm enough, at any rate, --a down cushion would be better. "

"An attachment to a down cushion is nothing to be ashamed of, Agnes, "said her mother. 

"And Miss Morley did deserve some attachment, indeed, " said Marian. "Shewas so ready to oblige, and she really did many and many a kind thing bythe servants; and I believe she quite denied herself, for the sake ofher old aunt. She was not fit for a governess, to be sure; but that wasmore her misfortune than her fault, poor thing. "

"How do you make that out?" said Agnes. 

"Why, she was obliged to got her own living; and what other way hadshe? She was educated for it, and had everything but the art of gainingauthority. "

"And high principle, " said Mrs. Wortley. 

"But, " said Marian, growing eager in her defence, "she really did knowright from wrong. She would remonstrate, and tell us things that wereevery word good and true, only she did it with so little force, thatthey were apt not to mind her; and then it was no wonder that she grewdispirited, and sunk into poor unfortunate. "

"Yes, " said Agnes, "I can understand it all; she was in a situation thatshe was not fit for, and failed. "

"She would have been very different in another situation, mostprobably, " said Mrs. Wortley, "where she and the children were not somuch left to each other's mercy. "

"Yes; Mrs. Lyddell never mended matters, " said Marian. "She did not backup or strengthen her, but only frightened her, till she was quite asready to conceal what was amiss as her pupils. And that intimacy withClara was a very unlucky thing; it drew her down without drawing Claraup. "

"I suppose that was the origin of the catastrophe, " said Mrs. Wortley. 

"I should think so; they have been more alone together lately, for I amsure this could never have happened when Caroline was in the schoolroom. And her making a friend of Clara was no wonder, so forlorn and solitaryas she must have been. " And Marian sighed with fellow-feeling for her. 

"An intimate, not a friend, " said Mrs. Wortley. 

"And I could better fancy making a friend of Miss Lyddell, " said Agnes. "I can't say my tête-à-tête with Miss Clara made me desire much more ofher confidence. "

"Clara is more caressing, " said Marian. "I think I am most fond of her, though Caroline is--O! quite another thing. But what I wanted was to askyou, Mrs. Wortley, if you thought I might write to poor Miss Morley, andask if there is anything I can do for her. I can't bear to think of hergoing away without wishing her good-bye, or showing any feeling for herin her distress. "

"How very right and kind of you, Marian, " exclaimed Agnes, "after allher injustice--"

"I do not think it would be advisable, my dear, " said Mrs. Wortley; "itwould seem like putting yourself in opposition to Mrs. Lyddell, andmight be pledging yourself, in a manner, to recommend her, which, withyour opinion of her, you could not well do. "

"O, no, no, except in some particular case. Yes, I suppose you areright; but I don't feel happy to take no notice. "

"Perhaps something may occur on your return, when you understand thematter more fully; or, at any rate, if you are writing to Oakworthy, youmight send some message of farewell, kind remembrances, or love. "

"Those are so unmeaning and conventional that I hate them, " said Marian. 

"Yes, but their want of meaning is their advantage here. They are merelykindly expressions of good will. "

"And they will mean more from you, " added Agnes, "as you never have thecivility to use them on ordinary occasions. "

"Well, I will take your advice, " said Marian, "and thank you, Mrs. Wortley; I only wish--"

The wish ended in a sigh, as Marian sat down to commence--"My dearCaroline. "

CHAPTER XI. 

 "But we are women when boys are but boys; Heav'n gives us grace to ripen and grow wise, Some six years earlier. I thank heav'n for it: We grow upon the sunny side of the wall. "

 TAYLOR. 

It certainly was quite involuntary on Agnes Wortley's part, but whenthe time came for returning to Oakworthy, Marian was conscious of morekindly and affectionate feelings towards it and its inhabitants than shehad ever expected to entertain for them. She did not love Fern Torr orthe Wortleys less; she had resumed her confidence and sympathy withAgnes, and felt the value of Mrs. Wortley more than ever; and it quitemade her heart ache to think how long it would be before she saw anotherpurple hill or dancing streamlet, and that she should not be there tosee her dear old myrtle's full pride of blossom. But, on the other hand, her room at Oakworthy, with its treasures, was a sort of home; and shelooked forward to it gladly, when once she was out of sight of themoors. 

The train had stopped and gone on again from the last station beforethat where they were to leave it for Oakworthy, when Gerald, comingacross to the seat by her side, said, "Marian, I say, can you lend me acouple of pounds?"

"Why, Gerald, what can you want with them?"

"Never mind; only be a good girl, and let me have them. "

"You had plenty of money when you came to Fern Torr. How could you havegot rid of it all?"

"Come, come, Marian, don't be tiresome. Haven't I had to give to all theold women in the place?"

"But do you really mean that you have no money?"

"O yes, I have some, but not what I want. Come, I know you keepCalifornia in your pocket. What harm can it do you?"

After all Marian's presents at Fern Torr, it was not quite asconvenient, as Gerald fancied, to part with two pounds; but that was notthe best motive to put forward, nor was it her reason for hesitating. 

"I don't know whether it is right; that is the thing, Gerald. "

"Right! why where is the right or wrong in it?"

"I am afraid it may do you harm, " said she, in a trembling, doubtfulvoice. 

"Stuff! I'll take care of that!"

"If you would only tell me what you want it for?"

"I tell you, Marian, I can't do without it; I don't know what I shalldo, if you won't give it to me. "

"Debts! O Gerald, you have not got into debt?"

"Well, and what do you look so scared about? Do you think they will killme?"

"O, Gerald, Gerald, this proves it all. "

"It? what?" said Gerald. "Come, don't be so like a girl! I have not beendoing any thing wrong, I tell you, and it is all your fault if I can'tget clear. "

"With such an allowance as you have, O Gerald, how could you? And howcould you throw about money at home, when you knew you were in debt?"

"You talk as if I had been ruining my wife and ten small children, "cried Gerald, impatiently. "A fine fuss about making a few pounds standover till next half. But you women go headlong at it, never see therights of a thing. So, you won't? Well, it is your doing now!"

"I can't see any end to it, " said Marian, reflectingly. "If I thoughtyou would make a resolution--but you will be without money at all, andhow are you to get through this half? O, Gerald! better write to Mr. Lyddell at once, and he will set you straight, and you can begin fresh. "

Gerald made a face of utter contempt. The steam whistle was heard; theywere stopping. "There is an end of it, then" said he, angrily. "I didnot think you had been so ill-natured; it is all your fault, I tell you. I thought you cared for me. "

This was dreadful; Marian's purse was in her hand, and she began "OGerald dear, anything but that!"--when they found themselves close infront of the station, and Lionel pulling at the door of their carriage, and calling fiercely to the porter to unlock them. 

Caroline was standing on the platform, and there was a tumult ofgreetings and inquiries for luggage to be taken out and put in. Geraldran to see that his goods were separated from his sister's; Lionel shookhands with Marian, and scolded her for staying away all the holidays;roared to the porter that his portmanteau was for Slough, then turnedagain to say, "You've heard of poor unfortunate, Marian?"

The bell rang; Gerald ran back; Marian knew she was weak, but couldnot help it, --she squeezed the two sovereigns into his hand, and wascomforted for the moment by his affectionate farewell. Lionel and hethrew themselves into their carriage, and were whisked off. 

"There!" said Caroline. "Now come along. O, I am so glad you are come; Ihave so much to say. "

Marian could not dwell on Gerald; she put her arm within Caroline's, looked back to see Fanny safe under the care of an Oakworthy footman, and soon was in the carriage. 

"Well, Caroline; and how is every one?"

"Pretty well, considering the revulsion of ideas we have all undergone. Poor Miss Morley left plenty of farewells for you. You can't think hawpleased she was with your message. "

"Poor thing! Where is she?"

"At her aunt's; she went on Monday. Mamma was impatient to have it over. You know her ways. "

Marian knew that this intimated that Caroline thought her mother hadnot been kind; and she doubted whether to continue her inquiries;but Caroline was too eager to tell, to wait for questions, andproceeded:--"There had been dissatisfaction for a long time, as Ibelieve you may have guessed; mamma thought Clara backward, and wantingin what Miss Morley calls 'the solid;' and at last, coming suddenly intothe schoolroom at twelve o'clock one fine day, she found reason good, for they were very comfortably reading M. Eugene Sue. "

"O, Caroline, impossible!"

"Too possible, " said Caroline, "though I would not believe it at first. However, they did not know what it was when they began, and wereafterwards too much bewitched with the story to leave off; and as theyfelt it was wrong, they read it the more constantly to get it overfaster. "

"But how in the world could they get such a book?"

"From the circulating library. It appears that they found the eveningsrather dull in London this spring, when we were all out, and so began alittle secret hiring, which was continued at Oakworthy, and with a worsechoice of books. "

"That she should be so little to be trusted!"

"Nay, Marian, who could live with her half-an-hour in the schoolroom, and think she could?"

"Certainly, she often puzzled me when first I came. "

"And you never saw the worst. You always kept order, after you came. "

"O, Caroline, what nonsense!"

"Yes, indeed you did. I do assure you that, scores of times, theknowledge that your great eyes were wondering at me has kept me frombullying Miss Morley into letting me do what I knew to be wrong. I couldpersuade her and deceive myself, but I could not persuade you; and thenall the rest went for nothing, because you were sure to be right. "

"It is very easy to see the right for other people, " said Marian, withrather a sad smile. 

"Yes, only other people don't mind that, unless you do the rightfor yourself; and that is the thing in you, Marian. If you had saidanything, I should not have minded it half so much; but your 'I don'tknow, ' cut me home. "

"I am sorry--"

"No, don't be sorry, for I am glad. If you had not come before all thegood of Miss Cameron had gone off from me, what should I have been? O, Marian, I am very glad you are come back; I did not know I liked youhalf so well till you were gone. "

"I am sure I might say the same" almost whispered Marian, in a chokedtone, under her bonnet. Caroline caught it up eagerly, and seizing herby both hands, exclaimed, stooping forward to peep at her face, "Marian, Marian, do you say so? And are you really not so very miserable atcoming back to us?"

A tear, one of Marian's very reluctant tears, actually rushed from hereye, and with a hard struggle to speak, she said, "Miserable! how canyou say so? You are so very kind to me. "

"And do you not hate us?" said Caroline, with, an arch look of delight, then softened into something of mournfulness. "Nay, I did not mean that;but you can bear to be with us after your own Agnes, --after those goodpeople, --after such a home as Fern Torr?"

"O, Caroline, this is very unlike my first coming to you!"

"Yes, I know we were not kind; we were not as we ought to have been toyou. "

"No, no, no; I was stiff and disagreeable; I would not be pleased, " saidMarian, forgetting all coldness but her own. 

"No wonder. O, Marian, " and Caroline's voice trembled, "no one knowsbetter than I do how much there is to be lamented in our ways of goingon, --how different our house is from Fern Torr. " Marian could not sayno. "You were too good for us; you are still, I would not see you likeus; but if we could make you comfortable enough to think Oakworthy notan exile, but something like a home, how glad I should be!"

Marian laid her hand on Caroline's arm; and, with an effort that costher a spasm in her throat, she said, "You have!" Not another word couldshe get out; but this was enough. Caroline kissed her for the first timein her life, except at the formal partings at bed-time, and there weretears on both their faces. After a time, Caroline broke into the floodof thoughts in her cousin's mind, by saying, playfully, "When folks aremissed, then they are mourned, people say; and I am sure you deserve thecompliment, for till you were gone, I never knew your value. How manysilly fancies of Clara's have flourished, for want of your indifferenceto put them down! How stupid it has been not to have you to read with, or talk to! How lonely the drawing-room has been, and nothing butnonsense if I went to the schoolroom. And then the boys, --Lionel hasbeen so unruly there was no bearing it, and grumbling for you every day;and Johnny, --O, Marian, do you know it is settled that Johnny goes tosea, after all?"

"Johnny! I know he wished it, but I thought Mrs. Lyddell never wouldmake up her mind to it. "

"Ah! there have been storms in the higher quarters, " said Caroline, withwould-be gaiety. "You are very lucky to have been away all this time, for it has been by no means a serene sky. You know, " she proceeded withgravity, "they say the times are bad; well, in the midst of papa'svexation at the tenants asking for a reduction of rent, in came a wholelot of Elliot's long bills, which made papa lecture Walter and me onewhole evening on economy, and caused him to be extremely annoyed witheverything and everybody, and to say mamma must give up her oppositionto Johnny's being a sailor; and I never saw mamma take anything soreally to heart. It has been very uncomfortable; and in the midst camethis business of poor Miss Morley, who had rather harder measure inconsequence. "

"Poor little woman! Well, she was very good-natured, " said Marian, gladto turn the conversation from this account of family matters, not givenin the pleasantest style, but rather as if Caroline was trying toconceal her real feelings by an air of satire. 

"She was like a child in authority. You see, we, who know her well, never think of blaming her as if she had originated the mischief; whilemamma, who never did know her, cannot be persuaded that she simplyyielded to Clara. "

"That is not exactly the object one desires in a governess, " saidMarian. "Well, poor thing! and how is Clara? is she very sorry?"

"I really can hardly tell. I have been vexed with Clara myself, to tellyou the truth; for I thought she acted shabbily. The blame passed overher, and lighted on Miss Morley; and she did not stretch out a hand tohelp her. Now Clara knew that it was wrong to read those books, just aswell as you or I; indeed, it was all her doing; and I could not bearto see, her thinking herself innocent, and led into the scrape by MissMorley. She did cry excessively, and was very unhappy when she foundMiss Morley was really going, and the parting was heart-rending; butthen the very next day, in spite of their confidential friendship, shebegan to disclose the poor woman's follies one after another, till I amquite tired of hearing of them. They must have grown much worse thanthey were in our time. I never knew then that she was always fancyingpeople were in love with her. "

"T wonder what she will do!"

"She would not be a bad governess where the mother looked after thechildren. Well, I hope she will soon get another situation, poor thing!"

"Yes, indeed, for I am afraid she never saved anything. "

"O, no, she frittered all her money away, and always was poor atquarter-day; and she has only that old aunt to take care of her. "

"Poor thing, poor thing! If she would but have been firmer. And is Clarato have another governess?"

"No, mamma thinks her too old; but I am sure I hope she is to developemore. I do not think you or I were like her at fifteen. "

"I think, " said Marian, meditatively, "that Miss Morley and Clara helpedwhat--was not wise in each other. "

"Yes, that is my hope, --that when Clara is out of her influence, she maygrow wiser. People's minds do grow at different times, you know. Poorlittle Clara! I want Walter to talk to her, but it is hard to bringabout; for they seem to have no common subject. Ours is a very oddhousehold; we all go our own ways in our own worlds. Papa and mamma eachhave their way; and Elliot his way. Walter stands alone too; then I am asort of connecting-link between the schoolroom set and mamma, --yes, andwith Walter too: while the three boys are a party by themselves. O, Marian, no wonder you did not like us. "

"Say no more of that, pray, Caroline. "

She made no answer, but after a pause, suddenly exclaimed, "Nothingwould matter, if it was not for Elliot. He is the root of all that hasgone wrong. "

"Is he at home?"

"No; he went last week, and the storm lulled then. O, Marian, I am wearyof it all! But it is one comfort that you are come. "

Caroline certainly looked very much harassed, and her words showed thatevery one had been out of temper, and she had been obliged to bear itall. Marian was very sorry, and felt quite fond of her, as she answered, with a kind tone, "Thank you. "

"Walter has been the only comfort; but then he has been very unhappytoo. I am afraid he knows more and worse of Elliot than he chooses totell me. And then he is so busy, --going up for his degree, you know, after the vacation, and so nervous about it, that I have not liked totalk to him about anything tiresome, because, poor fellow, he isquite worried enough already. Well, but now tell me about pleasanterthings--your pretty Agnes, how is she? and Gerald?--I wanted to haveseen more of him. Was not he in glory?"

"O, yes, " said Marian, as a pang shot through her at this recall of heranxieties. 

"And tell me the whole story of Saunders' wedding. "

The two cousins had so much to say, that the long reaches of white chalkroad and the bare downs had hardly time to pain Marian's eye; and shewas surprised so soon to find herself in the well-known street ofOakworthy. 

It was not a hopeful prospect with which to return, after so happy asummer as she had spent; and yet a degree of trouble gave Marian akindlier feeling towards the Lyddells. If it had not been for Gerald, she would have arrived at Oakworthy in a bright temper. Even now thediscontent had been expelled by the dispositions fostered by Mr. Wortley; and if there was a weight on her, it was not a burthen ofselfish repining, --the worst burthen of all. That Caroline had reallymissed her, --that Caroline loved her, --was a discovery that warmedher heart, and inclined her more than all before to look kindly onOakworthy, when she drove up to the door, and met Clara in the hall. 

Clara hung upon her, and overwhelmed her with kisses; Mrs. Lyddellreceived her just as she had done before; and Walter shook handscordially, as if he was very glad to see her again. The talk went onabout visits and engagements, and each moment made Marian feel that herSunday world had passed from her, and her workday world begun again. 

Clara came to her room with her, partly to see her new maid, and partlyto talk with her about Miss Morley; but Marian, not wishing to haveFanny immediately astonished by her random way of talking, gave a sortof stern look and sign, which silenced poor Clara on that subject. Therewere plenty more, however, and she talked on fast; indeed, Marian hadnot two minutes alone that whole evening, till, somewhere towardshalf-past eleven, her cousins bade her a final good-night. 

She had time at last to think over that parting with Gerald, which hadhung heavily on her all this time, without her being able to enter uponthe subject with herself. What did it mean? Was it so very bad a sign?Did it really confirm all her fears? or was it not possible that hemight have got into some chance difficulty? Might he not be careless andextravagant, without being seriously in fault? Yes; but this was but ofa piece with other things which she had observed. Alone, it might nothave been so alarming; but even apart from this, she could not be quitehappy about him, after all she had observed. And had she been weak? hadshe done what was bad for him? O, for some one to consult!--some oneunder whose charge to put him! Was it her own fault that she had missedthe opportunity with Mr. Wortley!

To pray for him was all that could be done, and it in some degreestilled that aching feeling in her heart. Yet, whenever she woke in thenight, she seemed to hear Caroline saying, "If it was not for Elliot!"with a foreboding that "If it was not for Gerald!" might be on hertongue in the same manner, for the rest of her life. 

Every time Gerald's name was mentioned, there was a pang; every timeshe thought of him in solitude, the fear and anxiety gained strength. Consciousness of ignorance added to its poignancy; and young as she was, it would be hard to describe how much suffering she underwent in secret, night after night, as she lay awake, in her perplexed musings on thatone absorbing thought. Yet they were like those vague nightly terrorsof wolves, darkness, or mysterious horrors, from which little childrenoften suffer so much, without revealing them, and entirely shake off byday; for Marian awoke in the morning to cheerfulness and activity, withspirits undepressed, full of interest in things around; and only whenreminded of her fears, secretly wincing at the sudden throb of pain. 

Marian's days were more at her own disposal than formerly. She might doas she pleased all the morning, --sit in her own room, and choose her ownoccupation; and she was just beginning to think over two or three brightplans of usefulness. She would make a series of copies, from prints, ofScripture subjects, for the Fern Torr children; she would translate somestories for them, and she had devised many other things to be done; whenCaroline one day said to her, "Marian, I don't know if it is asking agreat deal, but if you could sit with us sometimes in the morning, itwould be a great gain. Mamma wants me to read with Clara. Now, you knowI have no authority; and doing it for a lesson, as if it was for Clara'sgood, will only make her hate it, and pay no attention at all. But if weread together, as if it was for our own benefit, she will join in, andthink it a womanly thing. "

Marian smiled at the ingenuity of the scheme, such as she would havebeen a great deal too awkward, as well as too straightforward ever todevise. It was a case where "no" could not have been said, but therewere many ways of acting a no; and Marian was so sorry to give up theScripture drawings, the idea of which had greatly delighted her whenproposed by Agnes, that she had it in her heart to have backed out of itas often as she could. A little thought, however, convinced her, that tohelp Caroline's plans for her sister's good was the foremost duty, thatto avoid it would be positive wrong and unkindness; so she resolvedto lend herself to it with all her might, even though Agnes might bedisappointed. 

And pray, why should Agnes be disappointed? Why were the drawing andreading incompatible? Marian had taught herself to think it impossibleto do anything for Fern Torr, in public, for fear of being laughed at, or observed upon; and these drawings, which were of sacred subjects, andfurther involved some alterations of her own, would, she thought, beworse than any. She mused a long time whether this was right feeling orfoolish bashfulness, and decided at last that it was a little of theformer trying to justify a great deal of the latter, and that Carolineand Clara were not the same thing as Miss Morley and all the boys; sowith an effort, which, considering the occasion, was almost absurd inits magnitude, she brought her portfolio down, began to draw, and didnot experience anything unpleasant in consequence. It was one of herfirst practical lessons in the fancifulness of her shyness. Her cousinstook interest in what she was about, admired, and helped her to huntup subjects to make her series complete; indeed the three girls wereexceedingly comfortable together, and a pleasant, mutual good-feelingconstantly grew between them. Clara was certainly becoming less childishand silly when no longer nominally under the authority of Miss Morley, and the confidante of all her follies, but the companion of two sensiblegirls, young and bright enough to enter into all the liveliness abouther that was not silliness and a great deal that was, and to drive awaysome of her nonsense by laughing at it. 

The mornings were thus pleasant and satisfactory, the afternoons wereless certain to be agreeable. If there was a ride, it was delightful, if a walk, it was all very well; but there was a third contingency, towhich Marian had become liable, of being carried forth with her greencard-case on a morning visiting expedition by Mrs. Lyddell, and this wasone which required all her powers of resignation, though the misfortunewas much more imaginary than real. 

There were three chances of the way of spending the evening too. Thefirst, the family party alone, this was pretty well, and though notcharming, was by far the best; Mrs. Lyddell's talk was agreeable, and tosit with Caroline, and perhaps with the addition of Walter, at the smalltable, working, reading, and talking, was as quiet and comfortable a wayof passing the time as might be. A dinner party at home was next best, for she had her own quiet corners of conversation, and Walter wouldsometimes come and take shelter there too, and get into a talk, as wellas if the room were empty of company, sometimes better, because hismother could not hear him, and he was never so backward in telling hisreal mind, as in her hearing. Worst of all was a party from home, whereshe knew few persons, and disliked all she knew. 

Unhappily, this was generally her feeling towards all the neighbourhood;and though it may seem to be a strong expression, it is scarcely toomuch to say that in Marian's habitual frame she looked on every one thatcould be considered as company in the light of natural enemies, leaguedto prevent her walks and rides, to tease her, and to spoil her evenings. 

This was partly the result of her constitutional shyness, but it wouldhave gone off, by this time, if she had not fostered it by imbibing LadyMarchmont's exclusiveness. Marian would have been shocked to realize howshe despised and scorned her acquaintance--why? the answer would havebeen hard to find--because they were company--because they were theworld--because they were Mrs. Lyddell's society--because she wassuperior? How or why? She disdained them all, without knowing it, andfar less knowing why. She complied scrupulously with every rule offormal politeness, and had become a tolerable mistress, by rote, of suchcommon-place small talk as served to fulfil her part, and make her notfeel herself absurd, but this was all; she would not let herself bepleased or amused, she would not open her eyes to anything good oragreeable about the people, except a very few favoured ones, chieflyclergymen or their wives. 

It was very wrong, it was Marian's one great fault at this period of herlife, and it had the effect of making her almost disliked. Clara hadscarcely said too much in telling Agnes that her pride was oftenremarked, for Mrs. Lyddell's neighbours were just the people to fancypride where it was not, especially where the rank was superior to theirown. Tall, handsome, and outwardly self-possessed, Miss Arundel did notgain credit, from superficial observers, for shyness, and was lookedupon as a very haughty ungracious girl, while it was whispered that Mrs. Lyddell had had a great deal of trouble with her. 

The autumn passed on in this manner, and towards its close, Elliotreturned from shooting in Scotland, and announced that his friend, Mr. Faulkner, was coming to Oakworthy, to look at an estate, which was forsale in the neighbourhood. 

Mrs. Lyddell was pleased, and questioned her son about Mr. Faulkner'sthousands a-year; then turning to Marian, said, "Surely, Marian, you know him; I heard of your meeting him and LadyJulia at Lady Marchmont's. "

"Yes, " said Marian, with her face of rigidity. 

"Ah! yes, to be sure, he told me so, " said Elliot. 

"Any one but Marian would be impatient to know what he said of her, "said Caroline. 

"Do you want to know yourself, Caroline?" said Elliot; "shall I tellyou?"

"Yes, do, " said Caroline, in her curiosity, forgetting that Marian mightbe pained. 

"Ah! you ought to be warned if you want to set your cap at him, forshe has forestalled you. Let me see, what was it he said? O, that LadyMarchmont would scarcely be alone in her glory long, for, for such asliked the style of thing, her cousin was as perfect a piece of carvingin white marble as he ever had seen. "

White marble was certainly not the comparison for Marian's cheeks atthat moment; it was pain and horror to her even to hear that she hadbeen spoken of between Elliot and Mr. Faulkner, and to be told it inthis manner, in public, was perfectly dreadful. She could neither sinkunder the table nor run away, so with crimson face and neck, she kepther post on the sofa, and every one saw she was intensely annoyed. Elliot, who had told it in a mischief-making spirit, fancying he shouldmake his sister jealous, walked away, amusing himself with the notionthat he had sown the dragon's teeth; Caroline was very sorry to havecaused such painful blushes, yet was proud to hear of Marian's beingadmired; and Mrs. Lyddell said not a word, but worked on with a jerk ather thread, trying to persuade herself that she was not vexed that, asElliot said, her daughter had been forestalled. 

Marian did not recover herself sufficiently to say one word about Mr. Faulkner till she was in her own room, and then when Caroline came, topity her for her blushes, and apologize for having occasioned them, shesaid, "O! how I wish he was not coming!"

"Why, don't you like him in return for his admiration?"

"He is a horrible man!" said Marian. 

"Horrible, and why? What has he done to you? I am sure you are veryungrateful. "

"Don't talk of it, " said Marian, blushing furiously again, thenrecollecting that she might give rise to a suspicion that he had alreadysaid something to her, she added, "I don't--I don't mean anything aboutthat nonsense. "

"Well, but what do you mean? Is it really anything more than his beingElliot's friend, and having dared to--. "

"No, but Caroline, don't say anything about it; it was what I heardabout him at the Marchmonts. "

"O what?"

"It does not seem fair to tell how they talked over their guests, sodon't repeat it again, pray. "

"You seem to find it like having a tooth drawn. Well! I am sworn tosecrecy. I won't tell a living creature. "

"I am sure I know hardly anything, only that Lord Marchmont thinks verybadly of him, and was quite sorry he had been asked to dinner. And hespoke of his having taken up Germanism, and oh! Caroline, for a man'sfaith to be unsettled is the worst of all, for then there is nothing tofall back upon. "

Caroline stood by Marian's fire, looking thoughtful for some moments. "Yes, " she said, "you and Walter are in the same mind there, but it isnot like what I was brought up to think. Miss Cameron used to teach usthat the being in earnest in believing was the thing rather than theform of faith. "

"O, Caroline, that cannot be right. We have been commanded to hold oneform of faith, and it must be wrong to set up another and hold it. "

"Yes, but if people are not clear that only one was given to every one, and that just as we say it is?"

"Then it is very bad of them!" said Marian indignantly, "for I am surethe Bible is quite clear--one faith--the form of sound words--the faithonce delivered to the saints. "

"I am quite clear about it, " said Caroline. 

"O, of course, " said Marian, looking at her with a sort of alarm at herspeaking of the possibility as regarded herself of not being clear. 

"But if people are not clear, what are they to do?"

"I don't know, " said Marian, quickly; "only I hope I shall never haveanything to do with such people; I can't judge for them; I had rathernot think about them; it is of no use. "

"Of no use--what, not if you could do such a person good?"

"Only in this way, " said Marian, taking up her Prayer Book, and turningto the Collect for Good Friday. 

"Yes, but trying to convince?"

"I should be afraid. "

"Afraid! Marian, I am sure nothing could hurt your faith. "

"I would not try, " said Marian, shaking her head sadly. 

"But at that rate no one ever would be converted?"

"You forget that there are clergymen. "

"Yes, but other people have done good. "

"O yes, but not women by arguing. O no, no, Caroline, we never ought toput our weakness forward, as if it could guard the truth. You know thewrong side may find stronger arguments than we are able to do--mind Idon't say than can be found--of course truth is the strongest of all, but we may be overpowered, though the truth is not. We women should notstand out to argue for the truth any more than we should stand out tofight as champions in the right cause. "

"And is this the reason you never would argue?"

"I don't know--I mean no, it was only because I had nothing to say; Iknew when a thing was right, but could not tell why, and the more youasked, the more I did not know. "

"And do you know now?"

"Sometimes, " said Marian, "not often, but Mr. Wortley taught me somethings, and one grows up to others. But I could never explain even whenI know. "

"For instance--" said Caroline, laughing. 

"O that came, I don't know how. Have I said so much?"

"A great deal that is very nice. Good night, Marian. "

CHAPTER XII. 

 "She seemed some nymph in her sedan, Apparelled in exactest sort, And ready to be borne to court. "

 COWPER. 

Mr. Faulkner came at the time appointed, and Caroline, who had keptMarian's counsel, according to promise, was very curious to see how theywould behave towards each other. As to Marian, she was just what mightbe expected, --more cold, distant, and stately than she had ever been tothe most vulgar of Mrs. Lyddell's acquaintance. She gave a chilling bendto repel his attempt at shaking hands, made replies of the shortest whenhe tried to talk to her, and would not look up, or put on the slightestair of interest, at all the entertaining stories he was telling atdinner. 

The others were all extremely pleased with him. Elliot had never beforebrought home so agreeable a friend; a person who could talk of anythingbut hunting and racing was a new thing among his acquaintance, andevery one was loud in his praise. Caroline, from having been prejudicedagainst him by Marian's history, was more surprised than the others:and scolded Marian, in the evening, for not having told them how veryagreeable he was. 

"I never can think any one agreeable when I know there is hollownesswithin, " said Marian. 

"I suppose Lord Marchmont knows, " said Caroline, in a tone of annoyanceand of a little doubt; and there the conversation ended. 

Few people were ever more agreeable than Mr. Faulkner. He had readeverything, travelled everywhere, and was full of conversation suited toevery one. If Marain had not heard Lord Marchmont's account of him, shemust have liked him; but knowing what she did, she could and would not:looking at him something as Madame Cottin's Matilde first looked atMalek Adel, and not suffering herself to lose any of her horror. For thefirst day or two her frigidity was something wonderful, as she foundhim inclined to make attempts to cultivate her acquaintance; but shethoroughly succeeded in repelling him. He left off trying to talk toher; and one day when they were obliged to go in to dinner together, only exchanged the fewest and most formal of words with her, andpositively neglected her for his other neighbour. 

After this, Marian did not quite so much overdo her stateliness. Shecould afford to be like herself with the others, even when he was in theroom, though she never voluntarily took part in a conversation inwhich he was engaged, and her coldest air came over her whenever heapproached. And it was well for her she could be so; for he stayed morethan a fortnight, decided on buying the estate of High Down, and wasasked to come again and make his head-quarters at Oakworthy, whilesuperintending the alterations. All were sorry when he went; even theboys, whose first holiday week had been rendered very agreeable by hisgood nature. Johnny and Gerald vied with each other in his praise, heaping together a droll medley of schoolboy panegyrics; and Marian, notwishing to tell them of her objections, allowed that he had been verykind to them. 

The Christmas holidays passed, and left no change in the impression onher mind regarding Gerald; only she heard no news of her two sovereigns, and he did not so much as give her the opportunity of speaking to himalone. The heartache was growing worse than ever, and she was beginningto have a sort of desperate feeling that she would--she would--do sheknew not what--write to Mr. Wortley--write more strongly to Gerald thanshe had ever yet dared to do--when one morning, a foreign looking letterarrived, in handwriting she knew full well, though it had never beforebeen addressed to herself. There was company staying in the house, andMarian was not sorry it was impossible to read it at the breakfasttable. She did not know what she was eating or what she was saying, andran away with it as soon as she could, to enjoy it in her own room. Aletter from Edmund! Could it be possible, or could it--O disappointingthought!--be only some enclosure for her to forward. In alarm at theidea, she tore it open. A long letter, and quite certainly to herself;for there stood the three welcome words, "My dear Marian. " She glancedhastily down the first page, to make sure that there was nothing thematter; but no, it was all right--he wrote in his own lively style. Hebegan by saying it was so long since he had heard from England, that hewas growing afraid he was forgotten, and felt very small when the postcame in, and brought something for every one but him; and he was goingto try a fresh person, since he was growing desperate, and had sentappeals in vain to all his correspondents. He asked many questions abouthome friends, and about Marian herself; and then told much tointerest her about his own doings, his way of living, and his huntingexpeditions, with all the strange wild beasts with which they had madehim acquainted, and he concluded thus:--"I hope you will write soon, andthat you will be able to give me a flourishing account of Gerald. Hissilence may mean nothing, but it may also mean so much, that to hearhe is going on particularly well would be double satisfaction justat present. Therefore with a view to what passed in our last walk atOakworthy, tell me if you are completely satisfied with regard to him. "

It was a ray of light upon all Marian's perplexities; showing her whatcourse to take, and filling her with hope. Her confidence in Edmund'spower of setting everything right was still unchanged, and when Gerald'scase was fully before him, he would know how to judge, and what to do;it would all be safe and off her mind. She felt sure that this had beenthe very reason of his writing; and full of gratitude, and infinitelyrelieved, she opened her desk, as if to answer was the easiest and mostcomfortable thing in the world. 

She did not, however, get on quite as fast as she expected; she dreadedequally the saying too much, or too little, --the giving Edmund actuallya bad impression of her poor Gerald, or letting him think that there wasno cause for anxiety. Then she thought the best way would be merely togive the facts, and let him draw his own conclusions; but these factswere in themselves trifles light as air, and it seemed unkind to sendthem across half the world. She left off trying to write, and resolvedto give herself time for consideration; but time only made her moreperplexed. She waited a week, wrote at last, and as soon as her letterwas fairly gone, thought of forty different ways of saying the thingbetter and more justly, dwelt again and again on each line that couldconvoy a false impression one way or the other, and reproached herselfby turns for having spoken disadvantageously of her dear affectionatebrother, and for not having let her cousin fairly see the full extent ofthe mischief. On the whole, however, she was much happier now that itwas all in Edmund's hands; so much so, that when Mr. Faulkner cameagain, she could not be quite so stiff; and being entirely relievedfrom the fear of his taking notice of her, could do him the favour oflaughing when he told anything amusing. 

Winter and early spring came and went; the Easter holidays broughtGerald home, and she tried again in vain to get him to write to Edmund;but she could bear it better now that she had hopes. 

They went to London, and Marian was carried into the midst of all thegaieties supposed to befit her age and situation. Mrs. Lyddell wouldhave thought herself very far from "doing her justice, " if she hadnot taken her to all the balls and parties in her way; and Marian wasobliged to submit, and get into the carriage, when she had much ratherhave gone to bed. 

She put off the expectation of much enjoyment till Lady Marchmont shouldcome, and her arrival took place unusually late that season. She hadnot been well, and little Willie had been somewhat ailing; so that thebringing him into London air was put off as long as possible. It was nottill the latter part of May that she came, as she had always promised todo, in time for Marian's presentation at court, on which both she andMrs. Lyddell were bent; and Marian ready to endure it, by the help of afew romantic thoughts of loyalty. The day after Lady Marchmont arrived, she called at Mrs. Lyddell's and came in, as she generally did once ina year. After her visit was over, she asked Marian to come and take adrive, and no sooner where they in the carriage, than she exclaimed, "Anice looking girl, that Miss Lyddell! Is she the one who is to marry Mr. Faulkner?"

"O, Selina! how could you have heard such nonsense?"

"What, is it to be denied? It is not settled, then?"

"No, nor ever will be. "

"Why, surely the man has been spending months at Oakworthy. "

"Only weeks; besides, he was buying a house. "

"A very proper preliminary to a wife. "

"O, no, no it is impossible!"

"But why? Perhaps you know some good reason to the contrary; for I heardhe admired you very much when he met you last year. "

"Don't say such things, Selina. How could you fancy it possible, afterall the horrid things Lord Marchmont said of him!"

"What is impossible, my dear? That he should think you very handsome?"

"Don't, Selina, pray don't! That any body good for any thing should evermarry him!"

"Any body good for any thing!" repeated Selina. "Well, granted, --andit is a considerable grant, --does that make the supposition out of thequestion?"

"Yes, as regards Caroline. O, Selina! you do not know Caroline, or youwould not look so incredulous!"

"Time will show, " said Lady Marchmont, gaily. "I reserve to myself thesatisfaction of having known it beforehand. "

"It never will be, " said Marian. "And how is little Willie?"

"Very well, poor little man, if he would only grow, but he is so small, that I am fairly ashamed to show such a hop-o'-my-thumb. But he iscoming out quite a genius; he reads as well as I do, and makes thewisest speeches. "

And the history of his wise speeches occupied them for some time, withother matters, until just as their drive was nearly concluded, Selinaexclaimed, "But all this time I have never asked you if you can throwany light on this extraordinary step of Edmund Arundel's?"

"What do you mean?" cried Marian. 

"Have you not heard that he has exchanged, and is coming home? The mostfoolish thing, --just as he might have been sure of promotion. It is notlikely to be health, for the climate agreed very well with him. "

"Yes, " assented Marian, wrapt in her own thoughts; "but did he write toyou?"

"Not a word; we only saw it in the Gazette, and Lord Marchmont wouldhardly believe it could be he; but it was but too plain, --LieutenantEdmund Gerald Arundel. It is very strange; he was not wont to do foolishthings. "

"No, " said Marian, mechanically. 

"And you know nothing about it? You know him better than we do. Hoseemed the very man for the Colonies, with no ties at home, unless--no, it is impossible--unless there could be a lady in the case. "

"O, no!" replied Marian colouring so much at the secret consciousness ofhis motive, that Selina laughed, saying, "I could almost suspect you, inspite of your demureness, of being the very lady. However, I am glad youthink there is no truth in my surmise, for he could not do a more absurdthing than marry. Only when a man gives up all his prospects in thisway, there is nothing too preposterous to be expected to come next. "

By this time they were at Mrs. Lyddell's door, and Marian gladlyescaped, feeling stunned at the effect her letter had produced. Hownoble, how kind, how generous, how self-devoted Edmund was! this was theprominent thought. She knew him to be very fond and very proud of hisregiment, to be much attached to several of his brother officers, and tohave given them more of his affection than persons with home interestsgenerally do; indeed, they had served him instead of home. All hissuccess in life, and his hopes of promotion, given up too, --sacrificeswhich she could not estimate; and it was she who had caused them. Shehad thoughtlessly led him to do himself all this injury, out of hiskindness and affection, and his sense of duty towards her and herbrother. She was very unhappy when she thought of this; then came thebright ray of joy and relief in hope and confidence for Gerald, --Geraldsaved, saved from corruption, ruin, from being like Elliot, frombreaking her heart, made all that his father and mother would have madehim, her pride, her delight, the glory and honour of Fern Torr, --O, joy, joy! And the mere seeing Edmund again, --joy, joy! Yes, the joy farpredominated over the pain and regret; indeed, be the injury to himselfwhat it might, who could be sorry that he had acted so nobly? Yes, Marian was happy; her eyes were bright, her smile frequent; she laughedwith Clara, she romped with little Willie Marchmont, she was ungraciousto none but Mr. Faulkner who came to the house so much, that she beganto fear that Caroline might have the annoyance of an offer from him, more especially since he had made his mother and sister call on Mrs. Lyddell, and Miss Faulkner seemed to intend to be intimate. 

The day of the drawing-room had come; Mrs. Lyddell and Caroline weregoing, and Marian was of course to go with Lady Marchmont. She had justbeen full dressed, and had come down stairs to wait for Lady Marchmont'scarriage, when a step was heard approaching. She thought it was theservant, to announce it; it was the servant, but the announcement wasnot what she expected. It was "Mr. Arundel, "--and Edmund stood beforeher, browner, thinner, older, but still Edmund himself. 

She could not have spoken; she only held out her hand, and returned hisstrong pressure with all the force her soft fingers were capable of. Mrs. Lyddell spoke, he answered, explanations were given and received, and still she stood as if she was dreaming, until he turned to her, andsaid, "Well, Marian, these are transformations indeed?"

"I can't help it, " said Marian. 

"Do you think I want you to help it? I suppose I need not ask if theMarchmonts are in town?"

"Lady Marchmont presents Marian, " said Mrs. Lyddell; "we expect hercarriage every minute. "

And just then the announcement really came. 

"Her carriage, not herself?" said Edmund. "Well, I think I might gowith you to her house, Marian, if your feathers are not ashamed of suchshabby company. "

"O, pray come!"

"And you will return to dinner, I hope, Mr. Arundel, " said Mrs. Lyddell, "at half-past seven? Mr. Lyddell will be so glad to see you. "

Edmund accepted the invitation, and the two cousins went down stairstogether. As soon as they were in the carriage, Edmund said, "A luckymoment to come in. It is something to have seen you in all yoursplendour. You have grown into something magnificent!"

"All this finery makes me look taller than I really am. "

"Nevertheless, however you may try to conceal it, I am afraid you haveturned into the full grown cat. I saw it in your letter. "

"O, Edmund, I am so sorry I wrote that letter. "

"Why? Are you happier about Gerald?"

"No, I don't know that I am, " said Marian, sighing; "but--but I littlethought it would make so much difference to you. I did not know what Iwas doing. "

"I am glad of it, or you would not have written so freely; though afterall you could not have helped being like a sensible straightforwardperson. "

"O, it is untold relief that you are come; and yet I must be sorry--"

"I won't have you sorry. No one should regret having told the honesttruth. The fact is, I ought never to have gone. And poor Gerald?"

"I have no more to say, only vague fears. But now you are come, it isall right. "

"Don't trust too much to me, Marian. Remember, it will be a generousthing in Gerald if he attends to me at all. He is not obliged to do so. "

"You will--you must do everything. Gerald is as fond of you as ever, Iknow he is, though he would not write. O, I am glad! You heard of ourdelightful going home, I hope?"

"Yes. All well there?" said Edmund, hurriedly. 

"Very well. Agnes is grown so tall, and it is so very nice there. Theold Manor house--"

"Well, " he broke in suddenly; "and how do you get on with SelinaMarchmont. "

"She is very, very kind. But O! here we are in her street, and I shallhave no more of you to-day. "

"Not at dinner?"

"O; it is a great, horrid party, as Mrs. Lyddell should have warnedyou. "

"Could not I take you in to dinner?"

"I am afraid not. Mrs. Lyddell will never treat me as if I was at home, and I am afraid there is an honourable man that I must be bestowed on. "

They had reached Lady Marchmont's door, and going up stairs, found herlooking like a princess in a fairy tale, in her white plumes and herdiamonds; and Willie, the smallest, most delicate, and prettiest oflittle boys, admiring the splendours of his papa's yeomanry uniform. 

In spite of being considerably provoked with Edmund for having comehome, Lord and Lady Marchmont welcomed him with as much warmth as ifit was the most prudent thing he could have done. They insisted on hiscoming to stay at their house, and as it was full time to set off, lefthim to see about his worldly goods being transported thither. 

"Has he told you his reason, Marian?" asked Selina, as soon as the twoladies and their trains were safely disposed of, in the carriage. 

"I know them, " said Marian, her colour rising, "and most noble they are;but I had rather let him tell you himself. "

"Marian's discretion again, " said Lord Marchmont, smiling. 

"Only set me at rest on one point, " said Selina; "it is no love affair, I hope?"

"No, indeed, " said Marian; "or do you think he would have told me?"

Probably there were few young ladies who played their part that day inthe drawing-room, that last remnant of the ancient state and majesty ofour courts, with happier minds, or less intent on their own appearance, than Marian Arundel. She was very glad when the bustle and crowd wereover, and she could be alone to enjoy the certainty that Edmund wasreally at home again. 

He came according to promise that evening, but she could not have muchconversation with him, as he was placed at a distance from her, thegreater part of the time. He was not sorry to be thus able to watch her, though he did not see her in the point of view in which she pleased himbest. She looked better now, he thought, than in the court dress; forthe broad, simple, antique braids of her dark hair, only adorned by twolarge pearl pins, suited better than the plumes and lappets, with thecast of her classical features. All that he had thought promisedbeauty, as a child, had fulfilled the promise, and the countenance, theexpression, would have been fine, seen on a much plainer face, and asshe eat there, her black, shady eyes cast down, her dark pencilledeyebrows contrasting with her colourless cheek, and her plain whitedrapery in full folds, flowing round her, she might have been somemajestic lady in a mysterious picture, who had stepped from her frameinto a scene belonging to another age. She looked as if she was acting atableau; she moved, indeed, and smiled, and spoke occasionally; but thequeen-like deportment of her neck did not relax; her lips resumed theirstatue-like expression; there was no smile about the eye, no interestin the air. She was among the company, but not of them; neither shy norformal, but as if she belonged to some other sphere, and had only comethere by mistake. Edmund could have counted the times, for they werefew enough, when her head bent forward with eagerness, and there wasanimation in her face. 

How different from Caroline! her brightly coloured, blooming facesparkling with life and light; flowers among her light, shining hair;her dress of well-chosen, tasteful, brilliant tints, ornament, laceand ribbon, all well assorted in kind and quantity, her alert, livelymovements carrying her from one group to another, with somethingpleasant and appropriate to say to all, bringing smiles and animationwith her wherever she went. Not that Edmund did not prefer his cousin'ssevere simplicity, and admire it as something grand; but that sterngrandeur was not all that fitted the place; and though he thought herbeautiful, he was not satisfied. 

Edmund had some talk with Mrs. Lyddell, who spoke of Gerald with greatwarmth; more, he thought, than she showed in the mention of Marian. Hestayed till the last, and saw the relaxation of her grand company-face, before he wished them good night. 

"Well, " said Mrs. Lyddell, as the door closed behind him, and shelighted her candle, "Africa has not robbed Mr. Arundel of all his goodlooks. How old is he?"

"Nearly twenty-eight, " said Marian. 

"I am always forgetting that he is so young, " said Mrs. Lyddell. "Well, good night. I wonder what brought him home?"

"I do not wonder, for it is plain enough, " said Caroline, as the girlsturned up their own staircase. 

"Marian tries to look innocent, " said Clara, laughing violently. 

"I am sure I don't understand, " said Marian. 

"Now I am sure that is on purpose to make us explain, " said Clara. "Itis too bad, Marian; when he came straight to you, instead of going toLady Marchmont. "

"And the tête-à-tête in the carriage, " said Caroline. 

"Don't be so ridiculous, " said Marian; "but I believe you like suchjokes so well, that you would make them out of anything. "

"I don't make a joke of it at all. I always thought it was with thatvery view, he was made your guardian. "

"You very absurd persons, good night!" said Marian, shutting her door, and laughing to herself at such a very ludicrous idea as such a schemeon the part of her father. 

These kind of jokes, of which some people are still very fond, may bevery hurtful, since a young girl's inexperience may found far more uponthem than the laughers ever intended. Caroline and Clara were not actinga kind part, though they were far from any unkind meaning. Marian hadgreat susceptibility and deep affections; and had her mind been lessstrong, her happiness might have been seriously injured. Even if theirobservations had no real meaning, and no effect on her heart, yet theycould not fail to occasion her many moments of embarrassment, and mightinterfere with her full, free confidence in her best and earliestfriend. 

In some degree they had this result. Marian began to be aware that hersituation with Edmund was not without awkwardness, --that he was stilla young man, and that she was now a young woman; and whilst shockedat herself, and disliking the moment that had opened the door to thethought, was obliged to consider how far there might be truth in thesuggestion. 

She was quite sure that she had influenced him strongly, quite sure thathe regarded her with warm affection; she wished she was equally sure itwas with a brother's love. Yes, she wished, for to think otherwise wouldlower him in her estimation. He was her first cousin, and if firstcousins had better not marry he would never think of it; besides, themerit of his sacrificing all for Gerald's good would be lost, andhis return would have been an act of self-gratification instead ofself-devotion. No, she would not, could not believe any such thing; shewas certain Edmund never would be so weak as to wish to do anything onlydoubtfully right, and thus, strangely enough, her full trust in thedignity of his character, prevented her from imagining him in love withher. 

Still she knew her cousins were watching her, and this prevented herfrom ever meeting him in thorough comfort at Mr. Lyddell's; and evenwhen at Lord Marchmont's, her maidenly reserve had been so far awakenedas to make her shrink back from the full freedom of their formerintercourse. This, however, was more in her feeling than in her manners, which, if they differed at all from what they were formerly, only seemedto be what naturally arose from her growth in years. 

She observed that he was not in good spirits. It was not what others, not even Selina, could perceive, but Edmund and Marian had known eachother too well and too long, not to read each other's faces, and knowthe meaning of each other's tones. She did not expect him to be as merryas in olden days at home, nor did she desire it; but there was moredepression about him than she thought comfortable, and she was sure thatit was an effort to him to talk in the lively way that had once beennatural to him. She was afraid he felt the separation from his friendsin his old regiment very severely, or else that he was very anxiousabout Gerald, and yet she had found out that the tenderest point of allwas Fern Torr, for he either would not or could not speak of that, butalways contrived to turn the conversation as soon as it was touchedupon. She grieved over his unhappiness a great deal, and yet would notenter on any questioning, from an innate feeling, that it would notbe becoming. He was only to stay a very short time in London, beforejoining his regiment at Portsmouth, and he meant to go and spend a dayat Eton to see Gerald, but Lady Marchmont suddenly proposed that theyshould all go together; she said she must inspect Eton before MasterWillie was ready to go, and that it would be a charming scheme to takeMarian and surprise Gerald. Marian had a few secret doubts whether thiswas exactly the most suitable way of fulfilling Edmund's intentions, but it was so delightful a treat that she laid aside her scruples, andSelina coaxed her husband into finding a day to accompany them. 

So one fine June morning, the day before Edmund's departure, they setoff, Selina's high spirits and Marian's happiness giving the party avery joyous aspect. Father Thames looked as stately and silvery as ever, the playing fields smiled in the sunshine, and Windsor Castle lookeddown on them majestically. Marian felt it a holiday to have escaped fromLondon into so fair a scene, and even if she had come for nothing else, would have been happy in beholding some of the most honoured spots inthe broad realm of England. 

She had many questions to ask, but Lord Marchmont was taken up withshowing his old haunts to his wife, and she was walking some distance infront, with Edmund, on whose face there was an expression of melancholythought that she would not disturb. He was an Etonian, and how fall ofremembrances must all be around him. 

Presently two or three boys met them running, and were passing them, when Marion exclaimed, "There is Lionel!" "Lyddell!" called Edmund, andone of them stopped, so taken by surprise that Marian was for a momenthorrified by thinking she had mistaken him; but the next glancere-assured her, for she knew Lionel's way of standing, and his hatpulled far over his forehead. 

"Lionel, " said she, "where is Gerald?"

"Hallo! You here!" said he, wheeling round so that the light might notbe in his eyes, and shading them with one hand while he tried to makeout Edmund, and gave his other hand to Marian. 

"How did you come here? Are any of the people at home here?"

"No, this is my cousin Edmund. I am come with the Marchmonts. "

"You have quite forgotten me, " said Edmund, shaking hands. 

"Not if I could see you, " said Lionel, frowning at the light, as helooked up. 

"O, Lionel, how bad your eyes are!" exclaimed Marion. 

"I have just been reading, and there is such a _hideous_ sunshineto-day, " said Lionel. 

"And where is Gerald?"

"I'll go and fetch him. "

"Where is he?"

"I'll find him, " and off he ran, with a fresh pull of his hat over hisforehead to keep off the hideous sunshine. The Marchmonts came up at themoment, and were told who he was, and that he was gone to find Gerald. Edmund asked what was the matter with his eyes. 

"They are never very good, " said Marian. "Reading and strong lightalways hurt them. "

"Has he had any advice?"

"The surgeon at Oakworthy looked at them last Christmas, when the snowdazzled them, but he did not think there was much amiss with them. Itwas always so. But where can Gerald be?"

In the space of about five minutes, Gerald and Lionel appeared, and theformer came up to them alone, with a look which had more of shyness thanof pleasure, and his greeting, while more courteous, was less open andcordial than Lionel's had been. They all went together to the house ofthe boys' tutor, who had also been Edmund's; there was a great maze oftalking and introductions: Lady Marchmont made herself very charming tothe mistress of the house: Edmund and the tutor disappeared together, and did not come back till the others had nearly finished a mosthospitable luncheon; after which the visitors set out to see all thatthere was time to see, and Marian caused Gerald to fetch Lionel toaccompany them. 

Lionel walked with Edmund and Marian, but Gerald on the other handattached himself to Lord and Lady Marchmont, talking to them freely andpleasantly, answering Selina's questions, much to her amusement andsatisfaction, and Lord Marchmont comparing notes with him, as oldEtonians delight to do with "the sprightly race, disporting" for thetime being, on the "margen green" of Father Thames. A particularlylively, pleasant, entertaining, well-mannered boy was Gerald, but, allthe time, Marian was feeling that he was holding aloof both from her andEdmund, never allowing either of them the opportunity of speaking to himalone, for even a minute; and his manner, whenever Edmund either spoketo him or looked at him, was such as to betray to her that he was ill atease. 

Thus it was while they viewed the chapel, the court, with what Selinawas pleased to call "Henry's holy shade, " the upper school, the hundredsteps, the terrace, and beautiful S. George's, with its gorgeous bannersand carved stalls, and blazoned shields, that glimpse into the Gothicworld of chivalry and romance; and in the midst of it that simple flatstone, which thrills the heart with a deep feeling at once of love, sorrow and reverence; that stone which recalls the desolate night which, in darkness and ruin, amid torn banners, and scutcheons riven, saw theMartyr king go white to his grave. Marian entered into all these things, in spite of her anxiety, for her mind was free enough to be open toexternal objects, now that her brother was in Edmund's hands, and shewas relieved of that burthen of responsibility which had so pressed onher. 

Such was their Eton day, and with no more satisfaction from Gerald didthey part at the Slough station. The Marchmonts were loud in his praise, Marian sought the real opinion in Edmund's eyes, but he was leaningback, looking meditative, and when first he roused himself to enter intoconversation, it was of Lionel and not of Gerald that he spoke. 

"Do you say that any one has looked at that boy's eyes?"

"Yes, Mr. Wells, the Oakworthy apothecary. "

"Do you know what is thought of him?"

"I don't know, " said Marian considering. "He attends a good many people, I believe he is thought well of; but no one ever is ill at home, so Ihave no experience of him. Yes, he was called in once when we all hadthe measles, and last winter about Lionel's eyes. I am sure I don't knowwhether he is what you would call a good doctor or not; all I know is, that he is not at all like Dr. Oldham. "

Edmund smiled. "Has Mrs. Lyddell not been uneasy?"

"O no!" said Marian. "No one ever troubles their head about Lionel, besides it was always so. "

"Always how?"

"His eyes were always weak, and easily tired and dazzled, from the veryfirst when I knew him. They don't look as if there was anything amisswith them, and so people don't suspect it. "

"I think they do look very much amiss, " said Edmund. "Do not you observean indistinctness about the pupil, between it and the iris? Can you tellwhether that was always the case?"

"I don't know, I see what you mean. I should say it had begun of late. Do you think it so bad a sign?" she asked anxiously. 

"I am not sure; I only know if he belonged to me, I should not like itat all. "

Marian pondered and feared, and considered if it would be possibleto stir up Mrs. Lyddell; she herself was much startled, and ratherindignant; but she doubted greatly whether poor Lionel was of sufficientimportance in the family for any one to be very anxious on his account. In the meantime, she was extremely desirous of hearing what accountEdmund had received from the tutor respecting her brother, but she hadno opportunity till late in the evening, when he came and sat by her onthe sofa, saying, "Now, Marian, I will answer your anxious eyes, thoughI am afraid I have nothing very satisfactory to tell you. I don't knowthat there is any positive harm--it is only the old story of a cleverboy with too much money, and too much left to himself. Idleness andthoughtlessness. "

"And what shall you do?"

"I don't know--I must think. "

Whereupon they both sat silent. 

"I shall see you again in the summer, " said he. 

"O yes--perhaps you will come in Gerald's holidays. "

Another silence, then she said, "Do you think very badly of poorLionel's eyes?"

"No, I don't say that, for I know nothing, only I wonder his family arenot more anxious. "

"I shall see if Mrs. Lyddell will believe there is cause for alarm. "

The carriage was announced, she wished him good-bye again, thanked hercousins for her pleasant day, and departed, wondering to herself how itcould have been a pleasant day, as after all it had been, in spite ofdoubt and anxiety and care. 

She told Mrs. Lyddell when she came in, that she had seen Lionel. 

"How were his eyes?" asked Caroline. 

"I am afraid they were more dazzled than usual. "

No one said anything, and after a pause she went on. "Edmund remarkeda sort of indistinctness about the pupil, which he said was not a goodsign. "

"What was that?" said Mr. Lyddell looking up, and Marian, startled, yetglad to have attracted his notice, repeated what she had said. "Did notWells look at his eyes last winter?" he said, turning to his wife. 

"Yes, he said he could not see anything the matter with them--they mustbe spared--and he sent a mixture to bathe them. Lionel has been using itcontinually. "

"How would it be to have him up here to see some one?" said Mr. Lyddell. 

"Better wait for the holidays, " answered his wife. "It would be theworst thing possible to set him thinking, about his eyes in the middleof the half-year. Little as he does now, it would soon be less, and hiseyes have kept him back so much already that he really cannot afford tolose any more time. "

There it ended, Mrs. Lyddell was not to be alarmed; she had been toolong used to prosperity even to contemplate the possibility that harmshould come nigh to her or to her dwelling. Mr. Lyddell, who left allfamily matters to her, forgot all about it, and though Marian talkedCaroline into some fears on the subject, Caroline could do no more thanshe could herself. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

 "_Benedict_. What, my dear Lady Disdain, are you yet living?"

 "_Beatrice_. Is it possible Disdain should die while she has such meet food to feed her?"

 _Much Ado about Nothing. _

The Lyddell family did not continue in London much longer; it had been ashort season, and though the session of Parliament was not over, mostof the ladies were taking flight into the country, before the end ofJune, --Mrs. Lyddell among the rest, --and her husband went backwards andforwards to London, as occasion called him. 

The girls were glad to get into the country, but Marian soon found thatshe had not escaped either from gaieties, or from the objects of heraversion; for Mr. Faulkner brought his mother and sisters to High DownHouse, gave numerous parties there, and made a constant interchange ofcivilities with the family at Oakworthy. Archery was pretty much thefashion with the young ladies that year; it was a sport which Marianliked particularly, having often practised it with Edmund and Agnes, andher bow and arrows were always the first to be ready. 

One day when Marian, Caroline, and Clara were shooting on the lawn atOakworthy, Mr. And Miss Faulkner rode from High Down, came out on thelawn, and joined them. From that moment, any one could see the changethat came over Marian. Instead of laughing and talking, teaching Clara, and paying only half attention to her own shooting, she now went on asif it was her sole object, and as if she had no other purpose in life. She fixed her arrows and twanged her string with a rigidity as if thetarget had been a deadly enemy, or her whole fate was concentrated inhitting the bull's eye; and when her arrows went straight to the mark, or at least much straighter than those of any one else, she neverturned her head, or vouchsafed more than the briefest answer to theexclamations around. 

The others were talking of archery in general and in particular, --justwhat, if it had not been Mr. Faulkner, would have delighted her; butshe would not hear him. He might speak of the English long-bow, andthe cloth yard-shaft, and the butts at which Elizabeth shot, and thedexterity required for hitting a deer, and of the long arrow of theIndian, and the Wourali reed of South America, --as long as he spoke itwas nothing to her, let Caroline smile and answer, and appeal to her asmuch she would. Then came a talk about archery meetings and parties, inwhich at last they all grew so eager, that they stood still round thereturn target, and Marian could not shoot back again without perillingthem; so she unstrung her bow, and stood apart with a stern face, whichmade her look a great deal more like Diana, than she by any meanssuspected or desired. 

Two days after, there came a note from Miss Faulkner, --Julia, as she hadrequested to be called, --saying that her brother was so delighted withthe archery schemes that had been discussed, that he could not give themup, and intended to give a grand fête at High Down, --archery in themorning, a ball in the evening, and all the ladies who liked, to be incostume. She ended by begging Caroline to come to luncheon that day, orthe next, to enter into council on the subject. There was great delight;such an entertainment was quite a novelty in the neighbourhood, and thecostume seemed to make it all the more charming in the eyes of Caroline, Clara, and their mother; all were talking at once, and wondering what itcould or should be, while Marian went on reading imperturbably withoutone remark. 

"It ought to be in Robin Hood's time, if only for the sake of MaidMarian, " said Caroline. "She will be quite sure to win the prize. "

"O yes, that she will, " said Clara; "she shoots so much better than anyone else. "

"I shall not shoot in public, " said Marian, looking up for a moment, andthen going on with her book. 

"You will do nothing to make yourself particular, " said Mrs. Lyddell:"it will be very silly to set your face against this fête, when everyone knows how fond you are of archery. "

"We don't know anything yet about what is to be, " said Caroline, quickly; and at that moment Elliot, coming in, offered to ride with herto High Down, whereupon she hastened to get ready. Such an obligingoffer from her brother was certainly too uncommon a thing to beneglected, in spite of the unwonted graciousness and amiability whichElliot had for the last few weeks assumed towards her. 

When she was gone, Marian and Clara resumed their ordinary occupations, and one of them at least troubled herself no more about the fête, until, shortly before dinner time, Elliot, Caroline, and Mr. Faulkner all rodeup to the front door. Mr. Faulkner, it appeared, was come to dinner, andto carry on the consultation, since he was extremely eager about thescheme, and no time was to be lost in sending out the invitations. The Sherwood Forest plan had been talked over, and abandoned as toocommon-place. It was to be a Kenilworth fête; eight young ladies of LadyJulia's especial party were to appear in the morning in a pretty uniformdress, a little subdued from the days of the ruff and farthingale; andin the evening there was to be a regular Kenilworth quadrille, in whicheach lady or gentleman was to assume the dress of some character ofQueen Elizabeth's court. In fact, as Mr. Faulkner said;--

 "Gorgeous dames and statesmen bold In bearded majesty appear. "

Amy Robsart, Katherine Seymour, Anne Clifford, Frances Walsingham, Mildred Cecil, and other ladies of the time were mentioned, and thencame the counting up of their eight living representatives, --the twoMisses Faulkner, Caroline, yes, and Clara herself, who started anddanced with ecstasy, then glanced entreatingly at her mother, who lookeddoubtful; Marian, two cousins of the Faulkners, who were always readyfor anything, and a Miss Mordaunt, were reckoned up, and their dressesquickly discussed; but all the time Marian said not a word. She wasthinking of the waste of time and consideration, the folly, levityand vanity, the throwing away of money, all this would occasion, andenjoying in her own mind the pleasure of resisting it _in toto_. Shesupposed she must go to the archery meeting, though why people couldnot be contented to shoot on their own lawns, instead of spoiling theirpleasure by all this fuss, she could not guess; but make a show ofherself and her shooting, be stared at by all the world, --that she wouldnever do. Nor would she make a figure of herself at the ball, and spendthe money which she wanted very much for her poor people and herbooks, now that her court dress and London finery had eaten up such anunconscionable share of her allowance. Increased as it was, she hadnever felt so poor as at present; she wanted Mrs. Jameson's "Sacred andLegendary Art" for herself, and there were all the presents to be sentto the old people at Fern Torr; and should these be given up for thesake of appearing as the fair Anne Clifford, or some such person, forone evening, during which she would be feeling most especially unnaturaland uncomfortable? No indeed! and she trusted that she had a very goodand sufficient defence against all such foolery, in the slight mourningwhich she was wearing for one of the Marchmont connection. True, she hadthought of leaving it off next Sunday, but no matter; it would be sucharmour as was not to be lightly parted with; and if she went to the ballat all, it should never, never be as the heiress of the Cliffords, butas the faithful mourning relation of old Mr. Thomas Marchmont, hersecond cousin once removed, whom she had never beheld in her life, andwho would have been dead at least nine weeks by the time it took place. 

She said nothing about it in the drawing-room; but when they went upstairs, she told Caroline not to reckon upon her, for she should be inmourning, and could not wear a fancy dress. Caroline looked much vexed. "It was a great pity, " she said, "and Julia Faulkner wished it to beall their own set. Besides, would not Marian shoot, --she who did it sowell?"

"O, no, no, I could do no such thing with all those people staring. "

"Not even for a silver arrow? You would be sure to win it. "

"I should be ashamed of the very sight of it ever after. O no! I shouldlike--at least I should not mind seeing it all as a spectator, but as tomaking a part of the show, never, never, Caroline!"

"Well, I know it is of no use to try to persuade you!" said Caroline, with a little annoyance in her tone. "Good night. "

Lady Julia, with her son and daughter, came to call the next day. Marianthought herself fortunate in not being in the drawing-room. She put onher bonnet, slipped out at the garden door, and walked away with a bookin her hand, to the remotest regions of the park, where she sat downunder a thorn-tree, and read Schiller's Thirty Years' War with a sort ofexemplary diligence and philosophy, till it was so late that she thoughtherself perfectly secure of the Faulkners' being gone. Yet she only justmissed them, for their carriage was driving off at one door, as shereached the other. 

"Where have you been, Marian?" was the first greeting. 

"I have been walking to the old thorn. "

"O, have you? We hunted for you everywhere in the house: we would hardlybelieve Fanny when she said you were gone out, for I knew you meant towalk with us. "

"I thought you would be engaged so long that it was not worth while towait for you. "

"Well, but did you know you had missed the Faulkners?" said Clara. 

"I knew they were here. "

Every one understood this except Clara, and very little did it pleaseMrs. Lyddell or Caroline. 

"Marian, " said Mrs. Lyddell, "you really must not be so absurd aboutthis matter. Your mourning is nothing. You need not be wearing it evennow; and it will annoy Lady Julia, and put her to serious inconvenience, if you continue to refuse. "

"I am sure I do not wish to inconvenience her, " said Marian; "but theremust be many young ladies who would be only too happy to take the part. "

"Of course, " said Mrs. Lyddell, "any one else would rejoice to be asked;but the point is, that it is so unpleasant to admit any thing of astranger into the intimacy these things occasion. "

"I am almost a stranger to them. "

"Yes, but not to us, Marian, " said Clara. "You have known them as long, or longer than we have; and you would look so very well. Lady Julia saidherself that such a distinguished face and figure as yours would set thewhole thing off to advantage. "

Caroline well knew this was but the way to make Marian still moredetermined against it. She held her tongue through all the persuasionsof her mother and Clara; and trusting a little, but not much, to thesuperior influence which she knew herself to possess, she followedMarian to her room, and began, --"Marian, are you still resolute againstthis unfortunate archery? because, if you do not really think it amatter of right and wrong, I should be very much obliged to you if youwould only yield. "

It was not so easy to withstand Caroline speaking in this way, as Mrs. Lyddell almost scolding and Clara talking nonsense; but Marian had madeup her mind, and would not let herself be shaken. "I don't think I can, "was her answer. 

"Will you say whether you really think it wrong?"

"I don't know. " Not her considering "I don't know, " but the dry, provoking end-of-the-matter answer of half sullen days gone by. 

"If you really thought it positively wrong, " proceeded Caroline, "notanother word would I say: but I don't see how you can without condemningall gaeties, and that I know you do not. "

"I only think it a--a waste of time--a great deal of nonsense, " saidMarian, faltering for an answer; "and really I have spent so much money;I do not like to throw away any more. "

"O, you do not know how we have settled that, " said Caroline, beginningto be hopeful now that she had something tangible to attack. "Thedresses for the morning will be nothing, --only a white skirt and greenpolka, which will do to wear for ever after, and a little ruff, verypretty, and no expense at all; and a little alteration will make ourcourt dresses perfectly suitable for Queen Elizabeth's ladies. You neednot be at all afraid of being ruined. "

Marian saw that, though there would be many a little expense to make amickle one, yet it would still only cost her Mrs. Jameson, instead ofthe gifts to the poor people; but as this was what chiefly justifiedher in her own eyes, she would not admit the conviction, and answered, "Those things that are altered and adapted really are as costly in theend as if they were new altogether. Besides, I could not, I really couldnot shoot before such an assembly. "

"I should so like to see you get the arrow. "

"O Caroline, that would be worse than anything!"

"Well, then, don't get it; shoot as badly as you please: only do be kindand make one of us, or you will spoil the whole concern. "

"How can that be? What difference can my dressing up or shooting make toany one?"

"Why, for one thing, if you are not one, as you must be, living with usand all, Julia will be obliged to ask that Miss Grimley; don't you knowher?"

"What, that old young lady who has been figuring in the newspaper solong as getting all the archery prizes?"

"Yes, the veteran archer, as Elliot calls her; and Mr. Faulkner says, ifshe appears in character at all, it must be as Queen Elizabeth herselfdancing a stately pavise to the sound of the little fiddle. She is someconnection of theirs, and must be asked, if you will not take it; andshe is almost as bad as Queen Elizabeth herself, and will give none ofus any peace about the dresses, O Marian! Julia said she should esteemit as a real kindness from you if you would be Lady Anne, if only forthe sake of keeping her out!"

"I think it would be very absurd for a person who hates the wholeconcern to be dragged in, for the sake of keeping out one who likes it!"

"Then you are still resolved? Well, I had not much expectation, butstill I was half inclined to hope you would relent, if you did not thinkit a point of principle, when you knew that it would be a real favor tome. "

"To you, Caroline! you do not care for such trumpery. "

"I do care about seeing my friends mortified and vexed, " said Caroline, mournfully. 

"Your friends!" exclaimed Marian, in a voice of contempt. 

"Yes, as much as kindness can make them. "

"And esteem? O Caroline!"

"Kindness--readiness to oblige, " repeated Caroline. 

"They are my friends, and I am very fond of them. "

Caroline went away without another word, and Marian felt that her wordsimplied that she preferred readiness to oblige, to rigid, unbendingsuperiority in goodness. Marian felt it, and was disappointed inCaroline, and pleased to have kept her determination, without askingherself how far it was satisfied pride in obstinacy. 

This was the last time for many weeks that Caroline lingered talkingin Marian's room. The old chill had come on again. Both knew, thoughneither said so, that it was not so much because it was a display andexpense that Marian refused, as because it was the Faulkners' party. Ifit had been Lady Marchmont's, it would have been very different. NowCaroline liked the Faulkners; they were all good natured, and much moreagreeable than any others in the neighbourhood--than any, indeed, withwhom she had yet been brought into close intercourse. She thought Marianwas unjust and ungracious, both to them and to her; that she had beenprejudiced from the first, and now was very decidedly making herselfdisagreeable by a rigidity in trifles, which was almost positiveunkindness. Caroline's home, as has been shown, was neither a veryhappy, nor a very satisfactory one; so that of late she had learnt tolook upon her brother Walter and Marian as her chief comforts, and wasnow much more hurt and disappointed at Marian's conduct than she waswilling to show. It was particularly unfortunate just at this time, whenthere was so much to invite and gratify her at High Down, when she wasin especial need of a true and affectionate friend and counsellor, andwhen Walter was absent, being engaged in preparing for his ordination, which was to take place in the course of the autumn. 

Mrs. Lyddell was much displeased with Marian, and showed it by hercoldness and formality; and Marian began to live more alone withherself, and at war with the outer world, than she had done even beforeEdmund's first visit five years ago. Caroline and Clara were a greatdeal with the Faulkners, either at High Down or at home. Clara was in aperfect transport at being admitted into the number of the archeresses, and had struck up one of her eternal friendships with Louisa, the secondMiss Faulkner; and Marian might very fairly be provoked at seeing howentirely her mind was diverted from all the rationality which she andCaroline had been endeavouring--and as they had hoped, not withoutsuccess--to infuse into her during the past year. To get Clara tosettle quietly down to anything was an utter impossibility; her wisestemployment was the study of Elizabethan costumes, her most earnest, thepractice of archery. Now Marian always maintained that archery, on theirown lawn, and among themselves, was a very pretty sport; and for thesake of consistency with her own principles, she very diligently shotwhenever the Faulkners were not there, and did her very best, by preceptand example, to make Clara fit her arrows to the string in her owndirect and purpose-like way, draw the bow-string to her ear with asteady effort and aim, instead of a fitful jerk or twitch; and in factshoot, if she was to shoot, like a sensible woman, who really intendeddamage to the target. Clara was very much obliged, and made someprogress; but Marian thus did herself little good with any one else, for her love of the sport, and her excellence at it, made her spirit ofdisdain all the more marked. Clara, was again, as in former times, herchief friend in the family; for Marian, after the first vexation, heldher sense too cheap to blame her for her folly. It was the fault of theothers that she had been put in the way of what could not fail to turnher head; so she listened, without showing many tokens of contempt, to her endless histories of dear Louisa, and all the plans at HighDown, --of the witticisms that were perpetrated, the anticipations ofamusement and admiration, and of the tracasseries which Miss Grimley hadnot failed to occasion. Marian was often entertained, and Clara morethan once hoped she was on the point of regretting that she was not oneof the favoured eight; but nothing could be further from Marian's mind. She did not intend to absent herself either from the archery or from theball, but she must wear her own character, and no other; and peoplewere allowed to assume fancy dresses or not, just as suited theirinclination, so that she was in no fear of rendering herself remarkable. 

Caroline and Clara were to go to High Down two days before the greatoccasion, and stay till the day after; Marian to remain at Oakworthy. Just before they went, Clara danced into her room, saying, "Marian, doyou know some of the officers at Portsmouth have been asked to the ball?You know there is a railroad all the way. I wonder if Mr. Arundel willbe there?"

"Decidedly not, " replied Marian. 

"What, not when he knows what an attraction there will be?"

"Don't talk such nonsense, Clara; the idea of thinking a man would takesuch a journey for a ball! Well, I hope you will be very happy. "

"O do come and see my dress, Marian, before it is packed up; it is onmamma's bed, and it is so beautiful!"

Marian came, and admired. Caroline was to be Amy Robsart, and Clara, Janet Foster; a part her mother had chosen for her, as more appropriateto a girl not yet come out. Certainly, Tony Foster would scarcely haverecognized his demure little Puritan under the little lace hood, the purple bodice, and white skirt, at which Clara looked with suchexultation; and Janet was further to be supposed to have takenpossession of the Countess's orient neck-pearls, and was to wear them asthe only ornament that could with any propriety be bestowed on her. Ithappened that Marian had a remarkably fine set of pearls. She had fewjewels of any kind; but these had been her grandmother's, and therewas some tradition belonging to them which no one ever could remember. Janet's necklace was so much less pretty, that Marian could not helpexclaiming that Clara had better wear hers. Clara demurred, for she knewMarian relied on these pearls to help out a dress which had seen morethan one London party; but it ended in Marian's having her own way, andbeing contemptuous at the gratitude with which her loan was received. Yet she was surprised to find that it was a relief to her that Mrs. Lyddell departed a little from her cold politeness, and showed herselfreally pleased and obliged. 

Certainly, if Mrs. Lyddell had not in some degree relaxed, those twodays would have been very forlorn. As it was, it was very odd to sitdown to dinner with only Mr. And Mrs. Lyddell and Elliot, and to have noone but Mrs. Lyddell to speak to in the drawing-room. She was glad whenthe day came, to have it over; and she was not sufficiently hard-heartedto regret that it was as fine as could be wished. To High Down theywent, and everything was just as Marian had expected, --every one walkedabout and idled, and wondered when the shooting would begin; and whenit did begin, no one paid much attention to it except those who wereinterested in some of the competitors. Marian watched her pupilanxiously, and Clara, between excitement and nervousness, shot muchworse than if she had been in the garden at home, and went so wide ofthe mark, that Marian was ashamed of her. Caroline did better, but notwell; and the prize was of course borne off by Miss Grimley, who waspopularly reported to have arrows enough to stock the quivers of two orthree cupids. 

Clara ran up to Marian, and walked with her a little while; telling herall that had come to pass during the last two days, --a great deal ofbustle, and merriment, and nonsense, which Clara seemed to have enjoyedexcessively, and of which Marian could have said, "Every one to histaste. " Of Caroline she saw little or nothing; and after wanderingabout in the rear of Mrs. Lyddell, and exchanging a great many coldsalutations, and colder sentences of small-talk, she was very glad tofind herself once more in the carriage, though it was only to go home, dine and dress for the ball, and then High Down again. 

She wore white, with jet ornaments, and a row of pearls round herhair, --the only thing that saved her from being rather shabbily dressedthan otherwise. However, Mrs. Lyddell had long since announced that shehad done saying anything about Marian's dress, and Fanny had not been aladies' maid long enough to grow into a tyrant; so that she had her ownway, and no one repeated to her, what she knew full well, that her whitesilk was yellow where it swept the ground, and the lace did not standout as freshly as once it did. 

Mrs. Lyddell and Elliot talked and laughed all the way, quizzing thecompany very sociably, and both appearing in the highest spirits. Mr. Lyddell was asleep in his corner; Marian with her forehead against thewindow, and her thoughts with Gerald. They reached High Down in themidst of a stream of carriages; and Marian, in her plain white, had towalk into the ball-room with Elliot, who had completed his offences inher eyes, by daring to assume the dress of Sir Philip Sidney. She soon, however, was free of him, for he liked her as little as she liked him, and moreover had to go and perform his part in the noted Kenilworthquadrille. Marian was left standing by Mrs. Lyddell, as she usually did, through the greater part of a ball; for as she never waltzed, therewere few dances in which she could take a part. She had made half theOakworthy neighbours afraid of her; and Mrs. Lyddell, having found thatall activity in the way of being a useful chaperon was thrown away, hadacquiesced in leaving her to herself, "doing her justice" sufficient bytaking her to the ball. 

Marian was entertained by the pageant, as she deemed it. It was a verypretty scene, with so many gay dresses, in the bright light; and it wasamusing to recognise her acquaintances in the wonderful costumes someof them had seen fit to assume. She would have liked some one tolaugh with, at a shepherdess dancing, crook and all; and she highlyappreciated a good-natured old gentleman, who was willing to doanything, however absurd, that could please his friends, and had comeout as my grave Lord Keeper himself, with

 "His bushy beard and shoe-strings green, His high-crowned hat and satin-doublet. "

Caroline looked more like a beauty than she had ever seen her before. Her fair ringlets and white neck had a peculiar elegance, set off by thedelicate fan-like ruff, and graceful head-gear of the Countess Amy. Theonly fault that Marian could find was, that poor Amy never could havelooked as if she had so much mind as Caroline's countenance expressed. As to her partner, Marian did not behold him with very differentfeelings, from those with which she would have regarded the real Earlof Leicester, could she have had one peep at the actual pageant ofKenilworth, with its outward pomp, masking the breaking hearts beneath. Thereupon she fell deep into musings on "Kenilworth, " which she had readat home, when, so young and unlearned in novels as not to have a guessat what would happen, when it was all a wonder and fairy-land ofdelight, and when poor Tressilian's name of Edmund had been his firstcharm in her eyes, even before she loved him for his deep character andmelancholy fate. She thought how unlike all this common-place world wasto the world it aped--how far these Raleighs and Sidneys were from beingworthy to usurp the name even for one evening! and as to Tressilian, howimpossible to see any face here that would even shadow her idea of him!And yet she did not know; she might have to change her mind. Thereactually was a countenance handsome, thoughtful, almost melancholyenough for Tressilian himself, with the deep dark eyes, pale, clear, sun-burnt, brown complexion, and jetty hair that befitted her hero; ashort beard and dark dress would have completed him, but she almostthought it a pity that such a face should appear above a scarlet coatand gold epaulettes. 

However, Tressilian had been moving towards the end of the room whereshe was standing, and was coming so near that she could not study himafter the first; so she turned to speak to Miss Faulkner, who hadfinished her quadrille, and just as a polka was commencing, she wassurprised by finding Tressilian himself standing by her, and asking tohave the honour of dancing with her. 

"Thank you, I don't dance the Polka, " she replied; and as she spokequick flashes of thought crossed her thus--"I have not been introducedto him--I have met him before--how horrid of Tressilian's face to talkof polkas--ha! it is Edmund!"

Edmund Arundel's eye it was that was glancing at her with a look ofgreat amusement at her bewilderment. 

"The next quadrille, " he proceeded, in the same ceremonious voice. 

"O Edmund, Edmund, I did not know you in the least! Who would havethought of seeing you here?"

"Why not? Did you not know we were asked?"

"Asked? yes; but who would have come who could have helped it?"

"I wanted particularly to see you. " Then, after speaking to Mrs. Lyddell, he turned to her again, and resumed, "But am I not to have thepleasure of dancing the next quadrille with you?"

"If it is any pleasure to you, I am sure you are very welcome. "

"In the mean time, what is the meaning of your not being amongst theperformers? You used to be a capital shot. "

"I? O, of course I could not shoot before all the world. "

"Well, I was in hopes my pupil had been doing me credit; so much so, that I tried very hard to make that lady with the silver arrow intoyou, and--" as Marian looked at Miss Grimley's thin, freckled face, andreddish, sandy locks, and could not help smiling, he continued, "whenthat would not quite do, I went on trying to turn each maid of honourinto you, till, just as I gave you up, I saw young Dashwood fixed incontemplation; and well he might be, for there was something so majesticas could be nothing but Zenobia, Queen of the East, or Miss Arundelherself. "

"Majestic! nonsense! nothing can feel less majestic. "

"Then decidedly you are not what you seem. "

"I was trying all the time to make you into Tressilian, only your redcoat was in the way. You know I never saw you in it before. "

"And so you have given up archery?"

"O, no! I shoot at home; only I cannot make a spectacle of myself, --Ihate the whole thing so much. "

"And you would not wear a fancy dress?"

"You see I am in mourning. "

"Why, who is dead?"

"Don't you know? Old Mr. Thomas Marchmont. "

"Yes, and his great-grandfather likewise! Well, you certainly areinclined to make the most of your connection with the peerage, "

"Edmund!" and for the first time Marian felt as if she had been makingherself more foolish than magnanimous. He gave his arm and they walkedalong together. He presently began abruptly, "What I came here for wasto consult you about a plan for Gerald. You see I shall never get at himunless I have him alone. Now I don't like to take him away from you forthe holidays, but I do not see how it is to be managed otherwise. "

"I don't do him any good now, " said Marian sadly. 

"What I thought of was this; I find I can get leave for two months thissummer. Now suppose I was to take him to Marchmont's grouse shootingplace in Scotland, and about among the Highlands and Islands. Perhapsthe pleasure of that excursion would make up for the being carried offby an awful guardian, and those scrambles might bring him to the oldfooting with me. "

"O it would be very nice to have him with you, " said Marian; "but----"

"Well, what is the but?"

"I don't know, only would not taking him home be more likely to reviveold associations than anything else?"

"No, " answered Edmund most decidedly; then in a more hesitating manner, as if casting about for reasons, he added, "I mean he was at home lastyear--it would not appear so inviting as this expedition--it would begiving every one a great deal of trouble. "

"To have the Manor House set to rights--yes--but just a week at theParsonage--just to revive the old feelings with you. For you to teachhim how to behave to the Fern Torr people. "

"No, " repeated Edmund, "it would not do. "

He spoke in a manner that made Marian look up in his face with surprise, and exclaim as if hurt, "Then you are really casting off poor old FernTorr. "

The next moment she was sorry she had said so, for his namesake in"Kenilworth" could never have worn a more melancholy aspect than he, ashe answered in a very low voice of deep feeling, "I am the last man inthe world to be reproached with too little affection for Fern Torr. "

Marian was grieved, surprised, confused, but she had no time to find ananswer, for the quadrille was forming, Edmund began a search for _vis àvis_, and she found herself dancing before she had made up her mind whatshe should have said if she could have replied at once; but it was toolate to return to the subject, and she thought it best to begin entirelyanother, by asking, the next time they were standing still, how he likedthe officers of his new regiment. 

"Very much, most of them, " replied Edmund; "one or two are particularlynice people. "

"Do you like any as well as Captain Gresham or--"

"New friends are not old ones, " quickly answered Edmund. 

"O no, but if you knew them as well, are there any equally worthy to beliked? I want you to be comfortable there very much, as it is all ourfault. "

"Don't say any more of that, Marian. Thank you, I am verycomfortable--they are a very pleasant set. "

"Are there any of them here?"

"Yes, three of them. "

_L'Eté_ cut short his speech, and when they paused again he began, "Imean you to dance with Dashwood--there that rosy tall boy standingpartnerless behind the lady in a Swiss fly-away cap. "

"O I see, " said Marian. 

"Yes, and don't be high and mighty with him. "

"High and mighty, when I am only shy. "

"Effects are seen, causes are not equally on the surface. "

"O Edmund!"

"Well, he is a very nice right-minded boy, very shy himself; so don'tbe grand, for I have a great regard for him, and I want him to have apleasant evening. "

Marian was considerably frightened by being told to be agreeable, thething which of all others she thought the most difficult; but she wouldattempt anything for the sake of obliging Edmund, and making no answer, consoled herself with thinking how far off the next quadrille was. Inthe mean time, whilst she danced in the most business-like and leastpleasure-like way possible, she was pondering on what she had to say onher own account to her cousin, and when the quadrille was over and hetook her to the supper room in quest of ices, she eagerly began, "Thenyou think me wrong about my fancy dress?"

"Shall I give your own favourite reply?"

"Don't you think it a good thing to avoid all this folly and expense?"

"And to prove Miss Arundel's lofty contempt for finery and foolery?"

"I do not want to set myself up, but how am I to help thinking all thisnonsense?"

"A hard question, since no one attempts to say it is far otherwise; butafter all, everything in this world is nonsense, except as a means ofdoing right or wrong. "

"And you do not think I made this nonsense a means of doing right?"

"If it had been any body else, I should have admired, but I do not trust_you_. However I know nothing about it, I cannot judge of the amount ofsacrifice. Cream ice or water ice?"

They could not converse any more just then, and in the next polka, Clara, who not being come out, was not well off for partners, wasextremely honoured and delighted by being asked to dance by Mr. Arundel. When the turn of a quadrille came round again, Edmund, as good as hisword, introduced to Marian his youthful ensign, and she, dreadfullyafraid of not obeying Edmund by being agreeable to his friend, setherself to talk with all her might; told him what some of the costumeswere intended to represent, speculated as to the others, found himvery pleasant, and ended by making him consider his friend's cousin asdelightful as she was handsome, and he had been very much impressed withher countenance. She saw Edmund was well pleased to see him lookinganimated and gratified, and the consequence was that she had to dancewith another of his brother officers, and after all it had not been byany means such hard work to be amiable as she was apt to imagine. At anyrate she never liked a ball so well, but then she had never met Edmundat any other, which might account for it. After the last quadrille, Mrs. Lyddell summoned her to come home, they took their leave of Caroline andClara, whom Mrs. Lyddell promised to fetch to-morrow: Lady Julia wasparticularly full of empressement and affection, delighted that dearCaroline had been looking so lovely. She even came out with them to thecloak-room, where her son was assiduous in shawling Mrs. Lyddell, andall manner of civilities seemed to be passing among them in a low voice, while Edmund having disengaged Marian's shawl from the surroundingdrapery, said, as he put it round her, "Then it is settled that I takeGerald and try to do for the best?"

"O if you are so kind--"

"Don's trust too much to it. I will try, which is all I can do. "

"No one can do him any good if you cannot. "

"Hush! And I must thank you for taking my scolding in such good part. "

"I deserved it. "

"I have since been thinking you are probably right. I am sure you arein the principle of the thing. It was the particular application thatstartled me. "

Mrs. Lyddell moved on, the carriage was at the door, they were all init, Elliot of course last, and as he threw himself back in his cornerand the door was shut, he exclaimed in a satisfied tone, "Well! he iscoming it pretty strong!" Who was coming what? thought Marian, but hersuspense did not last long, for Mr. And Mrs. Lyddell both chimed inwith exclamations of satisfaction which left no doubt that they weredelighting themselves in the prospect of seeing Caroline mistress ofHigh Down. Marian had been in some slight degree prepared for this, sheknew Mr. And Mrs. Lyddell would highly approve, nay, consider such amarriage as fulfilling their highest expectations, such an establishmentas all that could be wished; and depending as she did on Caroline'sprinciple and right feeling, she was sorry to think how much vexationand worrying was in store for her. As she sat disregarded and forgottenthrough that long dark drive, hearing all the eager gratulations andanticipations of her three companions, regarding a marriage which shecould not think of without a sort of horror, how did she despise them, feel imprisoned, and long to make her escape. She had not the leastdoubt as to what Caroline would do; her rejection of such a man was amatter of certainty; but Marian was vexed with her for having allowedherself to become so intimate with the Faulkners, and thought she hadbrought on herself all the annoyances that would follow. 

Tired, irritated, excited, Marian was very glad to escape from thecarriage, wish the rest good night, and run up to her own room. She satbefore her glass, slowly brushing out her long dark hair, and tryingto bring home her feverish thoughts, and dwell on what had passed, especially with Edmund, on whom she had not yet had time to think, andof all those hints of his, as to her behaviour in this matter. Had heapproved it or not? or would he if he had known all the circumstances?There was something that struck her a good deal in his saying "I cannotjudge of the amount of sacrifice. " Had it been a sacrifice to wear aplain dress, to abstain from archery? It would have been, to Clara, butwas it to her? and as she looked at the two grey volumes, with theirstore of pretty engravings and pleasant reading which lay on her table, and thought that they were her own for life, and that Anne Clifford'sdress would now be laid aside and useless for ever after the archeryprize, if she had won it, would be worthless, and the admiration, had she valued it, passed from her ears, she could not feel, for oneinstant, that it had been a sacrifice. Then again came his words, "everything in this world is nonsense, except as a means of doing right orwrong. " Yes, pretty books, pleasant pictures, taste and intellect werein themselves as little precious as dress and finery, things as fleetingwhen compared with eternity, except so far as they trained the souland the higher faculties which _might_ endure for ever. She thought of"Whether there he prophecies, they shall fail, whether there be tongues, they shall cease, whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. "All was a shadow except that charity which never faileth, a beautifulpicture, even as a costly dress! the way we treat these things aloneenduring. Her head throbbed as she tried to be certain as to whether shehad acted right. If the dress had required the money set apart for thepoor she would have been perfectly clear about it, but she knew itneed not have done so. Would her vanity have been gratified? Decidedlynot--admiration of her face was so distasteful to her proud shrinkingbashfulness, that she felt it like an insult when reported to her, andcould almost have wished not to be so handsome, if it had not been moreagreeable to an artist-like eye to see a tolerable physiognomy in theglass, when obliged to look there, and besides she would not but be likethe Arundels, and was well satisfied with the consciousness of havingtheir features, as indeed she would have been if their noses had beenturned up and their "foreheads villainous low. " If _her_ vanity wasgratified, it was by standing apart from, and being able to look down onthe rest of the world; and as Marian became conscious of this, her mindturned from it with the vexation of spirit, the disgust and sensation ofdislike, and willingness to forget all about it, that every one is aptto feel with regard to a vanity passed away--something analogous to thecontempt and dislike with which we turn from the withered shreds oftangible vanity, faded and crumpled artificial flowers, and tumbledgauze ribbon when disinterred from some dusty and forgotten corner. Nofeeling is much more unpleasant than the loathing of an old vanity; andthough this of Marian's was not yet old, yet that touch of Edmund'swhich had shown her how he regarded her "high-and-mightiness, " had madeher very much ashamed of it. Then came the question whether it was, after all, self-will that had actuated her, pride and self-will, leadingher contrary to every one's wishes, where she was not sure that she wasfulfilling a duty. Again, on the other hand, there was this point aboutthe Faulkner family, her dislike to them was founded on principle;indeed it was not dislike, for she allowed their agreeableness ofmanner, it was disapproval; it was determination not to enter intoanything approaching to intimate acquaintance with a man whom shebelieved to be little better than an infidel. If Edmund knew this, wouldnot he think her right? But then to be consistent, she should not haveaccepted his hospitality in any degree; she ought not to have gone tothe ball, nor ever to have dined at his house. How far was she called onto set her face against him, how far was she independent, how far wasobedience to the Lyddells a duty? This must be for a question for Edmundanother time, and she hoped that Caroline's refusal would put an endto the intercourse. Nor were these all her reflections. She thought ofEdmund and his kindness to Gerald, and the hopes, nay the confidencewhich it revived in her, setting her mind fully at rest about herprecious brother, for in spite of Edmund's despondency, she could nothelp trusting entirely to the renewal of his influence; for who waslike Edmund? Who so entirely treated, as well as spoke of, the world asnothing except as a means of doing right or wrong?

But then that he should be out of spirits, as she had more plainly thanever perceived to-night, in spite of the gaiety he had at first assumed, his manner of replying when she pressed him to go to Fern Torr, and hisabsolute avoidance of it, struck and puzzled her much as well as grievedher. She knew his loneliness, and could understand that he might bemelancholy, but why he should shrink from the home he so loved wasbeyond what she could fathom. 

She knew Clara would laugh at her for his having come so many miles onher account. Yes, quite sure that it was nonsense. Edmund had talkedof coming to see her, so openly, he had laughed at and blamed her souncompromisingly, that she had no doubt that he had not the leastinclination to fall in love with her. She had the best of elder brothersin him, and he would take care of Gerald, and, happy in her confidenceshe fell asleep. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

 "What is that which I should turn to, lighting upon days like these? Every door is barr'd with gold and opens but to golden keys. * * * * * "Yearning for the large excitement that the coming years would yield, Eager hearted as a boy when he first leaves his father's field. "

 TENNYSON. 

Marian was not up much later than usual the next morning, but she hada long time to wait for the rest of the party. She read, wrote, drew, tried to busy herself as usual all the morning, but whether it was thatshe was tired with her ball, or that she was anxious about Caroline, she did not prosper very much, and grew restless and dissatisfied. Shewished she knew whether she had done right, she wished she could feelthat she had been kind and accommodating. 

Her head was dull and heavy from the struggle to occupy herself when hermind was full, and after luncheon she tried to drive her stupidity awayby a very long ride. Groom and horses were always at her service, as apart of Mrs. Lyddell's justice to her, and off she set, in search ofbreezes, to the highest and furthest downs, by her attainable. On shewent, cantering fast, feeling her power over her spirited pony, lettingthe summer sun shine full on her face, and the wind, when she had riddenwhere she could meet it, stream in a soft ripple round her head, likethe waves of the summer tide. She rode far enough to attain the objectshe had proposed to herself, namely, to look down on Salisbury spire, pointing up in its green valley with the fresh meadows around it, givinga sense of refreshment, repose and holy influence, which her eye carriedto her mind. Good men had raised that pile, had knelt there, sungin praise there, and now lay asleep within its grey walls and shadycloisters; men and women who had been to the full as much wearied andperplexed with sin and worldliness around them as she could ever feel;they had struggled through, their worn and fainting hearts had restedthere, and now their time of peace was come. Why should it not be sowith her?

Ah! but things were changed; in their time there was energy; there weregreat crimes indeed, but the Church was active. The bad was very bad, but the good was very good, there were real broad questions then ofright and wrong, not the coldness and frivolity, where all was soworthless that there was scarce a possibility of caring or seeing whichpart was the right. 

No, Marian would not accuse the time in which she was born, and thestation to which it had pleased God to call her. Mr. Wortley had warnedher against that. She had a Church, the one true holy Catholic Church, as surely and truly, nay, the very same that those men of old had, andwas as much bound to love it, serve it, fight for it in her own way, asever they had felt themselves. Life, truth, goodness, there was still, she saw it, knew it, felt it in some; and though there was little of itin her immediate home, so little as to make her heart faint, she knewthat

 "Israel yet has thousands sealed Who to Baal never kneeled. "

If there was this frivolity, this deadness and chilliness about thesepresent days, she knew it was a temptation long since prophesied of, asabout to grow on the world "when, the love of many should wax cold, " butthe help and the hope were never to fail, and while she might but graspafter them, she had enough to do, and need not feel faint and weary. 

Her ride had done her good, her sensation of bodily lassitude and mentalstupidity had been driven off by the active exercise which had produceda more wholesome kind of fatigue, and the temper which tended todiscontent had partly gone with them, partly been chased away byreflection in a right spirit. As she was entering the park, Elliot, alsoon horseback, came up in time to profit by the same opening of the gate. 

"Are you but just come home, Marian?" said he, "I thought I was verylate. "

"I don't know what o'clock it is, but I see the sun is getting low. "

"Have not you been at High Down?"

"No, I have been to Beacon Hill. "

"To Beacon Hill! That _is_ a ride! And you have not seen any of themsince they came home?"

"No, I have been out all the afternoon. "

"Well, I have a notion you will have something to hear. I dare say youhave some idea. Catch a young lady not up to a thing like that. "

A cold horror and disgust came over Marian, and she would not make asingle inquiry, but Elliot went on. 

"So you will ask no questions? I believe you are in the secret the wholetime. "

"No, I am not. "

"No? You will never persuade me that you are not. Why, what else can youladies sit up half the night talking about in your bed rooms?"

Marian despised him too much to deny. 

"Then do you really mean to profess, " said Elliot, turning full towardsher, so as to look her in the face in what she deemed an impertinentway, "that you cannot guess the news that is waiting for you?"

For once in her life she could not say "I don't know, " and her answerwas a very cold "I believe I do;" while in the meantime she was almostfeeling, and quite looking, as if she could have cut off his bead. Hisdisagreeableness was the one present pain, but behind it was undefinedconsternation, for she perceived that, at any rate, he did not thinkCaroline had refused Mr. Faulkner. 

"You keep your congratulations till it is formally announced, " said hemaliciously, still looking at her, though few save himself could havefailed to be abashed by the firm, severe expression of her dark eyes, and lips compressed into all the sternness of the Queen of Olympus. 

Happily they were so close to the house that Marian, who would not deigna reply, could avoid him without absolute rudeness. She threw her reinto the groom, and sprung to the ground before Elliot had time to offerhis assistance, then ran hastily across the hall just as Clara wascoming out of the drawing-room. 

"Why, Elliot!" cried Clara meeting her brother, "you have not beenriding with Marian?"

"With Marian? No, I thank you! I only met with her at the gate, and havebeen spoiling your market. "

"You don't mean that you have been telling her?" cried Clara; "O Iwanted to have been first. "

"Precious little thanks you'll get!" said Elliot; but Clara, withoutattending to him, flew up stairs after Marian, who had reached her room, and while Fanny was endeavouring to get her dressed in time for dinner, was trying to collect her dismayed thoughts. She would not believeCaroline so foolish, nay, so wicked as to accept him, yet if it couldpossibly be true, what in the world should she say or do which wayshould she look, or how should she answer? In the midst of her firstconfusion in danced Clara, with a face full of delight at havingsomething to tell, then looking blank at Fanny's presence. 

"Marian--my dear Marian--what do you think?" was her first eagerbeginning, then changing into "How--how late you are--where have youbeen! I really thought you had been out with Elliot, " and she laughed. 

"I only fell in with him at the gate. I have been to Beacon Hill. "

"Have you indeed? O I wish you had come with mamma! So Elliot hasbeen provoking, and told you, " she added, stopping there, and lookingsignificant. 

Marian glanced at Fanny, and shook her head. She was very glad she hadsuch a protector, to give her time to collect her thoughts, but this wasnot easy, for Clara went rattling on in an eager discursive way aboutall sorts of things, the archery, the dancing, the partners, thedresses, hardly knowing what she said, nor Marian either, fidgetingabout, trying to expedite the dressing, and looking most impatient, tillat last Marian, anxious to know what had really taken place, pitying hereagerness, and willing to have it over, hurried the fastening of herdress, and arranging of her lace, and told Fanny to leave them. 

"O Marian! Marian! what a shame of Elliot to have told you all about it. Did you expect it?"

"He only half told me, " replied Marian, "but make haste, Clara, let mehear. Is Caroline really engaged?"

"Yes--yes--O yes! and every one is so delighted, Lady Julia, and Juliaand Louisa, and all!"

"And she has accepted him?"

"O yes to be sure--at least--yes, only you know it is too soon to settlewhen they will be married. What a charming wedding it will be, won'tit, Marian?--you and I find Julia and Louisa, and their cousins will bebridesmaids O! how delightful it will be. And then I shall come out. "

"But Clara, Clara, don't be wild, do tell me all about it. "

"Ah! you see you missed something by not coming to stay there as we did. And to tell you a great secret, Marian, Louisa says she really believesthat it was you that her brother thought of, when he first acceptedElliot's invitation to come and stay here. "

"Nonsense, " said Marian, though her colour would rise. 

"And he had not seen Caroline then, Louisa says, " proceeded Clara, butthere she got into an inextricable confusion, and was not speedy instammering out of it, having suddenly remembered that it was no greatcompliment to tell Marian that Louisa had said how glad they all werethat it was not Miss Arundel. Marian cut the hesitation short by saying, "You have not told me when it was settled, or how you heard it. "

"It was settled last night after you were gone--in the conservatory--such a pretty place for a love affair, as Louisa says--at least I meanhe asked her, but I don't think she gave him any real regular answer--no, certainly she did not. "

"Did you know of it that evening?"

"O yes, Louisa and I had great fun in watching him all day, and all theday before, we saw it all quite plain. "

"But did Caroline tell you that night?"

"Yes, of course she did. She could not have kept it from me, you know, for I began to laugh at her the minute we came up, and asked her if shehad not been delightfully employed, and you should have seen what acolour she grew directly. "

"And what did she say?" asked Marian very anxiously, almost hoping itmight prove that Caroline's acceptance might have been taken for grantedwithout having been really given. 

"I don't exactly remember what she said, she was very grave and said itwas no laughing matter, or something of that kind, and she walked up anddown and begged me to be quiet and let her think. "

"Well!"

"Then I begged her only to let me know if he had proposed, and what shehad said, and she told me she had said nothing--she could not tell--shemust have time, and then she leant her head against the side of the bed, and said she wished she knew what to do! And when I tried to cheer herup, and said how delightful it would be----"

"O Clara, how could you?" broke from Marian. 

"Ah! I know you can't bear the Faulkners, but you must now, for theywill be your cousins, you know, Marian. And I assure you I did not sayanything silly, I said it was not only that Mr. Faulkner is handsome andrich, that would not be anything, you know, but he is so sensible and soagreeable, and kind, and good tempered, and we are all so fond of him, and the Faulkners all so fond of her, and it would be so very nice tohave her close to us, and mamma would be so charmed. Well, poor deargirl, she did not sleep at all that night, and this morning she onlywanted, if she could, to have sent a note for us to be sent for to comehome to breakfast, but that could not be, you know, and when we camedown, Lady Julia was so kind and affectionate, and kissed her and saidshe was tired, and took her to lie on the sofa, in the little boudoir. Lady Julia sat with her there first, and then Mr. Faulkner came, andstayed with her a long, long time. "

"O!" sighed Marian, "was it settled then?"

"Not exactly settled, but somewhere about three o'clock, Mr. Faulknerordered his horse, and rode out to find papa, and then Caroline ran upto our room, and bolted the door, and said she could not let me in, but just then mamma came and went up to her, and it was all joy andcongratulation through the whole house. Mr. Faulkner came back and papawith him. But dear me, there is the second bell! Come, Marian! O, I doso wish you had been there. "

If Marian had been there, perhaps things would not have been exactly asthey were at present, though this was very far from what Clara intendedby her wish. Marian had done infinite mischief by the severity which hadweakened the only home influence excepting Walter's which held Carolineto the right. Caroline respected her extremely, but the confidence andaffection which had been growing up slowly but surely out of that rootof esteem, had been grievously dulled and blighted, and at a mostcritical time. It had in fact been almost killed down to the ground, andthough the root was a healthy one, and might yet shoot forth again, the opportunity had been missed when it might have been turned to goodaccount. 

Caroline knew Mr. Faulkner not to be a religious man, and her betterprinciples warned her against him; but on the other hand she reallyliked his manners extremely, her heart was warmed towards him by hispreference and expressions of affection, and she did not know whethershe loved him already or not, or whether she should allow herself tolove him, as he was sure she could do. She had been used to a worldwhere the service of GOD was not the first object; she had always livedwith men whose thoughts and time were otherwise engrossed, and thoughshe might regret what she saw, her standard had been lowered, and shewas far less inclined to hold aloof front one whom her conscience didnot approve, than if she had been accustomed to see everything desirablein her own family; in those whom nature and duty obliged her to love andrespect. 

By the Faulkners she was greeted with such kindness as to win her heart, and she thought the power she would enjoy at High Down would enable herto set things on a footing there, on which she could never place them athome; she could not fail to be happy with Mr. Faulkner; she might workupon his mind, if he loved her as he said he did. Still there stood thegreat unanswerable obstacle, the three words, "It is wrong!" If shestood alone, if there was no family on either side, she could, she wouldrefuse, but dismay seized on her when she thought of the displeasure, the persecution at home if she rejected him; on the other hand sheshrank from ingratitude for the kindness of the Faulkners. There wasClara putting her in mind of all that could bias her in his favour, rejoicing already, saying how all the family would rejoice. 

O that interval, that night! if Marian had but stood there with thegrave, earnest, heartfelt voice that repelled all sophistry with thewonted "I don't know, " if the dark eyes had been there to look withcontempt on all but the "right, " and to fill with tears, the moretouching because so rare, as her tenderness, her deep feeling wouldhave been called out by the sensation of seeing and aiding a friend tostruggle nobly against a temptation, if Caroline had felt and seen thesuperiority, the loveableness of real, true, uncompromising regard forright, and right alone, if she had been by one touch made to partakeof the horror Marian felt of any failure in faith, then all the innatestrength and nobleness of her character might have been awakened, andshe would have clung to "the right" at any cost, supported, carriedthrough by Marian's approval and sympathy, keeping her up to feel thathigher approval was with her. 

But alas! alas! Marian was at a distance, and her image had at presentconnected itself with harshness and haughtiness. She might be good;but such goodness did not invite imitation; she did not appear half asagreeable as the Faulkners. Caroline turned away from the recollectionof her, was all night and all the morning distressed, undecided, andvacillating; then came Lady Julia's affection, her lover pressing hissuit, she hardly knew what she had said, but she found her consentwas assumed, both families were rejoicing in it, she found herselfconsidered to be engaged, and she returned home bewildered at all thathad passed, flattered, almost intoxicated with the attention of variouskinds paid her by every one, at High Down, and when her wonted dread ofMarian's disapproving eye would return, hardening herself against itwith the thought that Marian could not make every one as Utopian asher own Edmund and Fern Torr, that she was proud and determined inprejudice, and after all what right had she to interfere? Of Walter, Caroline did not dare to think. 

Marian came down with Clara, wearing a rigid company countenance, expressing more of indifference than of anything else; she would notlook at Caroline lest her eye should seem to judge her, and only byfurtive glances perceived that she looked pale, worn and wearied. Therewas talk about the ball going on all dinner-time, but Caroline hardlyput in a word, and Marian's were not many. Directly after dinnerCaroline said she was tired, and should lie down till tea-time; she wentand Mrs. Lyddell, taking Marian by the hand, exclaimed, "Now, Marian, Imust be congratulated. I suppose Clara has told you all about it. "

"Yes, Clara told me, " said Marian, resolved not to offend except whereshe could not avoid it without sacrificing truth. 

"You could scarcely be surprised, " said Mrs. Lyddell. "It has beenevident for a long time. Dear Caroline! Well, I am sure this is asatisfaction! Settled so near home, and family and connection exactlywhat could be wished; and so extremely fond of her. "

"Yes, Lady Julia is very fond of her. "

Mrs. Lyddell was too much rejoiced herself not to take sympathy forgranted. The point, on which Caroline's scruples were founded, and whichcaused Marian's dislike, had never even occurred to her: she livedlittle, or rather not at all, in Marian's confidence, and really did notknow that she disliked the Faulkners more than any one else, since hermanners were so universally distant, that a little ungraciousness moreor less was not very visible to a casual observer like Mrs. Lyddell. That same ordinary coldness and undemonstrativeness which had neverthawed to Mrs. Lyddell was the reason that the entire absence of anyexpression of gladness or congratulation was not remarked, or at leastonly taken as her way, and besides at the bottom of her heart, Mrs. Lyddell was very much obliged to Marian for the repelling manner whichhad left the field to her daughter. So Marian got very well throughhalf an hour's interview, without giving offence; but she feared the_tête-à-tête_ with Caroline, and resolved as much as possible to avoidit, since she could do no good, and did not think it right to expressher sentiments unless they were positively called for. Disappointed inCaroline, grieved, giving her up for lost, yet loving and pitying her, she had rather never meet her again, certainly not have any confidentialintercourse with her. 

She need not have feared: Caroline was quite as much inclined to avoidher as she could be to avoid Caroline; by mutual consent they shunnedbeing left alone together, and talked of indifferent matters if theywere, for there was not familiarity enough for silence. When with theothers Caroline was the same as usual, lively, agreeable, obliging;perhaps, and Marian thought it strange, a shade gayer than her wont. Inher behaviour to Mr. Faulkner every one agreed that she was exactly theright thing, quiet and sensible, and, as people said, "evidently so verymuch attached to him. " Marian would have given worlds to know what waspassing in her secret soul, but the right of reading there was gone. What did Walter think? To this also there was no answer; if he wrote, Marian heard nothing about his letter, and he did not come home. He wasto be ordained in the autumn to a curacy in a large manufacturing townin the north of England, and in the meantime he was staying there withone of the other curates, helping in the schools, and learning somethingof the work before him. There was not a doubt in Marian's mind that hissister's engagement must be a great sorrow to him, and that this was thereason why he would not come home, even for a short visit. For Caroline, so really good, right thinking and excellent as she was, so far abovethe general tone of her family, wilfully to place herself in such asituation, to cast away all the high and true principles with which shehad once been imbued, was too sad and grievous to be borne by one wholoved her as Marian, did all the time, and how much worse it must be forher brother?

Yes, little did most of those who saw Marian's unmoved, marblecountenance, and heard her stiff, formal words, guess at the intensityof feeling beneath, which to those who knew her best was betokened bythat very severity; how acutely she was suffering for the future beforeCaroline, how strong were the impulses to plead with her once more, howsick and loathing her heart felt at the manner in which this hatefulconnection was treated by all around. If that reserve could, or oughtto, have been broken, Marian would have astonished them all. 

If her former anxieties about Gerald had been as of old, she really didnot know how she could have endured them in addition to all this; butwhile she was at ease about him nothing could quite overwhelm her. Andshe was very happy about him; Mr. Lyddell had readily consented to theHighland plan, and Gerald was so enchanted that he forgot all his formerfears of Edmund, saw in him only a fellow-sportsman, and when he wroteto tell his sister of the project, decorated his letter with a portraitof the holidays, every one of the thirty-seven days represented in asort of succession of clouds one behind the other, in each of whichGerald was doing something delightful, --boating, shooting, bagging hisgame, and enjoying an infinite variety of sports, the invention andrepresentation of which did considerable credit to his ingenuity. On thevery day after the Eton election, he met Edmund in London, and they setoff together to spend the time before the ecstatic twelfth of August invisits to the Trosachs, to Fingal's cave and every other Scottish wonderof note. 

Lionel returned alone, and the first thing he said as he skimmed his hatacross the hall table was, "There! thank goodness, I shan't touch a bookagain these five weeks!" Every one asked after his eyes, but they toldtheir own story, for they were considerably inflamed, and so evidentlyout of order that Mrs. Lyddell herself grew anxious, and the apothecary, Mr. Wells, was sent for. He spoke of their having been over tried by theschool work, advised complete rest, and sent his mixture to bathe them, which in a day or two reduced the inflammation, made them comfortable, and restored them to their ordinary appearance, so that all anxietypassed off again. 

Marian, like the others, dismissed the fear, though a flash ofapprehension now and then crossed her mind. She was more with Lionelthan the others, they had always been great allies, and at present weremore thrown together than had ever been the case before. Johnny had beenappointed to a ship which was to sail from Plymouth in a very shorttime, and he only came home for two or three days, from the school wherehe had been prepared. Mr. Lyddell took him to London for his outfit, andthen on to Plymouth; Mrs. Lyddell was extremely overset, more so thanMarian had thought her capable of being, for Johnny was her favourite, she regarded him as a victim, and could not bear to expose him to allthe perils of sea and climate. 

Johnny however went to Plymouth, and then there was nothing to bedesired but that he should soon sail, that his mother might settle hermind, for in the mean time she was nervously anxious and restless, and could scarcely give her attention to anything, not even to theFaulkners, far less to what Marian was observing from time to time aboutLionel's eyes. 

Now that John and Gerald were away, Lionel was deprived of his wontedcompanions: Elliot did not patronize him, and was besides too busy aboutthe races to occasion on his own account any home sports in which Lionelmight have taken a share, so that there was no companionship for himexcepting with the young ladies. Caroline's and Clara's time was a greatdeal taken up with the Faulkners, and Marian and Lionel were thus leftout by all and almost obliged to make a coalition. 

Lionel haunted the drawing-room in the morning, either talking in thehalf-rhodomontade, half-in-earnest fashion of boys of sixteen, orlistening if there was any reading aloud going forward. Clara's readingswith Marian and Caroline had well-nigh fallen to the ground now, andCaroline almost always spent the morning in her own room, but Marian nowand then caught Clara and managed to get her to do something rational. More often, however, the reading was on Marian's part to Lionel; heliked to hear her read scraps of any book she might have in hand, andshe was very merciful to him in the selection, not being by any meanstoo wise. She read him likewise the new numbers of the periodical tales, as well as the particulars of the rowing matches and cricket matches, overcoming for his sake her dislike to touching Elliot's sportingnewspaper. Indeed she had not so forgotten her cricket as not to be verymuch interested, to enter into all his notes and comments, and to be asanxious for the success of Eton as he was himself, so that if she hadbeen called to give an account of her whole morning's work for threedays, she could have said nothing of it but that she had been studyingthe matches at Lord's. 

In the afternoon, if Marian could escape from the drive in the carriage, they walked or rode together, the latter when it was not too bright aday, for Lionel avoided the sunshine like an owl; and when in theirwalks a sunny field, or piece of down had to be passed, he drew his hatdown and came under the shelter of Marian's parasol, as if he fairlydreaded the glare. He was very apt too not to recognise people whom theymet, and now and then made such strange mistakes about small objectsnear at hand, that though they were laughed at just at the moment, Marian thought them fearful signs when she recollected them afterwards, in that half-waking half-sleeping time when she had learnt to entertainherself with anxieties. Chess or backgammon was the great resource inthe evening, when there was no dining out, and no grand dinner party, and the number of games Marian played with him were beyond allreckoning. He played, she thought, more by the touch than the eye, oftenfeeling the head of a piece to satisfy himself whether it had the king'scrown or the queen's round head, the bishop's mitre or the knight'sears, but he was so quick and ready that it was impossible to tell howfar the defect of sight went, and she could not bear to ask or awakenhis fears. 

She did not think he had any; she did not believe that he had ever seenquite as well as other people, and therefore trusted to sight less thanmost; and his eyes had been so often ailing, and then better, that hewas not likely to take alarm now. If he had, she believed he would havetold her, for he was very confidential with her, and she often thoughtit a great pity that no one else had thought it worth while to enterinto him enough to find out what a right-thinking, sensible boy he was, and how affectionate he would be if they would only let him. One day, when they had been taking a long ride together, he began talking abouthis intentions for the future. It arose out of some observation aboutthe value of a tree in a new and an old country. Marian had beenlamenting that no modern houses were ever built with the beautifulpatterns of dark timbers, as we see them in old farm-houses; and Lionelanswering that so much wood could never be afforded in England now. 

"No, you must go to a primeval forest for that, " said Marian; "and verystupid it is of the people in the colonies to build houses as bad orworse than ours, when they have all the materials for nothing. "

"Well, I will build a famous house when I emigrate, " said Lionel; "aregular model of an old English farm-house it shall be, --stout, andstrong, and handsome, --just to put the people in mind that they dobelong to an old country, after all. "

"When you emigrate, Lionel?"

"Yes, I really have a great mind to do so, seriously, Marian, " and herode nearer to her. "I do think it would be the best thing I could do. Don't you think so?"

"I don't know, " said Marian, considering, while his eager face wasturned towards her. 

"You see, " Lionel continued, "we must all do something for ourselves;and I am sure my eyes will never be fit for study. To be a clergyman isout of the question for me, even if I was good enough; and so is thelaw--"

"Yes, yes, certainly. "

"Well, then, there is only the army, and there one can't get on withoutmoney. Now you know Elliot has been a monstrous expense to my father oflate, and the times have grown so bad, and everything altogether hasgone wrong; so that I think the only thing for it would be for me to gooff to some new part of the world, where, when I once had a start, myown head and hands would maintain me, --no thanks to anybody. "

"I dare say it would, " said Marian, rather sadly, "I am sure these areright grounds, Lionel; but it is a terrible severing of all home ties. "

"O, but I should come back again. I should be an Englishman still, andcome back when I had made my fortune. "

"O, Lionel, don't be in a hurry to make a fortune; that spoils everyone. "

"No, no, I am not going to grasp and grub for money; I hate that. Onlyif the fortune comes, one does not know how, with cattle, or horses, orlands--O, Marian, think of being an Australian stockman, riding afterthose famous jockeys of wild bulls--hurra!" Lionel rose in his stirrups, and flourished his whip round his head, so as greatly to amaze hissteed. "There is a life to lead in a great place bigger than all Europe, instead of being stifled up in this little bit of a poky England, everyprofession choke full of people!"

"Well done, Lionel, you do want a field indeed!"

"So I do. I hate to be fenced up, and in, every way. I should like tobreak out in some fresh place, and feel I had all the world before me!Then I'll tell you what, Marian, " and he spoke with infinite relish, "suppose matters got a little worse here, and they were all of themreally in distress!"

"O Lionel!"

"Well, but listen. Then I should like to come home with all this fortunethat I had made somehow, and get them all on their legs again; buy backthe estate, perhaps, and give it to papa again; and then--and then"--hisvoice quivered a little, and his eyes winked, as if the sun had dazzledthem--"see if mamma would not think me worth something, after all!"

This was the only time Lionel had ever said a word to show that he wasconscious of his mother's disregard of him; and the feeling it called upmade Marian's heart so full that she could not reply. But he wanted noanswer, and went on. "Would not that be worth living for, Marian? But, after all, that is all nonsense, " he added, with a sigh; "at least it isall a chance. But what I really think is, that I should do much betterfor myself and every one else, in one of the colonies; and I have agreat mind to speak to my father about it. By the by, I wish Mr. Arundelwould come here when he has finished his journey with Gerald; I shouldlike to talk to him about the Cape. I rather fancy the Cape, because ofthe lions; and one might have a chance of a row now and then with theCaffres. "

Marian began telling all she could about the Cape, and from that timeher _tête-à-têtes_ with Lionel were chiefly spent in discussions uponthe comparative merits of the colonies. One thing Lionel was resolvedon. "I will go somewhere where there is a Church within a tolerabledistance, --say twenty miles; that is a short one for a colony, you know, Marian; for I know I am such a wild fellow, that I should very soonforget everything good, if I had not something to put me in mind of it. Or, by the by, Marian, what would be jolly would be to get Walter to go;I dare say he would, if it was some place where they were very badly offindeed, with plenty of natives, and all very savage. "

Marian understood quite well enough, to agree that it must be some place"very badly off indeed" to invite Walter, and Lionel greatly enjoyed thefurther arranging of plans for taking care of his intended chaplain, whom he meant to save from roughing it as much as possible. However, this might be regarded as a very aerial pinnacle of his castle, thefirst foundation of which was yet to be laid, by broaching the subjectto his father. Lionel talked over the proposing it many times with hiscounsellor, and at length resolved upon it, with some slight hope thatit might save his eyes from the suffering of another half year at Eton, which, as the holidays came nearer to an end, he began to dread. 

"You see, Marian, " he said, "I do not like to give out, when I can helpit, for they think it shirking, and there was a time when I did shirk;but a great many times last half, I was nearly mad with the aching andsmarting of my eyes after I had been reading. And all I did was by bitsnow and then; for if I went on long the letters danced, and there was amist between me and them. "

"I wish you would tell Mr. Lyddell; I am sure it is not fit to go on insuch a way. "

"I have told Wells, " answered Lionel. 

A pause--then Lionel said, "I believe papa is in the library; I'll goand speak to him about the emigration. "

Marian was very anxious to hear the result of the conference, but shecould not find out anything just at first as she had to drive out withMrs. Lyddell and Caroline to make calls. In the evening, over the gameat chess, Lionel told her that his father said he should talk to hismother about it; and two days after he came to her in the hall, saying, "Come and take a turn in the plantation walk, Marian; 'tis nice andshady there, and I have something to tell you. "

The something was as follows: "Well, Marian, my father was very kind, paid something about its being a sensible notion, and that he would seeabout it. "

"But are you to go back to Eton?"

"Yes, that must be; and I must scramble on as best I may. It will bebetter at first, after all this rest. It is something gained that thewhole plan is not knocked on the head at once. "

"Then he gives his consent?"

"Why, he says it will be time to think of it in a year or two, and Iam too young as yet, which is true enough; only, I wish I was to belearning farming, instead of torturing my eyes with what will be no goodout there. Then he said, as to giving up the army, I need not think thatwas necessary, because it was only that he did not want to have twosons in it, and now Johnny is otherwise disposed of; and, besides Mr. Faulkner had behaved in such a handsome way about Caroline's fortune. '

"O!" said Marian. 

"Yes, I don't like that at all, " said Lionel. "Johnny always was crazyto be a sailor, so he is all right, and that is not what I care for; butI don't want to be beholden to Mr. Faulkner. I had rather Caroline hadher own money, and not that we should all profit by her making thisgrand marriage. "

"I should quite feel with you. "

"Marian, we have never talked that over; but I know you cannot bear theFaulkners. "

"What is the use of asking me, Lionel?"

"O, I know you can't, as well as if you had said so; and I want to knowhow you could let Caroline go and do such a thing?"

"I? How could I help it?" said Marian smiling, at the boy's assumingthat she had power of which she was far from being conscious. "Besides, I thought you liked Mr. Faulkner; you, all of you, did nothing butpraise him at Christmas. "

"I did at first, not at last, " said Lionel. "Besides, liking a man to goout shooting with is not the same as liking him to marry one's sister. "

"By no means!" cried Marian, emphatically. "But what made you think illof him?"

"Things I heard him say to Elliot when we were out together. "

"Did Gerald hear them?" asked Marian, very anxiously, as she rememberedwhat a hero Mr. Faulkner was in her brother's estimation. 

"No, I don't think he did. He certainly was not there the worst time ofall, --the time that gave a meaning to all the rest. Don't you rememberthat day when Mr. Faulkner drove Elliot and me in his dog-cart to lookat that horse at Salisbury? I am sure I never praised him after thatday. He said what Elliot never would have said himself--never. "

"How?" Marian could not help asking, though she doubted the next momentwhether it was wise to have done so. 

"Things about--about religion--the Bible, " said Lionel, looking down andmumbling, as if it was with difficulty that he squeezed out the answer. "Now, you know, I have heard, " he added, speaking more freely, "I haveheard people make fun with a text or a name out of the Bible many atime; and though that is very bad of them, I think they don't mean muchharm by it. Indeed, I have now and then done it myself, and shouldoftener, if I had not known how you hated it. "

"It is a very wrong thing, " but I see what you mean, --that some peopledo it from want of thought. "

"Yes, just so; but that is a very different thing from almost quizzingthe whole Bible, --at least talking as if it was an absurd thing toaccept the whole of it, I do declare, Marian, he was worse when he beganto praise it than he was before; for he talked of the Old Testament asif it was just like the Greek mythology, and then he compared it toHomer, and Æschylus, and the Koran. To be sure he did say it wasbetter poetry and morality; but the idea of comparing it! I don't meancomparing as if it must be better, but as if it stood on the sameground. "

"And did Elliot listen to all this?" said Marian, thinking the poisonmust have been in rather too intellectual a form for Elliot. 

"He listened, " said Lionel. "I don't think he would ever set up to saysuch things for himself; but I believe he rather liked hearing themsaid. I am quite sure this Faulkner will make him worse than he isalready, for all this talk is a hundred times worse than going on inElliot's way. "

"To be sure it is--a thousand times!"

"But what I want to know is this, Marian? has Caroline got any notionof what sort of a man she has got? Because if she does it with her eyesopen, it can't be helped; but if not, I think she ought to be warned;for I don't suppose the man is fool enough to talk in this way to her. Indeed, I think I heard him say that believing is all very well forwomen. "

"Why don't you tell her, then?"

"That is the very thing I had on my mind all these holidays; but I knowno one would ever listen to me. If Walter was here it would be a verydifferent thing, for he is worth attending to, and Caroline knows that;though she thinks I have no sense at all but for mischief. "

"She could not think so, if she heard you speak as you do now. "

"Then there is another thing, Marian, and what makes it quite--at leastvery nearly out of the question; I don't believe they in the leastreckoned on my hearing all this. You know the man is very good-natured;well, he took me up to go instead of his servant, and I was sittingback to back with them. I sometimes think my bad eyes have made my earssharper, for I know I often hear when other people don't; and so Ishould not expect they supposed in the least that I was attending, though I did not miss a word, for I could not help hearing. Now, yousee, I could not possibly go and betray him; and if you were not thesafest person in the world, I would never have told you: only, ifsomebody could just give Caroline a hint that she is going to marry aninfidel, it would be a pleasant thing. "

"A pleasant thing!" repeated Marian. Then she paused, considering, andLionel waited patiently while she did so, "I see, " she said at last, "that you could hardly tell her of this conversation; and after all, Lionel, I believe we knew what was quite as bad of him from the first:this only proves it a little more fully. "

"Did you?"

"Yes, Lord Marchmont told me something of it; and I mentioned it toCaroline before he came here at all. "

"O, that is right!" said Lionel, greatly relieved, "then it is noconcern of mine; though what can possess Caroline, I can't think. Is itlove, I wonder?"

"I suppose so, " said Marian, sighing. 

"Well, it is a queer thing, " said the boy. "I should have thoughtCaroline was one to care about such matters more than I, but perhaps shemeans to convert him. So! I did think Caroline was good for something, but it is no affair of mine; and I shall be all the more glad to get offto New Zealand to be out of the sight of it all. "

"It is very sad indeed!" said Marian. "I am sure it will be nothing butwretchedness. Caroline can blind herself now, but that will not go on. "

"And why can't you speak to her, and stop her? She used to mind you. Does she come and talk about this man as if he was perfection?"

"No, " was the sorrowful reply. "She knew from the first my opinion ofhim, and we never have any talks now. We never have had one since shewas first engaged. "

"Whew!" whistled Lionel. "Then she does mean to go and do it, and nomistake! Then I've done with her, and shan't think about her any morethan I can help. If she won't be warned, she must Lave her own way, andmay marry the Grand Turk, if she likes it better. " He whistled again, proposed a ride, and went to order the horses; while Marian, walkingslowly to the house to prepare, did not so much grieve for Caroline, for that was an old accustomed sorrow, as marvel at the manner in whichLionel had spoken, and wonder where he had learnt the right views andexcellent sense he had displayed. Far was she from guessing the value ofsuch a steady witness to the truth as she had been from the first hourwhen Lionel had perceived and maintained "that she had no humbug inher;" how her cares for her brother had borne fruit in him; how helearnt from her to reverence goodness, and cleave to the right; andhow he looked up to her, because her words were few, and her deedsconsistent. More right in theory, than steady in practice was Lionel;very unformed, left untrained by those whose duty it was to watch him;but the seeds had been sown, and be his future life what it might, itcould not but bear the impress of the years she had spent in the samefamily. 

She knew nothing of all this; she only thought, as she watched hisquick, bounding run, that he, the least regarded, was the flower of theflock, with principles as good as Walter's, and so much more manly andactive. For Marian, with all her respect for Walter, could not helpwishing, like the boys, that he had more life and spirit, and lesstimidity. A little mental courage would, she thought, have brought himto expostulate with Caroline, instead of keeping out of the way, andleaving her to her fate. Edmund would not have done so. 

CHAPTER XV. 

 "It's hame, and it's hame, and it's hame. "

 Cunningham. 

Edmund and Gerald had promised to spend a few days at Oakworthy, beforethe one returned to Portsmouth and the other to Eton; but their planswere disconcerted by an event which, as Clara said, placed Marian inmourning in good earnest, namely, the death of her great aunt, old Mrs. Jessie Arundel, who had always lived at Torquay. For the last four orfive years she had been almost imbecile, and so likely to die at anytime, that, as it seemed for that very reason, every one took her deathas a surprise when it really happened. 

Edmund thought it right that both he and Gerald should attend herfuneral. Lord Marchmont, whose wife stood in the same relationship toher, met them in London, and they all went together to Torquay, insteadof making the intended visit to Oakworthy. Gerald was obliged to returnto Eton on the following day, without coming to Oakworthy; but, to makeup for it, he wrote to his Writer from Torquay, and his letter endedthus, --"Now I have a capital bit of news for you. Old aunt Jessie hasdone what I shall venerate her for ever after--left every scrap of herproperty to Edmund, except a legacy or two to her servants, a picture ofmy father to me, and some queer old-fashioned jewels to you and Selina. The will was made just after I was born; so it was to make up to Edmundfor my cutting him out of Fern Torr. You may suppose how Lord Marchmontand I shook hands with him. It is somewhere about £20, 000; there isgood news for you! He is executor, and has got to be here a day or twolonger; but Lord Marchmont and I set off by the first train to-morrow. Ishall look out for Lionel, tell him, in case he is too blind to see me. Can't you come with him to the station, and have one moment's talk?"

This proved to be possible; and Marian, in the interval between thecoming of the post and the setting off, had time, all the hurry of herdressing, to wonder if she ought to be very much rejoiced. She did notbelieve, that even wealth could spoil Edmund, but she did not think allthis would be of much use to him. It did not give him a home, and infact she thought it rather a creditable thing to be as poor as he hadhitherto been. She had rather have heard of something to make him lookless like Tressilian, than he had done the last time she had seen him. 

She had a pleasant drive with Lionel, who was very glad of any good luckbefalling Mr. Arundel, and presently, after some meditation, broke outas follows:--"My eyes! what miles and miles it would buy in Australia"and then proceeded to talk all the rest of the way about Australianbulls. 

The meeting at the station was a bright one, though so short, asscarcely to be worth the journey, if the value of such moments were tobe reckoned by their number. There was Lord Marchmont to be spoken to, as well as Gerald, which broke into the time. Gerald looked very happyand pleasant. He said Edmund was the best fellow in the world, and thathe had been very happy--shot lots of things--he wished he could stop totell about it. Then Marian hurried what she had to say, while Lionel waslooking after his luggage. "Gerald, would you just try if you can doanything to spare Lionel's eyes? When you have the same things to do, could you not read to him, or something? they seem so much worse, and Iam so afraid. "

"I'll try, " said Gerald, "but I don't think I can do much, and he willnever give in. "

The bell rang--Lionel ran up--she wished them good-bye, and drove home, happier than when last she parted there from Gerald, wondering what hadhappened in his journey with Edmund, and re-assured, by his free cordialtone. She took up a book and read all the way home. 

The next thing that was heard of Edmund was in a note to Mr. Lyddell, saying that he should come and spend one night at Oakworthy, on his wayto Portsmouth; that he hoped to arrive about one o'clock, and thathe should bring Marian her aunt's legacy of the jewels. This wascommunicated to her by Mrs. Lyddell, and she could not discover fromwhence he wrote; she supposed from London, unless he was still detainedin Devonshire. She looked forward greatly to his coming, as there wasso much to hear about Gerald; and she felt, as if she wanted somethingpleasant, very much indeed; for, now that Lionel was gone, she foundwhat a companion, interest, and occupation he had been, and missedhim very much. The constraint with all the others, except Clara, was wearisome: and Clara, though never ceasing to talk, and veryaffectionately, was anything but a companion, while poor Caroline keptmore than ever aloof, and had a flightiness of spirits--a sort ofgaiety of manner--which, to Marian, seemed to be assumed. This was moreespecially the case, after there was an idea of fixing the marriage forsome time in the autumn, and arrangements were talked over. Marian beganto have little doubt that she was secretly unhappy, and grew more andmore tender in feeling towards her; while, by an effect of contraries, her manner became more frigid and severe, in proportion to the warmthwithin. 

Clara wondered a little what Mr. Arundel was coming for, and laughed andlooked significant when Marian said she knew perfectly well; but Marianthought she knew so thoroughly as not to be in the least disconcerted, though Clara's glances were full upon her when he was announced. In hecame, just at luncheon time; he shook hands with Marian with all hismight, and one glance convinced her that he had not Tressilian'sface--nay, that though the sun of Africa had left its traces, he wasmore like the Edmund of the olden time, than she had ever seen him sinceher father's death. There were a good many people at luncheon that day. Mr. Faulkner was there, and there were some visitors staying in thehouse. Edmund was a good way from her, and she could only hear his voicenow and then in the buzz; but it was a very pleasant sound to hear, andwhen he laughed, it was his own natural, free, gay laugh, such as itused to be. She was sure he was very happy, and wondered if it waspossible Aunt Jessie's fortune could have made him so, or whether itcould all be the satisfaction of having set Gerald to rights. 

As they rose to leave the dining room, he came to her, saying, "Marian, can you have a walk with me?"

"Oh, yes, I should like it of all things; I will be ready in oneminute. " And away she bounded, saying to Caroline, in the boldest andmost innocent manner in the world, as if on purpose to show that sheexpected nothing, and would not be laughed at, that Edmund had asked herto walk with him. He waited for her in the hall, and they went out, shescarcely pausing till they were on the steps, to say, "Well, how did youget on with Gerald? I am sure you made him very happy. "

"We got on famously. He is a very nice fellow; he only wanted a littlestimulus the right way. He is thoroughly open and candid, and I have nofear but that he will do very well. "

Marian could not speak for joy, and for gratitude to her cousin; andher heart throbbing with delight, she walked on, waiting for him to saysomething more on this most precious of all tidings. But when he spokeagain, it was if he had done with the subject of Gerald. "Marian, Ihave something to tell you, " He paused--she stood in suspense--he beganagain. "Marian, I am going to be married!"

"O!" and the inquiring, joyful, wondering, confident tone of that O, iswhat nothing can ever convey. Her eyes were turned full on him with thesame eager curiosity, the same certainty, that he could not do otherthan the best. He did not speak; but the half smile on his lip was afull though mute reply to her confidence, that she had only to hear, inorder to rejoice with all her heart; and he held out a note directed toher, in Agnes' writing!

Marian took it, but she was too wild, too delighted, too eager to lookat him, and hear him, to be able to open it. "O Edmund!" was what shesaid now, and she caught hold of his hand for an ecstatic shake. 

"Yes, thank you, yes. I said I must tell you myself, Marian--my sister. "

"O, I never heard anything more delightful in my life, " said Marian, with a sort of gasp, as soon as the overwhelming delight gave herbreath. "O, Edmund, Edmund!"

"You have not read her note yet. "

Marian tore it open, but there was scarcely any thing to read; it wasonly--

 "Dearest Marian, --He will have a note to carry you, but I can't say anything for bewilderment. I know he will tell you all about it, so it is of no use my writing. Are not you sorry he should have a wife so far from good enough for him?

 "Your affectionate and most amazed

 "AGNES. "

Marian held it up to him, smiling. "But of course you have seen it?"

"No, I have not; I suppose she thought I should not carry suchnonsense. "

"Well, I am sure there is no other person in all the wide world that Icould have thought good enough for you. Agnes! Agnes! O, Edmund, I wishthere was any way of not being quite choked with gladness!"

Edmund smiled, and perhaps he was "choked with gladness" beyond thepower of speech; for the two cousins only proceeded to shake handsagain. The next thing that was said was after an interval. "Marian, youremember our bargain six years ago? Have you grown so very fond of theLyddells as to repent of it?"

"O, Edmund, you have not thought of that?"

"Have not we? It was one of the first things we did think of. "

"I don't think I can bear to hear of much more happiness, " said Marian, in almost a crying voice. "I am so glad for you that I can't be glad formyself yet. I can't take it all in; it is too good to be true!"

"Indeed it does seem so. But you agree? Agnes said I must make you agreefirst of all. "

"Don't I? Only I want to enjoy it for you, --it is so beyond everything!"

"Well, wasn't I a wise man to say I would not miss the pleasure oftelling you myself?"

"Then do tell me; do let us be rational, if we can. Then you came herefrom Fern Torr?"

"Yes. Did you not know that?"

"No. I did not hear where you wrote from. How long were you there?"

"I only went on Wednesday. "

"Then it was only one whole day! How much you must have had to settle!"

"So much, that we settled scarcely anything. "

"Then you don't know when it is to be?"

"No, and Mrs. Wortley talks of having time, --poor Mrs. Wortley, but Idon't think I shall take her away far; I have some notion of looking outfor some place close at hand. "

"Just what we settled long ago. But O! begin and tell me all, Edmund, --as much as you like to tell me, at least. I want to know howyou first came to think of it. " Then, as he smiled, she added, "I mean, how long you have been thinking of it. "

"If you mean how long with any hope, only since I knew of good auntJessie's consideration for me. How long it has been in my mind I cannottell; certainly before I went to Africa. You see, Marian, " he continued, as if he was apologising, "it was this which made me think it advisablefor me to go, though, as I see now, it was not at all good for Gerald. "

"What, --you mean--I am not sure that I understand--"

"Don't you see, Marian, feeling as I did, and knowing how out ofthe question it was for a penniless man like me, to think ofmarrying, --Agnes so young too, and I with everything to draw me to whathad been my only home, --there was nothing to be done but to keep outof the way, to guard me against myself; and that was easier with seasbetween. I don't know whether I did right or not, but I hoped I did, because it cost me something; yet it was a forsaking of Gerald whichmight have done much harm, though I hope it has not, as it has turnedout. "

"I see it all!" said Marian, resting there, because she had not a wordwith which to express her honour of his noble conduct. 

"You will forgive me now, " he added, with a smile, "for what you thoughtmy neglect of home. "

"I am only afraid I must often have given you a great deal of pain, " shealmost whispered. 

"Never, except when I thought it right to silence you. It was only toodelightful to hear their very names. You might well tell me that she hadgrown prettier than ever. "

On talked and walked the cousins, over the downs, which had certainlynever been trodden by happier people. At last they recollected that theymust return, if they wished to be in time for the post, and retracedtheir steps, talking as eagerly as ever. As they were coming near thehouse, Marian said, "Does Gerald know?"

"Not yet; I shall write to him to-morrow. "

"Is it to be a secret? Of course I should say nothing about it while youare here, but may I mention it afterwards?"

"They said nothing about secrecy, " said Edmund; "in fact I thinkattempting it, only results in making one look foolish. Yes, you arewelcome to tell whom you please as soon as I am out of the way. I hadrather the Lyddells know. "

"Very well; indeed, I don't think I can keep it to myself, it is toomuch joy. "

"Do you expect them to participate in your pleasure at making yourescape from them?"

"There is no one to miss me, except, perhaps, Lionel, a little, when hiseyes are bad. Caroline would once have cared, but that is over now, poorthing! There never was a time when I should have been more glad to getaway. O, Edmund, if you would do one thing to oblige me, it would be, to have your wedding the same day as Caroline's, that I might not beobliged to be at it. "

"At which?"

"O, you know!"

"Is it such a very bad affair?"

"O, I am very much grieved about it. The man has no religion at all, youknow; at least, if he has any, it is all natural religion, --anything butthe truth. "

"Do you really mean that the family have accepted him, allowed this togo on, knowing such things of him?"

"I don't know how far they see it. I don't think they allow it tothemselves, and I don't think they would understand some of it; as, forinstance, when I heard him talking the other day as if he assumed thatChristianity was only a development of people's tendency to believe, --asfleeting as other forms of faith. It was not very broadly stated, andI don't think I should have seen it, if it had not chimed in withsomething I had read; and, besides, I knew what was in the man. "

"How do you know? Not from your own observation?"

"O, no, no; I liked him at first. I could have liked him very much, ifLord Marchmont had not told me about him, and then I had the key tohim. "

"And this poor Miss Lyddell?"

"She knew what I did, " said Marian, sadly. "But he is veryagreeable, --at least he is thought so, --and they all admired him somuch, and paid such court to him, that--Yet I did think better things ofCaroline. Lionel is the only one who has found him out, and he thinks ofit just as I do, O, Edmund, I am sure you would like Lionel. "

"How are his eyes?" asked Edmund, as they were coming under the portico, and could not talk of any of the more delicate subjects. "I thoughtGerald gave a very bad account of them; indeed, I scarcely expected thathe could have gone back to Eton. "

"I sometimes think, " almost whispered Marian, "that it is not he, poorboy, whose eyes are the worst in the house; but Mrs. Lyddell's head hasbeen so full of Johnny, and Caroline, and all she has to do, that shewill not see anything amiss with Lionel. "

"He must be a boy of a great deal of resolution and principle, to havestruggled on as he has clone, by Gerald's account. Ah! I meant to havetold you about Gerald, but all our time is gone. "

"Never mind, we can talk of him in the evening. There is a corner ofmine where I always get out of the way of the people, and where Ihave had many a nice talk with Walter, or Lionel, under cover of MissGrimley's music. Now where do you like to write your letter? If you hadnot rather do it in your own room, there is a nice quiet place inthe old school-room, where I write mine, when the drawing-room isuninhabitable. "

Edmund accepted the invitation, partly because he was just so shy ofletting his own handwriting be seen in the address, that he meant toavail himself of Marian's cover. Just as Marian had finished a note, toojoyous to have any sense in it, and containing a promise to write moresensibly to-morrow, had directed the cover, and told her cousin thathe must wind up if he meant to catch the post, Clara opened the door, gazed, laughed, and was retiring in haste, when Marian, without a shadeof the confusion Clara had hoped for, called her back. "Edmund came hereto write a note, " she said, "don't go away. "

Edmund made some demonstration about intruding, and wrote theconclusion, at which nothing but some interruption would have made himarrive, put it into the envelope, gave it face downwards to Marian, and departed. Now Mrs. Lyddell and Clara were both persuaded that Mr. Arundel had come for no other purpose than to propose to Marian; andthey had been entertaining themselves during their drive with conversingon the subject; so that Clara was never more surprised and puzzled inher life than by seeing Marian stand there, smiling, and with beamingeyes, brighter than ever she had looked before, but without one particleof a blush, --white-faced as ever, only dancing first on one foot, thenon the other, balancing her bonnet on one hand, and with the otherholding the precious letter. 

"Well, Marian!"

"Well!" Marian made a pirouette. "I must run and put this letter in thebox. " And so saying, away she ran down stairs, up again in a second;then meeting the astonished Clara at the head of the stairs, she tookher round the waist, and fairly waltzed her to her own door, opened it, threw herself into a chair, exclaimed, "I beg your pardon, Clara; you'llthink me mad, but I'll tell you all about it to-morrow. "

Fanny was present, so Clara could do nothing but stare; and lateness, and a dinner-party necessitating a hasty toilette, she retreated, whileMarian contained her raptures as best she could, and meditated on thedelightful life she was to lead with Agnes and Edmund, in some cottageon the borders of Fern Torr. O happiness, such as she had neverknown, which seemed to bring back as much of her home as could everreturn, --which would be everything for Gerald! Every care gone, Edmundhappy, Gerald satisfactory, her own exile at an end. Her head almostswain round with happiness, and she wanted to turn to the glass, topersuade herself that she could be the same Marian Arundel, wide awake, and yet so very, very happy. 

However, it was all future, as far as concerned herself; and that careswere in the world she was convinced, by her own pang at seeing Caroline, whom she overtook on her way down stairs. She had no disposition towhirl _her_ round; but there was a softened feeling, belonging perhapsto the fulness of her own joy, that made her, as she came up with her, put her arm round her, as she had now and then walked with her in formerdays. Caroline looked in her face, and drew the arm closer withoutspeaking. Their faces had always been unlike, but the contrast wasstronger than ever. Marian, with those pale, regular features, plaindark hair, black eyes and eyebrows, with her mourning dress, and yetwith a radiant, irrepressible joy and buoyancy all round and about her;while Caroline, with her small pretty features, rosy colour, blue eyes, glossy curls, her pink dress and gold bracelets, was in general air verydifferent, and in countenance how much more; for the eyes were restless, the smile came rather as if it was called, than as if it residednaturally on her lip, --the colour of her cheeks, though bright, lookedfixed and feverish; and now and then, there was a quiver about the wholeface. How different from the secure expression of happiness, now andthen illuminated, as it were, with some sudden flash of secret joy, which sat on Marian's broad, serene brow. 

They entered the drawing-room together, and from that time Marian wasoutwardly her own stiff, distant self, till the promised time in theevening, when Edmund made his way to her in her corner, where he wasgreeted by a most sunny look. "Now for Gerald, " said she. 

Edmund had a great deal to tell about Gerald. He thought him, on thewhole, a very nice, amiable, right-minded boy, who only wanted moretraining and watching than Mr. Lyddell would or could give. He had, after a time, been brought to be entirely open and confiding; and this, for which Edmund seemed to be really grateful to him, and to admire him, was the great point, he had made Edmund a friend, instead of looking athim as a guardian, --found that he could sympathize, and had ended bytrusting and consulting him. Marian, though wondering how the reservehad ever been, conquered, felt the relief of knowing that all was safenow, and was not hurt by his confiding in any one but herself. Edmundreally thought it was safe. "I believe I know the worst of him now, poorfellow, " he said, smiling, "and the worst is not much. He has been goingon in a careless, thoughtless way, out of high spirits and imitation, agood deal, and the consciousness made him keep back from you; he ownsthat, and is very sorry. "

"Does he? dear Gerald!"

"He seemed to feel deeply that he had neglected you; but he said, andvery truly, how much there had been against him, --no one, as he said, tomake him mind; and the fellows would have laughed at him, if they hadfound out that he attended to his sister. "

"Ah! Johnny sowed that mischief long ago!"

"I hope it is not weakness. I do not think it is; for there wasmanliness in confessing all, and he seemed to feel the folly strongly. "

"Did he tell you about the debts?"

"Yes, and of his own accord. They are nothing in themselves; but he hasbeen allowed too much money, has had little warning, and his title wasagainst him too. So if we can break off the habit of extravagance, thereis no great harm done. After all, you know, he is very young, andthere is plenty of time to form his character. I am sure he has gooddispositions of every kind, and if he has but resolution, he will besure to do well, "

"I think there is resolution in his temper. Nothing shakes him when hismind is once made up. "

So Marian was very well satisfied on the whole about her brother, andshe might justly be so by Edmund's account. There was nothing to disturbher happiness, and she only doubted whether she should be able to sleepfor it. Her brother restored, as well as everything else!

When bed-time came, Mrs. Lyddell looked at her, as if expectingsomething more to be said than "good night, " but nothing came, --nothingbut the dancing light in the eyes. Clara followed her to the room, andstood gazing at her. "Why, Marian, " at last she said, "can't you tell meanything about it?"

"No; not till to-morrow. "

"O, that is too bad, Marian, when you heard all I had to tell directly. "

"I can't help it; I am not at liberty to tell other people's affairs. "

"Don't look so grand, Marian, pray. I am sure I thought this was yourown. "

"So it is in a way. "

"In a way? Why, Marian, what an extraordinary girl you are! not your ownaffair! Well, if you are impenetrable, I can't help it; but it is notkind, when we all want to congratulate you. "

"Stop, stop, Clara!" exclaimed Marian, and now she did blush, "will yoube satisfied if I tell you that it is not what you suppose? You shallhear what it is to-morrow, and then you will see what nonsense you havebeen talking. "

"What?" cried Clara, "you are not--"

"Don't say it, pray don't! Never was any one further from it. Now dogo to bed, Clara, for I cannot tell you a word more, and keep yourcuriosity at rest for to-night. "

Marian took care not to be caught alone by Clara before breakfast thenext morning, and almost immediately after breakfast, Edmund departed. Marian had been out into the hall with him to exchange some last words, and Mrs. Lyddell, meantime, was observing to Caroline that she neverknew anything so strange; she thought it was due to herself, howeverunpleasant it might be, to claim some confidence from Miss Arundel, onsuch matters, while living under her care. Marian came back, however, with her innocent look of delight, --a look so unlike the bashfulness ofa damsel in love, that Mrs. Lyddell felt again doubtful; and before shecould speak, Marian had turned to Clara and said, "Now I will tell youwhat makes me so happy. Edmund and Agnes Wortley are engaged, and I amto go and live with them. "

"Miss Wortley!" at once exclaimed Mrs. Lyddell and her daughters, in theextremity of surprise; and then Mrs. Lyddell and Clara asked all theusual questions in haste and eagerness, wondering within themselves mostof all at Marian's full rejoicing, for till now they had never beenable to see that Edmund was really to her only like an elder brother. Caroline scarcely spoke, only went on nervously with her work. At last, when some interruption had caused her mother and Clara to leave theroom, she laid it down, looked at Marian for a moment or two, then said, in a trembling voice, "Dear Marian, I am glad you are so happy! I amglad you are to live with them!" then kissed her, and hastened awaybefore she could answer or return the caress. Her handkerchief wasraised as she closed the door. Marian sat and grieved, for well did sheknow all poor Caroline conveyed by that "I am glad you are to live withthem. " It meant that Caroline felt that she had given up the esteem andfriendship in which they had lived, --that she thought her own home unfitfor one brought from such a sphere as Fern Torr, --that she resigned allthose plans for Clara's good, everything that had been valued betweenthem, --that she looked not for happiness for herself, and though shehad forfeited such affection as once had been hers, yet she still lovedMarian. How could Marian rejoice so much, when such a fate was waitingfor Caroline? Poor Caroline! she contrasted her feelings with those ofAgnes, grieved again over her, and ended by blaming herself for all thecoldness and severity of the last six weeks, requited as it was by somuch kind, fond affection. 

Yet Caroline was weakly, wilfully doing wrong. How should she behaverightly towards her? O, why would nothing happen to save her, and breakoff this mockery of a marriage? But as of this there seemed littlehope, --as the Faulkners were at Oakworthy more than ever, and Mrs. Lyddell was talking in good earnest of wedding clothes, and bridesmaids, it was a comfort to have these better hopes to occupy herself with. 

Especially did she enjoy the idea of Gerald's rejoicing, and it was veryeagerly that she watched for his first letter of delight. It came assoon as heart could wish; but so mixed are joy and grief in this world, that even Gerald's letter could not convey unalloyed pleasure, butfilled her with a fresh anxiety, --or more properly, strengthened andrealized what had hitherto been but a vague terror. 

 "Eton, Sept. 14th. 

 "My dear Marian, --Never was anything better in this world than Edmund's plans. I give him infinite credit for them; and, as head of the family, he has my full consent. I wish they would go and live at the Manor House till I am of age, --that would be jolly! Lionel desires me to tell you that it is all very well, except your going from Oakworthy, and he shall go about the house like a mad fury, " (here followed his portrait in the character, ) "if you go before he is off after the blue wild beestes at the Cape. His eyes are very bad, and I wish you would tell Mrs. Lyddell about them; for I don't believe it is a bit of use his staying here, and though I am very glad to help him, doing all his work and my own too is more than I can stand. It is much worse than last half; then he could see to read, though it hurt him; now Greek or small print beats him entirely, and he cannot look out a word in the Lexicon. He does just manage to write, and he never forgets anything; so another fellow and I have dragged him through, this week. But it cannot go on so; and as he won't give up or complain, I will have something done about it, or he will blind himself outright before he has done. I cannot think how it is my tutor has not found it out, but I suppose it is that Lionel is so sharp, and has such a memory. Do speak to Mrs. Lyddell. 

 "Your affectionate brother, "E. GERALD ARUNDEL"

Marian carried the letter at once to Mrs. Lyddell's dressing-room, butshe found that Gerald had been mistaken in supposing the tutor had notobserved Lionel's failing sight: for the same post had brought a letterfrom him, which had at length completely alarmed Mr. And Mrs. Lyddell, and the former was going at once to write to his son to meet him inLondon, where he intended to consult one of the first oculists. 

This was a great relief. Mr. Lyddell set off, and the party at homecomforted themselves with predictions that all would soon be remedied;Marian and Clara agreeing that it would be very pleasant to have Lionelat home to walk with them, and to be nursed. 

Mr. Lyddell had been gone about two days; Caroline and Clara were atHigh Down, and Marian was returning from a solitary ramble in the park, enjoying her last letter from Agnes, when, as she crossed the lawn, shewas startled by finding Lionel stretched on his face on the grass, justat the turn where some bushes concealed him from the windows. He layflat, without his hat, his forehead resting on one arm; while with hishand he tore up daisies and grass, and threw them hastily over hisshoulder, while his whole frame quivered in a convulsive agony ofdistress. 

"Lionel! Lionel! you come home? What is the matter?" exclaimed she. 

"Matter! matter enough, I think, " said, or rather muttered Lionel;"There is an end of the Cape, or anything else. "

"How are your eyes?" asked Marian, in consternation. 

"Only I am blind for life!" answered Lionel; still hiding his face, andspeaking in a sullen, defiant tone. 

Marian, dreadfully shocked, almost beyond all power of speaking ormoving, could only drop down sitting on the grass beside him, and takehis hand. 

"All neglect, too, " he added; then vehemently, "I don't believe, no Idon't, there is any pauper's son in the parish that would have been soused!"

Her voice was low with fright: "But, Lionel, what has happened? Let mesee you. Is it worse? can't you see?"

"O yes, I can see now, after a fashion, at least, but that is soon togo, they say, and then--They have done it themselves, and they may havethat satisfaction!" added he, with a fearful bitterness in his tone. "Elections, and parliament, and dinners, and that Faulkner, --that iswhat they have given my sight for. " He withdrew his hand, and turned hisshoulder from Marian, as if resolute not to be comforted; and again heshook with agony. 

"O, don't say such dreadful things, dear Lionel! O, if I could but doanything for you!" she cried, in a tone of heartfelt grief, which seemedto soften the poor boy a little; for he twisted round, so that his face, still pillowed on one arm, was half raised to her, and she could seehow flushed it was, and that the eyelids were inflamed, though notwith tears, and the eyes themselves had not altered from their formerappearance. 

"'Tis not your fault, " he said. "If my mother had cared for me onequarter--"

"Don't blame anybody, pray!" interrupted Marian: "it only makes itworse. Only tell me all about it. Did the occulist say--"

"Not to me, " answered Lionel; "not the worst, at least. He examined myeyes very closely, and asked me all manner of questions about what Icould see, and what I could not, and what things hurt them, and how longit had been going on, and how I had been using them. Then he told methat it was impossible for him to do anything for them as yet, till thedisease had made more progress; that most likely I should quite lose mysight this winter, and then I must come to him again. So that was badenough, but I could have made up my mind to that, and they sent me away. Then it seems that, after I was gone, he went on about it to papa, andtold him that the mischief had been brewing time out of mind, and sometime ago it might have been stopped; but all that straining of my eyesat Eton, last half, had done immense harm, and confirmed the disease;and it is of a kind that--that--there is no cure for!" He buried hisface again. 

"Did Mr. Lyddell tell you this?"

"No, he only told me we were to go home directly, and wrote to Gerald tosend my things from Eton. He hardly spoke a word all the way, --only ledme about, and poked me in and out of the carriage, as if I wasblind already; it put me almost in a rage. Then as soon as we camehome, --about half an hour ago, I should think, --he told it all straightout to my mother, did not mince matters, I assure you: indeed, I believethey both forgot I was there. They are apt to forget me, you know. Heregularly stormed about the neglect, and told her it was all her fault;and while this was going on, I found I had heard the worst, and I didnot want to be pitied, so I came out here. And so there is the wholestory for you, Marian, and a pretty one it is! A fine sort of life Ishall have instead--"

"Well but, Lionel, " cried Marian, eagerly, "are you sure that be said_for certain_ that it was hopeless? for it seems so odd that he shouldhave told you one thing, and Mr. Lyddell another. "

"Pshaw! I suppose he had got some consideration, and did not want toknock me down with the worst at once. "

"I should think it was more comfortable to know the worst at once!" saidMarian, meditatively, "so as to be able to settle one's mind to it. "

"A pretty thing to settle one's mind to, " said Lionel, "to know I mustbe a good-for-nothing, dependent wretch all my days! As well be a woman, or an idiot at once! There, I shall never see that tree green again; no, and spring--I have seen my last of that! and I may look my last at allyour faces. Johnny I shall never see again. "

Ho was crying bitterly now, --almost choking with tears; and Marian'swere flowing too. She was much distressed at the present moment; forthough the weeping was likely to relieve him, she feared it might bedoing harm to his eyes, and she did not know in the least whether itought to be checked, or, indeed, how to check it. Grieved and in greatconsternation she was, in truth, for she was very fond of Lionel, and full of such strong sympathy and compassion, as to be perfectlyincapable of expressing it, in the slightest degree. But he knew her;she had been the only person who had ever been uneasy about hissight, and this went for a great deal with him: so that, with all herundemonstrativeness, there was no one whom he could have liked so wellto have near him in that moment of dire despair. "O, I am so sorry!"expressed infinitely more than the simple words. 

"You see, Marian, " said he, raising himself, and struggling with thesobs of which he was ashamed, "I could bear it better if I had not hadsuch a scheme for my life, and my father consenting too. Australia, andthose wild cattle, and that glorious Bush life, always galloping in theplains; and now to be condemned to be moping about here, for ever, indarkness and helplessness. O, to think of the plans we have made, allcome to an end for ever!" and again he was weeping violently. 

"They might have been stopped otherwise, " said Marian, catching at anypossible idea that might answer, or seem to console him; "you know youmight have been ill, or met with an accident, and had a great deal tosuffer. "

"I would suffer anything rather than lose my eyesight! You don't knowwhat you are talking of. "

"Then just suppose this complaint had come on, in some lonely place outin the wilds, with no one to take care of you. "

"It would not, I should have had no Greek to put my eyes out. "

"And after all, dear Lionel, you know----;" there she was choked--"youknow that--" and she was choked again--"you know where it comes from. "

"I know what you mean, " he said; "and if it did--But it is my mother'sneglect; there is the bitterness of it. Why, you and my father tried tostir her up to it in the spring, and she would not; and then, when forvery shame she must attend, what does she do but let me go muddling onwith that old woman Wells! She has regularly thrown my sight away, asmuch as if she had pulled my eyes out and thrown them over the hedge. "

"No one could ever have guessed--"

"I tell you she might have guessed. Any other mother in the world wouldhave been frightened years ago, long before I went to school. If it hadbeen Elliot or Johnny, wouldn't she have had half the doctors in London?but what did she ever trouble her head about _me?_"

"Now, Lionel, that must not be said. You know it is wrong, and I am sureyou will see how sorry she is, and how it was really not having time. "

"I dare say she is sorry--I should hope so--now it is too late, and shehas done it. "

"But why will you accuse any one?" said Marian, sorely perplexed, andsecretly sharing all his indignation against Mrs. Lyddell. "You know itonly embitters you and makes it all worse; and after all, even if manhad actually done the mischief, it still would ultimately be sent fromHeaven. "

"I don't see that that makes it any better, " murmured Lionel. 

"O don't you, Lionel?" said she earnestly; "doesn't it make you sure itis for the best?"

"I don't know what I have done to be so punished, " went on Lionel tohimself; "I have not always been good, but I have tried, and morelately, to do right; there are many much less steady than I, who--"

"Yes, yes, Lionel, but perhaps it is not as good for them to beprosperous. Indeed, indeed I am quite sure, though I don't understand itall, or see the way, that if you will but bear it rightly, you will beglad, if not before, yet at least when you die, even of this terribleaffliction. "

"I almost wish I was dying now!" said Lionel gloomily, "if I could butdie the last day that I am to see the sky and everything, instead ofdroning on in the dark, a burthen to myself and every one else, forI don't know how long, forty, fifty, sixty years perhaps. You know, Marian, I am only sixteen--"

There was a burst of tears again, and Marian felt herself anunsuccessful comforter, nor did she wonder at it, for she could notfancy that anything could relieve the sense of such a misfortune as poorLionel's, except the really high source of consolation, and that as yetonly by faith, which might make him take it on trust as the best in theend, though for the present he must feel all the misery. She had no timeto answer him again, for the garden door opened, and at the sound hedashed away his tears, sprang to his feet, and assumed a firm, cold, would-be indifferent look, as Mrs. Lyddell came out and advanced towardsthem. Marian thought her looking flushed and agitated, and her voicecertainly betrayed more emotion than had ever been shown in it, exceptwhen bidding Johnny farewell. 

"Lionel, my dear, sitting on the damp grass? You will certainly catchcold! I have been searching for you everywhere, but I am glad you werewith Marian. I wanted to ask you, my dear, whether you would like tohave your own room or Walter's, " added she, wandering on as if anxiousto say what was kindest, yet dreading to come to the subject nearesttheir hearts. 

"My own, thank you, " bluntly answered Lionel, "I'll and unpack. " Hebrushed hastily by her, and ran into the house up stairs, his roughnesscontrasting with her affectionate tone. She looked at Marian, and sawthe trace of tears on her eyelids, and her own lip quivered while hereyes filled, and she said in a trembling voice, "Poor dear boy! has hebeen telling you? Does he know it all?"

"Yes, " said Marian, anxiously, "but is it really so very bad? Is thereno hope?"

"No hope? Who said so?" exclaimed Mrs. Lyddell quickly. 

"He did, " said Marian; "he said Mr. Lyddell told you so. "

"Was he there?" exclaimed she: "Ah! that was Mr. Lyddell's strong way ofputting things! So unfortunate--forgetting all about him. Poor fellow! Imust go to him directly, and tell him it was no such thing. "

"What? how? O do tell me!" cried Marian, turning and hurrying with her, and speaking with, such earnestness that Mrs. Lyddell could not doubt ofher sympathy now. She slackened her pace, and explained that what thesurgeon, had said was, that there was confirmed disease, and of a veryserious character, but the precise nature could not be ascertained tillit had made greater progress, and it was then possible that it mightprove capable of removal. 

Mrs. Lyddell was resolved that neither herself nor any one else shouldbelieve anything but what was most hopeful. She could not have borneit otherwise. She really was far from being indifferent to any of herchildren, though multiplicity of occupation, and thoughts, engaged onwhat she considered the welfare of the family, had prevented herfrom being properly attentive to all, and she was so accustomed touninterrupted prosperity, as to have almost forgotten that there wassuch a thing as anxiety or misfortune. Lionel, neither the eldest northe youngest, healthy, and independent, neither remarkable for beautynor grace, just unruly enough to be provoking, and just steady enough tobe no cause of anxiety, had been as much a cipher in the family as a Onelively boy could be; but though slow to be roused into anxiety, she feltit with full force when it came, all the motherly affection, which whilesecure had appeared dormant, revived, she was dreadfully shocked, andwould have been utterly overwhelmed by the accusation of neglect, had itnot been for her sanguine spirit. In this temper she represented all toMarian in the most cheering light, and hastened up stairs to do the sameto Lionel. Marian, relieved and hopeful, was waiting to collect someproperties of hers, to carry to her room, when she met Mr. Lyddell. Shewent up to greet him, and thinking that he looked very mournful, therewas more cordiality and fellow-feeling in her way of addressing him thanever there had been before, though she simply said "Good morning" andshook hands. 

"You have heard about it, Marian?" said he. "Has he been with you, poorfellow?"

"Yes, " said Marian, "he is in his own room now. "

"Ah! you spoke long ago, " said Mr. Lyddell; "I wish we had attended toyou. "

"It was Edmund who remarked it, " said she. 

"Ay, ay, and senseless it was not to attend. Then it seems thatsomething might have been done, at any rate he would not have gone oninjuring them with his work at Eton, but now it is as good as a lostcase. Poor fellow!"

"O!" exclaimed Marian, thrown back again, "I thought there was a hopethat it might not prove to be the worst. "

"There is just a shade of chance that it may turn out otherwise, andthat, your mother--Mrs. Lyddell I mean--takes hold of, but I have notthe slightest hope. The surgeon said, it had all the appearance of aconfirmed case, such as cannot be removed. "

Marian stood aghast, and Mr. Lyddell, with a sort of groan, most painfulto hear, passed her, and shut himself into his study. The only thing shecould think of doing, was to pour out her dismay and compassion in aletter to Gerald, and she repaired to the schoolroom for the purpose ofwriting, but she had not been there long, before Lionel came in, and satdown astride on the music-stool, just as he used to do, but with a verydifferent expression of countenance from the wild, reckless spirit ofmerriment which used to possess him. He sat and meditated for a littlewhile, then exclaimed, "Marian, whom have you seen since I left you?"

"Nobody but Mr. And Mrs. Lyddell. "

"Did you hear papa say anything about it?"

"Yes, a little. "

"Did he say what the doctor thought of it?"

"Yes. "

"Tell me the very words, " and he leant his elbows on the table, lookingat her fixedly. 

"Ah! Lionel, can you bear it? They are so very sad. "

"Tell me them, I say. "

Marian looked down, as if she could not bear to meet his countenance, and faltered as she repeated them. 

"Ay!" said Lionel, springing up, and flinging himself roundpassionately, "I knew it was humbug all the time!"

"What? How? O Lionel, what have I done?"

"As if I was a fool or a baby, to be fed with false hopes, " proceededLionel, sitting down, and hiding his face on his crossed arms on thetable; "she might have let that alone, she has done me mischief enoughalready. "

"Lionel, " said Marian, firmly and gravely, for she was really shocked athis tone, "you must not come to me, if it is to speak in such a mannerof your mother. "

"Very well, " said Lionel coldly, rising up to leave the room, thenpausing just as his hand was on the door, "I thought _you_ did feel forme, Marian. "

"O Lionel, dear Lionel, " and she sprang to him, to lead him back to hisseat, but he still retained his hold of the lock and would not move;"you know"--her tears were flowing--"you know how I grieve for you; butif you are in trouble, that ought not to make you do wrong, " He wasturning the lock, and hardened his face, but Marian went on, "Don't go, Lionel, only hear me. Mrs. Lyddell is very unhappy about you, and I amsure you must see yourself, that if she blames herself for any want ofcare, her only comfort must be in hoping for the best, making the mostof this little ray. "

"Then _you_ think there is a ray!" interrupted Lionel. 

"So far as that nothing is certain, but I am afraid it is so slight, that you had much better not trust to it, but settle your mind to bearwhatever may come. "

"Very easy talking! If you had but to do it!" cried Lionel, impetuouslywrenching the door open in spite of her gentle resistance, and runningoff determinately, leaving her, poor girl, in great despair, at havingso completely failed either in comforting, softening, or bringing him toany kind of resigned feeling, having besides vexed him, made him thinkher unkind; and though this was unintentional, and might be better forhim, just contradicted what his mother wished him to believe. 

Her distress was too great even for writing to Gerald, and she walkedup and down, thinking what to do, longing to find him some bettercomforter, and offering up many a prayer for him, till at last she heardCaroline and Clara come home, and remembering that happen what might, she must dress for dinner, up she went, heavily and sorrowfully. 

As soon as she was dressed, she went to Clara's room, feeling that thiswould be but kind. Clara was not there, and she hesitated whether to goon to Caroline's, once her frequent resort. At that instant, however, both sisters came up together, and hastened to her. "O Marian Marian!"exclaimed Clara. 

"You know all about it, I suppose, " said Caroline. 

"Yea, indeed I do. "

"Come in here, " said Caroline opening her door; "I want to know abouthim, poor fellow, and how he bears it. Have you seen anything of him?"

Marian told all she could, without betraying what was confidential, anddid her best to soften Lionel's conduct, by which his sisters evidentlyhad been disappointed, saying that he had scarcely chosen to speakto them. Marian explained what was on her mind, how she had, withoutintending it, flatly contradicted Mrs. Lyddell's cheering assurances, regretting it much, as injustice towards Mrs. Lyddell, but of this, Caroline thought little. 

"Mamma is always sanguine, " she said, "and it was only her colouringthat made Lionel think her account hopeful. It must be better for him, poor fellow, to know the truth, than to have his mind unsettled withvain hopes. O dear! O dear! how sad it is, and at his age too! It breaksone's heart to think of it. "

All coldness and distance had left Caroline's manner in speaking toMarian, and this was a great comfort, in the midst of their troubles. 

A very uncomfortable time it was, which thus commenced. Lionel was agood boy on the whole, with right principles, and some seriousness ofmind, but he was far too undisciplined to meet patiently such a trialas this. He had pride, and a high spirit, and this made him assume abearing, which was a good deal admired in the family, trying to carryit off with a high hand, never openly uttering a word of complaint, andseeming as if he would rather die than directly express the miserabledespairing feelings within, though, poor boy, he little knew howevidently they showed themselves in his gloomy silence, his outbreaks oftemper, and his almost desperate, defiant spirit of independence. 

His father and mother, not understanding him in the least, managed, inthe revulsion of feeling which made him now the first object in thefamily, to try his temper perpetually. He had in former times, missedtheir demonstrations of affection, though healthy, high-spirited, and byno means sentimental, the craving had been only occasional, he had donevery well without them, and had gained habits of freedom incompatiblewith being petted. He had never been used to be interfered with, andcould not understand it at all; and that remembrance of past neglectembittered all his feelings. 

Mr. Lyddell had just found out, as Marian had thought long ago, thatLionel was the flower of his flock, the one of his sons, who aloneunited spirit and steadiness, for the emigration scheme had shown adegree of sense, enterprise, and consideration which had at the timepleased and surprised him, and now added much to his sense of thepromise lost. He laid all the blame of the neglect on his wife, but hedid not lament it the less keenly. His extreme kindness and solicitudefor the boy, were, to those who compared them with his generalcharacter, quite affecting, but unluckily they displayed themselves is away which harassed Lionel very much, for he treated him as if he fanciedhim completely blind already, cautioned him, guided him, and lookedanxious, if he did but walk across the garden alone; whilst Lionel, who could see quite well enough for all ordinary purposes, was teased, reminded of his troubles, and vexed above measure by having noticeattracted to his defect of sight. 

In the main, however, he owned that his father was kind, and sorry forhim, though each particular instance annoyed him; but it was much worsewith his mother, for her petting was more minute, more constant, andsuch as would have been worrying to any boy in full health, even if ithad not, as in poor Lionel's case, been connected with the dark future, and with a past, which had sadly soured him against her. He was alwaysrough and morose with her, rebelling against her care, never wakeninginto affection, or showing pleasure in what she proposed, though shecontinued to press on him her attention, with uunwearied assiduity. 

His sisters were treated much in the same manner; Clara made him crosswith over care, and Caroline, though showing better judgment, and muchreal tact and affection, was also kept at a distance, and often harshlyanswered. Marian too, was quite sufficiently like a sister to comein for many an unreasonable fit of rudeness, and temper when it wasperfectly impossible to find any means of pleasing him. 

Indeed such unoccupied days as his were in themselves a trial of goodhumour. Idleness was very pleasant in the holidays, but his was tooactive a spirit to bear it for long together, especially when it leftroom for such anticipations as those for which his hopes of a Bush lifewere exchanged, Yet he treated offers of reading to him as insults, andfar less would he endure to learn any occupation that might serve himwhen his sight should be quite gone; he professed to hate music, andlounged about disconsolately in the house or garden. Now and then, ifhe found the young ladies reading on their own account, he would bebeguiled into listening and being amused, and their ingenuity was oftenexercised in appearing to be doing it naturally, and he sometimes tookpart in conversation, and thus had his attention withdrawn from hismisfortune; but it was not often that his moodiness of manner could becharmed away, unless strangers were present, when he thought it a pointof honour to seem at his ease and merry. 

After luncheon, he liked best to ride, but against this, Mr. And Mrs. Lyddell set their faces, persuaded that it must be very dangerous. This, Lionel thought the height of unkindness; he could ride just as safelyas in the holidays; and it was too cruel to make him give up the onepleasure he best liked, while he was still able to enjoy it, and thoughnot sufficiently familiar with them to attempt any remonstrance, hebecame doubly discontented and sullen. He would not walk with the girls, but wandered far away over the downs by himself, often not coming backtill very late, and till both his parents had been in some alarm. Atlast, after about a week, Marian ventured to expostulate; she prevailed, and he was allowed to resume his rides, under a restriction that it mustnever be alone. Now, taking a servant with him was an avowal of hismisfortune which he never would endure; so Marian, who never in her lifewas afraid of what any horse could do, became his companion, and rodeout with him a good deal, feeling him indeed a charge, but not nearly soheavy a one as her cousins fancied. 

Still, though not afraid of accidents to him or to herself, these rideswere almost a subject of dread to Marian, daily as was their occurrence, for it was then that poor Lionel made up for the reserve he exercisedwith all the rest. If she could have done him any good, it would havebeen a different thing, but surely, the world did not contain, as shethought, a worse comforter than herself; for day after day, answeras she would, came the same sad strain of regrets, and laments overvanished plans, repelling every attempt at leading him to resignation, and only varied by the different moods in which he would sometimes lookon his case as hopeless, and sometimes be angry with her for assumingthat it was so. Still worse were the complaints of his parents, inwhich he would indulge after each fresh provocation, or rather, what hethought so, though she never gave him the least encouragement to talkin this manner, argued for them, and often blamed him; yet do what shewould, he never was convinced. The same battle on some other ground wassure to recur, often the next day, and Marian, right as she knew shewas, never felt as if she had the victory; for five times out of six, itwas in a surly, impatient manner that he turned away from her, as theydismounted. She often wondered whether she ought to let him go on thus, whether it was right in her, if it did him harm, by confirming all hisunpleasant feelings, or whether it might not be worse for him to letthem rankle in his heart instead of pouring them out. It seemed toounkind to silence him, when he fancied such talk a comfort, and she wasthe only person in his confidence, yet what was right? what was good forhim? Her head ached with the self debate; she felt positively worn anddepressed, with the continued useless, harassing conversations; she knewhe was beyond her management, yet, with all her doubts, she was tootender-hearted to vex him; she let him go on and only combated eachpoint, instead of refusing to listen. 

Why would not Walter come home, the only true comforter Lionel waslikely to find, whom he really respected and loved? Walter was by thistime ordained, yet he did not propose coming home; indeed Marian hadnot even heard whether he had written, and she was inclined to think hecould not have been informed of the state of things at home. 

At length, when Lionel had been at home nearly a month, there came onemorning a letter directed to him. His mother and Clara both offered toread it for him, but he gruffly refused, glanced it over, and put it inhis pocket. He loitered through the morning, and rode with Marian in theafternoon. As they happened to meet with some entertaining subject ofconversation, the ride was more cheerful than usual, and she hoped shehad escaped the ordinary discussion; but when he helped her to dismountunder the portico, he said, "Don't go in just yet. Come and take a turnin the plantations. "

Her heart sank at the task that was coming, but she would not disappointhim, and gathering up her habit, she followed his quick steps. As soonas they were out of sight of the house, he produced the letter, saying, "Here, read me this. "

"O! I was in hopes that you could. "

"I thought I could at first, but it was only 'my dear Lionel, ' that Icould read. It was all haze after that. There is a step In these threeweeks, " he added in a voice meant to be manly and careless. "Come, letus hear. 'Tis from Walter, is not it?"

The letter had been written on first receiving intelligence of Lionel'scondition, which had been communicated by his father when he had towrite about something else. Marian, as she read, rejoiced in the letter, it was so exactly what she wanted to have said, and yet never couldventure on, about regarding the affliction as a cross, and bending tobear it patiently. She had often felt that here was the best relief, butshe had never dared to set it openly before Lionel, fearing that herawkwardness, and his waywardness, might lead to his saying somethingscornful, which would be worse than all. Here it was put before him injust the right way, and one to which he must attend, and she watchedeagerly for some token of the way in which he took it. 

He made no remark, however, seeming to hear it as a matter of coursethat Walter would say something of the kind. After asking if she wascertain she had read all, and pointing to a few crossed lines at thehead of the first page, to make sure that she had not missed them, heonly said, "Then there is not a word about coming. Well, I do think hemight come when he knows that after this time I shall never be able tosee him. "

"I don't suppose he thinks of that, " said Marian--"I mean perhapshe would not think of your caring for the mere _sight_ of him as apleasure. "

"He does not know then, " said Lionel, "I am trying to learn all yourfaces, and I don't think I shall forget them. "

"I am sure if he guessed you wished for him he would come that instant. "

"I am not going to ask him, " said Lionel proudly. 

"What, I really think, is the reason of his stayin away, " said Marian, hesitating, "is about Mr. Faulkner. I think more especially now he is aClergyman, he will not have anything to do with him. "

"Ay, ay, " said Lionel, "that is a reason good for something. I onlyshould like to do the same, except that if I was Walter I would havedone more long ago, instead of just keeping out of the way, and toldCaroline it was a regular shame, and she ought not to be taken in withhis fine speeches, and balls, and stuff. "

"I don't know--" said Marian. 

"What don't you know?"

"How far even Walter would be authorised to interfere about what Mr. AndMrs. Lyddell approve. "

"Don't talk nonsense, Marian. If a thing is right, it is right, if it iswrong, it's wrong, and all the world ought to try to prevent it. I knowI would, if anybody would mind me, for it makes me sick to see that mancome into the room, and the fuss mamma makes with him. I think he growsworse. I declare I'd as soon see her marry Julian the Apostate! I am soglad he is gone to those races. I should like to ask Caroline what sortof happiness she expects with a man that talks of the Bible as if it wasno better than the Iliad! I only wish he would talk so to her, perhapsthat would shock her. "

"I don't think she is very happy, " said Marian. 

"I am sure she ought not to be, " was the answer. 

"The more talk there has been of fixing the day the more unhappy she haslooked, " said Marian. "You know she has begged the Faulkners to let itbe put off a little longer, because she could not bear that it should bewhile you are in this doubtful state. "

"I did not know it, " said Lionel, "and much good does it do me! A nicelife I shall have with no one but Clara to speak to! And when is yourmarriage, Marian? Mr. Arundel's, I mean, for that is as bad. "

"O that will not be till next summer, " said Marian: "Mrs. Wortley wishesAgnes to be twenty-one first, and Edmund has to build a house. "

And Marian was ready to forgive them for the delay when she saw howglad it made Lionel look. Yes, rejoiced as she must be to escape fromOakworthy, she could not go without a chequered feeling. If she wasadroit at managing people, she would make Clara take the place she heldnow with Lionel, which would be good for both, but she was far tooclumsy to bring that about; and O! what a refuge Fern Torr would beafter all this harassing life! It would be better for Lionel not to haveher to divert his confidence from his own family, and at any rate sheshould be there to help him through this sad autumn of uncertainty. Thenwould come the peace, rest, and guidance she had longed for all herlife, in her own home, and that hope might well cheer her through life. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

 "The brass, by long attrition tried, Placed by the purer metal's side, Displays at length a dingy hue, That proves its former claim untrue; So time's discerning hand hath art To set the good and ill apart. "

Lionel's affliction had certainly tended to lessen the gulf which theengagement with Mr. Faulkner had made between Caroline and Marian. Caroline was very anxious about her brother, and knowing that Marian hadhis confidence, was continually coming to her for reports of his stateof mind and spirits, and with despairing questions as to what was likelyto please him, --questions which Marian was quite unqualified to answer, and which were curious, since she had no tact, and Caroline had a greatdeal. 

Thus it came to pass, that nightly sittings by each other's bed-roomfire were renewed, and long consultations took place, always at firstabout Lionel, but sometimes branching to things in general, even as inthe olden time. Caroline was, however, very unlike what she had been ayear ago, when as Marian full well remembered, they had first talked ofMr. Faulkner's visit. She was gayer in public, but her spirits were verylow when alone with Marian; and now and then the conversation flagged, till she sat for full half an hour, her head on her hand, without aword. At first she would try to excuse such a reverie, by callingherself very tired; but as days went on, and it recurred, she smiledas she woke from it, and told Marian "it was such repose to be with aperson who would let her be silent. "

There was much confidence in such silence. Marian began to grow evenmore sorry for her than at first, because it was impossible to continueto be angry; and tried in every way to show her kindness, becoming, unconsciously, much more demonstrative in affection than ever she hadbeen before. On the day on which Lionel received the letter mentionedat the end of the last chapter, Caroline came into Marian's room atdressing-time; and after lingering about a little, she said, "CouldLionel read that letter to day?"

Marian shook her head sadly. 

"He brought it to you, then?" sighed Caroline, "Ah! I saw who it camefrom. "

She looked wistfully at Marian, as if longing to hear something of theletter, though she would not ask; and Marian, though much touched, wasdetermined against saying one word about it, however indifferent, asshe felt that, without Lionel's consent, she ought to be as mute as thepaper it was written upon. Caroline paused, then continued, "Do youthink he will ask you to write his answer for him?"

"No, I think not. You know he wrote a note to Gerald in one of myletters the other day. I dare say he will always be able to write; Mrs. Wortley has a blind friend who does. "

Caroline did not answer, but gazed at the fire for almost ten minutes. At last she said, "Poor Walter! I wonder what he is doing. "

"I am sure he must be making himself very useful, " said Marian. 

"That is one thing we may be sure of, " said Caroline, smilingmournfully. "Walter is excellent wherever he is; but O, Marian, "continued she, in a voice of inexpressible sadness, "who would have toldme, a year ago, that all I should hear of Walter's ordination would bein the newspaper?"

Marian could make no answer but some sound expressive of sorrow. 

"He has only written to me once since--since June!" proceeded Caroline, in the same utterly dejected tone. 

Then Walter had remonstrated, which was a great comfort to Marian, byrestoring him to his place in her estimation. Still she maintained herexpressive silence, and Caroline went on after another interval. "Youand he have been consistent from the first, Marian. "

At that moment Fanny came in, and no more could be said, for Marianwas obliged to dress for dinner in a hurry. She took an opportunity ofsaying to Lionel that evening, something about the pleasure it wouldgive Caroline if he would tell her about his letter. 

"What! you have been telling her about it?" said he, in a tone of greatvexation; "that is always the way with women--no trusting them!"

"No, indeed, Lionel, I said not one word; but she saw it was Walter'swriting. "

"And you went and told her I could not read it?"

"If she asked me, what could I do but speak the truth?" said Mariangently; but he only made an impatient exclamation. 

"I gave not the least hint of what it was about, " added Marian, pleadingly. "Of course I could not think of that, nor she either; butshe looked as if she did so long for some news of Walter: she has notheard from him since the summer. "

"That is her own fault, " said Lionel, in his surly voice. 

"That only makes it the worse for her. She is so much out of spirits, Lionel; and if you would only tell her that part about his schools andhis lodging, I am sure she would be so much obliged to you. "

"I shan't do any such thing, " was his reply; "I always keep my lettersto myself, and I wish you would not talk about me. "

He turned sharply away, and crossed the room; but his temper was notimproved by the consequences of his stumbling over a footstool which hadbeen left full in the way, and in rather a dark place, where it wouldhave been a trap for any one. He recovered in an instant withoutfalling; so that it would not have signified if Mr. And Mrs. Lyddellhad not both been startled. The former issued an edict that nostumbling-block should be left in the way, and the latter entered uponan investigation as to who had been the delinquent in the present case, so as to make a great deal of discussion of the very worst kind forLionel. 

Thenceforth the evening was uncomfortable. Marian felt as if shewas guilty of all, and was extremely provoked with herself for thatblundering way of driving at her point, which made things worse when shemost wanted to set them right. She had not comforted Caroline, andshe had led poor Lionel to fancy his confidence betrayed, and himselfdiscussed and--as he would call it--gossiped about. No wonder he lookedas if she had been injuring him; yet, unjust as it was, she had only herown mal-adroitness to blame. A person of tact would have smoothed it allat once, instead of ruffling everything up. 

The tact Marian longed for is a natural talent; the consideration, thedelicacy of feeling, that she really had, were a part of her sterlinggoodness, such as may be acquired by all; and her thorough truth, trustiness, kindness, and above all her single-mindedness, had a value, where she was really known, which weighed down, in the long run, allthat was involuntarily against her in manner, and won her not onlyesteem, but such warm affection, such thorough reliance, as neither sheherself, nor those who felt it could fathom. Tact is an excellent thing, but genuine love to our neighbour, seeking to show true kindness, delicacy, and consideration, --striving in fact to do as it would be doneby, --is as much more precious, as a spiritual gift is than a naturalquality. 

That very night, as Marian was sitting in her own room in herdressing-gown, pondering on these unfortunate blunders, there was aknock at her door, and in came Caroline. Sitting down by the fire, sheheld out a letter on two or three sheets of closely written notepaper. "Read that, Marian, " said she, turning her face straight, to the fire asshe gave it. 

It was from Walter, and the date showed that it had been written, immediately on receiving the announcement of Caroline's engagement. It was grave, earnest, and affectionate; not accusing Mr. Faulkner ofanything, not positively objecting to him, but reminding Caroline of thesolemnity of the duties she was about to undertake, and of the extremedanger of allowing herself to be so attracted by agreeableness ofmanner, or led on by the opinion of those around her, as to forget thatthe connection she was about to form was to last for life, and that shemust be responsible for the influence her husband would exercise on herlife here, and therefore on her life hereafter. He said he was sure shecould not enter lightly on such an engagement, and therefore trustedthat her own mind was thoroughly convinced that she had chosen onewho would be a guide, an aid, and a support in the path that all weretreading. 

It was exactly Walter's way, as Marian well knew, to manage to say, inhis simple, and as he thought, guarded manner of representing things, what to sharper people had very much the air of irony; and as she gaveback the letter, her observation, as the first that would occur, was, "It is very like Walter. "

"Very, " said Caroline. 

"Did you answer him?"

"I wrote again, but--but"--her voice began to fail--"it was not ananswer. I would not seem to understand him. I wrote a lively, carelesssort of letter, and only said papa and mamma were delighted, orsomething of that kind. And O, Marian, Marian, he has never written tome again, and I have deserved it. " She burst into tears. 

"But why don't you write now? He must be very anxious to hear of Lionel, and there is no one to tell him. "

"I cannot, " she replied; "I cannot, while--while he thinks of me as hemust--as he ought!" She wept bitterly, and Marian stood by perplexed anddistressed. "Dear Caroline, " was the utmost that she could say. 

"Marian!" cried Caroline, looking up for a moment, then hiding her faceagain--"I would give anything in the world that he had been at home lastsummer; or that you had slept at High Down that night. "

A flash of hope and joy came across Marian. "If you think so, " shebegan, but Caroline cut her short. "I know what you mean, but that it?impossible, quite Impossible--decidedly so, " she added, as if theseassurances were to strengthen her own belief in its impossibility, andnot arguing, from a consciousness that her friend would overthrow everyone of her arguments. "I don't know what made me come to you, and teaseyou, " said she, rising and taking her letter; "good night. "

"Tease me! O, Caroline, Caroline, you know--"

What she knew was lost in a most affectionate embrace; but Carolinewould not stay any longer, and left Marian as usual, regrettingeverything that had passed. 

The nest night, however, Caroline came again, as if there was someirresistible spell that drew her to Marian. It was Sunday, and Marianhad long since observed that on such days Caroline was always most outof spirits. She sat down, and let a long time pass without talking; butat last she said, "Marian, it is very kind in you to let me come and sithere. You cannot--no--you will never know how wretched I am. "

"My dear, dear Caroline, if I could but do anything for you! but, " sheproceeded, gathering resolution from her day's reflections, "you are theonly person who can do anything for yourself. "

"Impossible!" repeated Caroline. 

Marian was not exactly silenced, but involved in deep considerationsas to the propriety of interfering, and whether attempting to persuadeCaroline would be doing evil that good might come. Before she had madeup her mind, --as, indeed, how could she in five minutes come to aconclusion to which hours of previous perplexity had failed to bringher?--Caroline spoke again, "If it had but never begun! but now it has, it must go on. "

"I don't know--"

"It must, I tell you!" repeated Caroline. "If it had all to begin overagain, it would be very different. O, if it was but this time lastyear!"

"But Caroline, Caroline, " repeated Marian, carried away by the thoughtthat rose to her lips, "only think; you say now if it was this time lastyear--now, while you can escape. Shall not you say so all the more whenit is really too late, --when you will wish you had drawn back now?"

"You have no right to say I should wish, that!" said Caroline, offended. "You don't know what the love is that you are holding so cheaply. "

"I beg your pardon, Caroline, " and Marian was thrown into herself again;but she thought a little longer, and seeing that Caroline was stillwaiting and musing, she ventured on saying, in a timid voice, "Somehow, I think, it would seem to me that the more affection there was, the morepainful it would all be. "

"You are right there, Marian, " exclaimed Caroline, in a voice of acutefeeling. 

It was a strange question that Marian next asked abruptly, on an impulsesudden at the moment, though it was what she had long eagerly desired toknow. "Do you love him after all?"

Caroline did not seem vexed by the inquiry, but went on speaking ratheras if she was examining herself as to the answer, --"Love him? I don'tknow; sometimes I think I do, sometimes I think not. It is not aspeople in books love, and--and it can't be as your Agnes must love Mr. Arundel. "

A most emphatic "O no!" escaped from Marian, she hardly knew how, as ifit was profanation to compare Mr. Faulkner to Edmund; and perhaps thestrongest proof that Caroline's was not a real attachment, was that shelet it pass. "But then, " pursued she warmly, "I am sure he is attachedto me--yes, very much--and--well, and I am glad to see him come into theroom; I like to walk with him. There is no one--no--no one in the wholeworld whom I like so well. All my doubts and fears go away at the firstsound of his voice, and I am quite happy then. O, Marian, that surely islove?"

"I don't know, " said Marian; "I can't fancy love that has not begun withesteem, with looking up, "

"I do look up!" said Caroline, eagerly. "He is so clever, so sensible, has such a mind. "

"I did not mean looking up intellectually, "

"Ah! you can live in that way, " said Caroline, quickly; "your own peopleare all of _that sort_. But you know I should never have had any one atall to love, if I had begun looking for _that kind of thing_, even athome. "

Too true, thought Marian, while she answered, "It is a different thingwhere you have to begin afresh, and take it voluntarily upon you. "

"Voluntarily!" repeated Caroline; "I am sure my will had very littleto do with it. I found myself in the midst of it, without knowing how, before I had made up my mind one way or the other. O, Marian! if you hadbut been with me that morning. "

"Would that have prevented you?"

"I do really believe it would. You would have looked as if you thoughtit so impossible, that I should have been strengthened up to dosomething they could not have taken for consent. I'll tell you all aboutit, Marian, from the beginning, and you will see how little free will Ihad in it, and how distracted I am now. "

Caroline went through the whole story, incoherently, and often only halfexpressing her sentiments, and passing over what Marian knew already. It seemed that she had been pleased with Mr. Faulkner's agreeableness, flattered by his attention, and entered upon the same sort ofintercourse with him as with any other pleasant acquaintance. It wouldnever have been her way, brought up as she had been, to shrink from himwith such shuddering aversion as Marian did, simply from what she hadheard of his opinions. He was so agreeable, that it was just as wellquite to forget that, or only half to believe it. Then came the growingperceptions of his intentions towards her, and of her mother's triumphin them. But this was not till the archery arrangements were so faradvanced, that she could not have drawn back from them; and she was, besides, in a whirl of gaiety and excitement that left little time forserious thought: that she put off till his offer should be made, if itwas really coming. It came, and when she did not expect it. She knewnot what to do she was too confused for consideration. The next day wasbewilderment, and in the evening she found herself engaged. The newsensation given her by her lover's affection, her genuine admiration ofhis personal superiority, and wonder at herself for having attractedsuch a man, --her gratitude to his family for their kindness, the triumphof her parents, --all formed such a mixture of pleasurable, almostintoxicating feelings, as at first to giddy her, (or, as the French willexpress it, _l'ètourdir_, ) as to what she had done, and what shewas about to do. Marian's grave, still face, and omission of onecongratulatory, even of one sympathetic word, were indeed witnesses; butthe impression of her unaccommodating ways was then recent, andCaroline thought of her as one who showed goodness to be unpleasing andimpracticable, and looked on her silent disapproval as part of thatsystem of severity in which, she was consistent, but which her conductonly proved to be absurd and unreasonable. 

In the same spirit Caroline disregarded Walter's letter, --only a letter, which could therefore be laid aside, and which, in truth, did not sayall he meant as forcibly or as well as it might have been said, since, as every one knew, Walter was more good than clever. A tenderness offeeling, reminding her that Walter loved her, would not let her destroythe letter, or be offended; but she intrenched herself in her parents'satisfaction, and being resolved not to attend to it, she would not seemto understand it. So time passed; at first she was really not exactlyhappy, but possessing what passed very well for happiness with herselfand every one else; then came a time when an effort became necessary topersuade herself that she was so. It was not that Mr. Faulkner showedhis character more openly, or startled her with any such plainexpressions as had so much shocked Lionel; for he held that most subtleand perilous of all views partaking of unbelief, --that Christianity wasthe best and most beautiful form of religion yet promulgated, that itwas all very well now for women and weak-minded people, and it was astep to some wonderful perfectibility, which was a sort of worship of anessence of beauty and intellect. 

He did not say such things to her, but they were the principles on whichall his sentiments were founded: and as she knew him mire and moreintimately, compared and discussed their tastes and likings, and thegrounds on which they were formed, there were tokens, which could nothelp now and then showing themselves, of those opinions of which Marianhad warned her. 

Very slow was she to admit the conviction, for she was growing muchattached to him; and whenever he praised the beauty, the poetry, themorality, the majesty of anything belonging to religion, she caught atit and silenced all her doubts with it, --hoped she had silenced them forever, --but the perception would return that it was only the beauty thathe praised, because it was beauty, and struck him as such. Shade uponshade, imperceptible in itself, but each tint adding to its depth, the cloud of misgiving darkened, and though she tried to fight itoff, --though she told herself it was too late, --though she was veryangry with herself for it, there it still hung; and the ever-presentconsciousness of Marian's disapproval heightened it, till in impatientmoods she began to dislike Marian, and wish her out of the house, Then came the news of Edmund Arundel's engagement, rousing Marian intosuch a glow of warm-hearted delight, as to waken Caroline to a completesense of her power of affection, as well as of the contrast of themanner in which she regarded the prospects of her two friends. Carolinegrew more unhappy, and strove both against her own growing wretchedness, and an almost magnetic attraction, which drew her to impart it all toMarian, in spite of the chill with which it would be first met, and ofthe advice which could never be taken; whilst a yearning, longing desirefor the long-suspended intercourse with Walter, and a sense of hisdispleasure, formed no slight portion of her miserable feelings. Thearrangements for her marriage she looked on as part of her destiny, --atany rate, they occupied her mind; and there would be an end, after that, of these dreadful and vain doubts. 

In the midst of all this, poor Lionel's threatened misfortune gaveCaroline, as it were, a glimpse down a long dark road, where nothing hadever yet caused her to look; yet who could say whether it might notbe her's to tread it? Affliction, sickness, sorrow, death, certain atlast, --there was but one stay in them; and what if she should loseit, --if she was losing it already? I She thought of bearing them with_him_, --of the hollowness, the fallacy, the utter misery of trying to besustained by aught that had not its foundations firmly fixed beyond thegrave, --of not looking as sorrow as fatherly chastisement. (Carolinehardly yet entered into its still higher claim, ) or at death as the gateof life. And O! if she loved him as her husband, what would it be to seehim die, thinking, or even having thought, as he too surely did? All thetrain of fallacies about sincerity rather than forms of faith, --all thehopes that he might yet be brought to see the truth, and that she mightbe the means, were only soporifics for a moment, which failed to stillthe ever growing agony. She knew there was nothing in them, and thatthey were only extenuations; but still, amid all her unhappiness, therewas a resolution to persevere, a want of moral courage which determinedher to go on, and enter on such a life as this, rather than go throughall that would ensue on an attempt to break off the match. Thus, thoughher reluctance was increasing, and she now sought to put off thedecisive day, instead of precipitating it, as at first, all sheattempted was to have the wedding deferred in consequence of herbrother's condition; and though, logically taken, there was no greatreason in the request, every one agreed it was a very amiable feeling, and so her desire was complied with. She would have avoided Marian morethan ever, but this could hardly be, now that her cousin was in fullersympathy, with all the family than she had ever been before; and littleas was her immediate power with Lionel, Caroline would have given worldseven for that. Thus, as has been shown, the old sympathy grew up again;the root, blighted months ago, shot out once more, and at last accidentand impulse led Caroline to do what she had little expected ever to havedone, --to pour out all her griefs, cares, and doubts to Marian, knowingall the time what she would say, and resolved against her advice, yetirresistibly impelled to go on, as if talking would relieve her of herburthen, and resting on the solid, firm truth of that deep love, whichmanifested itself by few tokens indeed, but those were of extreme worth. 

The confession was a perplexity and a sorrow to Marian while it wasbeing made, though she was very glad it had been done; and how intensewere the affection and compassion for Caroline that filled her heart isbeyond all power of narration. She answered with earnest sympathy, ateach step helped out the broken words, and showed her comprehension ofthe pauses. She was a perfect listener in all but one respect; shewould not give the counsel Caroline wanted; and she would not have beenMarian, she would not have had her own reality and bracing severity, ifshe had. She could not cheer Caroline up, bid her banish fear, and lookforward to happiness; she could not even tell her there was no help forit: she only said, "I don't know, " and sat considering whenever Carolinereiterated that it was impossible, and too late. 

Some power those "I don't knows" had beyond eloquence; for when Carolinehad seven times fully proved how entirely out of the question anyattempt to escape from her destiny would be, she ended by asking, inquite a different tone, "What would you have me do?"

The reply was, of course, "I don't know;" but this was immediatelyfollowed by a repetition of the former counsel, "Write to Walter. "

Caroline could not--would not; it would be of no use: poor Walter shouldnot be tormented. If, in his strict sense of right, he chose to come andtry, as he would think, to save her, there would be nothing but uproarand confusion in the family; and to think of him, with his timidity, bringing his father's anger on himself for her sake, seemed to herat the moment beyond all things dreadful. No, no, no, it was utterlyimpossible; and therewith the fire being out, and the clock strikingtwo, Caroline thanked Marian for her kindness, said it was all of nouse, kissed her, and bade her good night. 

Marian thought no good was done, and only made herself very unhappy atseeing her led, by weakness, to sacrifice herself against her betterjudgment. The next night, Caroline came again, and the conversation wasresumed, or rather gone over again, with no more satisfactory resultthan before; and so it was the next, and the next. To be comforter andadviser sounds like a delightful privilege, and so, thought Marian, itwould be, if one could only do it; but to have all the opportunity, --tohave people coming for comfort, and not in the least be able to affordit, neither to relieve them, nor to be sure that she had not done themharm was to the highest degree painful and unsatisfactory. And fromLionel's repinings to Caroline's doubts, she went, suffering for each, equally unable to console either, and wondering which was the saddestcase. Lionel's was, she thought, far the best, if he would but perceiveit; but then Caroline's might yet be remedied, if she had but strengthfor one struggle. All that Marian could do without mistrust, was to prayfor them both, and to pray that she might not be the means of doing themharm. 

She saw how wrong it would be in her, personally to interfere betweenCaroline and her parents' wishes; and it was this that made her adhereto that one piece of advice, that Walter should be written to, since onhis judgment and sense of right there was the most absolute reliance;and, both as brother and Clergyman, he was by far the most proper personfor Caroline to consult, or to act for her. 

For three days, however, it was all in vain, Caroline would not write;and she began to despair, and to grow angry with the feebleness thatwould not take one step in the right direction. On the fourth, Caroline, who the night before had seemed as averse as ever, showed her, as shecrossed the hall on the way to luncheon, a letter directed tothe Reverend Walter Lyddell. Her heart leapt, but as she smiledsatisfaction, she saw Caroline's face so wan, dejected, and miserable, that she could not make herself too happy. There were other doubts, nowthat this point was gained, as to how Walter might be able to manageCaroline, --whether he would lead her to the right, or unconsciously turnher to the wrong, by his want of skilfulness; what might be his idea ofher duty to her parents, or to her promise; whether he might thinkit right to take upon himself to advise, or whether either he or hissister, when it came to the point, would have nerve enough to excitetheir father's displeasure. 

The only thing Marian thought at all favourable, was that Elliot and Mr. Faulkner were both at Newmarket, and there was no present appearance oftheir coming home. Elliot was likely to make more opposition than anyone else, and Mr. Faulkner's influence was of course to be dreaded. Indeed, had he been at hand, believing, as Caroline did, in hisaffection for her, it was most probable that she would never have spokenof her misgivings at all, and very possibly have hardly acknowledgedthem to herself. 

Caroline's letter had been written on Thursday. It was Monday, and noanswer had come, which caused her to look more worn and dispirited thanbefore, unable even to keep up the appearance of cheerfulness which shehad hitherto assumed when with the rest of the family. It was a cold, gloomy, wintry day, with gusts of sleety rain, and no one chose toattempt going out, except Marian and Lionel, the former of whom wasa systematic despiser of weather, and never was hurt by anything butstaying in-doors, while the latter would rather have done anything thanidle away a whole afternoon as well as a morning in the drawing-room. Even they thought it too bad for riding; so after making the circuit ofthe park, they went into the town, where Lionel wanted to buy a silkhandkerchief. He had been told the day before that his neck-tie wasgrowing unfit to be seen, he did not choose to ask any one to get onefor him, and it was against his will that he was obliged to take Marianto secure him from buying "any thing awful, " as he expressed it. 

The purchase prospered very well, Lionel hoped that the shopman had notfound out how entirely he trusted to his companion for the choice, andwas proud that his old precaution of substituting a key for a slider atthe gold end of his purse, had saved him from making any mistakes aboutthe money. They were walking away, arm in arm; it was not yet necessaryto guide him, but Marian thought, beginning now would soften the firstcommencement of dependence. And, indeed, even in the holidays Lionel, inhis first tail-coat, had been well-pleased to find himself man enough tohave his arm taken by a young lady. 

A carriage was passing. "There is Walter!" joyfully exclaimed Marian, asshe saw the well-known spectacled face peering from the window of one ofthe carriages from the Great Western Station. 

"Walter! what, come at last?" cried Lionel, looking up and frowning inthat painful way that had become habitual to him when he strained hiseyes to see distinctly. Walter had at the same moment spied them, stopped, thrown the door open, sprung out, and was shaking hands withthem, but scarcely speaking. He turned again to order the driver to goon and set his things down at the house, and then joined his brother andcousin, looting very anxiously at Lionel, whose arm Marian had quitted, and still keeping silence. Marian on her side was very glad; but at thesame time almost overcome by the thought of what this return home mustbe to Walter, and feeling a strange, solemn sensation at first meetingher cousin and companion, after he had become in an especial mannerthe servant of the Most High. He was Walter still, Walter with hisnear-sighted eyes, and nervous manner, yet he was so much more, and hisclerical dress would not let her forget it for a moment. 

Lionel was the most unembarrassed of the three, he was very glad tomeet his brother, and wishing to show that he could bear his troublesmanfully, he spoke joyously, "So you have thought better of it and comeat last, Walter; I hope it is for a good long time. "

"Only till Saturday, " was Walter's answer. 

"Well, that is something, only I can't think why you did not comebefore. "

Walter murmured something about having been much occupied, and thenseemed to be watching Lionel too intently to say any more. Marianthought the brothers would get on much better without her, and, comingto a cottage, said she wanted to speak to somebody in it. "O Marian, wewill wait for you, " said Walter, with a pleading look, and she saw fromhis agitated, fidgeting manner, that he was excessively nervous at thenotion of being left to take care of Lionel back to the house. 

"Very well, " she said, "I will not be a moment;" and delivering hermessage, which had been only devised as an excuse, she walked on withthem, in a sort of despair as to Walter's being of any use. "If he isafraid to walk home with Lionel, " thought she, "what will it be aboutstirring up his father? Why cannot people have a little courage?" Sheconsoled herself by remembering that Walter could not know the degree ofLionel's blindness, and probably thought it worse than it yet was; buteven if it had been total, she could not see that he need have beenafraid of guiding him in the street and through the park. If it was theadditional nervousness, of disliking to begin on so painful a subject, that she thought worse than all. Marian being by no means troubled withnerves herself, had little toleration for women who had them; and noneat all for men. She thought the case lost, and half repented of heradvice to write to Walter, yet she did not know what else she couldpossibly have said. Lionel talked on, told who was at home, and whatevery one was about, and when Johnny had last been heard of, all in abright, lively tone, not exactly assumed, for he was much cheered byhis brother's arrival, and yet partly from the wonted desire of showinghimself happy. Walter did not make much reply, but when Lionel aftersaying Elliot was at Newmarket, added, "And Mr. Faulkner is there too, so you won't have the pleasure of an introduction, " he started, andMarian saw the trembling of his lips. 

Thus they reached the house, and Lionel dashed forward In his ownheadlong way before them, to announce Walter's coming. Then Walterlooked at Marian, saying, "Then it is not so bad yet?"

"O no, it is only that he cannot see anything distinctly; he cannot bearnot to be independent. "

They were entering the hall by this time, and his mother and sisters hadcome out to meet Walter, Caroline very white and trembling, and holdingby the back of a chair instead of coming forward; Mrs. Lyddell kissedhim, and seemed more affectionate than usual, for it had been a greatpleasure to her to see Lionel rush in with that animated face, and ashout such as he used to get into disgrace for. 

Nothing came to pass that evening, there were no private conferences, and there was nothing remarkable, excepting that Lionel was quite merryand talkative, and Caroline more silent than ever, seeming hardly toattend even when Walter was sitting between her and Clara, talking toMarian and Lionel about the beautiful arrangements of Church and schoolin his new curacy. At night she was in such a terrible agitation, walking up and down the rooms so restless and wretched that Marian, seriously afraid she would be quite ill the next day, persuaded her withgreat difficulty, to go to bed, and did not leave her till very late atnight, when she had read her to sleep. 

It was a, great relief to find her pretty well in the morning, at leastwith nothing worse than a headache. She and Walter both disappearedafter breakfast, and did not come down till luncheon time, when shelooked so ill that Mrs. Lyddell was alarmed and insisted on her lyingdown and keeping quiet. Then Mrs. Lyddell said that Walter ought to goand call on Lady Julia Faulkner, and offered to take him there. Marianlooked at him by stealth, and could have gasped for breath, for by whathe did now, she thought she could see what line he would take. 

"Thank you, " he said, or rather hesitated, "but don't let me interruptyour plans. I thought I heard something about--about. Salisbury. I havesomething to do there. "

"The girls did talk of wanting to go, " said Mrs. Lyddell. "Did not you, Marian or Clara, which was it?"

"My watch wants to have something done to it, " put in Lionel, whosefather had given him a repeater, which of course began its career bydoing anything but going properly. 

"Well, perhaps it will he as well to go to Salisbury to-day, as Carolinehas this headache. She never likes going there, and she may be able togo with us to High Down to-morrow. "

So it was settled, and they left the luncheon table. Marian happened tobe the last lady, and whether it was fancy or not she was not sure, butshe thought she heard on Walter's lips, a self-reproachful whisper of"Coward. "

The expedition to Salisbury, in which Marian was obliged to take part, prevented her from seeing anything of Caroline till the evening, andthen as soon as Clara was out of the way Caroline rose up, caught holdof her hand, and exclaimed, "O, Marian, what have you made me do?" thenwalked about in a paroxysm of distress, almost terrible to witness. 

"Caroline, dearest, O don't!" cried Marian quite frightened; "do try tobe calm! O what is it?"

"O it will all be misery!" said Caroline, sitting down and clasping herhands over her face, "I little knew what it would be when you made mewrite to Walter. He says it would be wickedness--yes, those were hiswords--he called it wickedness in me to go on with it, as I feel now!"

"And you mean to--"

"I cannot tell--I don't know--he must do as he pleases; O it will makeme wild! He must do as he pleases, for I must be wretched either way, "

"Dear Caroline--but O! how much better to be unhappy for the sake ofdoing right than when--"

"Yes, yes--so he said--but O! the horror. It kills me even to think ofwhat it will be! O, Marian, Marian--"

"It will be over in time, " said Marian; "but O! I am glad you have madeup your mind--"

"No, I have not--at least I must, I suppose--for after what Walter saidI can't go on. Walter's words would be a dagger--O! I don't know whatthey would be, all the rest of my life if I did. No--you and Walter musthave your own way; I am too wretched already to care what becomes ofinc. But he--O Marian, I never can--"

"If it is right you can, " said Marian. 

"You can, but you don't know what you say to me, " said Caroline. "Righthas never been to me what it is to you. "

"Yes, indeed it has, dear Caroline, or you would not be making thisstruggle now. Indeed there must be strength in you, or you would havegone on without faltering. "

"Walter said he should never have spoken one word after that firstletter, if I had not begun, " said Caroline; "but when he saw my mindmisgave me, and I wanted help, he thought it his duty to come and setit all before me. O, Marian, he said dreadful things; I did not thinkWalter could have been so cruel. O, such things! He made me look at theMarriage Service, and say how I could answer those things; and he talkedabout death and the Last Day. He said it would be a presumptuous sin, and a profaning of the holy ordinance for me to come to it, knowing andthinking and feeling as I do. O what things he said! and yet he was verykind to me. "

"Well, and--"

"I left it all to him. I knew it would be misery, and I did not care inwhat way; but then, Marian, O! worse than all, he said it must be my owndoing. "

"I suppose it must. "

"He said he would help me; but I was the only person who had a right todo anything! O, Marian, Marian, I wish I could die. "

"It will be over in time!" repeated Marian. 

"Yes, but it will not be over. Mamma, papa, O I shall be reproached withit for ever; I shall know I have made _him_ unhappy. O would that Icould begin all over again!"

"You will have comfort at last in having been strong. The greater theeffort the nobler it is! O, Caroline, do only hold out nobly. It is soglorious to have something to suffer for the sake of doing right!"

"Glorious!" murmured Caroline, her desponding gaze raised to contemplatethe grand head, fine brow, firm lips, and dark glancing eye, turned upfor a moment in the enthusiastic spirit of self-devotion. That look, unknowing as was Marian that she wore it, penetrated into Caroline'ssoul, and warmed her too with the temper of martyrdom. "Glorious;" sherepeated a second time, and the tone was not so broken and hopeless asbefore. 

"To be sure it is!" said Marian, going on with her own thoughts, "and itis so seldom people can ever partake of it, in ever so slight a degree, in these days; I always think it so beautiful where the account is givenof the Apostles' great joy when they found a persecution was reallygoing to begin. "

"Persecution--yes, real persecution. "

"And every suffering for the sake of the truth, for conscience' sake, must partake a little of that, I suppose, " said Marian reverently. 

There they were interrupted by Clara, who came to call Marian downstairs. Caroline came too, which the others had not expected. She wasmore calm and composed, and her headache was supposed by her mother toaccount for her want of spirits. She went to bed early, begging Marianto come and visit her when she came up. Marian contrived to do so assoon as possible, and found her already in bed, quiet and comfortable. "Marian, " she said, "I have made up my mind. Now read to me, if youplease. "

She was worn out with agitation and sleeplessness, and soothed withhaving come to a determination, she soon fell asleep, and Marian wentto her own room, wondering over the part Walter had acted, and what hemight be going to do next, whether he had led or driven his sister, andhow far the courage of principle would avail to subdue natural timidity. 

Caroline was pretty well the next morning, but the time was broken up invarious ways, so that it was not till the afternoon that she could seeWalter again in private. Lionel was considerably disconcerted when hefound himself left to Marian. He had no notion of what was going on, hadbelieved Walter's return to be entirely on his account, and was muchdisappointed at not having more of his company; for though both had beenof the party to Salisbury, one had been outside the carriage and theother inside, so that they had not seen much of each other, and thismorning had been interrupted. He was so much vexed and inclined to behurt, by what he felt as a slight on his brother's part, that Mariancould not resist telling him what she knew would console him. "I don'tthink you will mind it, Lionel, when you know why it is that Carolinewants him. "

"Ha?" said Lionel, "you don't mean that she has thought better of it, and is going to send Julian the Apostate to the right about. Eh? Youdon't say so. Well, then there is some good in Caroline after all! Butthen what should she want of Walter?"

"To help her, to advise her. "

"Well, if she likes, but I can't see what advice she wants. She has onlygot to make him a curtsey and say, 'Very much obliged to you, sir, but Ihad rather be excused. '"

Marian could not help laughing, in spite of her deep feeling on thematter, and Lionel, who had acted the voice and the curtsey, laughedtoo, and then perhaps ashamed of making fun of such an affair, added, "It is the best news I have heard this long time. What, and that is whatshe has been so dismal about these last few days, is it?"

"Yes, she has been very unhappy indeed. It is a terrible struggle. "

"What? she likes him, does she? Poor Cary! After all I am glad she iscoming right again, she is very good natured, and a great deal too goodfor Ju--. Ah! you won't have him called so, I know. They have taken agood time for it now he is away and Elliot too, but what a tremendousrow there will be about it. Mamma thought it was such a speculation forCaroline. "

"Yes, I am afraid she will have a great deal to go through. "

"Yes, " said Lionel, pondering gravely for some minutes; then asking"What is going to be done?"

"I don't know in the least; I believe she is settling with Walterto-day. "

"Then nobody knows about it yet?"

There was no more to do but to have the satisfaction of talking over theengagement together, an occupation which put Lionel into particularlygood spirits, and made their walk very pleasant. In the next glimpsewhich Marian had of Caroline, she learnt that Walter had undertaken tospeak to his father that very evening. Caroline looked ghastly white asshe said so in a whisper, but her dreadful agitation seemed to haveleft her; she had evidently quite made up her mind, though she said shebelieved it would never have been done if it had rested with her tobegin by telling either of her parents. Both she and Marian knew thatnothing but a spirit of moral heroism could have braced Walter to bearthe first brunt of his father's wrath, and she was very much shocked ather own weakness in suffering it, but still it was much in her to allowit to be done. 

That the conversation had taken place at night, when all the rest hadretired, was evident to Marian when they met the nest morning from thevery dark, severe loots of Mr Lyddell, from his wife's impatient angrymanner, and sharper, louder voice. Walter was almost absolutely silent, Caroline went through the forms of breakfast as if she was in a dream, Lionel frowned, fidgeted, and tried with all his might, poor boy, toscan the faces which were daily growing more obscure to his vision; evenClara saw something was wrong, and glanced from one to the other in apuzzled, alarmed manner When they left the dining-room, Marian heardMrs. Lyddell say, "Caroline, I want you. " She flew up to her own room, and hiding her face, as she knelt down, she entreated earnestly that herpoor Caroline might have steadfastness to go through this fearful trial. She was interrupted by Clara, begging to know what was the matter, ifanything was wrong about Mr. Faulkner; she thought Lionel knew, but whenshe him be would do nothing but crow like a cock. Marian would have beenglad if she could have made any equally convenient demonstration insteadof an answer, but she could only say that she had heard nothing of Mr. Faulkner, and could not tell Clara anything about the matter. 

"Do you know anything?" said Clara. 

"I do know. "

"Ah! you are in all Caroline's secrets now, and that is very odd; youwho used to hate the Faulkners. Well, but are not you coming down?"

In spite of his cock-crowings, Lionel was very anxious, and when in thecourse of that long desultory forlorn morning he was left alone withMarian, he earnestly asked her what she knew. "Nothing" was her answer. 

"O if Caroline will but hold out!" he exclaimed, "that will be what Icall being good for something! I hope mamma won't be desperately angry, for that I could stand less than anything, it goes on so much longerwith her than with papa. "

"She will be very much disappointed. O how I wish I knew what ishappening!"

It was a long time before any intelligence could be gained: Mrs. Lyddellwas very much flushed, and looked extremely displeased when she camedown, hardly speaking to any one but Lionel, and glancing most sternlyat Marian, Caroline did not come down at all, and when Marian was goingup stairs after luncheon, Mrs. Lyddell said with extreme coldness, "Donot go to Caroline, if you please, I wish her to be left quiet. "

Marian was in great consternation, since it was evident that Mrs. Lyddell perceived how her influence had been exerted, and was very muchoffended, indeed it was no wonder that she should be. Nothing but "verywell" could be said so she quietly prepared to go out. Lionel had hisbrother this afternoon and did not want her, so she had only Clara forher companion full of surmises and of excitement. When she came in andwas on her way to her room, Caroline opened her door. "Marian! O willyou not come to me?" cried she imploringly. 

Marian could not but comply, indeed she had no hesitation, for shethought Mrs. Lyddell's injunction only applied to the time before shewent out. 

"O, cheer me up, comfort me, Marian!" said Caroline, drawing hercousin's arm round her waist, "I do want it so much!"

"You are going on bravely then!" said Marian, caressing her. 

"Bravely!" sighed Caroline; "No, indeed, but I have held firmly so far!I could not but stand by poor Walter, you know, when he confronted itall for me! I could not say much--I could only cry--but I took care theyshould not think I consented again. "

"And is Mrs. Lyddell very much displeased?"

"O, don't speak of it, Marian. I cannot bear it. "

The door opened and Mrs. Lyddell entered, and the air of indignantsurprise on seeing Marian called for an answer: "I beg your pardon, Ithought you only meant me not to go to Caroline just after luncheon, "said Marian. 

"I wish matters, such as we have been discussing, to be confinedentirely to our own family, " replied Mrs. Lyddell, too angry not to saysomething, yet too much afraid of Marian not to say it very courteously. 

"Mamma!" said Caroline eagerly, "only hear me. I assure you that not oneword did Marian ever say to me till I voluntarily went to her a weekago, because I was so very miserable I could bear it no longer. "

"I should have thought your mother the proper person to go to in such acase. Miss Arundel's sentiments had so long been visible, that you couldhave no doubt of the advice you would receive from her. "

"Mrs. Lyddell, " said Marian, collecting herself, and speaking slowly, "I am very sorry I have appeared to act a part which I know must seemunjustifiable. I never spoke to--to Caroline" (the remembrance of Lionelprevented her from saying to any one) "of my opinion of this engagement, after it was formed, till she came to me for advice, in her distress. Icould not speak against my conscience, and I tried not to forget whatwas due to you. I only begged her to write to her brother as the fittestperson to help her, as being a clergyman. I beg your pardon for havingacted against your wishes. " So saying, Marian went out, surprised andalarmed at finding herself in open opposition to Mrs. Lyddell, andbewildered as to how she ought to have acted. Her comfort was in lookingforward to the refuge at Fern Torr, and she smiled as she compared Mrs. Lyddell with her other guardian's future wife. 

Mrs. Lyddell wished her at Fern Torr fully as much as she did. She hadalready become jealous of Lionel's preference, and it was too galling tofind the affection of her children stolen from her by that cold, pale, proud, unprepossessing girl. Had the love been on the part of Elliot orWalter, Mrs. Lyddell would hardly have regretted it, considering MissArundel's large fortune and high connexions; but nothing was lessprobable than this, and Marian's influence over Caroline was at present, in Mrs. Lyddell's eyes, only a source of mischief. 

Lionel was alone in the drawing-room, and met Marian eagerly inquiring"What news?"

"I have hardly seen her. Has Walter told you nothing?"

"No; he thinks I don't know, and I was not going to let on that you toldme. Is she steady?"

"Yes, so far. "

"That is right, " said Lionel, thoughtfully, "I am very sorry for her, but I shall think the better of her ever after. "

"Have you been out with Walter?"

"Yes, we have had a very nice talk. "

Here Walter came down, and began to talk to Marian about schools andlending libraries. 

It was a strange state of things, with all those different pairs ofconfidential friends. Both Marian and Walter were the stay and supportof Caroline and Lionel; yet, though acting in concert, and perfectlyagreed, not saying a word in confidence to each other on either head. Neither did Walter speak of Caroline to Lionel, nor Lionel, though muchinterested for her, speak to her of his affairs or her own. Clara indeedbestowed her communications on every one, but she got nothing in returnthat was satisfactory. Marian was the central point with all exceptWalter, but the fulness of her heart was bestowed elsewhere. And, alas!none saw so little of those young hearts as the parents, who had neverearned their confidence; so that when they turn to them, it was fromduty, as to rulers, not as to counsellors and friends. 

Very sore was Marian's heart that night, when she felt it her duty tobid Caroline good night in Mrs. Lyddell's hearing, in spite of thepiteous, imploring glance turned upon her. Might not her support makeall the difference now? she thought. No; shame on her for thinking thatshe could do more good than He to whose hands Caroline was trusted!Folly, to dream that her awkward, blundering words could be more helpthan the prayers she could pour out alone!

Yet all these consolations could not prevent poor Marian from being verymiserable, under the dread that Caroline thought her unkind, and feltherself deserted, after being involved in all this suffering. And O, should she fail! Walter must go on Saturday, and then she would be leftto fight her battle alone. 

On the Friday the whole house knew what was going on. Mr. Lyddellhimself had a conversation with Caroline, but nothing of it transpired. It only was evident that she still continued in the same mind, and shelooked more wretched than ever. Marian was anxious to show her affectionand sympathy in her manner, but her anxiety only made her cold, and dry, and awkward. Clara was excited and puzzled, Walter was hardly spoken toby father or mother; and when at breakfast on Saturday he spoke of hisdeparture, the silence that he encountered seemed to express that he hadmuch better not have come home at all. 

Marian felt fierce with indignation, and Lionel, perhaps by way ofeffusion of the same feeling, dashed his chair away from the table, andcalled out, "Mind you come back again as soon as ever you can. "

But the dead silence that followed was more painful and marked than ithad been before. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

 "The flowers do fade, and wanton fields, To wayward winter reckoning yields, A honey tongue, a heart of gall Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. "

 SIR W. RALEIGH. 

The Sunday after Walter's departure was a very uncomfortable andmelancholy day. It was very sad to see poor Caroline looking wan andsuffering, and turning now and then a wistful appealing glance atMarian, as if intreating for the help which must not be afforded toher; and then at each meeting and parting, Marian was dissatisfied withherself for having been rendered stiff and dry instead of tender andconsoling, by the very wish to be affectionate, which prevented her frombeing at ease. She heard from Clara that Caroline's great desire was tobe allowed to write to Mr. Faulkner on the subject before she saw himagain, whilst he was still in London, and that it was this which herparents so strongly opposed, convinced that a meeting with him wouldrenew all her feelings of attachment. Marian dreaded the same, for shecould not think Caroline's resolution sufficient to hold out in sight ofhis affection, and of his prepossessing qualities, and at the same time, every day that the engagement continued made it more difficult to breakit off. 

One comfort was, however, that Lionel's anxiety and interest inCaroline's affairs, were drawing his attention from his own trouble, andhe was much less irritable and unhappy than before. Perhaps this mighthave been in part owing to his conversations with Walter, who couldventure on giving him more lessons on the right principle of endurancethan Marian had ever dared to put before him. She was more pleased thanshe had been for a long time, when as they were walking together in theplantations, after evening service, he said with some abruptness andyet with some hesitation, "Marian, didn't you once read something withGerald in the morning?"

"Yes, " said Marian, sure of what the something meant. 

"Do you do it still by yourself?"

"Yes. "

"Then I wish----. Would you mind reading to me?"

"The Psalms and Lessons? O, Lionel, I should be so glad I Only could youget up in time? for I don't know when to do it except before breakfast. "

"To be sure I could get up in time. I only lie in bed because there isnothing to do, and nobody to speak to. "

"Well then, will you meet me in the schoolroom at eight o'clock in themorning?"

"Very well. "

No more was said, but Lionel kept his appointment. It was, as Marianguessed a recommendation of his brother's. Walter had asked him to getone of his sisters to read to him, and Lionel had made the request toMarian, as his real sister, though he had never told Walter whether hemeant to take his advice. 

The next Sunday, Marian, on coming down after dressing for dinner, wassurprised to find Elliot standing by the fire. He just inclined hisbead, and moved his lips by way of greeting. 

"When did you come home?" said she drily. 

"Half-an-hour ago. "

The answer was brief and with no encouragement to say more. She thoughthe looked dark and moody, and, taking up a book, was silent. The nexttime the door opened, it was Lionel who entered. He frowned and gazedup, perceiving the figure but not able to make it out. "Ha, Lionel! Howd'ye do?" said Elliot in a short, gruff, indifferent voice; withoutmoving or attempting to shake hands, without any token that he thoughtof Lionel's misfortune. 

Lionel's equally indifferent tone, "How d'ye do?" was sign enough toMarian that he was hurt. He came and sat by her, talked fast and low, and laughed several times in the constrained manner he used to put on byway of bravado; Elliot all the time taking no notice. The others soonmade their appearance. Mr. And Mrs. Lyddell had seen him before, and tohis sisters his greeting was much in the same style, hardly vouchsafingany recognition of Caroline at all. 

The cloud was thicker and darker than ever all dinner time. Mr. And Mrs. Lyddell tried in vain to talk, he answered them in a short snappish waywhich he was apt to assume whenever his father made any attempt to checkhis extravagance. 

The ladies and Lionel were glad to get into the drawing-room, and leavehim and his father to themselves. Tea came and they did not appear, teno'clock struck, half-past, and they came not. The ladies were puttingaway their books, and thinking of wishing good night when suddenly thedoor was thrown open, and in tramped Mr. Lyddell, red with passion, while behind him came Elliot, with less of violence, but with a darkscowl of resentment on his downcast and always unpleasant face. 

"Caroline!" began Mr. Lyddell, in a voice of thunder, and great was thealarm of all, for her sake, as she turned pale and trembled. "Caroline!You have my full consent to do as you please. You may break withFaulkner to-morrow, if you like!"

Some discovery! thought Marian, transfixed with wonder and hope;Caroline sat still but for her trembling, her face bent down, and herhands nervously clasped together. 

"Now, sir, " proceeded Mr. Lyddell, turning round on Elliot, "you see ifI am the tyrant you would make me. You see if I am going to force mydaughter into a marriage against her wish--sacrifice my whole familybecause I have an ill-conditioned scamp of a good-for-nothing son. Yousee. "

"I do see, sir, " muttered Elliot; "and you'll see whether you like theconsequences. "

Marian thought she had better be out of this family scene, and had herhand on the door, but Mr. Lyddell called out "Stay here! Marian! Idon't care if all the world heard me. He thinks he can threaten me intotyranny over her inclinations, and I tell him she is as free as air! Ivow----. "

"Mr. Lyddell! do consider, do think, " expostulated his wife; "I daresayElliot was a little too vehement a partizan for his friend----. "

"Friend! Pshaw! He care for his friend!" said Mr. Lyddell scornfully. "'Tis for himself he is a partizan, I tell you. Nothing else does hecare a straw for. 'Tis for nothing but the saving of her fortune that hewould have me persecute his sister into this marriage! Aye! he has theface to tell me so! and what more do you think he comes and says to me!Why! that Lionel will be nothing but a burthen for ever! A pretty passthings are come to when he speaks after that fashion of his own brother!He cared for his friend, indeed!"

"No one ever thought of compelling Caroline, " pleaded Mrs. Lyddell. 

"But I tell you he did, " interrupted her husband. "I told him I was verysorry, but I could not help it; if she would have her own way, I couldnot make her marry the man against her will, and he answers in hissneering way that it is all nonsense, he would be bound to make her giveup in no time--any man could bring a girl to reason. As if I was topersecute my daughter to force her into what she tells me is against herconscience. Better too much conscience than none at all, I tell you, Master Elliot. "

"We had better bring this scene to an end, sir, " said Elliot sullenly. "We understand each other. "

So saying, he took up his candle and flung out of the room. The girlswere but too glad to escape, and Lionel followed them, leaving Mr. AndMrs. Lyddell to themselves. 

Caroline and Clara both were trembling like aspen leaves, each threw anarm round Marian's waist, and leant against her as soon as they wereout of the room. She had been startled and trembling before, but theirfright seemed to give her firmness; and it was well, for Caroline'sknees shook so much, and she was so nervous that she could hardly havereached her room without support. Clara began to exclaim, but Marianstopped her, made her fetch some camphor julep, helped Caroline toundress, and put her to bed. Caroline hardly spoke all the time, butas Marian bent over her to kiss her, and wish her good night, shewhispered, "I may soon be able to have you again, dear Marian!"

Marian went to bed, wondering at all that had passed, indignant withElliot, pleased with Mr. Lyddell, hopeful for Caroline, and cheered byfinding that she had not been thought unkind. 

She heard doors opened and shut, and the trampling of feet the nextmorning, and when Lionel met her in the schoolroom for their reading, he told her that be had been overtaken by Elliot running down stairs atfull speed; and had only just time to clear out of his way. "And hark!is not there something at the front door? Look out, Marian. "

Marian looked from the window. "Yes! It is his dog-cart. Can he be goingaway, Lionel?"

"Going off in a rage!" said Lionel, looking grave; "I thought there wasmischief in his voice last night. "

"Yes, there is his portmanteau, " said Marian, in a tone ofconsternation; for little as she liked Elliot, it was too shocking tosee a son thus leave his father's roof. 

"It is a pretty piece of work, " said Lionel. "He has been coming it alittle too strong for my father, it seems! Well, poor Caroline will belet alone, that is one good thing; but I am afraid he will go and getinto some tremendous scrape, if it is only for the sake of spiting myfather. "

"It is very dreadful!" said Marian, sighing. 

"I am very glad my father was so angry, though!" said Lionel. "Wantinghim to drive poor Caroline into it by unkindness! That was a little toobad!"

"Yes, indeed, " said Marian. "But O! here he comes out of the door withhis cigar. He is getting in! There he goes! O, Lionel!"

They both were silent for some little time. Then Marian took up theprayer-book, and began the Psalm, and when she heard Lionel's voicejoin in the Doxology, a thrill came home to her, making her feel thatblindness might yet be indeed the blessing to him that faith taught herto know it must be. How much better to be thus than like his brother. 

When they met the others at breakfast, it proved that they alone knew ofthe departure; Mr. Lyddell interrogated Elliot's servant, and heard fromhim that he had orders to follow his master to Paris as soon as he hadpacked up his goods. This was all that could be learnt, and all thatMarian could make out as to what had passed, was that he had beenstrongly averse to Caroline's engagement being broken off, that hehad tried to induce his father to insist upon it, and to drive her toovercome her reluctance by what could be only understood as domesticpersecution, and that in short he had allowed his unfeeling selfishnessto appear to such a degree, that it had positively revolted his father, whose displeasure had long been excited by the extravagance that hadbeen causing serious inconvenience, and who instantly, while under theinfluence of his first indignation, resolved to show that he wouldnot be domineered over, nor sacrifice the rest of the family to theextravagance which he had already too freely supplied. 

Mr. Lyddell had given his consent while angry, and he could not retractit when he was cool. Caroline therefore might write her letter as soonas she pleased. She had nothing to dread from him; indeed, as if out ofopposition to Elliot, he was kinder to her than he had ever been before, called her "my dear" more than once, and observed on her pale looks. Hermother spoke little to her, and that little was cold and unkind, whileshe looked so vexed and unhappy that even Marian had some feeling forher, and what must it have been for her own daughter? However, all openopposition was withdrawn, and Caroline had only herself to strugglewith. There was no reason why she should not once more seek comfort fromMarian, yet all that day she kept at a distance, and it was not till thenext evening that she came into Marian's room, and sinking into a chair, murmured, "I have done it. "

"Written your letter?"

"Sent it. "

"O, I am so glad!"

"Glad?"

"Yes, but you will be glad when it is over. "

"O!" sighed Caroline, incredulously. "You know nothing about it. Marian. "

"Every one must be glad to have done right, " said Marian, firmly. 

"O what a week it has been! And I have sown dissension in the family!And no one can tell what may be the consequence with Elliot! And he willbe unhappy! O! Marian--I wish--I wish you had let me go on my own wayand be miserable alone, " added she with a kind of anger. 

"It was your own doing, " said Marian gently; "you felt it to be right. Only worse misery could come of your going on, for that would have beenpositive wrong; now it must and will get better. "

"I don't know, " sighed Caroline. "I never knew till now how much I caredfor him! O, Marian!" and she burst into a hearty fit of crying. 

Marian was perplexed, as she always was when any one cried, and stoodwithout a word till Caroline had relieved herself by tears, and began tospeak again. It was very sad and melancholy, and it was very difficultto find anything to answer; Marian could see no consolation but that"it was right, " and that did not seem to have much effect on Caroline;while, added to the former trouble of renouncing the man who loved her, and of grieving her parents, there was the dread of what Elliot might doin his anger. 

However, the being able to pour everything out to so true a friend wasmore of a comfort than anything that, could have been said to her. Shetold Marian that she had gone through the conversations with her fatherand mother better than she could have thought possible. She could notdesert poor Walter, that was one thing that helped her, she must standby him, and papa was not half so angry as she expected. It seemed as ifher strength had grown with each occasion for it. The first effort ofwriting to Walter had cost her most of all, then the allowing him tobreak the matter to her father had been dreadful; but after all, theconferences with her parents, singly and together, had not been as badas the fear of them, and Marian tried to persuade her that it would bethe same when she saw Mr. Faulkner, but poor Caroline shook her head, and said Marian knew nothing about it. And Marian was much of the sameopinion, and held her peace, but before the end of the conversation shehad the great pleasure of hearing Caroline say, "The thought of beingable to have you again has been the one great help to me through all!"

Two days after this, as Marian and Lionel were going out ridingtogether, Marian exclaimed, "I do believe that is Mr. Faulkner!"

"Where?"

"Riding on the Salisbury road, " said Marian; "I am sure it is hishorse. "

"Don't let us meet him! can't we get out of the way?" said Lionel. "Aren't we somewhere near the thorny lane?"

"No, but we might ride off on the Down. Only take care, Lionel; you hadbetter keep close to me, " said Marian, much more unwilling to meet Mr. Faulkner than to conduct Lionel through the ups and downs of the green, chalky common. 

She watched and guided his pony up the bank and upon the Down, and onthey trotted fast, for Marian was actuated by a very undignified fitof terror lest she should meet Mr. Faulkner, towards whom she feltpositively guilty, nor did she wish to be seen fleeing from him. 

"We must be out of sight of the road by this time, aren't we?" saidLionel. 

"I don't know, " Marian turned her head to see. At that moment Lionel'spony stepped into a hole, stumbled, and when she looked back again, there was Lionel on the ground. Her head swam with fear, but the nextmoment Lionel was on his feet and laughing. 

"Not hurt, Lionel! are you sure?"

"Not a bit! Is that Sorrel?"

Sorrel was rushing off with his bridle loose, and Marian began to dreadhaving Mr. Faulkner's assistance in catching him. "Stand still, Lionel!"she called, and then riding between Sorrel and the road, she managed toturn him towards a long hedge that crossed the Down, saw him stop to eata tuft of grass, made a grasp at his bridle, but failed, while he dashedoff across the Down, happily not towards the road. 

She called to Lionel, told him of her ill success, and begged him not tomove, while she again pursued the runaway, and a long dance he led her, far out of sight of Lionel. Once she had considerable hopes, when shecame in sight of a shepherd boy, who stood in amaze at the lady in chaseof the runaway steed, then came up with a run to cut off its course, butso awkwardly that the pony was still more frightened, and galloped offin another direction faster than ever! Poor Marian! However after fullhalf an hour, she succeeded in hunting him into a narrow place betweentwo fields, ending in a gate, caught safely hold of the rein, kept itfast, and at length led Sorrel back in triumph to the spot where poorLionel stood still patiently. She called out to him as soon as she camenear enough to make her voice heard, and he answered, and walked forwardto meet the dark shapes, which were all that he could see. 

Marian feared that he would be very much mortified at having beenobliged to remain thus helpless, while a girl was doing what he wouldhave so much enjoyed, and she looked anxiously at his face, alas! shecould look there now without his knowing it. It was disconsolate, butthe look was not bitter. She held Sorrel while he mounted, and she thenapologized for having been so long, and said she feared he had thoughtshe had forgotten him. He made not much reply, did not even ask how shehad managed to catch the pony. Marian conducted him safely into the roadbefore she would speak again. He did, however, congratulate himself onnot having been obliged to be beholden to Mr. Faulkner for catchingthe pony, as well as on Sorrel's not having gone home to tell the talehimself. 

"Yes, indeed, they would have been terribly frightened, " said Marian. 

"Ay, and if they once knew of my tumble, they would never let us go outriding again. "

"But, Lionel, we must tell, " said Marian. 

"Just like a girl!" grumbled Lionel. "Then there's an end of all ourrides, and all the comfort that I have in life. "

"I don't know, " said Marian. "At any rate I can't ride with you, Ishould not think it right, unless Mr. Lyddell knew of this fall. It ismy concern and not yours, for it was all through my carelessness. "

"You go on just as if you were a child still, " said Lionel, still cross. 

"Well, Lionel, I believe the only way is to manage ourselves as if wewere children still. "

"All very fine, " was Lionel's surly answer, and they rode on, whileMarian was very unhappy. She blamed herself for having given way to afoolish fit of nervous bashfulness, which had led to what might havebeen a serious accident to her especial charge. It had further made avery unpleasant confession needful, and Lionel's vexation and irritationseemed to have overcome all his late improvement. The thought of whatpoor Caroline was going through was enough to stifle everything else, and Marian wondered at herself, as for a sort of unkindness, in havingbeen so fully occupied as to have had no time for anxiety. 

Both had been very silent ever since Lionel's reply, until Marian askedhim to strike his repeater. It was half-past five, and they turnedhomewards, taking a bye road so as to avoid meeting Mr. Faulkner. Andnow Lionel began to talk of Caroline, and wonder how she had sped. Heseemed to throw off his own private troubles as he talked of hers, andhis fit of petulance was melting fast away. At last he made up his mindto inquire how she had caught Sorrel, and was positively interested inthe narration, laughing at the idea of the scrape they would have beenin if Sorrel had made his way to the road, and Mr. Faulkner had caughthim. 

He said no more about the confession, but it was evident that he hadconquered his annoyance sooner than he had ever done before. Marian hadnot theorized on the matter, but if she had she could not have judgedbetter, for Lionel was far better dealt with by being bold anduncompromising. It was very strange to have this concern of their own somuch on their minds when Caroline's fate was at its crisis, yet perhapsit was good for Marian to be thus occupied, since she was apt to suffervery much from anxiety, as persons of her calm and reserved demeanouroften do. A sickening, throbbing, trembling feeling came over her, making her temples beat and her hands cold, as she came into the house, expecting to hear whether Caroline had endured and been true to herself, and it was well she had not had longer to suffer from it. 

No one was in the drawing-room, and she ran as fast as her tremblingknees would allow to Caroline's room, knocked, received no answer, opened the door, and saw Caroline stretched out on her bed, in a statebest described by the French word _anéantissement_, for it was notfainting, but the sort of prostration consequent on the completion of aneffort for which she had wound herself up. She was very pale, her eyeswere shut, and her breath came short. Marian stood watching her inalarm, wondering whether to speak, and how. At last Caroline looked up, held out her hand, and drew Marian down on her knees till her face waslevel with hers, then put her arm round her neck. 

"Dear Caroline!" said Marian, though it was not easy to say anything, "you will be happier now. "

A more caressing person would have been much more at ease herself andgiven more comfort to Caroline, that must be confessed, but as there wasno one else to be had, Marian was obliged to do her best, and this wasto kiss Caroline timidly and say, "I am so glad you have done right. "

But Caroline only hid her face at the word _glad_ and murmured, "Younever did him justice! You never did!"

"If it had not been for the want of that one thing he would have beenall right, " said Marian. 

"O, he is very noble! he has such a mind! such--such--O, he loved me somuch, " and Caroline fell into a paroxysm of silent misery. Marian beganto dread lest the parting had not been final, and though doubtfulwhether she ought to ask, could not help saying, "But is it over?"

"Yes, yes; you have your wish, Marian. It is done! He is angry with menow! It is over, and I am wretched for life!"

"Not so wretched as if you had done wrong. " said Marian. Caroline didnot turn away this time, and Marian gathered courage to say, "You havepersevered, and now there will be comfort. There will always be comfortin knowing you have tried to do right. Walter will be so glad, and sowill Lionel. "

"Lionel, " repeated Caroline. 

"Yes, he has been very anxious about you. "

"Poor boy!" sighed Caroline. "Well, Marian, there is one thing still tobe done. Only one, and it is all that I shall live for. I shall devotemyself to him, if I can but do anything to please him, and make him carefor me when you are gone. It will be my one object. "

"Yes, " said Marian, "it will be very good for you both. "

They were interrupted by Clara, who came in, dressed for dinner, pityingCaroline, and telling Marian it was very late. Caroline sat up, but shehad a violent nervous headache, and they both persuaded her to lie downagain. 

Marian ran off to dress, and though the dinner-bell rang in the midstof her hurried toilette, came back to look at Caroline, beg her to keepquiet, and promise to come up as soon as dinner was over. As she wentdown, the other trouble of having to confess their adventure came overher, but she was resolute, in spite of the want of favour with which sheknew she was regarded. 

Want of favour, evident from the scrupulous formality with which she wastreated; for if she had been like a daughter of the house, as she oughtto have been, would they have waited dinner for her, and let her findthem all looking uncomfortable and expectant in the drawing-room? Theywent into the dining-room; there was a silent, formal dinner, nothinglike a family party. As soon as the servants had left the room. Marianquailing secretly, not from fear of Mr. And Mrs. Lyddell, but lestLionel should lose his rides, began, "I have a confession to make, Mr. Lyddell, " and told the story of the accident, explaining how it wasentirely caused by her carelessness. 

Exclamations and inquiries arose, and Mrs. Lyddell certified herself byseveral questions that Lionel had not been hurt, but not one of them wasaddressed to Marian. It was as if this was only one among many injuries, too frequent for a reproach more or less to be needed. Mr. Lyddell didnot take it half so much to heart, and no prohibition against futurerides was issued, for the truth was that no one liked to mortify Lionel. It was exactly one of the cases in which the whole danger is notconquered, because it melts at the very aspect of moral courage. 

It was not comfortable to have to walk away to Caroline, knowing howmuch she had displeased Mrs. Lyddell; but it must be done, and it was, at least, agreeable to leave these cold looks. She found Carolinebetter, and able to tell her something of what had passed. At first Mr. Faulkner would not believe her to be in earnest, and had imagined thiswas a way of showing her displeasure at his long absence, or sometrifling "lovers' quarrel;" but when he found that she really meantwhat she said, and her tears and stifled whispers alike announced heradherence to what she had expressed in her letter, he became extremelyangry, thought himself, (as indeed he might with some justice) veryill-used, and though he had retained his gentlemanlike manner andlanguage, had pretty plainly expressed that Miss Lyddell should haveknown her own mind. Poor Caroline wept bitterly, beseeching that theymight not part in anger, but he disavowed all irritation, and took acold, courteous leave, which wounded her more than all. 

Marian could not easily sympathise with regrets for such a lover, butshe liked to magnify the sacrifice in order to admire it more, andgreatly rejoiced in being able to give full admiration to one whom shehad learnt to love so heartily as Caroline. Such a triumph over naturaltimidity and feebleness of character was indeed a great and gallantthing, and Marian used to muse and wonder at it in her solitary hours. There was still much to suffer externally as well as internally; therewas the return of letters and presents, with all their associations;there was the feeling of the pain and offence given to Lady Julia andher daughters; there was the perception of the opinions of the world, and the certainty that all the gossips of the neighbourhood were busywith their conjectures; there was the continued anxiety about Elliot, and the marked vexation and displeasure of Mrs. Lyddell, who treatedCaroline as one who had disappointed all her best hopes. 

Under all this there was only Marian to sustain Caroline, and theirfriendship was an additional offence. Marian knew that Mrs. Lyddellregarded her as the head of a hostile party, and a sower of dissensionin the family, by no means an agreeable footing on which to stand; butthe only way, was to appear completely unconscious, and behave as far aspossible as usual. She was grateful to them for making it no worse, andstill more for not having objected to her continuing her rides withLionel, from whom, it may well be believed, she scarcely ever took hereyes, from the time his foot was in the stirrup. 

Lionel was triumphant at the dismissal of "Julian the apostate, " but hewas disappointed to find that Caroline did not recover her spirits "nowshe had had her own way, and got rid of the man. " He did not like tohave her presence announced by a sigh, and to hear the subdued, dejectedtone of her voice, and he used to wonder over it with Marian, wholaughed at him for fancying it was such an easy matter to part with alover, yet agreed that it was hard to understand how there could be lovewhere there was no esteem. Lionel used to consult her as to what was tobe done to cheer his sister, since his mother would only make everythingworse and he could not bear her continued melancholy. 

"I do believe, Lionel, " said Marian, "that you could do more for herthan any body else. If you would but sometimes let her do things foryou, ask her to help you, as--as you ask me. "

Lionel would not take the suggestion as she wished. "I thought you likedto help me, " said he, in a somewhat offended tone. 

"O, don't I?" cried Marian, eagerly; "but so does every one, if youwould only allow them. "

Lionel flourished the little switch in his hand till it made anill-tempered "_swish!_" and Marian knew that he thought her ungratefulfor the exclusive preference with which he honoured her. 

"She is your sister, " she added. 

"Very well, " said Lionel, crossly shaking off her arm, "I shall knowwhat to be at, if you are tired of helping me. "

He could not see the tears in her eyes, and though she was extremelygrieved, her voice did not betray how strong her feeling was. "Tired!O Lionel, how can you think it? But would it not be better to learn todepend less on me against I go away?"

"Ay, and glad enough you'll be to go. "

"For all but your sake and poor Caroline's, " said Marian. "Mrs. Lyddelldoes not like to have me here. "

"It would not be fair to want to keep you, " said Lionel, "but----"

"I should have much more comfort in going if I thought you and Carolinewere helping each other, " said Marian. "I know she wants to make you herfirst object. "

Lionel made no answer nor any change in his ways for some days, yetsometimes it seemed, as if when he thought of it, he was more willingto allow Caroline to do him some of the small services which his fastincreasing blindness rendered necessary. Caroline being more dexterousand neat-handed than Marian, did them well, and then Marian was vexedwith herself for a few feelings like annoyance at not being equallynecessary to Lionel, but she persevered, encouraged by seeing thecomfort that each approach on his part seemed to give his sister. It wasthe hardest thing Marian had ever had to do, to give up the being firstwith him, as she must cease to be when the natural affection of thebrother and sister was called into play. But it was right, and she wouldbear it. She thought it right as well as very pleasant to accept aninvitation from the Wortleys to come and spend the Christmas holidayswith them, joining her brother on the railroad, and meeting Edmund atFern Torr. The repose would be beyond everything delightful, and no lessso, the being in a house where her presence was welcome to every memberof the family. Besides, she longed to see and to talk to Agnes, and themore she thought of her promised visit the more she enjoyed it. 

Caroline and Lionel both were very sorry to part with her, and jointlyand separately lamented her going; but Caroline blamed herself forselfishness in wishing to keep her, and perceived that it would be agood thing that her brother should begin to be weaned from his soledependance upon her, while Lionel seemed half afraid to trust her todepart, lest she should never return, and insisted on half a dozenpromises that she would come back at the end of Gerald's holidays. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

 "They made a famous procession My good little women and men; Such a sight was never seen before And never will again. "

 SOUTHEY. 

A division of a first-class carriage, occupied only by Gerald, receivedMarian at the station, and first she had to be shown the hat, cloak, andumbrella with which he had constructed an effigy, which, as he firmlybelieved, had frightened away all who had thought of taking a seat init. 

"Thinking you a mad monkey, and that your keeper, " said Marian, lookingproudly at the handsome face and dancing black eyes of her beautifulbrother. "Why! how you are grown, Gerald! Do stand up, and let me see ifyou are not taller than I am. "

"No, not quite so tall, unless it is your bonnet, " said Gerald, aftercraning up his neck in vain. 

"At any rate, you are taller than Lionel. He only comes up to my ear, "said Marian. 

"Poor Lionel! How are his eyes?"

"O Gerald, it is very sad. He has very little sight left. I believe hefinds his way about quite by feeling now. It has grown worse so muchfaster in these last three weeks. "

"Poor fellow! What can he do all day?"

A long description followed, and then Gerald wanted to hear all aboutCaroline, and what Marian thought fit to tell him, together with hiscomments, lasted till, in spite of his effigy, a lady made an entrance, and for some time Gerald was reduced to silence, and as he sat on thesame side, to making horrible sidelong scowls at her, out of her sight, which sorely tried his sister's propriety of countenance. 

The tongues of two such happy people could not long, however, continuetied, and presently Gerald rattled off into a history of his sportingadventures in Scotland, as if he would detail every shot. The narrationwas endless, and very tiresome it would have been to any woman but asister, and a sister who had so much of the hunter spirit in her asMarian; but she listened and sympathised with all her heart and soul, and understood why such a shot was a good one, and why such anotherfailed, and was absorbed in the interest of the attempt to recover awounded bird when the retriever was stupid, long after the intruder hadmade her exit, and they might have returned to matters touching her moreclosely, though regarded by Gerald as hardly equal in importance to roedeer, salmon, and grouse. 

They were on Devonshire ground before they ever began to rejoice overEdmund's engagement, and from thence to talk of Edmund himself. Geraldpronounced many an eulogium on him, in which praises of his excellenceas a fisherman and sportsman were strangely mixed with a real genuineappreciation of his goodness and superiority. 

"'Tis a capital thing that he is come home to stay, " said Gerald, heartily. 

"Isn't it?"

"I like him specially, " said Gerald. "Do you know he showed me some ofmy father's letters. "

"Did he indeed?"

"That he did. It was before I was born, when he thought he was going tohave Fern Torr and all, he had rather an idle fit, and these were whatpapa wrote to him. "

"Was Edmund ever idle?" exclaimed Marian, falling into a reverie ofwonder whether this did not make it more hopeful for Gerald. 

"I am very glad he has got this money, " proceeded Gerald. "I only wishit was more. One letter he showed me that was best of all. It was frommy father when I was born. You can't think what a nice letter it was. There was something about its being a disappointment to him--to Edmund, I mean, but how papa cared for him as much as ever, and thought afterall it might be better for him in the end. And then, Marian, papa saidhe could hardly expect to live till I was grown up, and he asked Edmundto be my godfather, and said he trusted to him to be like an elderbrother to us. "

"That he is!" murmured Marian. 

"Edmund said he wished me to read it that I might not think himinterfering. "

"You never could have thought so!"

"I don't know. I could not have stood it from some people, but I couldsee the sense of what Edmund said. "

Without entering into particulars, Gerald was now all freedom andopenness, casting quite away the restraint that had so long grieved hissister. How happy she was!

Mr. Wortley himself met them at Exeter, and in spite of the earlydarkness of the winter day, Charles and James met them at the foot ofBlackstone hill, and Edmund and Agnes were a little further on. 

What a happy greeting it was! Marian and Gerald would jump out and walkhome with them, the boys ran and called in the dark, the stars came outoverhead, the tall hedges kept out all the glimmering light, splashesalone made them aware of the puddles; but on the happy party tramped, all talking an unmitigated flow of merry nonsense, laughing and enjoyingit, all the more the darker and stranger it grew, and merrier than all, when they got home, at Mrs. Wortley's dismay at their having draggedMarian a mile and a half, in the dark and dirt, after her long journey. "Pretty guardians to have the care of her!"

All the evening again there was nothing but fun and joyousness, fun ofthe brightest, happiest kind, positively wild in the three boys, andEdmund not much less so, the girls weary with laughing, and contributingtheir share to the sport. A person must have lived like Marian, pent upby formalities and the certainty of being disliked, to know what wasthe enjoyment of the perfect liberty and absence from constraint, thethorough home-like feeling of every one loving and understanding eachother, which existed at Fern Torr. How delightful it was to have noheart achings for Gerald, to see Edmund just like his old self, and thedear Agnes, so very lovely and bright! so very unlike her only formerexperience of betrothed lovers. It was no small happiness to the FernTorr party to have one so prized and loved as Marian to rejoice withthem, indeed, all this evening every one was too joyous to dwell on anyof the causes of their felicity, it was nothing but high spirits, andunreflective mirth. 

When they had bidden each other good night, and were gone up stairs, there was more of gravity and thought. Marian and Agnes could have satup talking half the night, if Mrs. Wortley would have allowed them, butshe said Marian must have time to rest, and ruthlessly condemned her tobed. 

Never did Marian spend so happy a Christmas. There was plenty of depthand earnestness in her _tête-à-têtes_ with Agnes, when they talkedover the wonders that had happened to them both, and always ended byreturning to recollections of happy old days before Marian leftFern Torr, when Edmund had been the prime mover of every delightfuladventure. Marian was as good as a sister to each of the lovers, soheartily did she help each one to admire the other. Or when they were"lovering, " as the boys chose to call their interminable wanderings inthe manor gardens, Marian used to be extremely happy with Mrs. Wortley, talking over the history of the engagement, and settling how and whenthe love began. Mr. Wortley suggested that the first attraction had beenAgnes' unmitigated horror of the Lyddells, which he declared had won Mr. Arundel's heart, though he never owned how much he participated in it. It needs not to be stated how Edmund's noble behaviour was appreciated, more especially after the new lights which Marian was able to throw uponit. 

Then came the discussion of the plans for the house which Edmund was tobuild, on a farm, which had come into the market at the very nick oftime, just on the other side of the hill, and in Fern Torr parish. Marian and Gerald were taken the first day to look and advise whetherthe new house should be on the old site, or under the shelter of a greatold slate quarry, crested with a wood, a beautiful view spread beforeit, and capacities for making the loveliest garden that was ever seen. 

Edmund sketched house and garden in every possible point of view, eachprettier than the other, and all the young gave their voices eagerly forthe quarry, while the old protested on the difficulty of getting so farup the hill, and suggested damp. But the young carried the day, and theplans were drawn and debated on a dozen times in twenty-four hours, always including the prettiest of little sitting-rooms for Marian, witha window opening into the garden, and a door into the drawing-room, andthen came letters to architects and calculations with builders, andreckonings that the house should be habitable by next September, and Mr. Wortley laughing at their credulity for expecting it. 

Marian was surprised to find how far away and secondary seemed thethoughts that had of late engrossed her entirely. She wondered todiscover how little her mind had been occupied with Caroline and Lionel, fond as she was of them and very anxious about them. This was so verydifferent a world! and she felt so much more as if she belonged to it. She obtained from Agnes some admiration for Caroline's conduct, thoughin somewhat of the "better late than never" style, and at the price ofwarm abuse of the parents, in which Marian was not indisposed to join. 

Caroline wrote nearly every day, saying that she missed Mariandreadfully, and that her letters were the only comfort she had; shewould not wish her back again, for that would be selfish, but it wouldbe a joyful day when she returned. These constant letters, which Marianalways kept to herself, rather surprised the Wortleys, but Edmund couldbetter guess at her position. "Depend upon it, " he said to Agnes, "it isshe who has saved Miss Lyddell. "

"O, Edmund! do you think so? I wanted to have thought so, but she saysit was the brother. "

"He took the steps which would not have become Marian, but WalterLyddell could never have moved without his sister, and where could shehave found the principle but in Marian? I see now that her perseverancein right is beginning to tell on those around her, in spite of alluntoward circumstances. "

"I don't know anything like Marian!" said Agnes. "How very fine hercountenance is!"

"That steadfast brow and lip. "

"I saw her yesterday standing on the edge of a rock looking out on theview, and she was like some statue of Fortitude. "

"Yes, Marian is a grand creature, " said Edmund; "so strong and firm, yetwith such feminine, retiring strength. There are still prejudicesand little roughnesses, but I doubt whether they have not been hersafeguard, outworks to secure the building, and I think they aredisappearing with the occasion. "

"Ah! papa and mamma think her very much softened down. "

"She has had a very hard part to act, and her shyness and rigidity havebeen great helps to her, but I am glad to see them wearing away, andespecially pleasant it is to see her expand and show her true selfhere. "

"And to know she may soon be free of them all for ever!" said Agnes. 

The time when Marian was to be free of them for ever, as Agnes said, was to be the next summer. Edmund and Agnes were to be married in July, Marian would then come to Fern Torr, and comfort Mrs. Wortley for losingher daughter, till the holidays began, when Edmund and Agnes wouldreturn, and some undefined scheme of delight was to be settled on forGerald's holidays, until the house should be ready. Gerald was in themeantime very agreeable and satisfactory on the whole. He was too busydrawing varieties of stables for Edmund, to talk about his own, andmarvellous were the portraits of the inhabitants with which he woulddecorate Edmund's elevations, whenever he found them straying aboutthe room. Very mischievous indeed was the young gentleman, and Marianconsidered him to have been "a great deal too bad" when on a neat, finished plan, just prepared to be sent to the builder, she foundunmistakeable likenesses of the whole Wortley family, herself andGerald, assembled round a great bowl of punch, large enough to drownthem all, drinking to the health of Edmund and Agnes, who were riding inat the gate, pillion fashion, supposed to be returning after the honeymoon, which in one corner of the picture was represented in a mostwaning state, but the man in the moon squinting down at them with apeculiarly benignant expression of countenance. 

Marian was very angry, but Edmund and Agnes would do nothing but laugh, though the whole plan had to be drawn over again, and Edmund was kept atwork with ruler, scale, and compasses the whole evening, Marian scoldingGerald all the time, and Edmund too, for spoiling him, thinking hercousin the most heroically good natured and good tempered man in theworld to bear with such an idle monkey, and laugh at the waste of timeand trouble; and getting at last a glimmering perception that thesetricks, thus met, were the greatest proof of good understanding andfriendship. It ended in Gerald's inking in the plan, of his own freewill, and very neatly, and getting up at six, the next morning, to rideto Exeter, in the dark cold misty December twilight, to take it to thebuilder, that no time might be lost; indeed, as he boasted, it was therea quarter of an hour before it would have come by post, as it would havedone had it gone yesterday. 

Gerald's studies were not extensive, but Edmund, by some magic secret, unknown to Marian, made him read history to himself for a short spaceevery morning. The sporting paper had disappeared, and nothing was heardof Elliot or of Queen Pomare, while though he could not yet go thelength of talking to the poor people himself, he stood by very civillywhile Edmund talked to them. 

The first ten days of Marian's stay had thus passed, when Caroline oneday mentioned in her letter that mamma had a regularly bad influenzacold, and was quite laid up. It was aggravated, Caroline said, by thedistress they were all in about Elliot. "But you will hear enough ofthis when you come back, " wrote she, "so I will not grieve you withit now; though it is an additional load upon my mind--an additionaloffence, I fear, in poor mamma's eyes, since all this would not havecome to light had I persisted. But you must not think I am repenting, for I never was further from regretting what I have done. The differentspirit in which I could come to this Christmas feast, is a blessing tobe purchased at any price, even at such wretchedness as it has been thisautumn; and most earnestly do I thank you, dearest Marian. I can thankyou by letter, though we never can speak of such things. Yes, I thankyou. I regret nothing but my previous folly and weakness, and bitterlydo I suffer for them; though all is better now, and Christmas hasbrought me peace and calm. It is as if the storm was lulled at last, andnothing left but dreariness, and the longing to be at rest. How brightthe world was before me not a year ago! and now how worn out itseems, --only three comforts left in it, you, and Walter, and poorLionel. For Lionel is a comfort; he is very kind and considerate, and, Ido believe, softens mamma towards me. I suppose it is best for us thatour hearts should have no home but one above; and if I was sure it wasnot disgust and disappointment, I should hope I was seeking one there;for I know the only feeling of rest and refreshment is in turningthither, and surely that must come from the FATHER, Who is ready toreceive me. But I must leave off, for mamma is too unwell to be longleft. 

"Your most affectionate

"CAROLINE LYDDELL. "

After this, the letters, hitherto constant, ceased entirely, and Mariangrew very uneasy. Her mother had died of influenza, so that the namegave her a fatal impression; and she dreaded to hear that Mrs. Lyddellwas very ill, or that Caroline was ill herself. Another week, and atlength she heard from Clara, in answer to a letter of inquiry, and tofix the day of her return. 

 "Oakworthy, Jan. 7th. 

 "MY DEAR MARIAN, --Caroline desires me to write to tell you, with her love, that she has this horrid influenza, and has been in bed since Monday. She is very feverish, and her throat so sore that she can hardly speak or swallow. Sarah sat up with her last night, and I think she is a little better this morning. Mamma is better, but only gets up for a little while in the evening, and cannot leave her room. I wish you were at home, for I don't know what to do: I am running backwards and forwards between the two rooms all day, and poor Lionel is so forlorn and solitary down stairs, with only papa. There!--that great blot was a tear, for I am so worn out with fatigue and nursing, that I am almost overcome. This winter I was to have come out, --how very different! I forgot to tell you, after all, that the carriage shall meet you, as you mention, on the 15th. I wish it was directly; they will be all well by the time you come. But it is so very forlorn, and I am so nervous; so excuse this scrawl. 

 "Your affectionate cousin, "CLARA LYDDELL. "

As soon as Marian read this letter, she gave it to Edmund, saying, "Ithink I had better go home. "

"O, Marian, you must not cheat us!" cried Agnes. 

"I think they would be very glad of you, " said Edmund, and withalMarian's mind was made up, and she withstood all the persuasionsof Gerald and Agnes that it was nothing--nonsense--only Clara'sdismality--they would laugh at her for coming for nothing. No; Marianknew she was no nurse, but she could not bear to think of Lionel left tohis blindness and helplessness, still less of Caroline, ill, and with noone to cheer her. She was sure she was wanted by those two at least, andshe resolved that she would be at Oakworthy to-morrow evening, wrotenotice of her intention to Clara, and prepared for her journey, givingup that precious last week, so prized because it was the last. She couldgo alone with her maid; there was no use in spoiling Gerald's holidays;so he would stay for all the delights that she gave up, ruining all byher absence, as every one declared. 

Agnes grumbled and scolded her to her face, but made up for it out ofhearing, by admiring her more than ever. Mr. And Mrs. Wortley gave hersilent approval, and the boys would not wish her a pleasant journey. Shewas ready early the next morning, and once more left Fern Torr, brightwith the promise that, when she was there next, it would be no more aguest. 

She prosperously arrived at the station nearest Oakworthy, and soon sawthe servant waiting for her. "Is Miss Lyddell better?"

"A little better than last night, ma'am. Mr. Lionel is in the carriage. "

Marian had not at all expected any one to meet her, especially Lionel, coming all this distance in silence and darkness. She hastened to thecarriage, and saw him leaning forward, listening for her. His facelighted up at her, "Well, Lionel, " and he fairly hurt her, by thetightness of his grasp, when once he had met her hand. "So, you're come!What a time it has been since you went! Now you are come, I don't care. "

"And how are you?" she asked anxiously. 

"Bad enough to be going back to the oculist next week, " he answered; "Ican't even see the light. "

A long silence; then, "How is Caroline?"

"Pretty much the same; it is a bad, feverish cold, and shocking throat. She breathes as if she was half stifled, and can hardly speak. "

"I suppose she has Mr. Wells?"

"Yes, two or three times a day, "

"And Mrs. Lyddell is better?"

"Better, but not out of her room. It has been a tolerable state ofthings of late. Not a creature to speak to, except, now and then, Claracoming down to maunder and sigh over all she has to do, and my father, who has been thoroughly in a rage about Elliot. Do you know about allthat, Marian?"

"No, " she answered. 

"It is out now, why he was so set upon Caroline's marriage, he had gotFaulkner to back a bill for him; you don't know what that means, Isuppose, " said Lionel, with his old superior manner;--"made him engagethat the money Elliot borrowed should be paid. There was to be someshuffle between them about her fortune it seems; so after the engagementwas off, when the bill became due, Faulkner sent the holder of it tomy father for the money and the news of this set on all the othercreditors. No end of bills coming in, and he has been pretty nearlycrazy among them; says we shall be beggars, and I don't know what all! Ivow, it is my old plan coming right!" cried Lionel vehemently. "If theman in London can but set my eyes to rights, I'd be off to Australiato-morrow, instead of staying here to make all worse. Well, it's no usethinking of it: if ever I make my fortune now, it will be with a dog ina string, and a hat in his mouth. "

"But go on, Lionel; are the debts so very bad?"

"I believe they are indeed, and no one knows the worst of them yet. Nowonder Elliot was off to Paris in such a hurry, like a coward as he is, no one knows how he is ever to come back! And worst of all is to havemamma going about saying 'tis Caroline's fault! Hadn't I rather come tothe hat and dog in good earnest than to see her marry that man? Why, Marian, he is actually engaged to Miss Dashwood! What do you say tothat? To the Radical Dashwood's daughter that behaved so shamefully topapa!"

"The daughter?"

"No, the man. Fit company for the apostate, isn't it? He had better havebegun with her. Fine love his must have been. Only six weeks. Should notthat cure Caroline?"

"Has she heard it?"

"No, we have only known it since she was ill, and Clara thought she hadbetter not tell her. "

"Very right of Clara, " said Marian; "but I think she will be glad, whenshe is well enough to be told. "

Fast and eagerly did Marian and Lionel talk all the way, sometimesgravely and sorrowfully about Elliot and Caroline, sometimes cheerfullyabout Fern Torr, Edmund, and Gerald, of whom Lionel wanted much to hear. He clapped his hands, and danced himself up and down with ecstasy at thehistory of Gerald's embellishments of the plans, vowed that Gerald was aTrojan, and that it was as good as Beauty and the Beast, and seemed tobe enjoying a perfect holiday in having some one to speak to again. "But, " he said, "what a horrid bore it must have been to you to comeaway!"

"I thought I might be some help to Clara. "

"Did she make you think Caroline so very ill? Mr. Wells says it is onlya very bad cold. But I am very glad you are come. "

Clara met Marian in the hall. "O Marian, I am glad you are come, butI am sorry you came home in such a hurry. Mamma says there was nooccasion, and that I need not have frightened you, for it is only a badattack of influenza. "

"Then I hope Caroline Is better. "

"Yes, rather, and she will be so glad to see you. Come to her at once, won't you? she heard the carriage, and is watching for you. "

Marian hastily followed Clara to Caroline's room. In a few seconds bothCaroline's arms were thrown round her neck, and a burning feverish facepressed to hers, then as she raised herself again, one of her handsstill held fast, and Caroline lay looking up to her with an expressionof relief and comfort. "Thank you, " she murmured, in a hoarse lowpainful whisper, the sound of which gave an impression of dismay toMarian. Caroline was far worse than she had been prepared to sec her. That loud, oppressed, gasping breathing, the burning fever of hands andcheek, the parched lips, --this was far more than ordinary influenza. Marian stood watching her a little while; speaking now and then, untilshe closed her eyes in weariness, not for sleep, when she was about toleave the room, but Caroline looked up again anxiously and restlessly, and tried to say, "Come back. "

"Yes, I'll come in a moment, " said Marian, "I'll only just take off mybonnet, and go and see Mrs. Lyddell, if I may. "

"O, yes, she is up, she knows you are come, " said Clara, and Marian waspresently knocking at Mrs. Lyddell's door. 

She found her sitting by the fire in a large easy chair, in herdressing-gown and shawl, and was surprised at the first sight of hertoo, for that very weakening complaint, the influenza, had made a greatchange in her, perhaps assisted by all that she had gone through duringthe last summer and autumn, beginning with the parting with John, thegrief and anxiety for Lionel, the disappointment and warfare withCaroline, and worse than all, the discoveries respecting her eldest andfavourite son. She looked a dozen years older, all the clearness of hercomplexion was gone, and the colouring that remained, as if ingrained, was worse than paleness; her hand shook with weakness, and the onlytrace of her prompt, decided activity was in the nervous agitation ofher movements, and the querulous sharpness of her tones, as if herweakness was irritating to her. 

"Marian, how are you? I am sorry you have cut short your visit tocome back to a sick house. I am afraid Clara has been alarming youneedlessly. "

"I am very sorry to find you so unwell, " said Marian; "I thought Clarawould want some help. "

"Thank you, it was very kind, " said Mrs. Lyddell, rather sharply, as ifher thanks were only for form's sake. "Have you seen Caroline?"

"Yes, and I am afraid she is very ill. Such a terrible oppression on herbreath. "

"Ah! so Clara says. Mr. Wells has been applying mustard poultices. "

"Have you had no further advice?" said Marian. 

"No. He managed me very well; he is perfectly competent to attend aninfluenza such as this--a very simple affair. "

Mrs. Lyddell was evidently under the unreasonable infatuation that somany people are subject to, who will go on trusting their favouriteapothecary, in spite of proofs that he is not to be trusted; but Marian, in her short life, had heard a good deal of doctors, and whetherreasonably or not, had imbibed a distrust of country practitioners, which Lionel's misfortune had not tended to remove in Mr. Wells' case. Indeed, she had a particular dislike to the man, with his soft manner, love of set speeches and fine words, and resolution not to own thatanything was the matter. There were stories abroad in the neighbourhoodof his treating cases wrongly because he would not own they were beyondhis skill. 

"Mrs. Lyddell, " said she, very earnestly, "I do believe that Caroline isvery ill. I think her throat is in a very alarming state, and I shouldnot be at all satisfied to go on with no further advice. "

Mrs. Lyddell made some answer about girls being easily frightened, andMarian went back to Caroline, very unhappy and anxious, and trying tofind comfort by telling herself that the cure does not depend alone onthe physician. 

However, the words she had spoken were not without effect. Mrs. Lyddell's answer had been prompted by her first impulse of dislike andopposition, as if Marian was taking still further upon her; but shebecame very anxious when left alone. She thought that Marian's fresh eyemight be better able to judge of the degree of Caroline's illness; sheremembered how she had reproached herself about Lionel, and at lastworked herself into such a state of alarm and anxiety, that though shehad not yet walked further than to the window, she rose, left her room, and presently was by her daughter's bed-side. 

There needed no more to convince her that Caroline was excessively ill, and quick and prompt as ever, her first measure was to send Clara forher father, and hold a consultation with him outside the door; a messagewas despatched to hasten Mr. Wells, and the result was that a physicianwas sent for. Marian, who had all this time been watching the severesuffering, unable to do the least thing to alleviate it, was almost asglad as if she had been told of Caroline's certain recovery. She hadagain to tell herself not to put her trust in physicians. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

 "Preach, read, and study as we will, Death is the mighty teacher still. "

 _Baptistery_. 

Caroline continued very ill all the evening, hardly able to to look up, and every attempt to speak or swallow causing her great pain. Her motherwould not leave her again, and sat watching her, and she smiled, andgave a pleased look of surprise at her kindness, which she had so longmissed; but her chief comfort seemed to be in Marian's presence. Shefollowed her about the room with her eyes, and was uneasy whenever shefancied that she was going out of the room. 

She was not told that the physician was coming till he was actuallyin the house, and then she gave Marian a quick, sharp look of alarmedinquiry; but Marian was not able to answer, as she had to leave her tohis visit. When it was over, and Marian returned, while Mrs. Lyddellwent to hear his opinion, Caroline was striving hard to speak. Marianbent over her, and at last heard one word gasped out--"Walter. "

"Yes, I will tell Mr. Lyddell; he shall be sent for, dearest, " saidMarian; and Caroline seemed satisfied. 

It was long before Marian had an opportunity of hearing what thephysician's opinion had been, and there was little comfort in it. It wasa very severe case of inflammation in the windpipe, and the only hope ofsubduing it was in instant recourse to strong remedies. How badly itwas thought of she saw plainly enough, without words, in Mr. Lyddell'srestless, hasty manner, and in the exertions which Mrs. Lyddell wasallowed to make, at a time when she ought to have been in her bed. Theworst sign of all was, it seemed to her, that as soon as she mentionedCaroline's wish to see Walter, Mr. Lyddell took measures for sending aletter at once by the railroad, instead of waiting for the post, whichwould have made a delay of two days. 

Lionel sat meanwhile, by himself in the drawing room, or was foundwandering on the stairs, anxiously listening. Marian came on him once, and had exclaimed at finding him in the dark, before she remembered thatit made no difference to him. She was in haste to fetch somethingfor Caroline and could do nothing for him but say the sad words, "Nobetter. "

All night Mrs. Lyddell and Marian stayed with Caroline; the one becauseshe could not bear to go, the other because she could not be spared. Mrs. Lyddell would not acknowledge the extent of the danger to herself, far less allow any hint of it to come to Caroline; and for this Marianwas sorry, though she was sure that Caroline was conscious of itherself; but with Mrs. Lyddell always present, it was impossible to readany of the things that would have been the only support at such a time. Poor Caroline could not speak to ask for them, and as if her motherfeared they would bring death, she seemed to be watching Marianjealously to prevent the least approach to them. 

It was a terrible night; the applications did nothing but causesuffering, instead of removing the disorder, --the oppression grew moreand more severe, --each breath more painful; the two watchers hardlydared to meet each other's eyes, and Caroline was in too much pain, too oppressed and overwhelmed, to give any token how far the mind andthought was awake within her. Such another day succeeded, every hourextinguishing some faint hope, and bringing the dread certainty morefully upon them. There was little or nothing to be done: they could onlywatch the sufferer, and try to glean her wishes from her looks; butthese usually expressed more of pain than aught else, and no one couldtell whether the ear and thought were free. One, at least, who satbeside her prayed fervently, and trusted in hope and love; holding fastby the certainty that Caroline had embraced the good part, and given upthe allurements of the world, in health, for the sake of the treasure towhich she was hastening. That last letter of her's was surely a proofthat she was ready; and who could wish to detain that worn, harassedspirit from the repose where earthly cares shall "cease from troubling, and where the weary are at rest?" Yet how Marian loved and clung to her, and felt as if she could never bear to part, and lose the affection thathad been so long kept off by her own repulsive demeanour, but thatwas so ardent and unreserved! How grievous to think of the blooming, life-like creature that she was so lately, now so suddenly cut down!

Hour after hour went by, bringing no change for the better. Day hadfaded into twilight, and twilight became night. Midnight had come, andMarian was still sitting, as she had done for more than an hour, holdingup the faint head; for Caroline could no longer breathe in a recumbentposture, and sat partly supported on pillows, partly resting on Marian'sshoulder. Her eyes were shut, and she seemed unconscious; it might bethat she slept, but the features were full of suffering, and Mariancould feel each of her breaths, gasping and convulsive. Her mother hungover her, feeling her pulse, sometimes sitting, sometimes standing, or walking to the foot of the bed to speak to Mr. Lyddell, or to theapothecary, in the restless misery of despair. Mr. Lyddell came in andout, unable to bear the sight, yet unable to stay away. Clara had beentoo much overcome, and growing hysterical, had been sent away, andadvised to go to bed. Lionel, too, had been sent to bed, but his roomwas in the same passage, and he lay with his door open, catching, withhis quickened ears, at every sound in the sick room, and hearing eachword of the hushed conferences that took place outside. 

A fresh tread was in the house--on the stairs--in the passage; Lionel'sheart could not help bounding at it, as it came so softly along. It wasthe tread of the brother who, for his effort of courage and principlehad been allowed to leave home like an exile, and treated as anoffender. Lionel heard his father's step coming to meet him: how wouldthey meet? He could hear the movement as their hands grasped together, and then Mr. Lyddell's smothered, choked whisper, "Only just in time, Walter! she won't know you. Come!"

"Is it so?" said Walter, in a low tone, as of one extremely choked andoverwhelmed. 

A sort of sob came before the answer, "Going fast. "

The steps moved on; Lionel could not stay where he was, dressed himself, and felt his way to the sick room. He heard the stifled breathings: hefelt onward, --found he had hold of the bed-post, and leant against it, unheeded by all, so intently were all watching Caroline. 

"Speak to her, " was the first thing he heard whispered by the doctor. 

"Caroline!" said Walter's trembling voice, "dear Caroline!"

Poor Lionel could not see how, at the call, the dark blue eyes once moreopened, and looked up in Walter's face; he only heard the steadier tonein which the brother said the ministerial words, "Peace be with thishouse!"

The solemn calmness of the tone came gently and soothingly upon Lionel'sear; and withal there spread over Caroline's face a gleam of joy, andthen a quiet stillness, as of a freedom from suffering. There was aninterval--a gasp--another interval--another gasp--a pause--

Marian's voice was the first, and very low and awe-struck. "It has beenwithout a struggle. "

A slight cry from his mother, and a confused movement, as if they werelifting something--steps--he stood still, and the next moment feltMarian's hand on his arm. "Mrs. Lyddell has fainted, " said she, inexplanation; "Mr. Lyddell and Walter are taking her to her own room, "

Lionel clasped Marian's hand very tight, and each felt how the other wastrembling. "We must come away, " said Marian; then hesitating, and with aquivering whisper, she said, "Would you like to kiss her?"

"Yes, let me!"

It was strange to guide the blind brother to kiss the white brow of thedead sister. Marian's throat was aching to such a degree with intensefeeling, that she could hardly utter a word; but Lionel, who could notsee, must hear. "She looks so calm, so sweet, " said Marian struggling, "but I must go to your mother. Let me take you to your room; I'll sendWalter to you. Lionel, Lionel, indeed she is happy!" said Marian, earnestly, while Lionel burst into a flood of tears, wholesome tears, asshe led him from the room. 

She thought Walter would be the greatest comfort to him; andrecollecting Mrs. Lyddell had no woman with her but her maid, she toldLionel she must go to his mother, ran down, and met Walter waiting inthe dressing-room. "Is she recovering?"

"A little. "

"Will you go to Lionel?"

"This instant, but--" and he looked at her earnestly. 

"Yes, yes, " said she hastily, "it is all right and beautiful. Here's herlast letter; I've been reading it all day. Take it; you'll see how--"

Marian's voice broke down, and she hastened to the open door of Mrs. Lyddell's room. There was something for her to do in attempting torestore her, for the maid was not helpful; and Mr. Lyddell stood at thefoot of the bed, as if all his powers were paralysed. Mr. Wells wantedassistance; for Mrs. Lyddell, exhausted by watching and her previousweakness, was in so sinking and depressed a state, as to need thegreatest care. 

Marian was employed in attending her till towards morning, when she sankinto a sleep. "You had better go to bed, " said Mr. Lyddell, very kindly, as Marian at length turned away from her, and stood by the fireside, where he was sitting in the arm-chair, his hands over his forehead "Imust not let you overwork yourself. "

"O, I am not tired, if I can be of any use. "

"No, no, rest now, thank you, " said he, in a broken, dejected tone. 

She went, and again found Walter in the outer room, watching for tidingsof his mother. "Asleep, " she said. "Lionel?"

"Asleep too, I hope. You are going to bed?"

"Yes, thank you; but Clara--"

"I will go to Clara the first thing in the morning. I shall sit up on myfather's account. Don't you think of it, --sleep as long as you can; youhave had watching enough. "

"I have been so glad, " Marian said, in a tear-stilled whisper. 

"You cannot tell how I have longed to thank you, Marian, for what youhave been to her:" said Walter, speaking from the fulness of heart, which overcame his natural reserve and bashfulness. "You are thankedenough by our present feelings on the subject, --by that letter:--may Ikeep it a little longer?"

"O yes, yes!" cried Marian, hastily, disclaiming in her heart all histhanks, though unable to do so with her lips. 

"It takes away all regret for the briefness of the illness, " addedWalter, as if the speaking of it was a satisfaction he could hardlyrelinquish. 

"I am sure she thought much; no one can tell what passed, " said Marian, in a low, broken murmur. 

"Little did I think last summer--" said Walter, aloud to himself. "Yes, this is best, far best, if one could but feel it so!"

Marian thought the same, and, like him, could not feel it; but unable toexpress herself, she simply said, as soon as her tears would let her, "Good-night, " and went up to her own room. 

Fatigue came on her now. When she took off the dress she had worn sinceleaving Fern Torr, she found her limbs stiff and aching, and her headdizzy with weariness. She could hardly get through the operation ofundressing; and when she tried to say her prayers, they would not come. She could only go through the LORD'S Prayer; and too worn out to beshocked at herself more than in a dull way, scarcely even alive to therecollection of what had happened, she laid herself down on the bed, which seemed strangely soft, but for a long time was too tired to sleep. With confused thoughts and exhausted spirits, she kept on feeling asif her aching limbs belonged to somebody else, and going off into odd, dreamy vagaries, each more uncomfortable than the last, --ever and anonwaking into a moment's remembrance that Caroline was dead, wondering atherself for being so dull as only to think it strange, then losing theconsciousness again. At last the light of morning made her perceptionsclearer. Fanny knocked at her door, and brought her a cup of tea. She heard that all was quiet, --said she would get up; but with thatresolution she suddenly became more easy, and while believing she wasgetting up, fell into a sound sleep. 

She awoke refreshed, and entirely herself again, though feeling stunnedand bewildered by the all-pervading thought. Caroline dead! It seemedas if it was not otherwise with the rest of the family. Her illness hadbeen so short, that there had been no time to grow familiar with theidea of her danger; and it was the first death in the household that hadhitherto been so strong and confident in health, --the first touch thattaught them how little the world they loved was an abiding-place. Sosudden had been the stroke, that they seemed to pause and stand aghastunder it, scarcely conscious how deep the wound might be. Her fatherwent about the house, bowed down and stricken with grief, his tones low, sorrowful, and so gentle when speaking to his children, or to Marian, that they could scarcely be recognised as the same voice; but, withouta word, so far as Marian, Clara, or Lionel knew, of his daughter, orof his own feelings. Her mother, already very weak, and suffering mostacutely from the remembrance of the coldness with which she had treatedher during the last autumn, became so seriously unwell, between areturn of influenza, and her extreme depression and nervous hystericalagitation, that Marian and Clara were almost entirely occupied innursing her, and trying to soothe her. In this work they were littlesuccessful. Marian had no hold on her affection, no power of talkingsoothingly, though most anxious to do what she could, and distressedexcessively by her inability to be a comfort in the painful scenes whichshe was obliged to witness. She almost thought her presence made thingsworse, and that Mrs. Lyddell wished her away; but poor Clara was soentirely helpless and frightened, clung to her in so imploring a way, and was so incapable, from the restraint that had always subsistedbetween her and her mother, of saying anything to comfort her, orassuming any direction, that Marian was obliged, for her sake, to bealmost always in the room. The only thing Marian could do in the wayof consolation was to read aloud; she could not talk of the greatthankfulness, peace, and hope which she felt herself, to Mrs. Lyddell, though she could have done so a little, with time, to Lionel, or evenClara; she could only read, and whether this did any good, she knew not. At any rate, it was what she ought to do; and the sound of the voicegoing on continuously had certainly a calming effect. Walter used dailyto come and read, but this she did not seem to like, though she nevermade any objection; and there was so much reason for guarding againstagitation and excitement, that he, never familiar with her, could notventure to attempt speaking to her on the subject of which all theirhearts were full. It was only Mr. Lyddell who had any real serviceableinfluence with her. Her hysterical attacks never came on in hispresence, and a few affectionate words or demonstrations from him wouldsoothe the very worst of them. Marian saw so much real tenderness in hischaracter, that she positively began to feel considerable affection forhim. 

Clara was entirely bewildered and frightened, hardly yet realizingthat she had lost her sister; perplexed and alarmed about her mother, suddenly thrust forward, from being an unregarded child, into havingall the responsibilities of the eldest daughter of a sick mother on herhands, she could only depend upon Marian, and hang on her for direction, assistance, and consolation, --say "yes" to whatever she suggested, andset about it; and whenever she felt lonely, sisterless, and wretched, lean on her, pour out her grief, and feel that she had a kind listener, though only a monosyllabic answerer. She used to have great fits ofcrying at night, when they passed Caroline's door; and more than onceshe was so inconsolable, that Marian was obliged to come and stay in herroom, and sleep all night with her arm clinging round her. Altogether, it was very desolate and perplexing; and Marian was grieved at herselffor dwelling more on this, and on the loss of her dear companion andfriend, than on the hope and happiness that ought to occupy her. Howdifferent in the two deaths she had known before, where there was noneof this weary, harassed, doubtful, careworn feeling; only the sorrow, bitter indeed as it was, of the parting, but with time and scope fordwelling on all thoughts of comfort, when they would come. 

Lionel had his brother, and was thus in the best hands; and she saw verylittle of him except at meal-times, when all were silent and subdued. 

So passed the week before the funeral. Only the gentlemen attended it;Marian and Clara stayed with Mrs. Lyddell, who went through the timebetter than they had ventured to hope. She was altogether improved, andwas able to sit up a little in the evening. Lionel was to go the nextday to London, to be seen by the oculist; and her sanguine mind wasfastening itself on the hope of his recovery; and though there wastoo much danger that she was only hoping in order to be the moredisappointed, yet the present relief was great. 

Marian and Clara went down to dinner somewhat cheered, and hoping tocarry satisfaction with them; but there was a deeper despondency in Mr. Lyddell's air than ever. He scarcely seemed to know what he was doing;and when at last dinner was over, he rose up, stood by the fire amoment, coughed, said to Walter, "You tell them, " and ran upstairs. 

There was a silence: each of the three dreaded to ask what was thematter; Walter did not know how to begin. Marian began to think it wassome family misfortune, better mentioned in her absence, and was risingto go away; but Walter exclaimed, "No, don't go, Marian; all the worldmust know it soon, I fear. "

"Not Johnny!" cried Clara. "O, Walter, Walter, don't let it be Johnny!"

"No, " said Lionel; "I know it is something more about Elliot. Is it verybad indeed, Walter?"

"Very; I do not think he is going to tell my mother the full extent. There was a letter from Paris this morning, from Captain Evans, sayinghe thought it right that my father should be warned that Elliot is goingon there in his old way, and worse still, is reported to be on the brinkof a ruinous marriage. "

Clara was the first to break the silence of consternation. "Marriage!and now! a Frenchwoman! O Walter, Walter it can't be true! he can't doit now, at any rate!"

"There is some hope that this may make a delay: it is the one chancethat my father trusts to, " said Walter. "The history seems to be this, as far as I can understand. When the discovery of all these debts cameon my father, he wrote Elliot a very indignant letter, refusing to beanswerable for any of them except that which Faulkner had guaranteedwhich of course he paid at once. This letter seems to have stirredElliot up into a fit of passion; he went on more recklessly than ever, and now is getting drawn into this miserable connection. "

"Yes, just like Elliot!" said Lionel. "And what is papa going to do?"

"He means to go to Paris at once, sacrifice any thing, pay all the debtsat any cost, if he can only bring Elliot back with him, and save himfrom ruining himself entirely. "

"But he is not going to tell mamma about the marriage, I hope?" saidClara. 

"No, he will leave her to think it is only the old story, and that hewants to see if anything can be done about the debts. There is a hopethat the news he must have had by this time may have checked him. "

"Perhaps it may be bringing him home, " said Marian. 

"No, I fear he is too much involved to venture to England. "

Again following a silence; no one could think of anything consoling tosuggest; all were unwilling to heap censure upon one who deserved it buttoo richly. Only Lionel was heard to give a sort of groan, find after atime Clara asked, "Is it a Frenchwoman?"

"Yes, " said Walter; "a person connected with the theatres. "

The four again sat in mournful silence. 

"I suppose, " said Lionel at length, "that my going to London had betterbe put off till he comes back. "

"No, " said Walter, "he wishes that to be done at once. We are all threeto go to London to-morrow, as was settled before; he will go with you tosee the oculist, and on to Dover by the night-train; and if the oculistwishes to keep you, I shall stay with you in London till he comes back, or till my mother and the rest can come. "

"Thank you, " said Lionel, sighing; "I wish I could help it! Is not itleaving a pretty state of things behind us, though? not that we are anygreat good to the ladies to be sure!"

"Yes, it is leaving you at a very sad time, " said Walter, looking at thetwo girls, "but we are hardly able to be of much use to my mother, andif there was any prospect of your improvement, that they all say woulddo her more good than anything else. However, my father said that mustbe according to your feelings, Clara and Marian, if you were afraid tobe left with the charge of her, I would remain. "

One of Walter's awkward ways of putting the question, and it instantlysuggested to Clara to be afraid. 

"I am sure I shan't know what to do. Only think, Marian, for us to beleft--what should we do if mamma was to get suddenly worse? We shouldhave no one to help us, I shall be in such a nervous state, I could dono good. "

"No, no, Clara, you won't, " said Marian, whilst Walter had begun tolook in consternation at Clara. "Nobody ever has nerves when there isanything to be done. You know Mrs. Lyddell is much better. "

"O but she will be so very unhappy and excited about papa's beinggone, and I am sure I shall never be able to conceal from her all thisdreadful business about Elliot. "

"Yes, you will, " said Marian quietly. "We shall do very well indeed, itcannot be for long, and if we wanted him we could get Walter home in afew hours' time. If he can send us good news of Lionel, it will help usmuch more than his staying here could do. "

"If dear Caroline, "--and Clara burst into a fit of weeping, whichobliged her to leave the room. Every one was feeling the same thing, that Caroline, with her energy, good sense, and the power she had oncepossessed with her mother, would have made all easy, and the sense ofmissing her had come strongly upon them all. Marian followed Clara toher own room, let her lean upon her and cry, wept with her, joined insaying how grievous the loss was, and how much they had loved her, andhow they should want her every day and every hour, then called hack theremembrance that Caroline had not been happy here, and had longed forrest, and it was come to her, and they must not be selfish, but thereClara cried more, saying that Marian never knew what a sister was, andit was unkind to wish her to be glad. 

"I don't know, " said Marian, pausing as her tears flowed fast, "I haveknown death, Clara. "

"You weren't glad!" said Clara passionately. 

"I don't know, " she said thinking, and speaking with difficulty. "Notthen, not always now, O no! But I always knew I ought to be glad, fordear papa had suffered so much, I could not wish it to be going onstill--no, no. And dear mamma, when he was gone, it was a sad world forher, she could only have wished to stay for our sakes. Yet, after thefirst, I always felt it was right, and so will you too, Clara, in time. "

"If she was but here to help me!" sobbed Clara. 

"We must try, " said Marian, "we can't be as useful and ready as she was, but we will do our very best. I am sure Mrs. Lyddell likes to have yousit with her. "

"Did you think so?" said Clara, ready to be cheered by any token, ofpreference. 

"Yes, I saw how glad she was to have you instead of me, when you came infrom the garden. "

Clara looked pleased. 

"You will sit with her, and read to her, and I can help you when youhave too much on your hands at once. You see it is a great comfort toMr. Lyddell to have you to leave her with. "

The being made important was a great thing with Clara, and she was quitereconciled to the prospect of her charge by the time they had to go downstairs to tea. 

After tea Marian was left alone with Lionel, while Clara was with hermother; and Walter in consultation with Mr. Lyddell, for here at leastwas one benefit, that Walter seemed to have taken his proper place, andto be a real comfort and help to his father in a way he had never hopedfor. 

"You've cheered up Clara, I hear in her voice, " said Lionel. 

"O yes, we shall do very well. "

"Do you mind it, Marian?" said he, turning his ear towards her, as ifto judge by the minute intonations of her answer, as people do by theexpression of the countenance. 

Her reply was brave, "No, not at all. "

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I don't see what would be gained by keeping you and Walter here. She does not depend on Walter as she does on your father, and all thatis required we can do as well without Walter in the house. It would benonsense to keep you merely for the feel of having some one, and for therest, I am sure Clara will be the better for being thrust forward, andmade useful. "

"Very well. I should not in the least mind waiting, for I have not muchhope myself, but it is just as well for oneself and every one else to beput out of one's misery as soon as possible, and settle down into it. "

Marian remembered how differently he had spoken half a year ago, whenthe danger first broke on him, and looking up she saw his steadfastthough mournful face. She spoke her thought. 

"It has been a great thing to have this long preparation. "

"Yes, I am glad of it, though I have been a great plague and nuisance toevery one, especially to you, Marian. I know what you're going to say, so let alone that. I wish--. But no use talking of that, she was verykind and we got very comfortable together after you were gone, Marian, and I like to remember that. "

"Ah! I was sure you would. And Walter read you what she said about you?"

"Yes, I wish--I little knew"--then suddenly "Marian, I'll tell yousomething: one morning when you were gone, she had to read a bit of achapter in the Gospel about the healing the blind man, and you can'tthink how hard she tried to get through it without breaking down, butshe could not. She cried at last, as if she could not help it, and thenshe got up, and came and kissed me, and I felt her tears on my face. Ididn't know what to say, but that's what I like to remember. "

"And the Church-going on Christmas day, " whispered Marian. 

"Ay, she led me up, " said Lionel. 

"Everything is so very comforting, " said Marian. 

"So Walter says. "

"Lionel, do you remember the print you and Gerald gave me long ago of S. Margaret walking through the dark wood of this world, and subduing thedragon? I am sure she is like it. She had all this world before her, andshe chose vexation and trouble instead of doing wrong! O Lionel, it isvery noble!"

"That it is, " said Lionel, "only things never seem so at the time. Iwish they did, but. I am glad my father saw it all right before, andsaid he was glad she had given him up. "

"Yes, that is a comfort. "

"My poor father!" said Lionel presently, "I never guessed he cared somuch about--things. Do you know, Marian, I think even if I do get backmy eyes, I could not go after the Australian bulls, unless 'twas theonly way of getting a living. "

"I am glad you have put them out of your head, " said Marian, smilingsadly. 

"Ay, I was very mad upon them once, " said Lionel, "but I see that eyesor no eyes, we must set ourselves in earnest to be some sort of comfortto them, and if Johnny is to be always at sea, I had better not be onthe other side of the world. If I am to see, why then it is all right;if not, I'll do the best I can at home. "

"That's right, Lionel. "

"I can do a good deal already, I am no trouble to any one, am I? I cango all over the house and park by myself, and find all my own goodswithout any one's help, and I'll do more in time, so as to be no botherto any one, and I do believe now they like to have me at home. Don't youremember, Marian, " and he lowered his voice confidentially, one reasonwhy I wanted to go to Australia, and make a fortune?"

"Yes, " said Marian, knowing that he meant his vision of winning lovefrom his parents. 

"Well, I think, " said he, "that being blind has answered as well. "

A silence, then he went on, "I know what you meant now about a time whenI might he glad to have been blind. If Caroline had married that man, she would not have died as happily as that, and there was an end of allthe trouble and vexation; so there will be an end to my blindness sometime or other, and it will keep me out of lots of mischief. I don't meanthat there is not plenty of opportunity of doing wrong as it is, " headded, "but not so much. Better be blind than like Elliot, and perhaps Imight have come to that. "

"O Lionel, it is such a comfort you can speak so!"

"I've tried it now, and 'tis not so very bad, " said Lionel, turning withan odd mixture of smile and sadness, "besides I saw almost the last ofher face, and I should only miss her the more like her voice. I have gother face stored up with all of yours. You know I shan't see when any ofyou grow old and ugly, Marian. Well, and after all I am glad it is tobe settled now, I don't think I shall mind it near so much as I shouldanother time, now I have just heard all that over her grave. I gotWalter to read it to me all over again when we came home. It has beenvery nice to have Walter. "

Marian guessed how Walter had strengthened and helped him, and shejudged rightly, but she did not know how silently he listened to allWalter's talkings and readings, unable to pour out his full feeling toany one but herself. 

The others came in from their different quarters, it was late, andMarian was about to wish good night, when Walter in a low hurried voicesaid to her and Clara, "Don't go yet, my father wishes to have prayers. "

A moment more and the servants came in, all were kneeling, and Marian'stears of thankful joy were streaming fast as Walter read an eveningprayer. Was not Caroline glad? was the thought, as she recollected thatfirst morning, when all had seemed to her childish mind so dreary andunhallowed, and when Caroline had lamented the omission. Yes! was notCaroline glad, now that one of the dearest wishes of her heart had beengained? Was she not glad of this first token that trouble had brought achange over her father?

Each fresh petition brought such a gush of earnest softened tears thatMarian's face bore evident traces of them, when she rose up, and had towish Mr. Lyddell good night. She did not speak, but held out her hand. He spoke with difficulty, "My dear, " he said, "I have wished to thankyou, but I cannot otherwise than by leaving more on your hands. Walterhas told you how it is with us. You are kind enough to help Clara. I don't know what we should do without you. I rely on your judgmententirely. "

"I'll do my best, " said Marian, "I am glad to be of use. "

"You were _her_ best friend, " said Mr. Lyddell hastily. "Well, goodnight, thank you, my dear, " and he kissed her forehead, as though shehad been his own daughter. 

CHAPTER XX. 

 "Let us be patient. These severe afflictions Not from the ground arise But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise. 

 "We see but dimly through the mists and vapours Amid these earthly damps What seems to us but sad funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps. "

 LONGFELLOW. 

There were morning prayers before the hurried breakfast, which wasinterspersed with numerous directions about what was to be done for Mrs. Lyddell, and what letters were to be sent after Mr. Lyddell. Lionel wasgrave and silent, as became one whose fate was in the balance, withouteither shrinking or bravado; but somewhat as if he was more inclined, than had been the case last night, to hope for a favorable result. With heartfelt prayers did Marian watch him as be crossed the hall andentered the carriage, calling out a cheerful good-bye, --prayers that, ifit were the will of Heaven, his affliction might be removed; but that ifnot, help might be given him to turn it into a blessing, as he seemedalmost to be beginning to do. His father, too, --little had Marian everthought to feel for him the affectionate compassion and sympathy, ofwhich she was now sensible, as she responded to his kind, fatherlyfarewell, and thought of what he must be feeling; obliged to leave hiswife in so anxious and suffering a state; his daughter, the pride of thefamily, removed so suddenly; his most promising son probably blind forlife; his eldest, a grief, pain, and shame to them all. Marian must prayfor him too, that he might be supported and aided through these mostbitter trials, and that the work which they had begun in him might go onand be perfected; that these troubles, grievous as they were, might inhis ease also turn to blessings. 

The occupation of the two girls was all day the care of Mrs. Lyddell. She was not worse, as far as bodily ailments went; the attack of cold, brought on by leaving her room to attend on Caroline, had gone off, and her strength was in some degree returning; but she was restless, excited, irritable, and with an inability to restrain herself, that wasmore alarming than Marian liked to own to herself, far less to Clara. 

She insisted on getting up at an earlier hour than she had hithertoattempted; she was worn out and wearied with dressing; she was impatientand vexed with Clara, for some mistake about her pillows; and thetrembling of her hand, as she was eating some broth, was uncontrollable. The broth was not what she liked, and she would send for thehousekeeper, to reprove her about it; asked questions about thearrangements, found them not as she wished; spoke sharply, said no onetook heed to anything while she was ill, and then burst into a fit ofweeping at the thought of the daughter who would have been able tosupply her place. 

This spent itself, (for the girls were unable to do anything effectualin soothing it away); the doctors made their daily visit, and cheeredher up a little. The consequence of this exhilaration was, that shebegan talking about Lionel, and anticipating his perfect recovery;arranging how they were all to go and join him in London, and workingherself up to a state of great excitement; pettish with Marian for notbeing able to answer her hopefully, and at last, hysterically laughingat the picture she drew of Lionel with restored sight. 

Marian asked if she would be read to, and took up a serious book, withwhich she had put her to sleep two or three times before, but nothingof the kind would she hear; and as the best chance of at least quietingher, Marian went on a voyage of discovery among the club books downstairs, and brought up a book of travels, and a novel. Mrs. Lyddellchose the novel; it was a very exciting story, and caught the attentionof all three. Marian grew eager about it, and was well pleased to go on;and so it occupied them most of the afternoon and evening, driving out agreat deal of care, as Marian could not help gratefully acknowledging, though she would willingly have had space to work out with herself thequestion, whether care had best be driven out or grappled with. Mrs. Lyddell was indeed in no state to grapple with it, and there was nothingto be done but to take the best present means of distracting herattention; yet it was to be feared that, though put aside, the enemy wasnot conquered, --and might there not be worse to come?

It was about half-past seven and the two girls were drinking tea withMrs. Lyddell in her room. She was just beginning to make herself unhappyabout Mr. Lyddell's late journey and night-voyage, when there was a tapat the door, and on the answer, "Come in!" it opened, and Lionel stoodthere. 

There was a sudden exclamation: they all three sprang up and looked athim, but alas! it was still by feeling that he came forward, though hiscountenance was cheerful, and there was a smile upon his lips. 

"Well, mamma, " he said, in a brave, almost a lively tone, "you mustbe content to have me at home. " And in answer to their broken, halfexpressed interrogations, "No, he can't do any thing for me; so it wasnot worth while to stay any longer in London. How are you this evening, mamma?"

He was guiding himself towards her chair, one hand on the table; shethrew herself forward to meet him, flung her arms round his neck andsobbed, "My boy, my poor dear boy! O Lionel! it has been all my faultand neglect!"

"No, no, don't--don't say that, mamma!" said Lionel, extremelydistressed by her weeping, and not knowing where to rest her, as shehung with her whole weight abandoned on him. Marian and Clara wereobliged to help him, and seat her in her chair again; while she stillwept piteously, and poor Lionel stood, hearing the sobs, and very muchgrieved. "Ought I not to have told her?" said he to Marian. "I thoughtif she saw I could bear it, it would be better than writing. "

"Yes, yes, you did quite right; she will be better presently. "

She was soon better, and leaning back on her pillows exhausted, lookedup at the fine tall boy before her, the glow of youth and health on hisface, spirit and enterprise in every feature, --but those large blueeyes, bright as they were, for ever darkened and useless. 

"O Lionel!" she sighed again. 

"The man behaved very well, " said Lionel; "he did not plague me at all. He only pulled up my eyelids--so--and studied them, and I suppose hegave some sign to my father, for I heard him make a noise that showed mehow I was; so I asked. He told me there was not a chance, and made meunderstand the rights of it; and so here I am. Never mind, mamma, therewas a tendency to it all my life, and nothing would have stopped it inthe end; and now I know what it is, I have no doubt but I shall do verywell. I mean to be like the blind man that unharnessed all the horses inthe middle of the night, when the coach was upset, and no one else wasof any use. "

He stopped once or twice in his harangue, to judge how his mother was, by her breathings; and he spoke with a smile and look of resolutionand eagerness, as he concluded with another "Never mind, mamma, for Idon't. " She took hold of his hand, and pressed it, too much overcome tospeak. 

"Is papa gone?" asked Clara. 

"Yes. " And Lionel proceeded to give a message which he had sent back. 

"And where's Walter?"

"In the drawing-room. "

More people were already in the room than Marian thought good for Mrs. Lyddell; and understanding Clara's wishes, she went down to speak toWalter, to carry a message that his mother would see him after tea, andto arrange for a substantial supper for the two youths, who had had nodinner. 

Walter was waiting anxiously to know how his mother had endured thetidings. 

"She was very much, overcome at first, " said Marian; "but now she hashad a good cry, she will be more likely to go to sleep quietly. PoorLionel! he did it admirably. "

"It has been his chief thought, " said Walter. "He begged to come home atonce, saying it would be the best way to have it over before night;it would save all hoping and worrying, about him; and the instant wearrived, he ran straight up stairs. "

Walter and Marian were not familiar enough to say it to each other, butboth were comparing his present conduct with his former bitterness ofspirit against his mother. Death, sorrow, anxiety, and illness had drawnclose the cords of love, and opened the well-springs of affection, solong choked up and soured by neglect and worldly care. 

"How did he bear it at the first?"

"Bravely; he had wound himself up. He was flushing and turning pale allthrough the journey; but when once he came to the door, he was as calmand steady as possible. My father was much more agitated; he would leadLionel himself, and very nearly threw him down the steps. You shouldhave seen how Lionel never flinched, --did not let one feature quiverwhile he was being turned round to the light and examined. We saw how itwas by the doctor's face, but Lionel spoke first, as--no, more steadily, than I can tell it, 'There is nothing to be done, then?'--attended morefirmly to the explanation of the causes than we could, spoke as freelyas if it had been about some indifferent case. The doctor was quitestruck with it. He shook hands with him when he went, and kept me amoment after, to say, of all the many cases he had seen, he had neverknown greater resolution, --never seen any one he had been more sorryfor. However, it was not only that, --that might have been the pride offirmness; but it has been the same all along. He set himself to cheer myfather, who was very much overcome; and ever since has been telling meof all his schemes for employment, and arranging how to spare my motheras much as possible. Yes, he is a fine fellow!" said Walter, stoppingwith a heavy sigh. 

"I am sure he will make himself happy, " said Marian earnestly; "youdon't know how many resources he has, and you see how wonderfullyindependent he is already. "

"Yes, " said Walter, sadly; "but though I know it is all right--to seewhat he might have been! But that is mere nonsense, " he added, catchinghimself up; "we should never have known what was in him; and perhaps hewould have been very different. "

Not a word expressed of Walter's sincere thankfulness for the changethat affliction was bringing on them. 

Lionel came down presently, Marian presided at their tea, and would haveenjoyed it very much, if she had not been sorry Clara should not berelieved from her harassing attendance up stairs. But her mother couldnot spare her, and perhaps the being positively useful, and pulled byforce out of her childishness, was the best thing for her. 

"Marian, I hope you will be able to ride with me to-morrow, if mammadoes not want you?" said Lionel. 

Walter looked full of inquiry and consternation. 

"If we can manage it, " said Marian, cheerfully; though now that thecustom had been disused for a time, she did not like the notion quiteso well as before; since she could not now even figure to herself thatLionel guided himself at all, He had said it chiefly for the purposeof asserting his intention of continuing the practice, and was quitesatisfied by her answer. 

Walter went up stairs to his mother shortly after, and Lionel was leftalone with Marian. 

"I am sure I hope it won't hurt her, " said he; "I thought it was best tohave it out at once. "

"Much the best, since it was to come. "

"Yes, " he said, pausing for some space, then exclaiming, "I don't know, though! I thought it would be better to know the worst, and have one'smind made up; but I don't think 'tis more comfortable, after all. Ishould like to get back that little spark of hope I had this morning!O, Marian, there was one time when the sun shone out full, and so warm, exactly on my face, and some one in the train said it was a gloriouswinter day. It was close by Slough; I knew we were in sight of thecastle, and perhaps one might see the chapel, and the trees in theplaying-fields. I thought soon, I might be seeing it all again: andI vow, Marian, I could have leaped from here to Windsor at the barethought. It was being a great fool, to be sure; but as we came back, Iwas half glad it was dark, so that nobody else could see it. "

"Yet I am sure your last half year at Eton was no happy time; you wentthrough a great deal. "

"I'd do it all again, if I could see as much as I did then, " saidLionel. "I don't mind it so much in general now; I get on much betterthan I thought I should, and it is not nearly as bad now I am quite inthe dark, and wake up to it, as when the glimmer of light was going. Ican do very well, except when a great gush--I don't know what to callit--great rush of remembering the sky and all sorts of things comeson me, and I know it is to be darkness always. Then!--but it is allnonsense talking of it. I shall get the better of that, some day orother, I suppose. But I did not think, yesterday, that the being sure ofit would be half so bad!"

"You braced yourself yesterday, and that helped you to-day. "

"Yes; and then there was my father, --he has enough to vex him, withoutknowing all this. And, after all, it is nothing; I've got plenty to do, and I'll manage it capitally. I'll tell you what, Marian, if mamma canspare you, we'll ride to Salisbury, and get some of that good twine, andI'll make Gerald the fishing-net you said he wanted. "

Lionel had hitherto never consented to learn to net. 

Mrs. Lyddell was better the next day, and all was quiet and prosperous, so that Walter could write a satisfactory account to his father. Clarahad a good walk with her brothers in the morning, and in the afternoonthe ride took effect: Marian came into Mrs. Lyddell's room in her habit, and gave notice, "we are going to ride, " so much as if it was a matterof course that Mrs. Lyddell asked no questions, and feared no dangers. Walter went with them, and Marian could have wished him away, for he wasso anxious and nervous as very nearly to make her the same, and thoughhe said nothing of his anxieties, Lionel found them out, and told himin his old gruff way that there was nothing to be in a taking about;indeed, Lionel was the more inclined to be adventurous in order to showhimself entirely at his ease. 

However, nothing went wrong, and Marian and he both felt it a pointgained that their riding together was established. A few days passedon quietly and gravely, a pause of waiting and suspense. Mrs. Lyddell, though less ill, was not materially improved as regarded theexcitability of her spirits. She would be excessively depressed atone time, at another in such high spirits as were much more alarming. Sometimes she would talk about their being all ruined and undone, and goon rapidly to say they must give up the house in London, retrench, liveon nothing; at others she anticipated Mr. Lyddell's bringing Elliotback, all his debts paid, to live at home and be a comfort, or somefriend was to give Walter a great living, or Clara was to come out, andto be presented in the summer. At the same time the fretful irritabilityof nerve and temper continued, and any unusual excitement, the talking alittle longer in her room, a letter, or a little disappointment, wouldkeep her awake all night. One thing, however, seemed certain, thatLionel's presence had some of the same power over her as her husband's;she was too much occupied with watching him, to work herself into heranxious excited moods, and now that he had grown more familiar with her, his cheerful lively way of speaking always refreshed and pleased her. Hewould come in, in a glow of bright health, from a quick walk or ride inthe clear frosty air, and show such genuine pleasure and animationas must console those who were grieving for his privation; he wouldundertake her messages, and find things in a wonderful manner, and heliked to listen to the reading aloud that always went on in her room. When Lionel came in, Marian and Clara always felt relieved from halftheir present care. 

At last came a letter from Mr. Lyddell to Walter. The worst of hisfears were fulfilled. Elliot was actually married, and report had notexaggerated the disgrace of the connection. Mr. Lyddell had not chosento see him, and intended to be at home, by the end of the next day, after they would receive the letter. 

It was a great shock, but perhaps none of the four young people hadsuch lively hopes of Elliot as to be very much overwhelmed by thedisappointment, as far as he was individually concerned. He had neverbeen a kind elder brother to Clara or Lionel, and it was only Walter whocould have any of those recollections of a childhood spent together, which would make the loss of intercourse personally painful. They hadall been brought up to a sort of loyal feeling towards Elliot as theeldest, and to think his extravagance almost a matter of course, butonly the tie of blood, and sympathy for their parents could cause themany acute pain on his account. 

For their parents they were greatly grieved, for Elliot had with allhis faults, been their especial pride and hope, and the effect on Mrs. Lyddell in her present state was very much to be apprehended. It was acomfort however that it was decided in full council that they might putoff the evil day of telling her, for there was no occasion that sheshould be informed till her husband returned. He came the next day, andvery worn down, broken and oldened did he look, as he returned to hismourning household. Not a word did he say in public of the object of hisjourney, and all that transpired to Marian, through Lionel, who heardit from Walter, was "that it was as bad as bad could be; it was thoughtElliot had done it out of spite, at any rate he was never likely tobring his wife to England. " Neither did Mrs. Lyddell speak of it, andMarian only knew that she had been informed of it, by the increasedexcitability and irritation of her nerves. Poor Clara underwentplenty of scolding, for she was the only victim, since Mrs. Lyddell'scontinuous dislike to Marian kept her on her ordinary terms ofceremony, scarcely ever asking her to do her any service, thanking herscrupulously, and never finding fault to her face. 

Marian was at first very sorry for Clara, who was bewildered, anddisconcerted, but after a day or two, things seemed to right themselveswonderfully. Clara grew used to the fretfulness, and was no longerfrightened by it, nor made unhappy, but learnt how to meet it and smoothit down without being hurt by it. It was surely the instinct of naturalaffection, for inferior in every way as she was to Marian, yet in hermother's sick room she suddenly acquired all the tact, power, andmanagement that Marian failed in. Hitherto she had been childish andastray, as if she wanted her vocation; now she had found it, and settledadmirably into it, acquiring a sense, energy, and activity that no onecould have supposed her capable of. 

Outside that room, she was the same Clara still, without much either ofrational tastes or conversation, afraid of her father, and not much of acompanion to her brother, helpless in everything that did not regard hermother, and clinging to Marian for help and direction, Marian must speakfor her, tell her what to say if she had to write a note, take theresponsibility of every arrangement. Nothing was much harder than toshove Clara forward into becoming the ostensible lady of the house, as it seemed as if she must continue for some time to come, since thedoctors spoke of the most absolute rest and freedom from excitementbeing necessary to restore her mother's shattered health and spirits. She was to see no visitors, be soothed as much as possible, have nocares or anxieties brought to her, be only moderately occupied andamused, or the nervous attacks would return. Marian had a suspicion thatthey feared for her mind. She became stronger, was able to rise earlier, and to drive out in the carriage, but she never dined with the family, and remained in her sitting room up stairs, with Clara for her regularattendant, and visits from the rest. 

Walter returned to his curacy as soon as he could be spared, and Lionelbecame, as usual, chiefly dependent on Marian, who read to him, walkedwith him, rode with him, assisted him in his contrivances for helpinghimself, and was his constant guide and companion; doing at the sametime all she could for Clara's service, but keeping in the back groundand making Clara do all the representative part for herself. 

They missed Caroline every hour of the day, far more since they hadsettled into an every-day course of habits and most especially in theevening and at meal times. There always used to be so much conversationgoing on at dinner and now no one seemed to say anything; Clara sat atthe head of the table in awe of her father, Lionel and Marian did notfeel disposed to talk in their own way before him there never had beenany freedom of intercourse, and nobody knew how to begin. 

Marian thought the silent party very sad and forlorn for poor Mr. Lyddell, and that it must remind him grievously of the state of hisfamily. Some one must talk, but how were they ever to begin? She was theworst person in the world to do it, yet try she must. 

She began talking over the ride they had taken that day, but Clara wasnot at her ease enough to ask questions, or make observations, Lioneldid not second her, and Mr. Lyddell said no more than "O. " Another dayshe tried giving a history of a call that had been made by some of theirneighbors, but nobody would be interested. How could she be so stupid?She almost dreaded dinner time. At last one day, she luckily cast hereyes on the newspaper, and it is a melancholy truth that the sight of ahorrid murder gave her a certain degree of satisfaction! She began aboutit at dinner, when every one talked about it, every one had some view asto the perpetrator, and it really carried them through all dinner timewithout one dreary tract of silence, and served them on a second day. 

A second day and a third, for more intelligence came out, and thenluckily for her, came a revolution, next a dreadful accident, and atlast the habit of talking became so well established that there was noneed to look for topics in the newspaper. It was without an effort thatshe could originate a remark addressed to Mr. Lyddell. Lionel began toshake off his old schoolboy reserves, and rattle on freely. Clara grewmore at ease, and Mr. Lyddell began to be entertained, to be drawn intothe conversation, and to narrate his day's doings, just as of oldwhen his wife was there, pleased with their interest in them, makingexplanations, and diverted with Lionel's merry comments. 

It was however dreary and uncomfortable, with all these vague anxietiesfor Mrs. Lyddell, and with the whole house in the unsettled stateconsequent on missing its moving power. The servants had been used todepend on her, and could not go on without her; they teased Clara, and Clara teased Marian about them, no one knew what to do, nor whatauthority to assume, and the petty vexations were endless that wereborne by the two girls rather than annoy Mr. Lyddell; perplexities, doubts whether they were doing what was wise or right by the house or bythe servants; Marian's good sense making her judge the right, but herawkwardness, and Clara's incapacity, breaking down in the execution;continual worry and no dignity in it. 

The loss of Caroline as a companion was severely felt. Marian had notbeen fully conscious how very closely entwined their hearts had been, how necessary they had grown to each other even before those latter daysof full confidence. Every pursuit was mixed up with Caroline, every walkrecalled her, every annoyance would have given way at her light touch. There was no one left with whom Marian could have anything like theconversations they had been used to enjoy from almost the earliestdays of her coming to Oakworthy. Lionel was indeed a very agreeablecompanion, nay more, a friend, full of right feeling, principle, goodsense, thought, and liveliness; but a younger boy could never make upfor the loss of such a friend of her own sex. Each evening as she satover the fire in her room, her heart ached with longing for Caroline'stap at the door, or with the wish to go and knock at hers, and then thethrill at thinking that there was only gloom and vacancy in her room. Had they but found each other out before! But oh! how much better tothink of her as she did of her own parents, added to her store inParadise, than to see her the wife of that man, unhappy as she must havebeen unless she had lost all that was excellent and hopeful. 

These thoughts would comfort Marian when she went up to bed, harassed, weary, disgusted with cares and vexations, and craving for rest andsympathy. She thought of the home that awaited her at Fern Torr, thehope that had carried her through last autumn, but withal came a dimvague perception that a great sacrifice might be before her. Would it beright to seek her own happiness and repose there, and leave the Lyddellsto their present distress? She did not think she was of much use, Clarawas all-sufficient for her mother, and Marian was rather less liked byMrs. Lyddell than formerly; but as a support to Clara, as a companion toLionel, and as some one to talk to Mr. Lyddell, she was not absolutelyuseless. She had no doubt Clara and Lionel would miss her sadly, indeedit would be unkind to leave them, it would be positively wrong toforsake them when she was of some value, and go where she could notsuppose herself to be actually wanted, though she might be loved andcherished. Yet to give up that beloved hope! The vision that haddelighted her from the first years of her orphanhood; the hope becometangible beyond all expectations, the wish of her heart. To give uphome, Edmund and Agnes, for this weary life! How could she? But it wasnot worth while to think about it yet, things might change, before theywere ready for her, Mrs. Lyddell might recover, Clara and Lionel mightgrow sufficient for each other, anything might, would or should happen, rather than she would give up her beloved hope of the home she longedfor, especially now the house was actually building, and each letterbrought her accounts of its progress. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

 "Perchance it was ours on life's journey to enter Some path through whose shadows no lovelight was thrown, With heart that could breast the fierce storms of its winter, And gather the wealth of its harvest alone; It is well there are stars in bright heaven to guide us To heights we ne'er dreamt of, --but oh, to forget The fortunes that bar, and the gulfs that divide us From paths that looked lovely, with some we have met. "

 F. BROWNE. 

Many weeks had passed away, and nothing had changed, in anymaterial way, since the spring. Mrs. Lyddell's condition was stillunsatisfactory, and she seemed to be settling into a confirmed state ofill health, and almost of hypochondriacism. So many shocks, followingeach other in such quick succession, on a person entirely unprepared bynature, experience or self-regulation, had entirely broken her down, andshattered her nerves and spirits in a manner which she seemed less andless like to recover. She was only able to rise late in the day, take ashort drive, and after dining in her own room, come down in the evening, if they were alone, and it was a good day with her. 

No change, neither sea air, nor London advice, had made much difference, and her condition had become so habitual, that her family had ceased toexpect any considerable amendment; and it was likely that Clara would, for many years, have full employment as her companion and attendant. Lionel was perfectly, hopelessly blind, but growing reconciled to hismisfortune, and habituated to the privation, as well as resigned inwill. His natural character, of a high-spirited, joyous, enterprisingboy, showed itself still in his independence and fearlessness, joined tocheerfulness, and enlivened the house. He had even gone the length oftalking freely and drolly to his father, and Mr. Lyddell had learnt tosmile, and even laugh at his fun. 

There had been fears that the removal to London, for the session ofParliament, would be a great privation to him, since he would miss thewandering about the downs by himself, and the riding with Marian; buthis temper and spirits did not fail. He walked every day with her, andwas entertained with all he heard, both by his own quick ears, and byher description. They went to exhibitions, where she saw for him, andthere were lectures, readings, and other oral amusements, to which hisfather, or some good-natured friend, would take him. He began to acquirea taste for music, which he had hitherto never cared to hear, andconcerts became a great delight to him: though he had not the correctear, and admirable appreciation of music, that often, in blind persons, seems like a compensation for the loss of the pleasures of the eye. 

Lady Marchmont became very kind to him. She was thoroughly good natured, and the sight of the blind youth, whose arm Marian held as they walkedtogether, stirred all her kindly feelings. He was gentlemanlikeand pleasant looking, and his manner, now divested of schoolboy_brusquerie_, was frank and confiding. Selina was disposed to like him, and to be interested in him. She found, too, that Marian did not like togo out when his amusement was not provided for; so at first for Marian'ssake, then for his own, she made him join them when they went toconcerts, or to any other amusement that could gratify him. Her brightliveliness and spirited way of talking, won him; and it delighted Marianto see what great friends they became, even to the length of laughingover the old Wreath of Beauty story together. And when at length she wasbrought, of her own accord, in some degree to patronise Clara, it was atriumph indeed; and Mrs. Lyddell was more obliged to Marian than for allthe real benefits she had conferred, when she saw Clara dressed to go toa party at Lady Marchmont's. 

All this time Marian was becoming more and more a prey to that secretdoubt, whether it might not be a duty to give up her cherished hope of ahome at Fern Torr. She did not see how she could be spared. Clara was anadmirable attendant on her mother, and was becoming a better mistress ofthe house; but she was not able to be at the same time a companion toher father and Lionel, and, poor girl, she would be very forlorn andmuch at a loss, without Marian's elder sisterhood; for the sense of helpand reliance that Marian's presence gave her was little less. For her togo away, would be to bring home to Clara the loss of Caroline more thanshe had ever been left to feel it. 

Yet, on the other hand, Clara was no companion. They talked, indeed, butthey never discussed, --never had any interchange of higher sympathies orreflections; it was not getting beyond the immediate matter in hand;and often Marian, would be sensible that, if her own pleasure wereconsulted, a walk or ride, with her thoughts free to range in meditationor day-dream, was preferable to Clara's chatter. 

Her own pleasure, --that she enjoyed but little, and less now than ever, for her time was never her own. There was Lionel on her hands almostevery day, to be read to, or walked with; and if he went out with hisfather, or spent an hour in his mother's room, there was Clara wantingher quite as much, for gossip, exercise, or consultation. Mrs. Lyddell, too, must be visited; for though Marian was not the most beloved, or most welcome person in the world, yet a change of society andconversation was desirable, both for her sake and Clara's; so morethan two hours every day were spent in her sitting-room. Then, in theevening, Marian's thoughts and ears must be free for Mr. Lyddell andLionel. All her own pursuits were at an end, she had hardly touched apencil the whole year, nor opened a German book, nor indeed any book, excepting what she read to Lionel, and these were many. She was veryseldom able to enjoy the luxury of being alone; she could hardly evenwrite her letters, except by sitting up for them; and even the valuablehour before midnight was not certain to be her own, for if Clara had noother time to pour out her cares, she used to come then, and linger inher cousin's room, reiterating petty perplexities, endless in detail. 

How delightful to escape from all this, to quietness, peace, freedomfrom her own cares and other people's, --Fern Torr air and scenery, Edmund and Agnes for companions, and liberty to teach school children, go about among her own people, do good in her own way, and enjoy her ownstudies. It was like a captive longing to be set free, --a wanderer insight of home. 

But the captive paused on the threshold of the dungeon; the wandererstood still on the brow of the last hill. Marian paced up and down herown room, and thought and reasoned half aloud, --

 "Sweet is the smile of home, the mutual look, When hearts are of each other sure; Sweet all the joys that crown the household nook, The haunt of all affections pure: Yet in the world even these abide, and we Above the world our calling boast. "

"And I am making them the world, if for their sake I give up what myconscience calls on me to do. I know, though I do little good here, mygoing away would make them more uncomfortable. Have I any right to seekmy pleasure? But I should do more good there; I should go to school, read to the poor people, go to Church in the week, be more improvedmyself. O that home of peace and joy! And Gerald--my first duty is tohim. But what harm would it do him? I could go home for his holidays. Imust not deceive myself; I have been put in the way of positive dutieshere, or rather, ways of being useful have grown up round me. Is itright to run away from them, --poor Lionel, poor Clara! Would not everyweary hour of Lionel's--every time Clara was teased, and teasedher father, --be my fault? But how Edmund and Agnes will bedisappointed!--they who will have been throwing away so much kind care!O you goose of a Marian! are you going to fancy it is for your sake thatthey mean to marry? don't you think they can do very well without you?How very silly to be sorry that it must be so!--how very, very silly!And even Gerald will marry one of these days, and will not want me; andshall I always be alone then? For as to that other sort of affection, Iam sure it is quite certain that I can never care for any body enough tomarry, --never half as well as for Gerald. No, no one will ever love meas I do others; every one has some one nearer to them; a lonely life, and never a home! Well, then there is a home somewhere else, and thosewho made my earthly home are waiting for me there, in the Land of theLeal. "

Such was the tenor of Marian's oft-repeated musings. The practicalresult was a resolution to consult Edmund when she should go to FernTorr to his wedding, early in August. She could not write her pros andcons, but to Edmund she could tell them, and trust to him as a just andimpartial judge; and if Agnes was angry, it would serve them, thoughtMarian, smiling, for a quarrel, for they won't have many other chancesof one. 

However, the time drew on when, behold, every one's calculations weredisturbed by a sudden dissolution of Parliament. Hitherto such eventshad not made much difference to the Lyddells; as Mr. Lyddell's electionhad been, for the last twenty years, unopposed; and the only doubtat present was, whether he thought it worth while to stand again, considering that he was growing old and weary of business, and besidescould not well afford the London house. 

He had been hinting something of the kind to Lionel and Marian in theevening, as a matter under consideration and they had heard it withjoy, when the next morning made a sudden change in affairs, by bringingtidings that Mr. Faulkner was soliciting the votes of Mr. Lyddell'sconstituents on the opposite interest, taking the wrong side of thequestion, --a most important one, upon which the dissolution had takenplace. 

Here was indignation indeed. There was something so unfeeling in such aproceeding, on his part, that the mildest word spoken against him wasMarian's, and that was "atrocious. " To give up was one thing, to be thusturned out was quite another; and it was clearly right to the moralsense, as well as satisfactory to the indignant temper, that Mr. Lyddellshould oppose "to the last gasp, " as the furious Lionel expressed it, one who espoused principles so pernicious both in politics and religion. One thing was certain, that nobody would ever wish again that Carolinehad married him. Ill as Mr. Lyddell could afford the expense of acontested election, his blood was up, and he was determined not to yieldan inch. Never had Marian believed she could grow so vehement aboutanything that concerned him, but now her whole soul seemed to be in hissuccess. He had always been on the right side; and now that a steadilygrowing sense of religion was influencing all his actions, he was justthe fit person for his position, and Marian could, on principle, wishearnestly to see him retain it, for his own sake, as well as to keep outMr. Faulkner. But, alas! poor Marian, that the ministers should havechosen this precise time, so as just to bring the election the very weekof Edmund's wedding!

What was to be done? Mrs. Lyddell could not believe that an electionwould go on right without dinner-parties of every visitable individualin the county; and how was Clara to manage them all? Mrs. Lyddell's onlyexperiment, in coming into the room when there was company, had done herso much harm, that it was not on any account to be repeated; and herrestlessness and anxiety, --her persuasion that nothing could be donewell in which she was not concerned, --made the keeping her quiet a moreanxious business than even the receiving company. There was Mr. Lyddellwanting to have lists written, and needing all sorts of small helps towhich he had been used from his active wife; everything came on the twogirls, and Marian did not see how she could be spared even for the threedays it would take to go to the wedding. 

Perhaps that excitement about the election would have somewhat dulledthe acuteness of the sacrifice, if it had not been for what was to comeafter it. The die must be cast without consultation with Edmund; shemust write and tell them that their kind design for her was in vain. 

Gerald was at Oakworthy for the first week of his holidays, and he wasthe only person she could call to hold council with her. She had somedifficulty in catching him; for he was galloping about with messagesall day, figuring to himself that he produced a grand effect in thecanvass, --making caricatures, describing them to Lionel, and conductinghim wherever he was not expected to be seen. However, catch him she did, at bed-time, and pulling him into her room, propounded her difficulty. 

"Gerald, I don't see how I am ever to manage to go with you to theirwedding. "

Ha? don't you? Well, it would be a pity to lose the nomination-day, andthe show of hands; I should travel all night to be in time, but youcould not, I suppose?"

"I? why you don't think I should go to it?"

"Lionel will--I am to take care of Lionel. Can't you go? What a bore itmust be to be a woman! Well, then, why don't you come to the wedding?"

"Because I think Clara will get into such a fuss, if there is no one tohelp her at the dinner the evening before. There is Mrs. Pringle comingto dine and sleep, so it can't be only a gentleman's party: and there isso much to do. "

"Whew! it will be very stupid of you not to come; and how Agnes willscold! But I suppose yen can't be everywhere. One would give upsomething for the sake of beating such a rogue as that Faulkner. "

"If we were but sure of doing it. "

"Sure! Why we shall smash him to shivers, if one fortieth part of thepeople are but as good as their word. Did I tell you, Marian, how Ianswered that old farmer to-day?" &c. , &c. , all which Marian had tohear, before she could get him back to the matter in hand. 

"I am almost sorry to give up those three days, " he said, "though it isfor their wedding; but you see, Marian, " and the boy spoke with his airof consequence, "I think it is expected of me, and they would all bedisappointed. It would not look as if it was well between Edmund and mo, if I was not present; but you can please yourself, you know. "

"Yes, yes, you could not stay away, " said Marian; "I should be verysorry that you should. You must go. "

"And if I come away that afternoon, I may be back by the mail train byone at night, and be in time for the show of hands. Hurrah! I've a'mindto write to Jemmy, to buy up all the rotten eggs in Fern Torr. "

"You wild animal! But do be sensible a little while, Gerald, for I havesomething serious to ask your advice upon. "

"Well, "--and all the wisdom of sixteen was at her service. 

"I want to know what you think about my living here, or at Fern Torr?"

"Hollo! why I thought it was settled long ago that you were to live atthe Quarry with them. "

"So it was; but I don't know whether I am not more wanted here thanthere. "

"You don't mean that that have changed their mind, and don't want tohave you?"

"Not a bit--O dear, no! but I think, somehow, Clara and Lionel find meof more use than they would. "

"To be sure, this place would be in a pretty tolerable sort of a messwithout you. I don't know how any of them would get on. "

"Well, then, I wanted your opinion, Gerald; I had better tell Edmund andAgnes that I ought to stay on here. "

"But what am I to do? I mean to be at Fern Torr in the holidays, Iassure you, except a week or two, just to see Lionel; and I don't meanto have my holidays without you, I declare!"

"O, I hope always to come home for them. "

"Why, then, if I have you when I am at home, I don't care, --I mean--"said Gerald, conscious of the egotism he was committing, "I mean youdon't like it half so well, do you?"

"O no--I mean--I don't know--"

"Which do you mean?"

"I don't know--at least, of course, I had rather be with Edmund andAgnes than anybody else, except you; but then, if I was thinking Lionelhad no one to read to him, or to ride with, or that Mrs. Lyddell wasworse, and Clara unhappy, I could hardly enjoy it. "

"You would not think so much about it if you were away from them. "

"Perhaps not, but it would be the same, and it would haunt me at night. "

"But, Marian, you can't give up Edmund and Agnes now they have built aroom for you. "

"I must have it when I come for your holidays. "

"Well, you must do as you please, " said Gerald. 

"And you won't be vexed?"

"Vexed! Why should I? It is nothing to me, if I have you when I am athome; and, indeed, I don't see what poor Lionel would do without you. Isuppose it is the best way, since you like it; only you must settle itwith Agnes your own way. I shall tell her it is not my fault. Won't shebe in a rage, that's all!"

With which sentence Sir Gerald's acquiescence was conveyed, with littleperception of the struggle in his sister's mind, and of the pain andgrief it was to her to write to her cousin and friend, begging them torelease her from her promise. 

As to the rest of the house, they never appeared to think at all abouther quitting them; or if Clara and Lionel did, perchance, remember thatit had been spoken of, they hoped it had blown over, and dreaded therevival of the idea too much to refer to it. Not one of the whole familyguessed that to them was sacrificed the most treasured project ofMarian's life. 

She had made up her mind, but she could not bear to write to tell herfriend that her plans were frustrated; so it was to Edmund that shewrote the full detail of her reasons and regrets, begging him to forgiveher, and to make her peace with Agnes; while she begged Mrs. Wortley toexcuse her for missing the wedding. 

Edmund's answer was just what she wished, and indeed expected. "You areright, " he said, "and it is of no use to tell you how sorry we are. Itis impossible to be so selfish as to wish you to act otherwise, and inprocess of time you may perhaps obtain Agnes' pardon: in the mean timewe never walk to the Quarry, without her abusing you for giving so muchtrouble for nothing. I would only advise one thing, namely, that youmake no promise nor engagement respecting your place of residence, sincecircumstances may alter; and you had better not feel yourself bound. With this proviso we resign you to your own judgment, and to the placewhere you seem indeed at present to be most wanted. "

So wrote Edmund: Agnes did not write at all. Marian announced that shehad given up going to the wedding. Clara was sorry she should miss it, but could not guess how she should have managed without her; and noone else had leisure to think at all, or else considered it quite as amatter of course that site should not go away when she was wanted. 

If any one had, seven years, or even one year ago, told Marian how shewould spend that bridal day, her incredulity would have been complete. So absorbed was she in Mr. Lyddell's election affairs that she hardlyhad time to think about it, between hopes and alarms, doubts andintelligence, visitors and preparations, notes to be written and papersto be found, Clara to be helped, Mrs. Lyddell to be kept quiet, Lionel'snews to hear, the dinner party to be entertained. Very differently hadMarian now learnt to sit in company from former days. She had a motivenow, in the wish to help Clara, and all her distant coldness had meltedinto a quiet, kind, obliging manner, which had taught her to takegenuine interest even in common-place people, and caused it to be saidthat Miss Arundel had ceased to be shy and haughty. It was all onewhirl, leaving no time for sitting down, and still less for musing. Lionel went indeed with his father to the committee-room, and was therehalf the day; for his services were wonderful, and particularly hismemory for names and places, to which Mr. Lyddell declared he wouldrather trust than to any memorandum. He was thus out of Marian's way allthe morning, but there was enough to occupy her without him, and in theafternoon he came home, full of news, and especially full of glory, ina conquest of his own, a doubtful voter, whom he had recollected, andundertaken to secure, had made the servant drive him round that way, canvassed on his own account, and obtained a promise, extracted asMarian suspected, by admiration of the blind young gentleman's highspirit and independence. 

Mr. Lyddell was particularly delighted; when became home very late, justbefore the eight o'clock dinner, he came up into his wife's room, andtold her the whole story, told Marian all over again on the stairs, andtold it a third time to some of the dinner guests, before Lionel camedown. Marian saw he valued that vote above all the rest. 

Busy as the day had been, Marian was resolved to sit up till herbrother's return at two o'clock in the morning, to hear his tidings, andshe expected to enjoy the space for thinking; but the thoughts wouldnot be settled, and instead of dwelling on Edmund and Agnes, she foundherself continually going back to the voters' list, and counting up theforces on each side. Then she grew sleepy, and fell into a long musingdream of shapeless fancies, woke herself, tried to write to Agnes, andwent off into her former vision of felicity in the house at the Quarry, which she indulged in, forgetting that she had renounced it. At lastcame the sounds of a carriage, and of opening doors. She met Gerald onthe stairs, but he was sleepy and would say little. "It had all gone offvery well--yes--nobody cried--he had a bit of wedding-cake for her, andhere was a note, she should hear all about it another time;"--yawn, andhe shut himself into his own room. That was all Marian obtained by hervigil. You, there was the note, put in with the wedding cards. 

 "MY DEAR MARIAN, --I can't relieve my mind by scolding you, and I don't know what else you have a right to expect after the way you have treated us. They tell me I must write, and I have not a word to say, though I always promised you should have the first letter from

 "Your affectionate cousin, "AGNES ARUNDEL. "

Wild as ever, thought Marian, as a little disappointed, she laid downthe note, but she understood how Agnes had felt obliged to write, inhurry and agitation, and just because she felt deeply, had been unableto express herself otherwise than what some people would call foolishlyand unsuitably. 

There was not much more of the wedding to be heard from Gerald the nextmorning, for he was full of the nomination, and proud of having Lionelunder his especial charge. 

This day was as wild a bustle as the former one, and there was stillmore excitement in the evening. Of course the show of hands had been infavour of Mr. Faulkner, of course he and his proposer and seconder hadbehaved one only more disgracefully than the other, of course the rabblebad behaved shamefully, and the boys were almost beside themselves withwrath; and besides the details of all these matters-of-course, the boyshad adventures of their own, for somehow Gerald and Lionel had been leftin the midst of a vituperative mob, out of which Gerald had brought offhis companion in a most spirited and successful way, without lettingany one discover Lionel's blindness, which would have been the mostefficient protection for both. Again and again Marian was told of thegallant way in which both boys had conducted themselves, and proud andpleased was she. 

Mr. Lyddell lost his seat, and the boys were half mad, a hundred timesmore concerned than he was himself, while Marian moralized to herselfon why it was allowed to happen that he should be set aside from publiclife, just when he would have begun to act on truly sound principles. And yet perhaps the leisure he thus obtained, and the seclusion from thewhirl of politics were the very things he needed, to draw him entirelyapart from the world which had so long engrossed him. 

It was about sis weeks after this that Mr. And Mrs. Edmund Arundel, inacceptance of a warm invitation from Mr. Lyddell, were driving alongthe white road leading to Oakworthy, after a very pleasant visit to theMarchmonts, when Selina had treated Agnes so affectionately, as to causeher to forget all past neglect, and had, as Edmund said, scaled theirfriendship, by raving at Marian's decision, "It was too bad, " said she, "when they had given up London, --the only thing that made it tolerable. "

To which, however, Agnes did not quite agree. 

"And now, " said she, "I shall see whether Marian is happy. "

"I don't believe you wish her to be so, " said Edmund. 

"No, I am not quite so spiteful, " rejoined Agnes, "but in order toforgive her, I must think it a very great sacrifice. "

"And have a marvellously high estimate of our two selves, " said Edmund. 

"What do I see?" said Agnes. "Look at those two people riding on thedown up there against the sky, don't you see their figures? It is alady. Gould it be Marian? No, she is riding so close to the other--hecan't be a servant. "

"Lionel, I suspect, " said Edmund. 

"The poor blind boy! O surely she does not ride alone with him! O what apretty cantering on the turf. It is really Marian, I see now. How I dolike to see her ride. "

A moment or two more, and descending from the high green slope, the tworiders were on the road meeting the carriage. Marian looked her beston horseback, with her excellent seat, and easy, fearless manner, herlittle hat and feathers became her fine features, and the air andexercise gave them animation, which made her more like a picture ofVelasquez and less like a Grecian statue than she was at any other time. Lionel rode almost close to her, a bright glow of sunshine on his livelyface, and a dexterity and quickness in his whole air that made Agneshesitate for a second or two, whether he could really be the blindyouth. A joyous "How d'ye do?" was called out on each side. "Well, Lionel, " then said Edmund, "are you quite well?"

"O yes, thank you, " replied a gay voice, "we thought we would see if wecould not meet you. "

"We rode over the down, " said Marian, "and we are going back the sameway. We shall be at home as soon as you are. Good-bye. To the right, Lionel. "

And they were seen trotting up the hill again, then as the carriage camein sight of the front door, there was Lionel jumping Marian down fromher saddle. Agnes did not know how to believe that he could not see, asshe watched his upright bearing, and rapid, fearless step, so unlike thegroping ways of persons who have lost their sight later in life. 

Clara presently came down, and Agnes was struck with her more thoughtfulface, and collected manner, so unlike the giddy child she had last seen, not intellectual indeed, but quiet, lady-like, and sensible. And as toMr. Lyddell, he looked so worn and so much older, so subdued in manner, and so free from those over civilities of former times, that Agnes madeup her mind that he must not be hated. 

Of Mrs. Lyddell she saw very little, only sitting in her room for anhour each morning, as a visitor, but it was evident she was very muchout of health, and a great charge to them all. Agnes could be sorry forher, but could not like her while she did not speak more cordially ofMarian. All praise of her had something forced and against the grain, and Agnes thought her intensely ungrateful. 

Lionel interested Agnes extremely, with his happy, independent ways, unrepining temper and spirit of enterprise. He was always eager aboutsome contrivance of his own, and just at this time it was wood-carving. His left hand showed as much sticking-plaster as skin, and he used tocome into the drawing-room with it wrapped up in his handkerchief andsay, "Here's another, Marian, " when Marian very quietly produced hersticking-plaster, as if it was quite an ordinary matter; nay, wouldnot follow up the suggestion that he should not have so sharp a knife, saying that it was much better to cut one's finger with a sharp knifethan a blunt one. He had cut about twenty bits of wood to waste, to saynothing of hands, but he persevered with amusing energy, and before theend of the visit had achieved a capital old man's head for the top of awalking stick, which he presented to Edmund. He promised Agnes a set ofsilk winders, and in the mean time made great friends with her, gettingher to tell him about her brother's sporting adventures, and in returnmaking himself very amusing with relations out of his sailor brother'sletters. Johnny had been concerned in the great exploit of climbing thePeter Bottle mountain, and Lionel was as proud of it as if he had doneit himself, making Marian show everybody a drawing which Gerald had madeof the appearance that Johnny must have cut, standing on one leg on thehighest stone. They were also struck with the change in the manner inwhich Walter was regarded, and the pride and affection with which allthe family spoke of his doings at his curacy. 

But that Marian, though not prominent, and apparently merely a guest, was necessary to the comfort of each member of the family, was a thingthat at the end of a fortnight, Agnes could not deny. Nor could sheattempt to make up a case to show that she and her husband were equallyin want of her. 

"So, Marian, " said she, as they parted, "I forgive you on condition ofyour spending Christmas with us. "

"And I ought to forgive you, " said Edmund, "in consideration of thefulfilment of my prediction that you would not be able to leave theLyddells when I was ready to receive you. "

Marian smiled, and watched them from the door. As they lost sight ofthe house, Edmund turned to his wife, saying, "How little we are fit toorder events! Here, Agnes, I looked back at this house six years agoin a sort of despair. I was ready to reproach Providence, to reproacheverything. I thought I saw my uncle's children in the way to be ruined, all his work undone, and there was I, unable to act, and yet with theresponsibility of the care of them. I tell you, Agnes, I never was sowretched in my life. And yet what short-sightedness! There has Marianbeen, placed, like a witness of the truth, calm, firm, constant, guarding herself and her brother first, and then softening, and winningall that came under her influence. "

"Oh! but, Edmund, your coming home saved Gerald, " said the wife, whocould not see her husband's credit given away even to Marian. 

"I brought the experience and authority that she could not have, butvain would have been my attempts without the sense of right she hadalways kept up in his mind. Trouble has done much for those Lyddells, but I don't believe that without her, it would have had that effect:When I remember what Mr. Lyddell was, his carelessness, the painfulmanner in which he used to talk; when I see him now, when I think ofwhat that poor Caroline was saved from, when I see the alteration inClara, and watch that blind boy, then I see indeed that our littleMarian, whom we thought thrown away and spoilt, was sent there to bea blessing. If she had been naturally a winning, gentle, persuasiveperson, I should have thought less of the wonder; but in her it isthe simple force of goodness, undecorated. I once feared the constantopposition in which she lived, would harden her, but instead, she hassoftened, sweetened, and lost all that was hard and haughty in her ways, when it was no longer needed for a protection. Selina Marchmont hasfailed too in giving her the exclusive spirit which I once fearedfor her. It is as if she had a spell for passing through the worldunscathed. "

"And you think she is happy?"

"As happy as those that never look for their happiness in this world. "

Agnes sighed. "My vision has always been, " said she, "to see Marian ashappy as--ourselves. "

"She may be yet, " said Edmund smiling, "but she has the best sort ofhappiness. She is in less danger of clinging to this world than we are. And somehow she gives me the impression of one too high and noble toseek her happiness in the way in which most people look for it. Yes, we ourselves, Agnes, we have a nest and home in this world; she standsabove it, and her only relation with it is to make others happy. "

"She little thinks how we talk of her, " said Agnes. "And still strangerit is, that with the reverence I have for her, I can play with her andscold her. "

A silence; ending with Agnes repeating, "GOOD LORD, through this world's troubled way Thy children's course secure; And lead them onward day by day, Kindly like Thee and pure. 

 "Be theirs to do Thy work of love, All erring souls to win; Amid a sinful world to move, Yet give no smile to sin. "