A FAIR BARBARIAN

 BY FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT

 1881

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

 I. MISS OCTAVIA BASSETT

 II. "AN INVESTMENT, ANYWAY"

 III. L'ARGENTVILLE

 IV. LADY THEOBALD

 V. LUCIA

 VI. ACCIDENTAL

 VII. "I SHOULD LIKE TO SEE MORE OF SLOWBRIDGE"

 VIII. SHARES LOOKING UP

 IX. WHITE MUSLIN

 X. ANNOUNCING MR. BAROLD

 XI. A SLIGHT INDISCRETION

 XII. AN INVITATION

 XIII. INTENTIONS

 XIV. A CLERICAL VISIT

 XV. SUPERIOR ADVANTAGES

 XVI. CROQUET

 XVII. ADVANTAGES

 XVIII. CONTRAST

 XIX. AN EXPERIMENT

 XX. PECULIAR TO NEVADA

 XXI. LORD LANSDOWNE

 XXII. "YOU HAVE MADE IT LIVELIER"

 XXIII. "MAY I GO?"

 XXIV. THE GARDEN PARTY

 XXV. "SOMEBODY ELSE"

 XXVI. "JACK"

A FAIR BARBARIAN. 

CHAPTER I. 

MISS OCTAVIA BASSETT. 

Slowbridge had been shaken to its foundations. 

It may as well be explained, however, at the outset, that it would nottake much of a sensation to give Slowbridge a great shock. In the firstplace, Slowbridge was not used to sensations, and was used to going onthe even and respectable tenor of its way, regarding the outside worldwith private distrust, if not with open disfavor. The new mills had beena trial to Slowbridge, --a sore trial. On being told of the owners' planof building them, old Lady Theobald, who was the corner-stone of thesocial edifice of Slowbridge, was said, by a spectator, to have turneddeathly pale with rage; and, on the first day of their being opened inworking order, she had taken to her bed, and remained shut up in herdarkened room for a week, refusing to see anybody, and even going so faras to send a scathing message to the curate of St. James, who called infear and trembling, because he was afraid to stay away. 

"With mills and mill-hands, " her ladyship announced to Mr. Laurence, themill-owner, when chance first threw them together, "with mills andmill-hands come murder, massacre, and mob law. " And she said it so loud, and with so stern an air of conviction, that the two Misses Briarton, whowere of a timorous and fearful nature, dropped their buttered muffins (itwas at one of the tea-parties which were Slowbridge's only dissipation), and shuddered hysterically, feeling that their fate was sealed, and thatthey might, any night, find three masculine mill-hands secreted undertheir beds, with bludgeons. But as no massacres took place, and themill-hands were pretty regular in their habits, and even went so far asto send their children to Lady Theobald's free school, and accepted thetracts left weekly at their doors, whether they could read or not, Slowbridge gradually recovered from the shock of finding itself forced toexist in close proximity to mills, and was just settling itself tosleep--the sleep of the just--again, when, as I have said, it was shakento its foundations. 

It was Miss Belinda Bassett who received the first shock. Miss BelindaBassett was a decorous little maiden lady, who lived in a decorous littlehouse on High Street (which was considered a very genteel street inSlowbridge). She had lived in the same house all her life, her father hadlived in it, and so also had her grandfather. She had gone out, to taketea, from its doors two or three times a week, ever since she had beentwenty; and she had had her little tea-parties in its front parlor asoften as any other genteel Slowbridge entertainer. She had risen atseven, breakfasted at eight, dined at two, taken tea at five, and gone tobed at ten, with such regularity for fifty years, that to rise at eight, breakfast at nine, dine at three, and take tea at six, and go to bed ateleven, would, she was firmly convinced, be but "to fly in the face ofProvidence, " as she put it, and sign her own death-warrant. Consequently, it is easy to imagine what a tremor and excitement seized her when, oneafternoon, as she sat waiting for her tea, a coach from the Blue Liondashed--or, at least, _almost_ dashed--up to the front door, a young ladygot out, and the next minute the handmaiden, Mary Anne, threw open thedoor of the parlor, announcing, without the least preface, --

"Your niece, mum, from 'Meriker. "

Miss Belinda got up, feeling that her knees really trembled beneath her. 

In Slowbridge, America was not approved of--in fact, was almost entirelyignored, as a country where, to quote Lady Theobald, "the laws wereloose, and the prevailing sentiments revolutionary. " It was notconsidered good taste to know Americans, --which was not unfortunate, asthere were none to know; and Miss Belinda Bassett had always felt adelicacy in mentioning her only brother, who had emigrated to the UnitedStates in his youth, having first disgraced himself by the utterance ofthe blasphemous remark that "he wanted to get to a place where a fellowcould stretch himself, and not be bullied by a lot of old tabbies. " Fromthe day of his departure, when he had left Miss Belinda bathed in tearsof anguish, she had heard nothing of him; and here upon the thresholdstood Mary Anne, with delighted eagerness in her countenance, repeating, --

"Your niece, mum, from 'Meriker!"

And, with the words, her niece entered. 

Miss Belinda put her hand to her heart. 

The young lady thus announced was the prettiest, and at the same time themost extraordinary-looking, young lady she had ever seen in her life. Slowbridge contained nothing approaching this niece. Her dress was sovery stylish that it was quite startling in its effect; her forehead wascovered down to her large, pretty eyes themselves, with curls ofyellow-brown hair; and her slender throat was swathed round and roundwith a grand scarf of black lace. 

She made a step forward, and then stopped, looking at Miss Belinda. Hereyes suddenly, to Miss Belinda's amazement, filled with tears. 

"Didn't you, " she said, --"oh, dear! _Didn't_ you get the letter?"

"The--the letter!" faltered Miss Belinda. "What letter, my--my dear?"

"Pa's, " was the answer. "Oh! I see you didn't. "

And she sank into the nearest chair, putting her hands up to her face, and beginning to cry outright. 

"I--am Octavia B-bassett, " she said. "We were coming to surp-prise you, and travel in Europe; but the mines went wrong, and p-pa was obliged togo back to Nevada. "

"The mines?" gasped Miss Belinda. 

"S-silver-mines, " wept Octavia. "And we had scarcely landed when Pipercabled, and pa had to turn back. It was something about shares, and hemay have lost his last dollar. "

Miss Belinda sank into a chair herself. 

"Mary Anne, " she said faintly, "bring me a glass of water. "

Her tone was such that Octavia removed her handkerchief from her eyes, and sat up to examine her. 

"Are you frightened?" she asked, in some alarm. 

Miss Belinda took a sip of the water brought by her handmaiden, replacedthe glass upon the salver, and shook her head deprecatingly. 

"Not exactly frightened, my dear, " she said, "but so amazed that I findit difficult to--to collect myself. "

Octavia put up her handkerchief again to wipe away a sudden new gush oftears. 

"If shares intended to go down, " she said, "I don't see why they couldn'tgo down before we started, instead of waiting until we got over here, andthen spoiling every thing. "

"Providence, my dear"--began Miss Belinda. 

But she was interrupted by the re-entrance of Mary Anne. 

"The man from the Lion, mum, wants to know what's to be done with thetrunks. There's six of 'em, an' they're all that 'eavy as he says hewouldn't lift one alone for ten shilling. "

"Six!" exclaimed Miss Belinda. "Whose are they?"

"Mine, " replied Octavia. "Wait a minute. I'll go out to him. "

Miss Belinda was astounded afresh by the alacrity with which her nieceseemed to forget her troubles, and rise to the occasion. The girl ran tothe front door as if she was quite used to directing her own affairs, andbegan to issue her orders. 

"You will have to get another man, " she said. "You might have known that. Go and get one somewhere. "

And when the man went off, grumbling a little, and evidently rather at aloss before such peremptory coolness, she turned to Miss Belinda. 

"Where must he put them?" she asked. 

It did not seem to have occurred to her once that her identity might bedoubted, and some slight obstacles arise before her. 

"I am afraid, " faltered Miss Belinda, "that five of them will have to beput in the attic. "

And in fifteen minutes five of them _were_ put into the attic, and thesixth--the biggest of all--stood in the trim little spare chamber, andpretty Miss Octavia had sunk into a puffy little chintz-coveredeasy-chair, while her newly found relative stood before her, making themost laudable efforts to recover her equilibrium, and not to feel as ifher head were spinning round and round. 

CHAPTER II. 

"AN INVESTMENT, ANYWAY. "

The natural result of these efforts was, that Miss Belinda was moved toshed a few tears. 

"I hope you will excuse my being too startled to say I was glad to seeyou, " she said. "I have not seen my brother for thirty years, and I wasvery fond of him. "

"He said you were, " answered Octavia; "and he was very fond of you too. He didn't write to you, because he made up his mind not to let you hearfrom him until he was a rich man; and then he thought he would wait untilhe could come home, and surprise you. He was awfully disappointed when hehad to go back without seeing you. "

"Poor, dear Martin!" wept Miss Belinda gently. "Such a journey!"

Octavia opened her charming eyes in surprise. 

"Oh, he'll come back again!" she said. "And he doesn't mind the journey. The journey is nothing, you know. "

"Nothing!" echoed Miss Belinda. "A voyage across the Atlantic nothing?When one thinks of the danger, my dear"--

Octavia's eyes opened a shade wider. 

"We have made the trip to the States, across the Isthmus, twelve times, and that takes a month, " she remarked. "So we don't think ten days much. "

"Twelve times!" said Miss Belinda, quite appalled. "Dear, dear, dear!"

And for some moments she could do nothing but look at her young relativein doubtful wonder, shaking her head with actual sadness. 

But she finally recovered herself, with a little start. 

"What am I thinking of, " she exclaimed remorsefully, "to let you sit herein this way? Pray excuse me, my dear. You see I am so upset. "

She left her chair in a great hurry, and proceeded to embrace her youngguest tenderly, though with a little timorousness. The young ladysubmitted to the caress with much composure. 

"Did I upset you?" she inquired calmly. 

The fact was, that she could not see why the simple advent of a relativefrom Nevada should seem to have the effect of an earthquake, and resultin tremor, confusion, and tears. It was true, she herself had shed a tearor so, but then her troubles had been accumulating for several days; andshe had not felt confused yet. 

When Miss Belinda went down-stairs to superintend Mary Anne in thetea-making, and left her guest alone, that young person glanced about herwith a rather dubious expression. 

"It is a queer, nice little place, " she said. "But I don't wonder that paemigrated, if they always get into such a flurry about little things. Imight have been a ghost. "

Then she proceeded to unlock the big trunk, and attire herself. 

Down-stairs, Miss Belinda was wavering between the kitchen and theparlor, in a kindly flutter. 

"Toast some muffins, Mary Anne, and bring in the cold roast fowl, " shesaid. "And I will put out some strawberry-jam, and some of the preservedginger. Dear me! Just to think how fond of preserved ginger poor Martinwas, and how little of it he was allowed to eat! There really seems aspecial Providence in my having such a nice stock of it in the house whenhis daughter comes home. "

In the course of half an hour every thing was in readiness; and then MaryAnne, who had been sent up-stairs to announce the fact, came down in amost remarkable state of delighted agitation, suppressed ecstasy andamazement exclaiming aloud in every feature. 

"She's dressed, mum, " she announced, "an' 'll be down immediate, " andretired to a shadowy corner of the kitchen passage, that she might lie inwait unobserved. 

Miss Belinda, sitting behind the tea-service, heard a soft, flowing, silken rustle sweeping down the staircase, and across the hall, and thenher niece entered. 

"Don't you think I've dressed pretty quick?" she said, and swept acrossthe little parlor, and sat down in her place, with the calmest and mostunconscious air in the world. 

There was in Slowbridge but one dressmaking establishment. The head ofthe establishment--Miss Letitia Chickie--designed the costumes of everywoman in Slowbridge, from Lady Theobald down. There were legends that shereceived her patterns from London, and modified them to suit theSlowbridge taste. Possibly this was true; but in that case her labors asmodifier must have been severe indeed, since they were so far modified asto be altogether unrecognizable when they left Miss Chickie'sestablishment, and were borne home in triumph to the houses of herpatrons. The taste of Slowbridge was quiet, --upon this Slowbridge prideditself especially, --and, at the same time, tended toward economy. Whengores came into fashion, Slowbridge clung firmly, and with some pride, tosubstantial breadths, which did not cut good silk into useless stripswhich could not be utilized in after-time; and it was only when, after avisit to London, Lady Theobald walked into St. James's one Sunday withtwo gores on each side, that Miss Chickie regretfully put scissors intoher first breadth. Each matronly member of good society possessed asubstantial silk gown of some sober color, which gown, having done dutyat two years' tea-parties, descended to the grade of "second-best, " andso descended, year by year, until it disappeared into the dim distance ofthe past. The young ladies had their white muslins and natural flowers;which latter decorations invariably collapsed in the course of theevening, and were worn during the latter half of any festive occasion ina flabby and hopeless condition. Miss Chickie made the muslins, festooning and adorning them after designs emanating from her fertileimagination. If they were a little short in the body, and not verygenerously proportioned in the matter of train, there was no rivalestablishment to sneer, and Miss Chickie had it all her own way; and, atleast, it could never be said that Slowbridge was vulgar or overdressed. 

Judge, then, of Miss Belinda Bassett's condition of mind when her fairrelative took her seat before her. 

What the material of her niece's dress was, Miss Belinda could not havetold. It was a silken and soft fabric of a pale blue color; it clung tothe slender, lissome young figure like a glove; a fan-like train of greatlength almost covered the hearth-rug; there were plaitings and frillingsall over it, and yards of delicate satin ribbon cut into loops in themost recklessly extravagant manner. 

Miss Belinda saw all this at the first glance, as Mary Anne had seen it, and, like Mary Anne, lost her breath; but, on her second glance, she sawsomething more. On the pretty, slight hands were three wonderful, sparkling rings, composed of diamonds set in clusters: there were greatsolitaires in the neat little ears, and the thickly-plaited lace at thethroat was fastened by a diamond clasp. 

"My dear, " said Miss Belinda, clutching helplessly at the teapot, "areyou--surely it is a--a little dangerous to wear such--such pricelessornaments on ordinary occasions. "

Octavia stared at her for a moment uncomprehendingly. 

"Your jewels, I mean, my love, " fluttered Miss Belinda. "Surely you don'twear them often. I declare, it quite frightens me to think of having suchthings in the house. "

"Does it?" said Octavia. "That's queer. "

And she looked puzzled for a moment again. 

Then she glanced down at her rings. 

"I nearly always wear these, " she remarked. "Father gave them to me. Hegave me one each birthday for three years. He says diamonds are aninvestment, anyway, and I might as well have them. These, " touching theear-rings and clasp, "were given to my mother when she was on the stage. A lot of people clubbed together, and bought them for her. She was agreat favorite. "

Miss Belinda made another clutch at the handle of the teapot. 

"Your mother!" she exclaimed faintly. "On the--did you say, on the"--

"Stage, " answered Octavia. "San Francisco. Father married her there. Shewas awfully pretty. I don't remember her. She died when I was born. Shewas only nineteen. "

The utter calmness, and freedom from embarrassment, with which theseannouncements were made, almost shook Miss Belinda's faith in her ownidentity. Strange to say, until this moment she had scarcely given athought to her brother's wife; and to find herself sitting in her owngenteel little parlor, behind her own tea-service, with her hand upon herown teapot, hearing that this wife had been a young person who had been"a great favorite" upon the stage, in a region peopled, as she had beenled to suppose, by gold-diggers and escaped convicts, was almost too muchfor her to support herself under. But she did support herself bravely, when she had time to rally. 

"Help yourself to some fowl, my dear, " she said hospitably, even thoughvery faintly indeed, "and take a muffin. "

Octavia did so, her over-splendid hands flashing in the light as shemoved them. 

"American girls always have more things than English girls, " sheobserved, with admirable coolness. "They dress more. I have been told soby girls who have been in Europe. And I have more things than mostAmerican girls. Father had more money than most people; that was onereason; and he spoiled me, I suppose. He had no one else to give thingsto, and he said I should have every thing I took a fancy to. He oftenlaughed at me for buying things, but he never said I shouldn't buy them. "

"He was always generous, " sighed Miss Belinda. "Poor, dear Martin!"

Octavia scarcely entered into the spirit of this mournful sympathy. Shewas fond of her father, but her recollections of him were not pathetic orsentimental. 

"He took me with him wherever he went, " she proceeded. "And we had ateacher from the States, who travelled with us sometimes. He never sentme away from him. I wouldn't have gone if he had wanted to send me--andhe didn't want to, " she added, with a satisfied little laugh. 

CHAPTER III. 

L'ARGENTVILLE. 

Miss Belinda sat, looking at her niece, with a sense of being at oncestunned and fascinated. To see a creature so young, so pretty, soluxuriously splendid, and at the same time so simply and completely atease with herself and her surroundings, was a revelation quite beyond hercomprehension. The best-bred and nicest girls Slowbridge could producewere apt to look a trifle conscious and timid when they found themselvesattired in the white muslin and floral decorations; but this slendercreature sat in her gorgeous attire, her train flowing over the modestcarpet, her rings flashing, her ear-pendants twinkling, apparentlyentirely oblivious of, or indifferent to, the fact that all herbelongings were sufficiently out of place to be startling beyond measure. 

Her chief characteristic, however, seemed to be her excessive frankness. She did not hesitate at all to make the most remarkable statementsconcerning her own and her father's past career. She made them, too, asif there was nothing unusual about them. Twice, in her childhood, aluckless speculation had left her father penniless; and once he had takenher to a Californian gold-diggers' camp, where she had been the onlyfemale member of the somewhat reckless community. 

"But they were pretty good-natured, and made a pet of me, " she said;"and we did not stay very long. Father had a stroke of luck, and wewent away. I was sorry when we had to go, and so were the men. They mademe a present of a set of jewelry made out of the gold they had gotthemselves. There is a breastpin like a breastplate, and a necklace likea dog-collar: the bracelets tire my arms, and the ear-rings pull my ears;but I wear them sometimes--gold girdle and all. "

"Did I, " inquired Miss Belinda timidly, "did I understand you to say, mydear, that your father's business was in some way connected withsilver-mining?"

"It _is_ silver-mining, " was the response. "He owns some mines, youknow"--

"Owns?" said Miss Belinda, much fluttered; "owns some silver-mines? Hemust be a very rich man, --a very rich man. I declare, it quite takes mybreath away. "

"Oh! he is rich, " said Octavia; "awfully rich sometimes. And then againhe isn't. Shares go up, you know; and then they go down, and you don'tseem to have any thing. But father generally comes out right, because heis lucky, and knows how to manage. "

"But--but how uncertain!" gasped Miss Belinda: "I should be perfectlymiserable. Poor, dear Mar"--

"Oh, no, you wouldn't!" said Octavia: "you'd get used to it, and wouldn'tmind much, particularly if you were lucky as father is. There is everything in being lucky, and knowing how to manage. When we first went toBloody Gulch"--

"My dear!" cried Miss Belinda, aghast. "I--I beg of you"--

Octavia stopped short: she gazed at Miss Belinda in bewilderment, as shehad done several times before. 

"Is any thing the matter?" she inquired placidly. 

"My dear love, " explained Miss Belinda innocently, determined at least todo her duty, "it is not customary in--in Slowbridge, --in fact, I think Imay say in England, --to use such--such exceedingly--I don't want to woundyour feelings, my dear, --but such exceedingly strong expressions! Irefer, my dear, to the one which began with a B. It is really consideredprofane, as well as dreadful beyond measure. "

"'The one which began with a B, '" repeated Octavia, still staring at her. "That is the name of a place; but I didn't name it, you know. It wascalled that, in the first place, because a party of men were surprisedand murdered there, while they were asleep in their camp at night. Itisn't a very nice name, of course, but I'm not responsible for it; andbesides, now the place is growing, they are going to call it Athens orMagnolia Vale. They tried L'Argentville for a while; but people wouldcall it Lodginville, and nobody liked it. "

"I trust you never lived there, " said Miss Belinda. "I beg your pardonfor being so horrified, but I really could not refrain from starting whenyou spoke; and I cannot help hoping you never lived there. "

"I live there now, when I am at home, " Octavia replied. "The mines arethere; and father has built a house, and had the furniture brought onfrom New York. "

Miss Belinda tried not to shudder, but almost failed. 

"Won't you take another muffin, my love?" she said, with a sigh. "Do takeanother muffin. "

"No, thank you, " answered Octavia; and it must be confessed that shelooked a little bored, as she leaned back in her chair, and glanced downat the train of her dress. It seemed to her that her simplest statementor remark created a sensation. 

Having at last risen from the tea-table, she wandered to the window, andstood there, looking out at Miss Belinda's flower-garden. It was quite apretty flower-garden, and a good-sized one considering the dimensions ofthe house. There were an oval grass-plot, divers gravel paths, heart anddiamond shaped beds aglow with brilliant annuals, a great manyrose-bushes, several laburnums and lilacs, and a trim hedge of hollysurrounding it. 

"I think I should like to go out and walk around there, " remarkedOctavia, smothering a little yawn behind her hand. "Suppose we go--if youdon't care. "

"Certainly, my dear, " assented Miss Belinda. "But perhaps, " with adelicately dubious glance at her attire, "you would like to make somelittle alteration in your dress--to put something a little--dark overit. "

Octavia glanced down also. 

"Oh, no!" she replied: "it will do well enough. I will throw a scarf overmy head, though; not because I need it, " unblushingly, "but because Ihave a lace one that is very becoming. "

She went up to her room for the article in question, and in three minuteswas down again. When she first caught sight of her, Miss Belinda foundherself obliged to clear her throat quite suddenly. What Slowbridge wouldthink of seeing such a toilet in her front garden, upon an ordinaryoccasion, she could not imagine. The scarf truly was becoming. It was along affair of rich white lace, and was thrown over the girl's head, wound around her throat, and the ends tossed over her shoulders, with themost picturesque air of carelessness in the world. 

"You look quite like a bride, my dear Octavia, " said Miss Belinda. "Weare scarcely used to such things in Slowbridge. "

But Octavia only laughed a little. 

"I am going to get some pink roses, and fasten the ends with them, whenwe get into the garden, " she said. 

She stopped for this purpose at the first rose-bush they reached. Shegathered half a dozen slender-stemmed, heavy-headed buds, and, havingfastened the lace with some, was carelessly placing the rest at herwaist, when Miss Belinda started violently. 

CHAPTER IV. 

LADY THEOBALD. 

"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed nervously, "there is Lady Theobald. "

Lady Theobald, having been making calls of state, was returning homerather later than usual, when, in driving up High Street, her eye fellupon Miss Bassett's garden. She put up her eyeglasses, and gazed throughthem severely; then she issued a mandate to her coachman. 

"Dobson, " she said, "drive more slowly. "

She could not believe the evidence of her own eyeglasses. In MissBassett's garden she saw a tall girl, "dressed, " as she put it, "like anactress, " her delicate dress trailing upon the grass, a white lace scarfabout her head and shoulders, roses in that scarf, roses at her waist. 

"Good heavens!" she exclaimed: "is Belinda Bassett giving a party, without so much as mentioning it to _me_?"

Then she issued another mandate. 

"Dobson, " she said, "drive faster, and drive me to Miss Bassett's. "

Miss Belinda came out to the gate to meet her, quaking inwardly. Octaviasimply turned slightly where she stood, and looked at her ladyship, without any pretence of concealing her curiosity. 

Lady Theobald bent forward in her landau. 

"Belinda, " she said, "how do you do? I did not know you intended tointroduce garden-parties into Slowbridge. "

"Dear Lady Theobald"--began Miss Belinda. 

"Who is that young person?" demanded her ladyship. 

"She is poor dear Martin's daughter, " answered Miss Belinda. "She arrivedto-day--from Nevada, where--where it appears Martin has been veryfortunate, and owns a great many silver-mines"--

"A 'great many' silver-mines!" cried Lady Theobald. "Are you mad, BelindaBassett? I am ashamed of you. At your time of life too!"

Miss Belinda almost shed tears. 

"She said 'some silver-mines, ' I am sure, " she faltered; "for I rememberhow astonished and bewildered I was. The fact is, that she is such a verysingular girl, and has told me so many wonderful things, in thestrangest, cool way, that I am quite uncertain of myself. Murderers, andgold-diggers, and silver-mines, and camps full of men without women, making presents of gold girdles and dog-collars, and ear-rings that dragyour ears down. It is enough to upset any one. "

"I should think so, " responded her ladyship. "Open the carriage-door, Belinda, and let me get out. "

She felt that this matter must be inquired into at once, and not allowedto go too far. She had ruled Slowbridge too long to allow suchinnovations to remain uninvestigated. She would not be likely to be"upset, " at least. She descended from her landau, with her most rigorousair. Her stout, rich black _moire-antique_ gown rustled severely; theyellow ostrich feather in her bonnet waved majestically. (Being abrunette, and Lady Theobald, she wore yellow. ) As she tramped up thegravel walk, she held up her dress with both hands, as an example tovulgar and reckless young people who wore trains and left them totake care of themselves. Octavia was arranging afresh the bunch oflong-stemmed, swaying buds at her waist, and she was giving all herattention to her task when her visitor first addressed her. 

"How do you do?" remarked her ladyship, in a fine, deep voice. 

Miss Belinda followed her meekly. 

"Octavia, " she explained, "this is Lady Theobald, whom you will be veryglad to know. She knew your father. "

"Yes, " returned my lady, "years ago. He has had time to improve sincethen. How do you do?"

Octavia's limpid eyes rested serenely upon her. 

"How do you do?" she said, rather indifferently. 

"You are from Nevada?" asked Lady Theobald. 

"Yes. "

"It is not long since you left there?"

Octavia smiled faintly. 

"Do I look like that?" she inquired. 

"Like what?" said my lady. 

"As if I had not long lived in a civilized place. I dare say I do, because it is true that I haven't. "

"You don't look like an English girl, " remarked her ladyship. 

Octavia smiled again. She looked at the yellow feather and stout _moireantique_ dress, but quite as if by accident, and without any mentaldeduction; then she glanced at the rosebuds in her hand. 

"I suppose I ought to be sorry for that, " she observed. "I dare say Ishall be in time--when I have been longer away from Nevada. "

"I must confess, " admitted her ladyship, and evidently without theleast regret or embarrassment, "I must confess that I don't know whereNevada is. "

"It isn't in Europe, " replied Octavia, with a soft, light laugh. "Youknow that, don't you?"

The words themselves sounded to Lady Theobald like the most outrageousimpudence; but when she looked at the pretty, lovelock-shaded face, shewas staggered the look it wore was such a very innocent and undisturbedone. At the moment, the only solution to be reached seemed to be thatthis was the style of young people in Nevada, and that it was ignoranceand not insolence she had to do battle with--which, indeed, waspartially true. 

"I have not had any occasion to inquire where it is situated, so far, "she responded firmly. "It is not so necessary for English people to knowAmerica as it is for Americans to know England. "

"Isn't it?" said Octavia, without any great show of interest. "Why not?"

"For--for a great many reasons it would be fatiguing to explain, " sheanswered courageously. "How is your father?"

"He is very sea-sick now, " was the smiling answer, --"deadly sea-sick. Hehas been out just twenty-four hours. "

"Out? What does that mean?"

"Out on the Atlantic. He was called back suddenly, and obliged to leaveme. That is why I came here alone. "

"Pray do come into the parlor, and sit down, dear Lady Theobald, "ventured Miss Belinda. "Octavia"--

"Don't you think it is nicer out here?" said Octavia. 

"My dear, " answered Miss Belinda. "Lady Theobald"--She was really quiteshocked. 

"Ah!" interposed Octavia. "I only thought it was cooler. "

She preceded them, without seeming to be at all conscious that she wastaking the lead. 

"You had better pick up your dress, Miss Octavia, " said Lady Theobaldrather acidly. 

The girl glanced over her shoulder at the length of train sweeping thepath, but she made no movement toward picking it up. 

"It is too much trouble, and one has to duck down so, " she said. "It isbad enough to have to keep doing it when one is on the street. Besides, they would never wear out if one took too much care of them. "

When they went into the parlor, and sat down, Lady Theobald madeexcellent use of her time, and managed to hear again all that had triedand bewildered Miss Belinda. She had no hesitation in asking questionsboldly; she considered it her privilege to do so: she had catechisedSlowbridge for forty years, and meant to maintain her rights until Timeplayed her the knave's trick of disabling her. 

In half an hour she had heard about the silver-mines, the gold-diggers, and L'Argentville; she knew that Martin Bassett was a millionnaire, ifthe news he had heard had not left him penniless; that he would return toEngland, and visit Slowbridge, as soon as his affairs were settled. Theprecarious condition of his finances did not seem to cause Octavia muchconcern. She had asked no questions when he went away, and seemed quiteat ease regarding the future. 

"People will always lend him money, and then he is lucky with it, " shesaid. 

She bore the catechising very well. Her replies were frequently rathertrying to her interlocutor, but she never seemed troubled, or ashamed ofany thing she had to say; and she wore, from first to last, thatinscrutably innocent and indifferent little air. 

She did not even show confusion when Lady Theobald, on going away, madeher farewell comment:--

"You are a very fortunate girl to own such jewels, " she said, glancingcritically at the diamonds in her ears; "but if you take my advice, mydear, you will put them away, and save them until you are a marriedwoman. It is not customary, on this side of the water, for young girls towear such things--particularly on ordinary occasions. People will thinkyou are odd. "

"It is not exactly customary in America, " replied Octavia, with herundisturbed smile. "There are not many girls who have such things. Perhaps they would wear them if they had them. I don't care a very greatdeal about them, but I mean to wear them. "

Lady Theobald went away in a dudgeon. 

"You will have to exercise your authority, Belinda, and _make_ her putthem away, " she said to Miss Bassett. "It is absurd--besides beingatrocious. "

"Make her!" faltered Miss Bassett. 

"Yes, 'make her'--though I see you will have your hands full. I neverheard such romancing stories in my life. It is just what one might expectfrom your brother Martin. "

When Miss Bassett returned, Octavia was standing before the window, watching the carriage drive away, and playing absently with one of herear-rings as she did so. 

"What an old fright she is!" was her first guileless remark. 

Miss Belinda quite bridled. 

"My dear, " she said, with dignity, "no one in Slowbridge would think ofapplying such a phrase to Lady Theobald. "

Octavia turned around, and looked at her. 

"But don't you think she is one?" she exclaimed. "Perhaps I oughtn't tohave said it; but you know we haven't any thing as bad as that, even outin Nevada--really!"

"My dear, " said Miss Belinda, "different countries contain differentpeople; and in Slowbridge _we_ have our standards, "--her best captrembling a little with her repressed excitement. 

But Octavia did not appear overwhelmed by the existence of the standardsin question. She turned to the window again. 

"Well, anyway, " she said, "I think it was pretty cool in her to order meto take off my diamonds, and save them until I was married. How does sheknow whether I mean to be married, or not? I don't know that I careabout it. "

CHAPTER V. 

LUCIA. 

In this manner Slowbridge received the shock which shook it toits foundations, and it was a shock from which it did not recover forsome time. Before ten o'clock the next morning, everybody knew of thearrival of Martin Bassett's daughter. 

The very boarding-school (Miss Pilcher's select seminary for youngladies, "combining the comforts of a home, " as the circular said, "with all the advantages of genteel education") was on fire with it, highly colored versions of the stories told being circulated fromthe "first class" downward, even taking the form of an Indian princess, tattooed blue, and with difficulty restrained from indulging inwar-whoops, --which last feature so alarmed little Miss Bigbee, agedseven, that she retired in fear and trembling, and shed tears under thebedclothes; her terror and anguish being much increased by the stirringrecitals of scalping-stories by pretty Miss Phipps, of the firstclass--a young person who possessed a vivid imagination, and delighted inromances of a tragic turn. 

"I have not the slightest doubt, " said Miss Phipps, "that when she is athome she lives in a wampum. "

"What is a wampum?" inquired one of her admiring audience. 

"A tent, " replied Miss Phipps, with some impatience. "I shouldthink any goose would know that. It is a kind of tent hung withscalps and--and--moccasins, and--lariats--and things of that sort. "

"I don't believe that is the right name for it, " put in Miss Smith, whowas a pert member of the third class. 

"Ah!" commented Miss Phipps, "that was Miss Smith who spoke, of course. We may always expect information from Miss Smith. I trust that I may beallowed to say that I _think_ I _have_ a brother"--

"He doesn't know much about it, if he calls a wigwam a wampum, "interposed Miss Smith, with still greater pertness. "I have a brother whoknows better than that, if I am only in the third class. " For a momentMiss Phipps appeared to be meditating. Perhaps she was a triflediscomfited; but she recovered herself after a brief pause, and returnedto the charge. 

"Well, " she remarked, "perhaps it is a wigwam. Who cares if it is? Andat any rate, whatever it is, I haven't the slightest doubt that shelives in one. "

This comparatively tame version was, however, entirely discarded when thediamonds and silver-mines began to figure more largely in the reports. Certainly, pretty, overdressed, jewel-bedecked Octavia gave Slowbridgeabundant cause for excitement. 

After leaving her, Lady Theobald drove home to Oldclough Hall, ratherout of humor. She had been rather out of humor for some time, havingnever quite recovered from her anger at the daring of that cheerfulbuilder of mills, Mr. John Burmistone. Mr. Burmistone had been oneinnovation, and Octavia Bassett was another. She had not been able tomanage Mr. Burmistone, and she was not at all sure that she had managedOctavia Bassett. 

She entered the dining-room with an ominous frown on her forehead. 

At the end of the table, opposite her own seat, was a vacant chair, andher frown deepened when she saw it. 

"Where is Miss Gaston?" she demanded of the servant. 

Before the man had time to reply, the door opened, and a girl came inhurriedly, with a somewhat frightened air. 

"I beg pardon, grandmamma dear, " she said, going to her seat quickly. "Idid not know you had come home. "

"We have a dinner-hour, " announced her ladyship, "and _I_ do notdisregard it. "

"I am very sorry, " faltered the culprit. 

"That is enough, Lucia, " interrupted Lady Theobald; and Lucia dropped hereyes, and began to eat her soup with nervous haste. In fact, she was gladto escape so easily. 

She was a very pretty creature, with brown eyes, a soft white skin, anda slight figure with a reed-like grace. A great quantity of brown hairwas twisted into an ugly coil on the top of her delicate little head;and she wore an ugly muslin gown of Miss Chickie's make. For some timethe meal progressed in dead silence; but at length Lucia ventured toraise her eyes. 

"I have been walking in Slowbridge, grandmamma, " she said, "and I met Mr. Burmistone, who told me that Miss Bassett has a visitor--a young ladyfrom America. "

Lady Theobald laid her knife and fork down deliberately. 

"Mr. Burmistone?" she said. "Did I understand you to say that you stoppedon the roadside to converse with Mr. Burmistone?"

Lucia colored up to her delicate eyebrows and above them. 

"I was trying to reach a flower growing on the bank, " she said, "and hewas so kind as to stop to get it for me. I did not know he was near atfirst. And then he inquired how you were--and told me he had just heardabout the young lady. "

"Naturally!" remarked her ladyship sardonically. "It is as I anticipatedit would be. We shall find Mr. Burmistone at our elbows upon alloccasions. And he will not allow himself to be easily driven away. He isas determined as persons of his class usually are. "

"O grandmamma!" protested Lucia, with innocent fervor. "I really do notthink he is--like that at all. I could not help thinking he was verygentlemanly and kind. He is so much interested in your school, and soanxious that it should prosper. "

"May I ask, " inquired Lady Theobald, "how long a time this generousexpression of his sentiments occupied? Was this the reason of yourforgetting the dinner-hour?"

"We did not"--said Lucia guiltily: "it did not take many minutes. I--I donot think that made me late. "

Lady Theobald dismissed this paltry excuse with one remark, --a remarkmade in the deep tones referred to once before. 

"I should scarcely have expected, " she observed, "that a granddaughter ofmine would have spent half an hour conversing on the public road with theproprietor of Slowbridge Mills. "

"O grandmamma!" exclaimed Lucia, the tears rising in her eyes: "it wasnot half an hour. "

"I should scarcely have expected, " replied her ladyship, "that agranddaughter of mine would have spent five minutes conversing on thepublic road with the proprietor of Slowbridge Mills. "

To this assault there seemed to be no reply to make. Lady Theobald hadher granddaughter under excellent control. Under her rigorous rule, thegirl--whose mother had died at her birth--had been brought up. Atnineteen she was simple, sensitive, shy. She had been permitted to haveno companions, and the greatest excitements of her life had been theSlowbridge tea-parties. Of the late Sir Gilbert Theobald, the less saidthe better. He had spent very little of his married life at OldcloughHall, and upon his death his widow had found herself possessed of asubstantial, gloomy mansion, an exalted position in Slowbridge society, and a small marriage-settlement, upon which she might make all theefforts she chose to sustain her state. So Lucia wore her dresses a muchlonger time than any other Slowbridge young lady: she was obliged to mendher little gloves again and again; and her hats were retrimmed so oftenthat even Slowbridge thought them old-fashioned. But she was too simpleand sweet-natured to be much troubled, and indeed thought very littleabout the matter. She was only troubled when Lady Theobald scolded her, which was by no means infrequently. Perhaps the straits to which, attimes, her ladyship was put to maintain her dignity imbittered hersomewhat. 

"Lucia is neither a Theobald nor a Barold, " she had been heard to sayonce, and she had said it with much rigor. 

A subject of much conversation in private circles had been Lucia'sfuture. It had been discussed in whispers since her seventeenth year, butno one had seemed to approach any solution of the difficulty. Upon thesubject of her plans for her granddaughter, Lady Theobald had preservedstern silence. Once, and once only, she had allowed herself to bebetrayed into the expression of a sentiment connected with the matter. 

"If Miss Lucia marries"--a matron of reckless proclivities had remarked. 

Lady Theobald turned upon her, slowly and majestically. 

"_If_ Miss Gaston marries, " she repeated. "Does it seem likely that MissGaston will _not_ marry?"

This settled the matter finally. Lucia was to be married when LadyTheobald thought fit. So far, however, she had not thought fit: indeed, there had been nobody for Lucia to marry, --nobody whom her grandmotherwould have allowed her to marry, at least. There were very few young menin Slowbridge; and the very few were scarcely eligible according to LadyTheobald's standard, and--if such a thing should be mentioned--toLucia's, if she had known she had one, which she certainly did not. 

CHAPTER VI. 

ACCIDENTAL. 

When dinner was over, Lady Theobald rose, and proceeded to thedrawing-room, Lucia following in her wake. From her very babyhood Luciahad disliked the drawing-room, which was an imposing apartment of greatlength and height, containing much massive furniture, upholstered infaded blue satin. All the girl's evenings, since her fifth year, had beenspent sitting opposite her grandmother, in one of the straightest of theblue chairs: all the most scathing reproofs she had received had beenadministered to her at such times. She had a secret theory, indeed, thatall unpleasant things occurred in the drawing-room after dinner. 

Just as they had seated themselves, and Lady Theobald was on the point ofdrawing toward her the little basket containing the gray woollen mittensshe made a duty of employing herself by knitting each evening, Dobson, the coachman, in his character of footman, threw open the door, andannounced a visitor. 

"Capt. Barold. "

Lady Theobald dropped her gray mitten, the steel needles falling upon thetable with a clink. She rose to her feet at once, and met half-way theyoung man who had entered. 

"My dear Francis, " she remarked, "I am exceedingly glad to see you atlast, " with a slight emphasis upon the "at last. "

"Tha-anks, " said Capt. Barold, rather languidly. "You're very good, I'msure. "

Then he glanced at Lucia, and Lady Theobald addressed her:--

"Lucia, " she said, "this is Francis Barold, who is your cousin. "

Capt. Barold shook hands feebly. 

"I have been trying to find out whether it is third or fourth, " he said. 

"It is third, " said my lady. 

Lucia had never seen her display such cordiality to anybody. But Capt. Francis Barold did not seem much impressed by it. It struck Lucia that hewould not be likely to be impressed by any thing. He seated himself nearher grandmother's chair, and proceeded to explain his presence on thespot, without exhibiting much interest even in his own relation of facts. 

"I promised the Rathburns that I would spend a week at their place; andSlowbridge was on the way, so it occurred to me I would drop off inpassing. The Rathburns' place, Broadoaks, is about ten miles farther on;not far, you see. "

"Then, " said Lady Theobald, "I am to understand that your visit isaccidental. "

Capt. Barold was not embarrassed. He did not attempt to avoid herladyship's rather stern eye, as he made his cool reply. 

"Well, yes, " he said. "I beg pardon, but it is accidental, rather. "

Lucia gave him a pretty, frightened look, as if she felt that, after suchan audacious confession, something very serious must happen; but nothingserious happened at all. Singularly enough, it was Lady Theobald herselfwho looked ill at ease, and as though she had not been prepared for sucha contingency. 

During the whole of the evening, in fact, it was always Lady Theobaldwho was placed at a disadvantage, Lucia discovered. She could hardlyrealize the fact at first; but before an hour had passed, its truth wasforced upon her. 

Capt. Barold was a very striking-looking man, upon the whole. He waslarge, gracefully built, and fair: his eyes were gray, and noticeable forthe coldness of their expression, his features regular and aquiline, hismovements leisurely. 

As he conversed with her grandmother, Lucia wondered at him privately. Itseemed to her innocent mind that he had been everywhere, and seen everything and everybody, without caring for or enjoying his privileges. Thetruth was, that he had seen and experienced a great deal too much. As anonly child, the heir to a large property, and heir prospective to one ofthe oldest titles in the country, he had exhausted life early. He saw inLady Theobald, not the imposing head and social front of Slowbridgesocial life, the power who rewarded with approval and punished with afrown, but a tiresome, pretentious old woman, whom his mother had askedhim, for some feminine reason, to visit. "She feels she has a claim uponus, Francis, " she had said appealingly. 

"Well, " he had remarked, "that is rather deuced cool, isn't it? We havepeople enough on our hands without cultivating Slowbridge, you know. "

His mother sighed faintly. 

"It is true we have a great many people to consider; but I wish you woulddo it, my dear. "

She did not say any thing at all about Lucia: above all, she did notmention that a year ago she herself had spent two or three days atSlowbridge, and had been charmed beyond measure by the girl's innocentfreshness, and that she had said, rather absently, to Lady Theobald, --

"What a charming wife Lucia would make for a man to whom gentleness and ayielding disposition were necessary! We do not find such girls in societynowadays, my dear Lady Theobald. It is very difficult of late years tofind a girl who is not spoken of as 'fast, ' and who is not disposed totake the reins in her own hands. Our young men are flattered and courteduntil they become a little dictatorial, and our girls are spoiled athome. And the result is a great deal of domestic unhappinessafterward--and even a great deal of scandal, which is dreadful tocontemplate. I cannot help feeling the greatest anxiety in secretconcerning Francis. Young men so seldom consider these matters until itis too late. "

"Girls are not trained as they were in my young days, or even in yours, "said Lady Theobald. "They are allowed too much liberty. Lucia has beenbrought up immediately under my own eye. "

"I feel that it is fortunate, " remarked Mrs. Barold, quite incidentally, "that Francis need not make a point of money. "

For a few moments Lady Theobald did not respond; but afterward, in thecourse of the conversation which followed, she made an observation whichwas, of course, purely incidental. 

"If Lucia makes a marriage which pleases her great-uncle, old Mr. DugaldBinnie, of Glasgow, she will be a very fortunate girl. He has intimated, in his eccentric fashion, that his immense fortune will either be hers, or will be spent in building charitable asylums of various kinds. He is aremarkable and singular man. "

When Capt. Barold had entered his distinguished relative's drawing-room, he had not regarded his third cousin with a very great deal of interest. He had seen too many beauties in his thirty years to be greatly moved bythe sight of one; and here was only a girl who had soft eyes, and lookedyoung for her age, and who wore an ugly muslin gown, that most girlscould not have carried off at all. 

"You have spent the greater part of your life in Slowbridge?" hecondescended to say in the course of the evening. 

"I have lived here always, " Lucia answered. "I have never been away morethan a week at a time. "

"Ah?" interrogatively. "I hope you have not found it dull. "

"No, " smiling a little. "Not very. You see, I have known nothing gayer. "

"There is society enough of a harmless kind here, " spoke up Lady Theobaldvirtuously. "I do not approve of a round of gayeties for young people: itunfits them for the duties of life. "

But Capt. Barold was not as favorably impressed by these remarks as mighthave been anticipated. 

"What an old fool she is!" was his polite inward comment. And he resolvedat once to make his visit as brief as possible, and not to be induced torun down again during his stay at Broadoaks. He did not even take thetrouble to appear to enjoy his evening. From his earliest infancy, he hadalways found it easier to please himself than to please other people. Infact, the world had devoted itself to endeavoring to please him, and winhis--toleration, we may say, instead of admiration, since it could nothope for the latter. At home he had been adored rapturously by a largecircle of affectionate male and female relatives; at school his tutorshad been singularly indulgent of his faults and admiring of his talents;even among his fellow-pupils he had been a sort of autocrat. 

Why not, indeed, with such birthrights and such prospects? When he hadentered society, he had met with even more amiable treatment fromaffectionate mothers, from innocent daughters, from cordial paternalparents, who voted him an exceedingly fine fellow. Why should he borehimself by taking the trouble to seem pleased by a stupid evening with anold grenadier in petticoats and a badly dressed country girl?

Lucia was very glad when, in answer to a timidly appealing glance, LadyTheobald said, --

"It is half-past ten. You may wish us good-night, Lucia. "

Lucia obeyed, as if she had been half-past ten herself, instead of nearlytwenty; and Barold was not long in following her example. 

Dobson led him to a stately chamber at the top of the staircase, and lefthim there. The captain chose the largest and most luxurious chair, satdown in it, and lighted a cigar at his leisure. 

"Confoundedly stupid hole!" he said with a refined vigor one wouldscarcely have expected from an individual of his birth and breeding. "Ishall leave to-morrow, of course. What was my mother thinking of? Stupidbusiness from first to last. "

CHAPTER VII. 

"I SHOULD LIKE TO SEE MORE OF SLOWBRIDGE. "

When he announced at breakfast his intention of taking his departure onthe midday train, Lucia wondered again what would happen; and again, toher relief, Lady Theobald was astonishingly lenient. 

"As your friends expect you, of course we cannot overrule them, " shesaid. "We will, however, hope to see something of you during your stay atBroadoaks. It will be very easy for you to run down and give us a fewhours now and then. "

"Tha-anks, " said Capt. Barold. 

He was decently civil, if not enthusiastic, during the few remaininghours of his stay. He sauntered through the grounds with Lucia, who tookcharge of him in obedience to her grandmother's wish. He did not find herparticularly troublesome when she was away from her ladyship's side. Whenshe came out to him in her simple cotton gown and straw hat, it occurredto him that she was much prettier than he had thought her at first. Foreconomical reasons she had made the little morning-dress herself, withoutthe slightest regard for the designs of Miss Chickie; and as it was nottrimmed at all, and had only a black-velvet ribbon at the waist, therewas nothing to place her charming figure at a disadvantage. It could notbe said that her shyness and simplicity delighted Capt. Barold, but, atleast, they did not displease him; and this was really as much as couldbe expected. 

"She does not expect a fellow to exert himself, at all events, " was hisinward comment; and he did not exert himself. 

But, when on the point of taking his departure, he went so far as to makea very gracious remark to her. 

"I hope we shall have the pleasure of seeing you in London for a season, before very long, " he said: "my mother will have great pleasure in takingcharge of you, if Lady Theobald cannot be induced to leave Slowbridge. "

"Lucia never goes from home alone, " said Lady Theobald; "but I shouldcertainly be obliged to call upon your mother for her good offices, inthe case of our spending a season in London. I am too old a woman toalter my mode of life altogether. "

In obedience to her ladyship's orders, the venerable landau was broughtto the door; and the two ladies drove to the station with him. 

It was during this drive that a very curious incident occurred, --anincident to which, perhaps, this story owes its existence, since, if ithad not taken place, there might, very possibly, have been no events of astirring nature to chronicle. Just as Dobson drove rather slowly up thepart of High Street distinguished by the presence of Miss BelindaBassett's house, Capt. Barold suddenly appeared to be attracted by somefigure he discovered in the garden appertaining to that modest structure. 

"By Jove!" he exclaimed, in an undertone, "there is Miss Octavia. "

For the moment he was almost roused to a display of interest. A faintsmile lighted his face, and his cold, handsome eyes slightly brightened. 

Lady Theobald sat bolt upright. 

"That is Miss Bassett's niece, from America, " she said. "Do I understandyou know her?"

Capt. Barold turned to confront her, evidently annoyed at having alloweda surprise to get the better of him. All expression died out of his face. 

"I travelled with her from Framwich to Stamford, " he said. "I suppose weshould have reached Slowbridge together, but that I dropped off atStamford to get a newspaper, and the train left me behind. "

"O grandmamma!" exclaimed Lucia, who had turned to look, "how very prettyshe is!"

Miss Octavia certainly was amazingly so this morning. She was standing bya rosebush again, and was dressed in a cashmere morning-robe of thefinest texture and the faintest pink: it had a Watteau plait down theback, _jabot_ of lace down the front, and the close, high frills of lacearound the throat which seemed to be a weakness with her. Her hair wasdressed high upon her head, and showed to advantage her little ears andas much of her slim white neck as the frills did not conceal. 

But Lady Theobald did not share Lucia's enthusiasm. 

"She looks like an actress, " she said. "If the trees were painted canvasand the roses artificial, one might have some patience with her. Thatkind of thing is scarcely what we expect in Slowbridge. "

Then she turned to Barold. 

"I had the pleasure of meeting her yesterday, not long after shearrived, " she said. "She had diamonds in her ears as big as peas, andrings to match. Her manner is just what one might expect from a youngwoman brought up among gold-diggers and silver-miners. "

"It struck me as being a very unique and interesting manner, " said Capt. Barold. "It is chiefly noticeable for a _sang-froid_ which might beregarded as rather enviable. She was good enough to tell me all about herpapa and the silver-mines, and I really found the conversationentertaining. "

"It is scarcely customary for English young women to confide in theirmasculine travelling companions to such an extent, " remarked my ladygrimly. 

"She did not confide in me at all, " said Barold. "Therein lay herattraction. One cannot submit to being 'confided in' by a strange youngwoman, however charming. This young lady's remarks were flavored solelywith an adorably cool candor. She evidently did not desire to appeal toany emotion whatever. "

And as he leaned back in his seat, he still looked at the picturesquefigure which they had passed, as if he would not have been sorry to seeit turn its head toward him. 

In fact, it seemed that, notwithstanding his usual good fortune, Capt. Barold was doomed this morning to make remarks of a nature objectionableto his revered relation. On their way they passed Mr. Burmistone's mill, which was at work in all its vigor, with a whir and buzz of machinery, and a slight odor of oil in its surrounding atmosphere. 

"Ah!" said Mr. Barold, putting his single eyeglass into his eye, andscanning it after the manner of experts. "I did not think you had anything of that sort here. Who put it up?"

"The man's name, " replied Lady Theobald severely, "is Burmistone. "

"Pretty good idea, isn't it?" remarked Barold. "Good for the place--andall that sort of thing. "

"To my mind, " answered my lady, "it is the worst possible thing whichcould have happened. "

Mr. Francis Barold dropped his eyeglass dexterously, and at once lapsedinto his normal condition--which was a condition by no means favorableto argument. 

"Think so?" he said slowly. "Pity, isn't it, under the circumstances?"

And really there was nothing at all for her ladyship to do but preserve alofty silence. She had scarcely recovered herself when they reached thestation, and it was necessary to say farewell as complacently aspossible. 

"We will hope to see you again before many days, " she said with dignity, if not with warmth. 

Mr. Francis Barold was silent for a second, and a slightly reflectiveexpression flitted across his face. 

"Thanks, yes, " he said at last. "Certainly. It is easy to come down, andI should like to see more of Slowbridge. "

When the train had puffed in and out of the station, and Dobson wasdriving down High Street again, her ladyship's feelings rather got thebetter of her. 

"If Belinda Bassett is a wise woman, " she remarked, "she will take myadvice, and get rid of this young lady as soon as possible. It appears tome, " she continued, with exalted piety, "that every well-trained Englishgirl has reason to thank her Maker that she was born in a civilizedland. "

"Perhaps, " suggested Lucia softly, "Miss Octavia Bassett has had no oneto train her at all; and it may be that--that she even feels it deeply. "

The feathers in her ladyship's bonnet trembled. 

"She does not feel it at all!" she announced. "She is animpertinent--minx!"

CHAPTER VIII. 

SHARES LOOKING UP. 

There were others who echoed her ladyship's words afterward, though theyechoed them privately, and with more caution than my lady felt necessary. It is certain that Miss Octavia Bassett did not improve as timeprogressed, and she had enlarged opportunities for studying the nobleexample set before her by Slowbridge. 

On his arrival in New York, Martin Bassett telegraphed to his daughterand sister, per Atlantic cable, informing them that he might be detaineda couple of months, and bidding them to be of good cheer. The arrival ofthe message in its official envelope so alarmed Miss Belinda, that shewas supported by Mary Anne while it was read to her by Octavia, whoreceived it without any surprise whatever. For some time after itscompletion, Slowbridge had privately disbelieved in the Atlantic cable, and, until this occasion, had certainly disbelieved in the existence ofpeople who received messages through it. In fact, on first finding thatshe was the recipient of such a message, Miss Belinda had made immediatepreparations for fainting quietly away, being fully convinced that ashipwreck had occurred, which had resulted in her brother's death, andthat his executors had chosen this delicate method of breaking the news. 

"A message by Atlantic cable?" she had gasped. "Don't--don't read it, mylove. L-let some one else do that. Poor--poor child! Trust in Providence, my love, and--and bear up. Ah, how I wish I had a stronger mind, andcould be of more service to you!"

"It's a message from father, " said Octavia. "Nothing is the matter. He'sall right. He got in on Saturday. "

"Ah!" panted Miss Belinda. "Are you _quite_ sure, my dear--are you quitesure?"

"That's what he says. Listen. "

"Got in Saturday. Piper met me. Shares looking up. May be kept here twomonths. Will write. Keep up your spirits. MARTIN BASSETT. "

"Thank Heaven!" sighed Miss Belinda. "Thank Heaven!"

"Why?" said Octavia. 

"Why?" echoed Miss Belinda. "Ah, my dear, if you knew how terrified Iwas! I felt sure that something had happened. A _cable_ message, my dear!I never received a telegram in my life before, and to receive a _cable_message was really a _shock_. "

"Well, I don't see why, " said Octavia. "It seems to me it is pretty muchlike any other message. "

Miss Belinda regarded her timidly. 

"Does your papa _often_ send them?" she inquired. "Surely it must beexpensive. "

"I don't suppose it's cheap, " Octavia replied, "but it saves time andworry. I should have had to wait twelve days for a letter. "

"Very true, " said Miss Belinda, "but"--

She broke off with rather a distressed shake of the head. Her simpleideas of economy and quiet living were frequently upset in these times. She had begun to regard her niece with a slight feeling of awe; and yetOctavia had not been doing any thing at all remarkable in her own eyes, and considered her life pretty dull. 

If the elder Miss Bassett, her parents and grandparents, had not been sothoroughly well known, and so universally respected; if their socialposition had not been so firmly established, and their quiet lives notquite so highly respectable, --there is an awful possibility thatSlowbridge might even have gone so far as not to ask Octavia out to teaat all. But even Lady Theobald felt that it would not do to slightBelinda Bassett's niece and guest. To omit the customary state teaswould have been to crush innocent Miss Belinda at a blow, and placeher--through the medium of this young lady, who alone deservedcondemnation--beyond the pale of all social law. 

"It is only to be regretted, " said her ladyship, "that Belinda Bassetthas not arranged things better. Relatives of such an order are certainlyto be deplored. "

In secret Lucia felt much soft-hearted sympathy for both Miss Bassett andher guest. She could not help wondering how Miss Belinda becameresponsible for the calamity which had fallen upon her. It really did notseem probable that she had been previously consulted as to the kind ofniece she desired, or that she had, in a distinct manner, evinced apreference for a niece of this description. 

"Perhaps, dear grandmamma, " the girl ventured, "it is because MissOctavia Bassett is so young that"--

"May I ask, " inquired Lady Theobald, in fell tones, "how old you are?"

"I was nineteen in--in December. "

"Miss Octavia Bassett, " said her ladyship, "was nineteen last October, and it is now June. I have not yet found it necessary to apologize foryou on the score of youth. "

But it was her ladyship who took the initiative, and set an evening forentertaining Miss Belinda and her niece, in company with several otherladies, with the best bohea, thin bread and butter, plum-cake, andvarious other delicacies. 

"What do they do at such places?" asked Octavia. "Half-past five ispretty early. "

"We spend some time at the tea-table, my dear, " explained Miss Belinda. "And afterward we--we converse. A few of us play whist. I do not. I feelas if I were not clever enough, and I get flurried too easily by--bydifferences of opinion. "

"I should think it wasn't very exciting, " said Octavia. "I don't fancyI ever went to an entertainment where they did nothing but drink tea, and talk. "

"It is not our intention or desire to be exciting, my dear, " Miss Belindareplied with mild dignity. "And an improving conversation is frequentlymost beneficial to the parties engaged in it. "

"I'm afraid, " Octavia observed, "that I never heard much improvingconversation. "

She was really no fonder of masculine society than the generality ofgirls; but she could not help wondering if there would be any young menpresent, and if, indeed, there were any young men in Slowbridge who mightpossibly be produced upon festive occasions, even though ordinarily keptin the background. She had not heard Miss Belinda mention any masculinename so far, but that of the curate of St. James's; and, when she hadseen him pass the house, she had not found his slim, black figure, andfaint, ecclesiastic whiskers, especially interesting. 

It must be confessed that Miss Belinda suffered many pangs of anxiety inlooking forward to her young kinswoman's first appearance in society. Atea at Lady Theobald's house constituted formal presentation to theSlowbridge world. Each young lady within the pale of genteel society, having arrived at years of discretion, on returning home fromboarding-school, was invited to tea at Oldclough Hall. During an entireevening she was the subject of watchful criticism. Her deportment wasremarked, her accomplishments displayed, she performed her last new"pieces" upon the piano, she was drawn into conversation by her hostess;and upon the timid modesty of her replies, and the reverence of herlistening attitudes, depended her future social status. So it was verynatural indeed that Miss Belinda should be anxious. 

"I would wear something rather quiet and--and simple, my dear Octavia, "she said. "A white muslin perhaps, with blue ribbons. "

"Would you?" answered Octavia. Then, after appearing to reflect upon thematter a few seconds, "I've got one that would do, if it's warm enoughto wear it. I bought it in New York, but it came from Paris. I've neverworn it yet. "

"It would be nicer than any thing else, my love, " said Miss Belinda, delighted to find her difficulty so easily disposed of. "Nothing is socharming in the dress of a young girl as pure simplicity. Our Slowbridgeyoung ladies rarely wear any thing but white for evening. Miss Chickieassured me, a few weeks ago, that she had made fifteen white-muslindresses, all after one simple design of her own. "

"I shouldn't think that was particularly nice, myself, " remarked Octaviaimpartially. "I should be glad one of the fifteen didn't belong to me. Ishould feel as if people might say, when I came into a room, 'Goodgracious, there's another!'"

"The first was made for Miss Lucia Gaston, who is Lady Theobald's niece, "replied Miss Belinda mildly. "And there are few young ladies inSlowbridge who would not emulate her example. "

"Oh!" said Octavia, "I dare say she is very nice, and all that; but Idon't believe I should care to copy her dresses. I think I should drawthe line there. "

But she said it without any ill-nature; and, sensitive as Miss Belindawas upon the subject of her cherished ideals, she could not take offence. 

When the eventful evening arrived, there was excitement in more than oneestablishment upon High Street and the streets in its vicinity. Thestories of the diamonds, the gold-diggers, and the silver-mines, had beenadded to, and embellished, in the most ornate and startling manner. Itwas well known that only Lady Theobald's fine appreciation of MissBelinda Bassett's feelings had induced her to extend her hospitalities tothat lady's niece. 

"I would prefer, my dear, " said more than one discreet matron to herdaughter, as they attired themselves, --"I would much prefer that youwould remain near me during the earlier part of the evening, before weknow how this young lady may turn out. Let your manner toward her bekind, but not familiar. It is well to be upon the safe side. "

What precise line of conduct it was generally anticipated that thisgold-digging and silver-mining young person would adopt, it would bedifficult to say: it is sufficient that the general sentiments regardingher were of a distrustful, if not timorous, nature. 

To Miss Bassett, who felt all this in the very air she breathed, thegirl's innocence of the condition of affairs was even a little touching. With all her splendor, she was not at all hard to please, and had quiteawakened to an interest in the impending social event. She seemed in goodspirits, and talked more than was her custom, giving Miss Belinda graphicdescriptions of various festal gatherings she had attended in New York, when she seemed to have been very gay indeed, and to have worn verybeautiful dresses, and also to have had rather more than her share ofpartners. The phrases she used, and the dances she described, were allstrange to Miss Belinda, and tended to reducing her to a bewilderedcondition, in which she felt much timid amazement at the intrepidity ofthe New-York young ladies, and no slight suspicion of the "German"--as atheatrical kind of dance, involving extraordinary figures, and anextraordinary amount of attention from partners of the stronger sex. 

It must be admitted, however, that by this time, notwithstanding thevarious shocks she had received, Miss Belinda had begun to discover inher young guest divers good qualities which appealed to heraffectionate and susceptible old heart. In the first place, the girlhad no small affectations: indeed, if she had been less unaffected shemight have been less subject to severe comment. She was good-natured, and generous to extravagance. Her manner toward Mary Anne never ceasedto arouse Miss Belinda to interest. There was not any condescensionwhatever in it, and yet it could not be called a vulgarly familiarmanner: it was rather an astonishingly simple manner, somehowsuggestive of a subtile recognition of Mary Anne's youth, and ill-luckin not having before her more lively prospects. She gave Mary Annepresents in the shape of articles of clothing at which Slowbridgewould have exclaimed in horror if the recipient had dared to wear them;but, when Miss Belinda expressed her regret at these indiscretions, Octavia was quite willing to rectify her mistakes. 

"Ah, well!" she said, "I can give her some money, and she can buy somethings for herself. " Which she proceeded to do; and when, under hermistress's direction, Mary Anne purchased a stout brown merino, she tookquite an interest in her struggles at making it. 

"I wouldn't make it so short in the waist and so full in the skirt, if Iwere you, " she said. "There's no reason why it shouldn't fit, you know, "thereby winning the house-maiden's undying adoration, and adding much tothe shapeliness of the garment. 

"I am sure she has a good heart, " Miss Belinda said to herself, as thedays went by. "She is like Martin in that. I dare say she finds me veryignorant and silly. I often see in her face that she is unable tounderstand my feeling about things; but she never seems to laugh at me, nor think of me unkindly. And she is very, very pretty, though perhaps Iought not to think of that at all. "

CHAPTER IX. 

WHITE MUSLIN. 

As the good little spinster was arraying herself on this particularevening, having laid upon the bed the greater portion of her modestsplendor, she went to her wardrobe, and took therefrom the scored bandboxcontaining her best cap. All the ladies of Slowbridge wore caps; and allbeing respectfully plagiarized from Lady Theobald, without any referenceto age, size, complexion, or demeanor, the result was sometimes a littletrying. Lady Theobald's head-dresses were of a severe and bristlingorder. The lace of which they were composed was induced by some ingeniousdevice to form itself into aggressive quillings, the bows seemed linedwith buckram, the strings neither floated nor fluttered. 

"To a majestic person the style is very appropriate, " Miss Belinda hadsaid to Octavia that very day; "but to one who is not so, it is rathertrying. Sometimes, indeed, I have _almost_ wished that Miss Chickie wouldvary a _little_ more in her designs. "

Perhaps the sight of the various articles contained in two of the fivetrunks had inspired these doubts in the dear old lady's breast: it iscertain, at least, that, as she took the best cap up, a faint sighfluttered upon her lips. 

"It is very large for a small person, " she said. "And I am not at allsure that amber is becoming to me. "

And just at that moment there came a tap at the door, which she knew wasfrom Octavia. 

She laid the cap back, in some confusion at being surprised in a momentof weakness. 

"Come in, my love, " she said. 

Octavia pushed the door open, and came in. She had not dressed yet, andhad on her wrapper and slippers, which were both of quilted gray silk, gayly embroidered with carnations. But Miss Belinda had seen both wrapperand slippers before, and had become used to their sumptuousness: what shehad not seen was the trifle the girl held in her hand. "See here, " shesaid. "See what I have been making for you!"

She looked quite elated, and laughed triumphantly. 

"I did not know I could do it until I tried, " she said. "I had seen somein New York, and I had the lace by me. And I have enough left to makeruffles for your neck and wrists. It's Mechlin. "

"My dear!" exclaimed Miss Belinda. "My dear!"

Octavia laughed again. 

"Don't you know what it is?" she said. "It isn't like a Slowbridge cap;but it's a cap, nevertheless. They wear them like this in New York, and Ithink they are ever so much prettier. "

It was true that it was not like a Slowbridge cap, and was also true thatit was prettier. It was a delicate affair of softly quilled lace, adornedhere and there with loops of pale satin ribbon. 

"Let me try it on, " said Octavia, advancing; and in a minute she had doneso, and turned Miss Bassett about to face herself in the glass. "There!"she said. "Isn't that better than--well, than emulating Lady Theobald?"

It was so pretty and so becoming, and Miss Belinda was so touched by thegirl's innocent enjoyment, that the tears came into her eyes. 

"My--my love, " she faltered, "it is so beautiful, and so expensive, that--though indeed I don't know how to thank you--I am afraid I shouldnot dare to wear it. "

"Oh!" answered Octavia, "that's nonsense, you know. I'm sure there's noreason why people shouldn't wear becoming things. Besides, I should beawfully disappointed. I didn't think I could make it, and I'm real proudof it. You don't know how becoming it is!"

Miss Belinda looked at her reflection, and faltered. It was becoming. 

"My love, " she protested faintly, "real Mechlin! There is really no suchlace in Slowbridge. "

"All the better, " said Octavia cheerfully. "I'm glad to hear that. Itisn't one bit too nice for you. "

To Miss Belinda's astonishment, she drew a step nearer to her, and gaveone of the satin loops a queer, caressing little touch, which actuallyseemed to mean something. And then suddenly the girl stooped, with alittle laugh, and gave her aunt a light kiss on her cheek. 

"There!" she said. "You must take it from me for a present. I'll go andmake the ruffles this minute; and you must wear those too, and let peoplesee how stylish you can be. "

And, without giving Miss Bassett time to speak, she ran out of the room, and left the dear old lady warmed to the heart, tearful, delighted, frightened. 

A coach from the Blue Lion had been ordered to present itself at aquarter past five, promptly; and at the time specified it rattled up tothe door with much spirit, --with so much spirit, indeed, that MissBelinda was a little alarmed. 

"Dear, dear!" she said. "I hope the driver will be able to control thehorse, and will not allow him to go too fast. One hears of such terribleaccidents. "

Then Mary Anne was sent to announce the arrival of the equipage to MissOctavia, and, having performed the errand, came back beaming with smiles. 

"Oh, mum, " she exclaimed, "you never see nothin' like her! Her gownd is'evingly. An' lor'! how you do look yourself, to be sure!"

Indeed, the lace ruffles on her "best" black silk, and the little cap onher smooth hair, had done a great deal for Miss Bassett; and she had onlyjust been reproaching herself for her vanity in recognizing this fact. But Mary Anne's words awakened a new train of thought. 

"Is--is Miss Octavia's dress a showy one, Mary Anne?" she inquired. "Dearme, I do hope it is not a showy dress!"

"I never see nothin' no eleganter, mum, " said Mary Anne: "she wantsnothin' but a veil to make a bride out of her--an' a becominer thing shenever has wore. "

They heard the soft sweep of skirts at that moment, and Octavia came in. 

"There!" she said, stopping when she had reached the middle of the room. "Is that simple enough?" Miss Belinda could only look at her helplessly. The "white muslin" was composed almost entirely of Valenciennes lace; theblue ribbons were embroidered with field-daisies; the air of delicateelaborateness about the whole was something which her innocent mind couldnot have believed possible in orthodox white and blue. 

"I don't think I should call it exactly simple, " she said. "My love, whata quantity of lace!"

Octavia glanced down at her _jabots_ and frills complacently. 

"There _is_ a good deal of it, " she remarked; "but then, it is nice, andone can stand a good deal of nice Valenciennes on white. They said Worthmade the dress. I hope he did. It cost enough. The ribbon was embroideredby hand, I suppose. And there is plenty of it cut up into these bows. "

There was no more to be said. Miss Belinda led the way to the coach, which they entered under the admiring or critical eyes of several mostrespectable families, who had been lying in wait behind theirwindow-curtains since they had been summoned there by the sound ofthe wheels. 

As the vehicle rattled past the boarding-school, all the young ladies inthe first class rushed to the window. They were rewarded for their zealby a glimpse of a cloud of muslin and lace, a charmingly dressedyellow-brown head, and a pretty face, whose eyes favored them with afrank stare of interest. 

"She had diamonds in her ears!" cried Miss Phipps, wildly excited. "I sawthem flash. Ah, how I should like to see her without her wraps! I have nodoubt she is a perfect blaze!"

CHAPTER X. 

ANNOUNCING MR. BAROLD. 

Lady Theobald's invited guests sat in the faded blue drawing-room, waiting. Everybody had been unusually prompt, perhaps becauseeverybody wished to be on the ground in time to see Miss OctaviaBassett make her entrance. 

"I should think it would be rather a trial, even to such a girl as she issaid to be, " remarked one matron. 

"It is but natural that she should feel that Lady Theobald will regardher rather critically, and that she should know that American mannerswill hardly be the thing for a genteel and conservative English countrytown. "

"We saw her a few days ago, " said Lucia, who chanced to hear thisspeech, "and she is very pretty. I think I never saw any one so verypretty before. "

"But in quite a theatrical way, I think, my dear, " the matron replied, ina tone of gentle correction. 

"I have seen so very few theatrical people, " Lucia answered sweetly, "that I scarcely know what the theatrical way is, dear Mrs. Burnham. Herdress was very beautiful, and not like what we wear in Slowbridge; butshe seemed to me to be very bright and pretty, in a way quite new to me, and so just a little odd. "

"I have heard that her dress is most extravagant and wasteful, " put inMiss Pilcher, whose educational position entitled her to thecondescending respect of her patronesses. "She has lace on her morninggowns, which"--

"Miss Bassett and Miss Octavia Bassett, " announced Dobson, throwingopen the door. 

Lady Theobald rose from her seat. A slight rustle made itself heardthrough the company, as the ladies all turned toward the entrance; and, after they had so turned, there were evidences of a positive thrill. Before the eyes of all, Belinda Bassett advanced with rich ruffles ofMechlin at her neck and wrists, with a delicate and distinctly novel capupon her head, her niece following her with an unabashed face, twentypounds' worth of lace on her dress, and unmistakable diamonds in herlittle ears. 

"There is not a _shadow_ of timidity about her, " cried Mrs. Burnham underher breath. "This is actual boldness. "

But this was a very severe term to use, notwithstanding that it was bornof righteous indignation. It was not boldness at all: it was only theserenity of a young person who was quite unconscious that there was anything to fear in the rather unimposing party before her. Octavia wasaccustomed to entering rooms full of strangers. She had spent severalyears of her life in hotels, where she had been stared out of countenanceby a few score new people every day. She was even used to being, in somesort, a young person of note. It was nothing unusual for her to know thatshe was being pointed out. "That pretty blonde, " she often heard it said, "is Martin Bassett's daughter: sharp fellow, Bassett, --and lucky fellowtoo; more money than he can count. "

So she was not at all frightened when she walked in behind Miss Belinda. She glanced about her cheerfully, and, catching sight of Lucia, smiled ather as she advanced up the room. The call of state Lady Theobald had madewith her grand-daughter had been a very brief one; but Octavia had takena decided fancy to Lucia, and was glad to see her again. 

"I am glad to see you, Belinda, " said her ladyship, shaking hands. "Andyou also, Miss Octavia. "

"Thank you, " responded Octavia. 

"You are very kind, " Miss Belinda murmured gratefully. 

"I hope you are both well?" said Lady Theobald with majesticcondescension, and in tones to be heard all over the room. 

"Quite well, thank you, " murmured Miss Belinda again. "_Very_ wellindeed;" rather as if this fortunate state of affairs was the result ofher ladyship's kind intervention with the fates. 

She felt terribly conscious of being the centre of observation, andrather overpowered by the novelty of her attire, which was plainlycreating a sensation. Octavia, however, who was far more looked at, wasentirely oblivious of the painful prominence of her position. Sheremained standing in the middle of the room, talking to Lucia, who hadapproached to greet her. She was so much taller than Lucia, that shelooked very tall indeed by contrast, and also very wonderfully dressed. Lucia's white muslin was one of Miss Chickie's fifteen, and was, in a"genteel" way, very suggestive of Slowbridge. Suspended from Octavia'swaist by a long loop of the embroidered ribbon, was a little round fan, of downy pale-blue feathers, and with this she played as she talked; butLucia, having nothing to play with, could only stand with her littlehands hanging at her sides. 

"I have never been to an afternoon tea like this before, " Octavia said. "It is nothing like a kettle-drum. "

"I am not sure that I know what a kettle-drum is, " Lucia answered. "Theyhave them in London, I think; but I have never been to London. "

"They have them in New York, " said Octavia; "and they are a crowded sortof afternoon parties, where ladies go in carriage-toilet, not eveningdress. People are rushing in and out all the time. "

Lucia glanced around the room and smiled. 

"That is very unlike this, " she remarked. 

"Well, " said Octavia, "I should think that, after all, this might benicer. "

Which was very civil. 

Lucia glanced around again--this time rather stealthily--at LadyTheobald. Then she glanced back at Octavia. 

"But it isn't, " she said, in an undertone. 

Octavia began to laugh. They were on a new and familiar footing fromthat moment. 

"I said 'it might, '" she answered. 

She was not afraid, any longer, of finding the evening stupid. If therewere no young men, there was at least a young woman who was in sympathywith her. She said, --

"I hope that I shall behave myself pretty well, and do the things I amexpected to do. "

"Oh!" said Lucia, with a rather alarmed expression, "I hope so. I--I amafraid you would not be comfortable if you didn't. "

Octavia opened her eyes, as she often did at Miss Belinda's remarks, andthen suddenly she began to laugh again. 

"What would they do?" she said disrespectfully. "Would they turn me out, without giving me any tea?"

Lucia looked still more frightened. 

"Don't let them see you laughing, " she said. "They--they will say youare giddy. "

"Giddy!" replied Octavia. "I don't think there is any thing to make megiddy here. "

"If they say you are giddy, " said Lucia, "your fate will be sealed; and, if you are to stay here, it really will be better to try to please thema little. "

Octavia reflected a moment. 

"I don't mean to _dis_please them, " she said, "unless they are veryeasily displeased. I suppose I don't think very much about what peopleare saying of me. I don't seem to notice. "

"Will you come now and let me introduce Miss Egerton and her sister?"suggested Lucia hurriedly. "Grandmamma is looking at us. "

In the innocence of her heart Octavia glanced at Lady Theobald, andsaw that she was looking at them, and with a disapproving air. "Iwonder what that's for?" she said to herself; but she followed Luciaacross the room. 

She made the acquaintance of the Misses Egerton, who seemed ratherfluttered, and, after the first exchange of civilities, subsided intomonosyllables and attentive stares. They were, indeed, very anxious tohear Octavia converse, but had not the courage to attempt to draw herout, unless a sudden query of Miss Lydia's could be considered such anattempt. 

"Do you like England?" she asked. 

"Is this England?" inquired Octavia. 

"It is a part of England, of course, " replied the young lady, with calmliteralness. 

"Then, of course, I like it very much, " said Octavia, slightly waving herfan and smiling. 

Miss Lydia Egerton and Miss Violet Egerton each regarded her in dubioussilence for a moment. They did not think she looked as if she were"clever;" but the speech sounded to both as if she were, and as if shemeant to be clever a little at their expense. 

Naturally, after that they felt slightly uncomfortable, and said lessthan before; and conversation lagged to such an extent that Octavia wasnot sorry when tea was announced. 

And it so happened that tea was not the only thing announced. The ladieshad all just risen from their seats with a gentle rustle, and LadyTheobald was moving forward to marshal her procession into thedining-room, when Dobson appeared at the door again. 

"Mr. Barold, my lady, " he said, "and Mr. Burmistone. "

Everybody glanced first at the door, and then at Lady Theobald. Mr. Francis Barold crossed the threshold, followed by the tall, square-shouldered builder of mills, who was a strong, handsome man, andbore himself very well, not seeming to mind at all the numerous eyesfixed upon him. 

"I did not know, " said Barold, "that we should find you had guests. Begpardon, I'm sure, and so does Burmistone, whom I had the pleasure ofmeeting at Broadoaks, and who was good enough to invite me to return withhim. " Lady Theobald extended her hand to the gentleman specified. 

"I am glad, " she said rigidly, "to see Mr. Burmistone. "

Then she turned to Barold. 

"This is very fortunate, " she announced. "We are just going in to taketea, in which I hope you will join us. Lucia"--

Mr. Francis Barold naturally turned, as her ladyship uttered hergranddaughter's name in a tone of command. It may be supposed that hisfirst intention in turning was to look at Lucia; but he had scarcely doneso, when his attention was attracted by the figure nearest to her, --thefigure of a young lady, who was playing with a little blue fan, andsmiling at him brilliantly and unmistakably. 

The next moment he was standing at Octavia Bassett's side, looking ratherpleased, and the blood of Slowbridge was congealing, as the significanceof the situation was realized. 

One instant of breathless--of awful--suspense, and her ladyshiprecovered herself. 

"We will go in to tea, " she said. "May I ask you, Mr. Burmistone, toaccompany Miss Pilcher?"

CHAPTER XI. 

A SLIGHT INDISCRETION. 

During the remainder of the evening, Miss Belinda was a prey towretchedness and despair. When she raised her eyes to her hostess, shemet with a glance full of icy significance; when she looked across thetea-table, she saw Octavia seated next to Mr. Francis Barold, monopolizing his attention, and apparently in the very best possiblespirits. It only made matters worse, that Mr. Francis Barold seemed tofind her remarks worthy of his attention. He drank very little tea, andnow and then appeared much interested and amused. In fact, he found MissOctavia even more entertaining than he had found her during theirjourney. She did not hesitate at all to tell him that she was delightedto see him again at this particular juncture. 

"You don't know how glad I was to see you come in, " she said. 

She met his rather startled glance with the most open candor as shespoke. 

"It is very civil of you to say so, " he said; "but you can hardly expectme to believe it, you know. It is too good to be true. "

"I thought it was too good to be true when the door opened, " she answeredcheerfully. "I should have been glad to see _anybody_, almost"--

"Well, that, " he interposed, "isn't quite so civil. "

"It is not quite so civil to"--

But there she checked herself, and asked him a question with the most_naive_ seriousness. 

"Are you a great friend of Lady Theobald's?" she said. 

"No, " he answered. "I am a relative. "

"That's worse, " she remarked. 

"It is, " he replied. "Very much worse. "

"I asked you, " she proceeded, with an entrancing little smile ofirreverent approval, "because I was going to say that my last speech wasnot quite so civil to Lady Theobald. "

"That is perfectly true, " he responded. "It wasn't civil to her at all. "

He was passing his time very comfortably, and was really surprised tofeel that he was more interested in these simple audacities than he hadbeen in any conversation for some time. Perhaps it was because hiscompanion was so wonderfully pretty, but it is not unlikely that therewere also other reasons. She looked him straight in the eyes, shecomported herself after the manner of a young lady who was enjoyingherself, and yet he felt vaguely that she might have enjoyed herselfquite as much with Burmistone, and that it was probable that she wouldnot think a second time of him, or of what she said to him. 

After tea, when they returned to the drawing-room, the opportunitiesafforded for conversation were not numerous. The piano was opened, andone after another of the young ladies were invited to exhibit theirprowess. Upon its musical education Slowbridge prided itself. "Fewtowns, " Miss Pilcher frequently remarked, "could be congratulated uponthe possession of _such_ talent and _such_ cultivation. " The MissesEgerton played a duet, the Misses Loftus sang, Miss Abercrombie"executed" a sonata with such effect as to melt Miss Pilcher to tears;and still Octavia had not been called upon. There might have been areason for this, or there might not; but the moment arrived, at length, when Lady Theobald moved toward Miss Belinda with evidently fell intent. 

"Perhaps, " she said, "perhaps your niece, Miss Octavia, will favor us. "

Miss Belinda replied in a deprecatory and uncertain murmur. 

"I--am not sure. I really don't know. Perhaps--Octavia, my dear. "

Octavia raised a smiling face. 

"I don't play, " she said. "I never learned. "

"You do not play!" exclaimed Lady Theobald. "You do not play at all!"

"No, " answered Octavia. "Not a note. And I think I am rather glad of it;because, if I tried, I should be sure to do it worse than other people. Iwould rather, " with unimpaired cheerfulness, "let some one else do it. "

There were a few seconds of dead silence. A dozen people seated aroundher had heard. Miss Pilcher shuddered; Miss Belinda looked down; Mr. Francis Barold preserved an entirely unmoved countenance, the generalimpression being that he was very much shocked, and concealed his disgustwith an effort. 

"My dear, " said Lady Theobald, with an air of much condescension and somegrave pity, "I should advise you to try to learn. I can assure you thatyou would find it a great source of pleasure. "

"If you could assure me that my friends would find it a great source ofpleasure, I might begin, " answered the mistaken young person, stillcheerfully; "but I am afraid they wouldn't. "

It seemed that fate had marked her for disgrace. In half an hour fromthat time she capped the climax of her indiscretions. 

The evening being warm, the French windows had been left open; and, inpassing one of them, she stopped a moment to look out at the brightlymoonlit grounds. 

Barold, who was with her, paused too. 

"Looks rather nice, doesn't it?" he said. 

"Yes, " she replied. "Suppose we go out on the terrace. "

He laughed in an amused fashion she did not understand. 

"Suppose we do, " he said. "By Jove, that's a good idea!"

He laughed as he followed her. 

"What amuses you so?" she inquired. 

"Oh!" he replied, "I am merely thinking of Lady Theobald. "

"Well, " she commented, "I think it's rather disrespectful in you tolaugh. Isn't it a lovely night? I didn't think you had such moonlightnights in England. What a night for a drive!"

"Is that one of the things you do in America--drive by moonlight?"

"Yes. Do you mean to say you don't do it in England?"

"Not often. Is it young ladies who drive by moonlight in America?"

"Well, you don't suppose they go alone, do you?" quite ironically. "Ofcourse they have some one with them. "

"Ah! Their papas?"

"No. "

"Their mammas?"

"No. "

"Their governesses, their uncles, their aunts?"

"No, " with a little smile. 

He smiled also. 

"That is another good idea, " he said. "You have a great many nice ideasin America. "

She was silent a moment or so, swinging her fan slowly to and fro by itsribbon, and appearing to reflect. 

"Does that mean, " she said at length, "that it wouldn't be consideredproper in England?"

"I hope you won't hold me responsible for English fallacies, " was hissole answer. 

"I don't hold anybody responsible for them, " she returned with somespirit. "I don't care one thing about them. "

"That is fortunate, " he commented. "I am happy to say I don't, either. Itake the liberty of pleasing myself. I find it pays best. "

"Perhaps, " she said, returning to the charge, "perhaps Lady Theobald willthink _this_ is improper. "

He put his hand up, and stroked his mustache lightly, without replying. 

"But it is _not_, " she added emphatically: "it is _not!_"

"No, " he admitted, with a touch of irony, "it is not!"

"Are _you_ any the worse for it?" she demanded. 

"Well, really, I think not--as yet, " he replied. 

"Then we won't go in, " she said, the smile returning to her lips again. 

CHAPTER XII. 

AN INVITATION. 

In the mean time Mr. Burmistone was improving his opportunities withindoors. He had listened to the music with the most serious attention; andon its conclusion he had turned to Mrs. Burnham, and made himself veryagreeable indeed. At length, however, he arose, and sauntered across theroom to a table at which Lucia Gaston chanced to be standing alone, having just been deserted by a young lady whose mamma had summoned her. She wore, Mr. Burmistone regretted to see, as he advanced, a troubled andanxious expression; the truth being that she had a moment before remarkedthe exit of Miss Belinda's niece and her companion. It happened oddlythat Mr. Burmistone's first words touched upon the subject of herthought. He began quite abruptly with it. 

"It seems to me, " he said, "that Miss Octavia Bassett"--

Lucia stopped him with a courage which surprised herself. 

"Oh, if you please, " she implored, "don't say any thing unkind abouther!"

Mr. Burmistone looked down into her soft eyes with a good deal offeeling. 

"I was not going to say any thing unkind, " he answered. "Why should I?"

"Everybody seems to find a reason for speaking severely of her, " Luciafaltered. "I have heard so many unkind things tonight, that I am quiteunhappy. I am sure--I am _sure_ she is very candid and simple. "

"Yes, " answered Mr. Burmistone, "I am sure she is very candid andsimple. "

"Why should we expect her to be exactly like ourselves?" Lucia went on. "How can we be sure that our way is better than any other? Why shouldthey be angry because her dress is so expensive and pretty? Indeed, Ionly wish I had such a dress. It is a thousand times prettier than any weever wear. Look around the room, and see if it is not. And as to her nothaving learned to play on the piano, or to speak French--why should shebe obliged to do things she feels she would not be clever at? I am notclever, and have been a sort of slave all my life, and have been scoldedand blamed for what I could not help at all, until I have felt as if Imust be a criminal. How happy she must have been to be let alone!"

She had clasped her little hands, and, though she spoke in a lowvoice, was quite impassioned in an unconscious way. Her brief girlishlife had not been a very happy one, as may be easily imagined; and aglimpse of the liberty for which she had suffered roused her to asense of her own wrongs. 

"We are all cut out after the same pattern, " she said. "We learn the samethings, and wear the same dresses, one might say. What Lydia Egerton hasbeen taught, I have been taught; yet what two creatures could be moreunlike each other, by nature, than we are?"

Mr. Burmistone glanced across the room at Miss Egerton. She was a fine, robust young woman, with a high nose and a stolid expression ofcountenance. 

"That is true, " he remarked. 

"We are afraid of every thing, " said Lucia bitterly. "Lydia Egerton isafraid--though you might not think so. And, as for me, nobody knows whata coward I am but myself. Yes, I am a coward! When grandmamma looks atme, I tremble. I dare not speak my mind, and differ with her, when I knowshe is unjust and in the wrong. No one could say that of Miss OctaviaBassett. "

"That is perfectly true, " said Mr. Burmistone; and he even went so far asto laugh as he thought of Miss Octavia trembling in the august presenceof Lady Theobald. 

The laugh checked Lucia at once in her little outburst of eloquence. Shebegan to blush, the color mounting to her forehead. 

"Oh!" she began, "I did not mean to--to say so much. I"--

There was something so innocent and touching in her sudden timidity andconfusion, that Mr. Burmistone forgot altogether that they were not veryold friends, and that Lady Theobald might be looking. 

He bent slightly forward, and looked into her upraised, alarmed eyes. 

"Don't be afraid of _me_" he said; "don't, for pity's sake!"

He could not have hit upon a luckier speech, and also he could not haveuttered it more feelingly than he did. It helped her to recover herself, and gave her courage. 

"There, " she said, with a slight catch of the breath, "does not thatprove what I said to be true? I was afraid, the very moment I ceased toforget myself. I was afraid of you and of myself. I have no courage atall. "

"You will gain it in time, " he said. 

"I shall try to gain it, " she answered. "I am nearly twenty, and it istime that I should learn to respect myself. I think it must be because Ihave no self-respect that I am such a coward. "

It seemed that her resolution was to be tried immediately; for at thatvery moment Lady Theobald turned, and, on recognizing the fullsignificance of Lucia's position, was apparently struck temporarily dumband motionless. When she recovered from the shock, she made a majesticgesture of command. 

Mr. Burmistone glanced at the girl's face, and saw that it changed colora little. "Lady Theobald appears to wish to speak to you, " he said. 

Lucia left her seat, and walked across the room with a steady air. LadyTheobald did not remove her eye from her until she stopped within threefeet of her. Then she asked a rather unnecessary question:--

"With whom have you been conversing?"

"With Mr. Burmistone. "

"Upon what subject?"

"We were speaking of Miss Octavia Bassett. "

Her ladyship glanced around the room, as if a new idea had occurred toher, and said, --

"Where _is_ Miss Octavia Bassett?"

Here it must be confessed that Lucia faltered. 

"She is on the terrace with Mr. Barold. "

"She is on"--

Her ladyship stopped short in the middle of her sentence. This was toomuch for her. She left Lucia, and crossed the room to Miss Belinda. 

"Belinda, " she said, in an awful undertone, "your niece is out upon theterrace with Mr. Barold. Perhaps it would be as well for you tointimate to her that in England it is not customary--that--Belinda, goand bring her in. "

Miss Belinda arose, actually looking pale. She had been making suchstrenuous efforts to converse with Miss Pilcher and Mrs. Burnham, thatshe had been betrayed into forgetting her charge. She could scarcelybelieve her ears. She went to the open window, and looked out, and thenturned paler than before. 

"Octavia, my dear, " she said faintly. 

"Francis!" said Lady Theobald, over her shoulder. 

Mr. Francis Barold turned a rather bored countenance toward them; but itwas evidently not Octavia who had bored him. 

"Octavia, " said Miss Belinda, "how imprudent! In that thin dress--thenight air! How could you, my dear, how could you?"

"Oh! I shall not catch cold, " Octavia answered. "I am used to it. I havebeen out hours and hours, on moonlight nights, at home. "

But she moved toward them. 

"You must remember, " said Lady Theobald, "that there are many thingswhich may be done in America which would not be safe in England. "

And she made the remark in an almost sepulchral tone of warning. 

How Miss Belinda would have supported herself if the coach had not beenannounced at this juncture, it would be difficult to say. The coach wasannounced, and they took their departure. Mr. Barold happening to makehis adieus at the same time, they were escorted by him down to thevehicle from the Blue Lion. 

When he had assisted them in, and closed the door, Octavia bent forward, so that the moonlight fell full on her pretty, lace-covered head, and thesparkling drops in her ears. 

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "if you stay here at all, you must come and seeus. --Aunt Belinda, ask him to come and see us. "

Miss Belinda could scarcely speak. 

"I shall be most--most happy, " she fluttered, "Any--friend of dear LadyTheobald's, of course"--

"Don't forget, " said Octavia, waving her hand. 

The coach moved off, and Miss Belinda sank back into a dark corner. 

"My dear, " she gasped, "what will he think?"

Octavia was winding her lace scarf around her throat. 

"He'll think I want him to call, " she said serenely. "And I do. "

CHAPTER XIII. 

INTENTIONS. 

The position in which Lady Theobald found herself placed, after theseoccurrences, was certainly a difficult and unpleasant one. It was Mr. Francis Barold's caprice, for the time being, to develop an intimacy withMr. Burmistone. He had, it seemed, chosen to become interested in himduring their sojourn at Broadoaks. He had discovered him to be adesirable companion, and a clever, amiable fellow. This much hecondescended to explain incidentally to her ladyship's self. 

"I can't say I expected to meet a nice fellow or a companionable fellow, "he remarked, "and I was agreeably surprised to find him both. Never saystoo much or too little. Never bores a man. "

To this Lady Theobald could make no reply. Singularly enough, she haddiscovered early in their acquaintance that her wonted weapons werelikely to dull their edges upon the steely coldness of Mr. FrancisBarold's impassibility. In the presence of this fortunate young man, before whom his world had bowed the knee from his tenderest infancy, shelost the majesty of her demeanor. He refused to be affected by it: he waseven implacable enough to show openly that it bored him, and to insinuateby his manner that he did not intend to submit to it. He entirely ignoredthe claim of relationship, and acted according to the promptings of hisown moods. He did not feel it at all incumbent upon him to remain atOldclough Hall, and subject himself to the time-honored customs therein vogue. He preferred to accept Mr. Burmistone's invitation to becomehis guest at the handsome house he had just completed, in which he livedin bachelor splendor. Accordingly he installed himself there, and therebycomplicated matters greatly. 

Slowbridge found itself in a position as difficult as, and far moredelicate than, Lady Theobald's. The tea-drinkings in honor of thattroublesome young person, Miss Octavia Bassett, having been inauguratedby her ladyship, must go the social rounds, according to ancient custom. But what, in discretion's name, was to be done concerning Mr. FrancisBarold? There was no doubt whatever that he must not be ignored; and, inthat case, what difficulties presented themselves!

The mamma of the two Misses Egerton, who was a nervous and easilysubjugated person, was so excited and overwrought by the prospect beforeher, that, in contemplating it when she wrote her invitations, she wasaffected to tears. 

"I can assure you, Lydia, " she said, "that I have not slept for threenights, I have been so harassed. Here, on one hand, is Mr. FrancisBarold, who must be invited; and on the other is Mr. Burmistone, whom wecannot pass over; and here is Lady Theobald, who will turn to stone themoment she sees him, --though, goodness knows, I am sure he seems a veryquiet, respectable man, and said some of the most complimentary thingsabout your playing. And here is that dreadful girl, who is enough to giveone cold chills, and who may do all sorts of dreadful things, and iscertainly a living example to all respectable, well-educated girls. Andthe blindest of the blind could see that nothing would offend LadyTheobald more fatally than to let her be thrown with Francis Barold;and how one is to invite them into the same room, and keep them apart, I'm sure I don't know how. Lady Theobald herself could not do it, and howcan we be expected to? And the refreshments on my mind too; and Forbesfailing on her tea-cakes, and bringing up Sally Lunns like lead. "

That these misgivings were equally shared by each entertainer inprospective, might be adduced from the fact that the same afternoon Mrs. Burnham and Miss Pilcher appeared upon the scene, to consult with Mrs. Egerton upon the subject. 

Miss Lydia and Miss Violet being dismissed up-stairs to their practising, the three ladies sat in the darkened parlor, and talked the matter overin solemn conclave. 

"I have consulted Miss Pilcher, and mentioned the affair to Mrs. Gibson, "announced Mrs. Burnham. "And, really, we have not yet been able to arriveat any conclusion. "

Mrs. Egerton shook her head tearfully. 

"Pray don't come to me, my dears, " she said, --"don't, I beg of you! Ihave thought about it until my circulation has all gone wrong, and Lydiahas been applying hot-water bottles to my feet all the morning. I gave itup at half-past two, and set Violet to writing invitations to one andall, let the consequences be what they may. "

Miss Pilcher glanced at Mrs. Burnham, and Mrs. Burnham glanced at MissPilcher. 

"Perhaps, " Miss Pilcher suggested to her companion, "it would be as wellfor you to mention your impressions. "

Mrs. Burnham's manner became additionally cautious. She bent forwardslightly. 

"My dear, " she said, "has it struck you that Lady Theobald hasany--intentions, so to speak?"

"Intentions?" repeated Mrs. Egerton. 

"Yes, " with deep significance, --"so to speak. With regard to Lucia. "

Mrs. Egerton looked utterly helpless. 

"Dear me!" she ejaculated plaintively. "I have never had time to think ofit. Dear me! With regard to Lucia!"

Mrs. Burnham became more significant still. 

"_And_" she added, "Mr. Francis Barold. "

Mrs. Egerton turned to Miss Pilcher, and saw confirmation of the fact inher countenance. 

"Dear, dear!" she said. "That makes it worse than ever. "

"It is certain, " put in Miss Pilcher, "that the union would be adesirable one; and we have reason to remark that a deep interest in Mr. Francis Barold has been shown by Lady Theobald. He has been invited tomake her house his home during his stay in Slowbridge; and, though he hasnot done so, the fact that he has not is due only to some inexplicablereluctance upon his own part. And we all remember that Lady Theobald onceplainly intimated that she anticipated Lucia forming, in the future, amatrimonial alliance. "

"Oh!" commented Mrs. Egerton, with some slight impatience, "it is allvery well for Lady Theobald to have intentions for Lucia; but, if theyoung man has none, I really don't see that her intentions will be likelyto result in any thing particular. And I am sure Mr. Francis Barold isnot in the mood to be influenced in that way now. He is more likely toentertain himself with Miss Octavia Bassett, who will take him out in themoonlight, and make herself agreeable to him in her American style. "

Miss Pilcher and Mrs. Burnham exchanged glances again. 

"My dear, " said Mrs. Burnham, "he has called upon her twice since LadyTheobald's tea. They say she invites him herself, and flirts with himopenly in the garden. "

"Her conduct is such, " said Miss Pilcher, with a shudder, "that theblinds upon the side of the seminary which faces Miss Bassett's gardenare kept closed by my orders. I have young ladies under my care whosecharacters are in process of formation, and whose parents reposeconfidence in me. "

"Nothing but my friendship for Belinda Bassett, " remarked Mrs. Burnham, "would induce me to invite the girl to my house. " Then she turned to Mrs. Egerton. "But--ahem--have you included them _all_ in your invitations?"she observed. 

Mrs. Egerton became plaintive again. 

"I don't see how I could be expected to do any thing else, " she said. "Lady Theobald herself could not invite Mr. Francis Barold from Mr. Burmistone's house, and leave Mr. Burmistone at home. And, after all, Imust say it is my opinion nobody would have objected to Mr. Burmistone, in the first place, if Lady Theobald had not insisted upon it. "

Mrs. Burnham reflected. 

"Perhaps that is true, " she admitted cautiously at length. "And it mustbe confessed that a man in his position is not entirely without hisadvantages--particularly in a place where there are but few gentlemen, and those scarcely desirable as"--

She paused there discreetly, but Mrs. Egerton was not so discreet. 

"There are a great many young ladies in Slowbridge, " she said, shakingher head, --"a great many! And with five in a family, all old enough to beout of school, I am sure it is flying in the face of Providence toneglect one's opportunities. "

When the two ladies took their departure, Mrs. Burnham seemed reflective. Finally she said, --"Poor Mrs. Egerton's mind is not what it was, and itnever was remarkably strong. It must be admitted, too, that there is alack of--of delicacy. Those great plain girls of hers must be a trial toher. "

As she spoke they were passing the privet hedge which surrounded MissBassett's house and garden; and a sound caused both to glance around. Thefront door had just been opened; and a gentleman was descending thesteps, --a young gentleman in neat clerical garb, his guilelessecclesiastical countenance suffused with mantling blushes of confusionand delight. He stopped on the gravel path to receive the last words ofMiss Octavia Bassett, who stood on the threshold, smiling down upon himin the prettiest way in the world. 

"Tuesday afternoon, " she said. "Now don't forget; because I shall ask Mr. Barold and Miss Gaston, on purpose to play against us. Even St. Jamescan't object to croquet. "

"I--indeed, I shall be _most_ happy and--and delighted, " stammered herdeparting guest, "if you will be so kind as to--to instruct me, andforgive my awkwardness. "

"Oh! I'll instruct you, " said Octavia. "I have instructed people before, and I know how. "

Mrs. Burnham clutched Miss Pilcher's arm. 

"Do you see who _that_ is?" she demanded. "Would you have believed it?"

Miss Pilcher preserved a stony demeanor. 

"I would believe any thing of Miss Octavia Bassett, " she replied. "Therewould be nothing at all remarkable, to my mind, in her flirting with thebishop himself! Why should she hesitate to endeavor to entangle thecurate of St. James?"

CHAPTER XIV. 

A CLERICAL VISIT. 

It was indeed true that the Rev. Arthur Poppleton had spent the greaterpart of his afternoon in Miss Belinda Bassett's front parlor, and thatOctavia had entertained him in such a manner that he had been beguiledinto forgetting the clerical visits he had intended to make, and hadfinally committed himself by a promise to return a day or two later toplay croquet. His object in calling had been to request Miss Belinda'sassistance in a parochial matter. His natural timorousness of nature hadindeed led him to put off making the visit for as long a time aspossible. The reports he had heard of Miss Octavia Bassett had inspiredhim with great dread. Consequently he had presented himself at MissBelinda's front door with secret anguish. 

"Will you say, " he had faltered to Mary Anne, "that it is Mr. Poppleton, to see _Miss_ Bassett--Miss _Belinda_ Bassett?"

And then he had been handed into the parlor, the door had been closedbehind him, and he had found himself shut up entirely alone in the roomwith Miss Octavia Bassett herself. 

His first impulse was to turn, and flee precipitately: indeed, he evenwent so far as to turn, and clutch the handle of the door; but somehow asecond thought arrived in time to lead him to control himself. 

This second thought came with his second glance at Octavia. 

She was not at all what he had pictured her. Singularly enough, no onehad told him that she was pretty; and he had thought of her as a gauntyoung person, with a determined and manly air. She struck him, on thecontrary, as being extremely girlish and charming to look upon. She worethe pale pink gown; and as he entered he saw her give a furtive littledab to her eyes with a lace handkerchief, and hurriedly crush an openletter into her pocket. Then, seeming to dismiss her emotion withenviable facility, she rose to greet him. 

"If you want to see aunt Belinda, " she said, "perhaps you had better sitdown. She will be here directly. " He plucked up spirit to take a seat, suddenly feeling his terror take wing. He was amazed at his own courage. 

"Th-thank you, " he said. "I have the pleasure of"--There, it is true, hestopped, looked at her, blushed, and finished somewhat disjointedly. "Miss Octavia Bassett, I believe. "

"Yes, " she answered, and sat down near him. 

When Miss Belinda descended the stairs, a short time afterward, her earswere greeted by the sound of brisk conversation, in which the Rev. ArthurPoppleton appeared to be taking part with before-unheard-of spirit. Whenhe arose at her entrance, there was in his manner an air of mild buoyancywhich astonished her beyond measure. When he re-seated himself, he seemedquite to forget the object of his visit for some minutes, and was thusplaced in the embarrassing position of having to refer to his note-book. 

Having done so, and found that he had called to ask assistance for thefamily of one of his parishioners, he recovered himself somewhat. As heexplained the exigencies of the case, Octavia listened. 

"Well, " she said, "I should think it would make you quite uncomfortable, if you see things like that often. "

"I regret to say I do see such things only too frequently, " he answered. 

"Gracious!" she said; but that was all. 

He was conscious of being slightly disappointed at her apathy; andperhaps it is to be deplored that he forgot it afterward, when MissBelinda had bestowed her mite, and the case was dismissed for the timebeing. He really did forget it, and was beguiled into making a very longcall, and enjoying himself as he had never enjoyed himself before. 

When, at length, he was recalled to a sense of duty by a glance at theclock, he had already before his eyes an opening vista of delights, taking the form of future calls, and games of croquet played upon MissBelinda's neatly-shaven grass-plat. He had bidden the ladies adieu in theparlor, and, having stepped into the hall, was fumbling rather excitedlyin the umbrella-stand for his own especially slender clerical umbrella, when he was awakened to new rapture by hearing Miss Octavia's tone again. 

He turned, and saw her standing quite near him, looking at him withrather an odd expression, and holding something in her hand. 

"Oh!" she said. "See here, --those people. "

"I--beg pardon, " he hesitated. "I don't quite understand. "

"Oh, yes!" she answered. "Those desperately poor wretches, you know, withfever, and leaks in their house, and all sorts of disagreeable things thematter with them. Give them this, won't you?"

"This" was a pretty silk purse, through whose meshes he saw the gleam ofgold coin. 

"That?" he said. "You don't mean--isn't there a good deal--I begpardon--but really"--

"Well, if they are as poor as you say they are, it won't be too much, "she replied. "I don't suppose they'll object to it: do you?"

She extended it to him as if she rather wished to get it out of herhands. 

"You'd better take it, " she said. "I shall spend it on something I don'tneed, if you don't. I'm always spending money on things I don't care forafterward. "

He was filled with remorse, remembering that he had thought herapathetic. 

"I--I really thought you were not interested at all, " he burst forth. "Pray forgive me. This is generous indeed. "

She looked down at some particularly brilliant rings on her hand, insteadof looking at him. 

"Oh, well!" she said, "I think it must be simply horrid to have to dowithout things. I can't see how people live. Besides, I haven't deniedmyself any thing. It would be worth talking about if I had, I suppose. Oh! By the by, never mind telling any one, will you?"

Then, without giving him time to reply, she raised her eyes to his face, and plunged into the subject of the croquet again, pursuing it until thefinal moment of his exit and departure, which was when Mrs. Burnham andMiss Pilcher had been scandalized at the easy freedom of her adieus. 

CHAPTER XV. 

SUPERIOR ADVANTAGES. 

When Mr. Francis Barold called to pay his respects to Lady Theobald, after partaking of her hospitality, Mr. Burmistone accompanied him; and, upon almost every other occasion of his presenting himself to herladyship, Mr. Burmistone was his companion. 

It may as well be explained at the outset, that the mill-owner ofBurmistone Mills was a man of decided determination of character, andthat, upon the evening of Lady Theobald's tea, he had arrived at theconclusion that he would spare no effort to gain a certain end he felt itwould add to his happiness to accomplish. 

"I stand rather in awe of Lady Theobald, as any ordinary man would, " hehad said dryly to Barold, on their return to his house. "But my awe ofher is not so great yet that I shall allow it to interfere with any ofmy plans. "

"Have you any especial plan?" inquired Barold carelessly, after a pause. 

"Yes, " answered Mr. Burmistone, --"several. I should like to go toOldclough rather often. "

"I feel it the civil thing to go to Oldclough oftener than I like. Gowith me. "

"I should like to be included in all the invitations to tea for the nextsix months. "

"I shall be included in all the invitations so long as I remain here; andit is not likely you will be left out in the cold. After you have gonethe rounds once, you won't be dropped. "

"Upon the whole, it appears so, " said Mr. Burmistone. "Thanks. "

So, at each of the tea-parties following Lady Theobald's, the two menappeared together. The small end of the wedge being inserted into thesocial stratum, the rest was not so difficult. Mrs. Burnham was at oncesurprised and overjoyed by her discoveries of the many excellences of theman they had so hastily determined to ignore. Mrs. Abercrombie found Mr. Burmistone's manner all that could be desired. Miss Pilcher expressed thehighest appreciation of his views upon feminine education and "our dutyto the young in our charge. " Indeed, after Mrs. Egerton's evening, thetide of public opinion turned suddenly in his favor. 

Public opinion did not change, however, as far as Octavia was concerned. Having had her anxiety set at rest by several encouraging paternalletters from Nevada, she began to make up her mind to enjoy herself, andwas, it is to be regretted, betrayed by her youthful high spirits intothe committing of numerous indiscretions. Upon each festal occasion sheappeared in a new and elaborate costume: she accepted the attentions ofMr. Francis Barold, as if it were the most natural thing in the worldthat they should be offered; she joked--in what Mrs. Burnham designated"her Nevada way"--with the Rev. Arthur Poppleton, who appeared morefrequently than had been his habit at the high teas. She played croquetwith that gentleman and Mr. Barold day after day, upon the grass-plat, before all the eyes gazing down upon her from the neighboring windows;she managed to coerce Mr. Burmistone into joining these innocent orgies;and, in fact, to quote Miss Pilcher, there was "no limit to theshamelessness of her unfeminine conduct. "

Several times much comment had been aroused by the fact that Lucia Gastonhad been observed to form one of the party of players. She had indeedplayed with Barold, against Octavia and Mr. Poppleton, on the memorableday upon which that gentleman had taken his first lesson. 

Barold had availed himself of the invitation extended to him by Octavia, upon several occasions, greatly to Miss Belinda's embarrassment. He haddropped in the evening after the curate's first call. 

"Is Lady Theobald very fond of you?" Octavia had asked, in the course ofthis visit. 

"It is very kind of her, if she is, " he replied with languid irony. 

"Isn't she fond enough of you to do any thing you ask her?" Octaviainquired. 

"Really, I think not, " he replied. "Imagine the degree of affection itrequires! I am not fond enough of any one to do any thing they ask me. "

Octavia bestowed a long look upon him. 

"Well, " she remarked, after a pause, "I believe you are not. I shouldn'tthink so. "

Barold colored very faintly. 

"I say, " he said, "is that an imputation, or something of that character?It sounds like it, you know. "

Octavia did not reply directly. She laughed a little. 

"I want you to ask Lady Theobald to do something, " she said. 

"I am afraid I am not in such favor as you imagine, " he said, lookingslightly annoyed. 

"Well, I think she won't refuse you this thing, " she went on. "If shedidn't loathe me so, I would ask her myself. "

He deigned to smile. 

"Does she loathe you?" he inquired. 

"Yes, " nodding. "She would not speak to me if it weren't for auntBelinda. She thinks I am fast and loud. Do _you_ think I am fast andloud?"

He was taken aback, and not for the first time, either. She had startledand discomposed him several times in the course of their briefacquaintance; and he always resented it, priding himself in private, ashe did, upon his coolness and immobility. He could not think of the rightthing to say just now, so he was silent for a second. 

"Tell me the truth, " she persisted. "I shall not care--much. "

"I do not think you would care at all. "

"Well, perhaps I shouldn't. Go on. Do you think I am fast?"

"I am happy to say I do not find you slow. "

She fixed her eyes on him, smiling faintly. 

"That means I am fast, " she said. "Well, no matter. Will you ask LadyTheobald what I want you to ask her?"

"I should not say you were fast at all, " he said rather stiffly. "Youhave not been educated as--as Lady Theobald has educated Miss Gaston, forinstance. "

"I should rather think not, " she replied. Then she added, verydeliberately, "She has had what you might call very superior advantages, I suppose. "

Her expression was totally incomprehensible to him. She spoke with theutmost seriousness, and looked down at the table. "That is derision, Isuppose, " he remarked restively. 

She glanced up again. 

"At all events, " she said, "there is nothing to laugh at in Lucia Gaston. Will you ask Lady Theobald? I want you to ask her to let Lucia Gastoncome and play croquet with us on Tuesday. She is to play with you againstMr. Poppleton and me. "

"Who is Mr. Poppleton?" he asked, with some reserve. He did not exactlyfancy sharing his entertainment with any ordinary outsider. After all, there was no knowing what this little American might do. 

"He is the curate of the church, " she replied, undisturbed. "He is verynice, and little, and neat, and blushes all over to the toes of hisboots. He came to see aunt Belinda, and I asked him to come and betaught to play. "

"Who is to teach him?"

"I am. I have taught at least twenty men in New York and San Francisco. "

"I hope he appreciates your kindness. "

"I mean to try if I can make him forget to be frightened, " she said, witha gay laugh. 

It was certainly nettling to find his air of reserve and displeasure metwith such inconsequent lightness. She never seemed to recognize thesubtle changes of temperature expressed in his manner. Only his sense ofwhat was due to himself prevented his being very chilly indeed; but asshe went on with her gay chat, in utter ignorance of his mood, andindulged in some very pretty airy nonsense, he soon recovered himself, and almost forgot his private grievance. 

Before going away, he promised to ask Lady Theobald's indulgence in thematter of Lucia's joining them in their game. One speech of Octavia's, connected with the subject, he had thought very pretty, as well as kind. 

"I like Miss Gaston, " she said. "I think we might be friends if LadyTheobald would let us. Her superior advantages might do me good. Theymight improve me, " she went on, with a little laugh, "and I suppose Ineed improving very much. All my advantages have been of one kind. "

When he had left her, she startled Miss Belinda by saying, --

"I have been asking Mr. Barold if he thought I was fast; and I believe hedoes--in fact, I am sure he does. "

"Ah, my dear, my dear!" ejaculated Miss Belinda, "what a terrible thingto say to a gentleman! What will he think?"

Octavia smiled one of her calmest smiles. 

"Isn't it queer how often you say that!" she remarked. "I think I shouldperish if I had to pull myself up that way as you do. I just go right on, and never worry. I don't mean to do any thing queer, and I don't see whyany one should think I do. "

CHAPTER XVI. 

CROQUET. 

Lucia was permitted to form one of the players in the game of croquet, being escorted to and from the scene by Francis Barold. Perhaps itoccurred to Lady Theobald that the contrast of English reserve andmaidenliness with the free-and-easy manners of young women from Nevadamight lead to some good result. 

"I trust your conduct will be such as to show that you at least haveresided in a civilized land, " she said. "The men of the present day maypermit themselves to be amused by young persons whose demeanor mightbring a blush to the cheek of a woman of forty, but it is not their habitto regard them with serious intentions. "

Lucia reddened. She did not speak, though she wished very much for thecourage to utter the words which rose to her lips. Lately she had foundthat now and then, at times when she was roused to anger, speeches ofquite a clever and sarcastic nature presented themselves to her mind. Shewas never equal to uttering them aloud; but she felt that in time shemight, because of course it was quite an advance in spirit to think them, and face, even in imagination, the probability of astounding and strikingLady Theobald dumb with their audacity. 

"It ought to make me behave very well, " she was saying now to herself, "to have before me the alternative of not being regarded with seriousintentions. I wonder if it is Mr. Poppleton or Francis Barold who mightnot regard me seriously. And I wonder if they are any coarser in Americathan we can be in England when we try. "

She enjoyed the afternoon very much, particularly the latter part of it, when Mr. Burmistone, who was passing, came in, being invited by Octaviaacross the privet hedge. Having paid his respects to Miss Belinda, whosat playing propriety under a laburnum-tree, Mr. Burmistone crossed thegrass-plat to Lucia herself. She was awaiting her "turn, " and laughing atthe ardent enthusiasm of Mr. Poppleton, who, under Octavia's direction, was devoting all his energies to the game: her eyes were bright, and shehad lost, for the time being, her timid air of feeling herself somehow inthe wrong. 

"I am glad to see you here, " said Mr. Burmistone. 

"I am glad to be here, " she answered. "It has been such a happyafternoon. Every thing has seemed so bright and--and different!"

"'Different' is a very good word, " he said, laughing. 

"It isn't a very bad one, " she returned, "and it expresses a good deal. "

"It does indeed, " he commented. 

"Look at Mr. Poppleton and Octavia, " she began. 

"Have you got to 'Octavia'?" he inquired. 

She looked down and blushed. 

"I shall not say 'Octavia' to grandmamma. "

Then suddenly she glanced up at him. 

"That is sly, isn't it?" she said. "Sometimes I think I am very sly, though I am sure it is not my nature to be so. I would rather be openand candid. "

"It would be better, " he remarked. 

"You think so?" she asked eagerly. 

He could not help smiling. 

"Do you ever tell untruths to Lady Theobald?" he inquired. "If you do, Ishall begin to be alarmed. "

"I act them, " she said, blushing more deeply. "I really do--paltry sortsof untruths, you know; pretending to agree with her when I don't;pretending to like things a little when I hate them. I have been tryingto improve myself lately, and once or twice it has made her very angry. She says I am disobedient and disrespectful. She asked me, one day, if itwas my intention to emulate Miss Octavia Bassett. That was when I said Icould not help feeling that I had wasted time in practising. "

She sighed softly as she ended. 

In the mean time Octavia had Mr. Poppleton and Mr. Francis Barold uponher hands, and was endeavoring to do her duty as hostess by both of them. If it had been her intention to captivate these gentlemen, she could nothave complained that Mr. Poppleton was wary or difficult game. His firstfears allayed, his downward path was smooth, and rapid in proportion. When he had taken his departure with the little silk purse in hiskeeping, he had carried under his clerical vest a warmed and thrilledheart. It was a heart which, it must be confessed, was of the mostinexperienced and susceptible nature. A little man of affectionate andgentle disposition, he had been given from his earliest youth toindulging in timid dreams of mild future bliss, --of bliss represented bysome lovely being whose ideals were similar to his own, and who preferredthe wealth of a true affection to the glitter of the giddy throng. Uponone or two occasions, he had even worshipped from afar; but as on each ofthese occasions his hopes had been nipped in the bud by the union oftheir object with some hollow worldling, his dream had, so far, neverattained very serious proportions. Since he had taken up his abode inSlowbridge, he had felt himself a little overpowered by circumstances. Ithad been a source of painful embarrassment to him, to find his innocentpresence capable of producing confusion in the breasts of young ladieswho were certainly not more guileless than himself. He had been consciousthat the Misses Egerton did not continue their conversation with freedomwhen he chanced to approach the group they graced; and he had observedthe same thing in their companions, --an additional circumspection ofdemeanor, so to speak, a touch of new decorum, whose object seemed to beto protect them from any appearance of imprudence. 

"It is almost as if they were afraid of me, " he had said to himself onceor twice. "Dear me! I hope there is nothing in my appearance to leadthem to"--

He was so much alarmed by this dreadful thought, that he had everafterward approached any of these young ladies with a fear and tremblingwhich had not added either to his comfort or their own; consequently hispath had not been a very smooth one. 

"I respect the young ladies of Slowbridge, " he remarked to Octavia thatvery afternoon. "There are some very remarkable young ladies here, --veryremarkable indeed. They are interested in the church, and the poor, andthe schools, and, indeed, in every thing, which is most unselfish andamiable. Young ladies have usually so much to distract their attentionfrom such matters. "

"If I stay long enough in Slowbridge, " said Octavia, "I shall beinterested in the church, and the poor, and the schools. "

It seemed to the curate that there had never been any thing so delightfulin the world as her laugh and her unusual remarks. She seemed to him sobeautiful, and so exhilarating, that he forgot all else but hisadmiration for her. He enjoyed himself so much this afternoon, that hewas almost brilliant, and excited the sarcastic comment of Mr. FrancisBarold, who was not enjoying himself at all. 

"Confound it!" said that gentleman to himself, as he looked on. "What didI come here for? This style of thing is just what I might have expected. She is amusing herself with that poor little cad now, and I am left inthe cold. I suppose that is her habit with the young men in Nevada. "

He had no intention of entering the lists with the Rev. Arthur Poppleton, or of concealing the fact that he felt that this little Nevada flirt wasmaking a blunder. The sooner she knew it, the better for herself; so heplayed his game as badly as possible, and with much dignity. 

But Octavia was so deeply interested in Mr. Poppleton's ardent effortsto do credit to her teaching, that she was apparently unconscious ofall else. She played with great cleverness, and carried her partner tothe terminus, with an eager enjoyment of her skill quite pleasant tobehold. She made little darts here and there, advised, directed, andcontrolled his movements, and was quite dramatic in a small way when hemade a failure. 

Mrs. Burnham, who was superintending the proceeding, seated in her owneasy-chair behind her window-curtains, was roused to virtuous indignationby her energy. 

"There is no repose whatever in her manner, " she said. "No dignity. Is agame of croquet a matter of deep moment? It seems to me that it is almostimpious to devote one's mind so wholly to a mere means of recreation. "

"She seems to be enjoying it, mamma, " said Miss Laura Burnham, with afaint sigh. Miss Laura had been looking on over her parent's shoulder. "They all seem to be enjoying it. See how Lucia Gaston and Mr. Burmistoneare laughing. I never saw Lucia look like that before. The only one whoseems a little dull is Mr. Barold. "

"He is probably disgusted by a freedom of manner to which he is notaccustomed, " replied Mrs. Burnham. "The only wonder is that he has notbeen disgusted by it before. "

CHAPTER XVII. 

ADVANTAGES. 

The game over, Octavia deserted her partner. She walked lightly, and withthe air of a victor, to where Barold was standing. She was smiling, andslightly flushed, and for a moment or so stood fanning herself with a gayJapanese fan. 

"Don't you think I am a good teacher?" she asked at length. 

"I should say so, " replied Barold, without enthusiasm. "I am afraid I amnot a judge. "

She waved her fan airily. 

"I had a good pupil, " she said. Then she held her fan still for a moment, and turned fully toward him. "I have done something you don't like, " shesaid. "I knew I had. "

Mr. Francis Barold retired within himself at once. In his present moodit really appeared that she was assuming that he was very much interestedindeed. 

"I should scarcely take the liberty upon a limited acquaintance, " hebegan. 

She looked at him steadily, fanning herself with slow, regular movements. 

"Yes, " she remarked. "You're mad. I knew you were. "

He was so evidently disgusted by this observation, that she caught at themeaning of his look, and laughed a little. 

"Ah!" she said, "that's an American word, ain't it? It sounds queer toyou. You say 'vexed' instead of 'mad. ' Well, then, you are vexed. "

"If I have been so clumsy as to appear ill-humored, " he said, "I begpardon. Certainly I have no right to exhibit such unusual interest inyour conduct. "

He felt that this was rather decidedly to the point, but she did not seemoverpowered at all. She smiled anew. 

"Anybody has a right to be mad--I mean vexed, " she observed. "I shouldlike to know how people would live if they hadn't. I am mad--I meanvexed--twenty times a day. "

"Indeed?" was his sole reply. 

"Well, " she said, "I think it's real mean in you to be so cool about itwhen you remember what I told you the other day. "

"I regret to say I don't remember just now. I hope it was nothing veryserious. "

To his astonishment she looked down at her fan, and spoke in a slightlylowered voice:--

"I told you that I wanted to be improved. "

It must be confessed that he was mollified. There was a softness in hermanner which amazed him. He was at once embarrassed and delighted. But, at the same time, it would not do to commit himself to too great aseriousness. 

"Oh!" he answered, "that was a rather good joke, I thought. "

"No, it wasn't, " she said, perhaps even half a tone lower. "I wasin earnest. "

Then she raised her eyes. 

"If you told me when I did any thing wrong, I think it might be a goodthing, " she said. 

He felt that this was quite possible, and was also struck with the ideathat he might find the task of mentor--so long as he remained entirelynon-committal--rather interesting. Still, he could not afford to descendat once from the elevated stand he had taken. 

"I am afraid you would find it rather tiresome, " he remarked. 

"I am afraid _you_ would, " she answered. "You would have to tell me ofthings so often. "

"Do you mean seriously to tell me that you would take my advice?" heinquired. 

"I mightn't take all of it, " was her reply; "but I should takesome--perhaps a great deal. "

"Thanks, " he remarked. "I scarcely think I should give you a great deal. "

She simply smiled. "I have never had any advice at all, " she said. "I don't know that Ishould have taken it if I had--just as likely as not I shouldn't; but Ihave never had any. Father spoiled me. He gave me all my own way. He saidhe didn't care, so long as I had a good time; and I must say I havegenerally had a good time. I don't see how I could help it--with all myown way, and no one to worry. I wasn't sick, and I could buy any thing Iliked, and all that: so I had a good time. I've read of girls, in books, wishing they had mothers to take care of them. I don't know that I everwished for one particularly. I can take care of myself. I must say, too, that I don't think some mothers are much of an institution. I know girlswho have them, and they are always worrying. "

He laughed in spite of himself; and though she had been speaking with theutmost seriousness and _naiveté_, she joined him. 

When they ceased, she returned suddenly to the charge. 

"Now tell me what I have done this afternoon that isn't right, " shesaid, --"that Lucia Gaston wouldn't have done, for instance. I saythat, because I shouldn't mind being a little like Lucia Gaston--insome things. "

"Lucia ought to feel gratified, " he commented. 

"She does, " she answered. "We had a little talk about it, and she was aspleased as could be. I didn't think of it in that way until I saw herbegin to blush. Guess what she said. "

"I am afraid I can't. "

"She said she saw so many things to envy in me, that she could scarcelybelieve I wanted to be at all like her. "

"It was a very civil speech, " said Barold ironically. "I scarcely thoughtLady Theobald had trained her so well. "

"She meant it, " said Octavia. "You mayn't believe it, but she did. I knowwhen people mean things, and when they don't. "

"I wish I did, " said Barold. 

Octavia turned her attention to her fan. 

"Well, I am waiting, " she said. 

"Waiting?" he repeated. 

"To be told of my faults. "

"But I scarcely see of what importance my opinion can be. "

"It is of some importance to me--just now. "

The last two words rendered him really impatient, and, it may be, spurredhim up. 

"If we are to take Lucia Gaston as a model, " he said, "Lucia Gaston wouldpossibly not have been so complaisant in her demeanor toward our clericalfriend. "

"Complaisant!" she exclaimed, opening her lovely eyes. "When I wasactually plunging about the garden, trying to teach him to play. Well, Ishouldn't call that being complaisant. "

"Lucia Gaston, " he replied, "would not say that she had been 'plunging'about the garden. "

She gave herself a moment for reflection. 

"That's true, " she remarked, when it was over: "she wouldn't. When Icompare myself with the Slowbridge girls, I begin to think I must saysome pretty awful things. "

Barold made no reply, which caused her to laugh a little again. 

"You daren't tell me, " she said. "Now, do I? Well, I don't think I wantto know very particularly. What Lady Theobald thinks will last quite agood while. Complaisant!"

"I am sorry you object to the word, " he said. 

"Oh, I don't!" she answered. "I like it. It sounds so much more politethan to say I was flirting and being fast. "

"Were you flirting?" he inquired coldly. 

He objected to her ready serenity very much. 

She looked a little puzzled. 

"You are very like aunt Belinda, " she said. 

He drew himself up. He did not think there was any point of resemblanceat all between Miss Belinda and himself. 

She went on, without observing his movement. 

"You think every thing means something, or is of some importance. Yousaid that just as aunt Belinda says, 'What will they think?' It neveroccurs to me that they'll think at all. Gracious! Why should they?"

"You will find they do, " he said. 

"Well, " she said, glancing at the group gathered under the laburnum-tree, "just now aunt Belinda thinks we had better go over to her; so, supposewe do it? At any rate, I found out that I was too complaisant to Mr. Poppleton. "

When the party separated for the afternoon, Barold took Lucia home, andMr. Burmistone and the curate walked down the street together. 

Mr. Poppleton was indeed most agreeably exhilarated. His expressivelittle countenance beamed with delight. 

"What a very charming person Miss Bassett is!" he exclaimed, after theyhad left the gate. "What a very charming person indeed!"

"Very charming, " said Mr. Burmistone with much seriousness. "Aprettier young person I certainly have never seen; and those wonderfulgowns of hers"--

"Oh!" interrupted Mr. Poppleton, with natural confusion, "I--referred toMiss Belinda Bassett; though, really, what you say is very true. MissOctavia Bassett--indeed--I think--in fact, Miss Octavia Bassett is_quite_, one might almost say even _more_, charming than her aunt. "

"Yes, " admitted Mr. Burmistone; "perhaps one might. She is less ripe, itis true; but that is an objection time will remove. "

"There is such a delightful gayety in her manner!" said Mr. Poppleton;"such an ingenuous frankness! such a--a--such spirit! It quite carries meaway with it, --quite. "

He walked a few steps, thinking over this delightful gayety and ingenuousfrankness; and then burst out afresh, --

"And what a remarkable life she has had too! She actually told me, that, once in her childhood, she lived for months in a gold-diggers' camp, --theonly woman there. She says the men were kind to her, and made a pet ofher. She has known the most extraordinary people. "

In the mean time Francis Barold returned Lucia to Lady Theobald's safekeeping. Having done so, he made his adieus, and left the two tothemselves. Her ladyship was, it must be confessed, a little at a loss toexplain to herself what she saw, or fancied she saw, in the manner andappearance of her young relative. She was persuaded that she had neverseen Lucia look as she looked this afternoon. She had a brighter color inher cheeks than usual, her pretty figure seemed more erect, her eyes hada spirit in them which was quite new. She had chatted and laughed gaylywith Francis Barold, as she approached the house; and after his departureshe moved to and fro with a freedom not habitual to her. 

"He has been making himself agreeable to her, " said my lady, with grimpleasure. "He can do it if he chooses; and he is just the man to please agirl, --good-looking, and with a fine, domineering air. "

"How did you enjoy yourself?" she asked. 

"Very much, " said Lucia; "never more, thank you. "

"Oh!" ejaculated my lady. "And which of her smart New York gowns did MissOctavia Bassett wear?"

They were at the dinner-table; and, instead of looking down at her soup, Lucia looked quietly and steadily across the table at her grandmother. 

"She wore a very pretty one, " she said: "it was pale fawn-color, andfitted her like a glove. She made me feel very old-fashioned andbadly dressed. "

Lady Theobald laid down her spoon. 

"She made you feel old-fashioned and badly dressed, --you!"

"Yes, " responded Lucia: "she always does. I wonder what she thinks of thethings we wear in Slowbridge. " And she even went to the length of smilinga little. 

"What _she_ thinks of what is worn in Slowbridge!" Lady Theobaldejaculated. "She! may I ask what weight the opinion of a young woman fromAmerica--from Nevada--is supposed to have in Slowbridge?"

Lucia took a spoonful of soup in a leisurely manner. 

"I don't think it is supposed to have any; but--but I don't think sheminds that. I feel as if I shouldn't if I were in her place. I havealways thought her very lucky. "

"You have thought her lucky!" cried my lady. "You have envied a Nevadayoung woman, who dresses like an actress, and loads herself with jewelslike a barbarian? A girl whose conduct toward men is of a characterto--to chill one's blood!"

"They admire her, " said Lucia simply, "more than they admire LydiaEgerton, and more than they admire me. "

"Do _you_ admire her?" demanded my lady. 

"Yes, grandmamma, " replied Lucia courageously. "I think I do. "

Never had my lady been so astounded in her life. For a moment she couldscarcely speak. When she recovered herself she pointed to the door. 

"Go to your room, " she commanded. "This is American freedom of speech, Isuppose. Go to your room. "

Lucia rose obediently. She could not help wondering what her ladyship'scourse would be if she had the hardihood to disregard her order. Shereally looked quite capable of carrying it out forcibly herself. When thegirl stood at her bedroom window, a few minutes later, her cheeks wereburning and her hands trembling. 

"I am afraid it was very badly done, " she said to herself. "I am sure itwas; but--but it will be a kind of practice. I was in such a hurry to tryif I were equal to it, that I didn't seem to balance things quiterightly. I ought to have waited until I had more reason to speak out. Perhaps there wasn't enough reason then, and I was more aggressive than Iought to have been. Octavia is never aggressive. I wonder if I was at allpert. I don't think Octavia ever means to be pert. I felt a little as ifI meant to be pert. I must learn to balance myself, and only be cool andfrank. "

Then she looked out of the window, and reflected a little. 

"I was not so very brave, after all, " she said, rather reluctantly. "Ididn't tell her Mr. Burmistone was there. I daren't have done that. I amafraid I _am_ sly--that sounds sly, I am sure. "

CHAPTER XVIII. 

CONTRAST. 

"Lady Theobald will put a stop to it, " was the general remark. "It willcertainly not occur again. "

This was said upon the evening of the first gathering upon Miss Belinda'sgrass-plat, and at the same time it was prophesied that Mr. FrancisBarold would soon go away. 

But neither of the prophecies proved true. Mr. Francis Barold did _not_return to London; and, strange to say, Lucia was seen again and againplaying croquet with Octavia Bassett, and was even known to spendevenings with her. 

Perhaps it might be that an appeal made by Miss Belinda to her ladyshiphad caused her to allow of these things. Miss Belinda had, in fact, madea private call upon my lady, to lay her case before her. 

"I feel so very timid about every thing, " she said, almost with tears, "and so fearful of trusting myself, that I really find it quite a trial. The dear child has such a kind heart--I assure you she has a kind heart, dear Lady Theobald, --and is so innocent of any intention to do wrong--Iam sure she is innocent, --that it seems cruel to judge her severely. Ifshe had had the benefit of such training as dear Lucia's. I am convincedthat her conduct would have been most exemplary. She sees herself thatshe has faults: I am sure she does. She said to me only last night, inthat odd way of hers, --she had been sitting, evidently thinking deeply, for some minutes, --and she said, 'I wonder if I shouldn't be nicer if Iwere more like Lucia Gaston. ' You see what turn her mind must have taken. She admires Lucia so much. "

"Yesterday evening at dinner, " said Lady Theobald severely, "Luciainformed me that _she_ admired your niece. The feeling seems to bemutual. "

Miss Belinda colored, and brightened visibly. 

"Did she, indeed?" she exclaimed. "How pleased Octavia will be to hearit! Did she, indeed?" Then, warned by a chilliness, and lack of response, in her ladyship's manner, she modified her delight, and became apologeticagain. "These young people are more--are less critical than we are, " shesighed. "Octavia's great prettiness"--

"I think, " Lady Theobald interposed, "that Lucia has been taught to feelthat the body is corruptible, and subject to decay, and that mere beautyis of small moment. "

Miss Belinda sighed again. 

"That is very true, " she admitted deprecatingly; "very true indeed. "

"It is to be hoped that Octavia's stay in Slowbridge will provebeneficial to her, " said her ladyship in her most judicial manner. "Theatmosphere is wholly unlike that which has surrounded her during herprevious life. "

"I am sure it will prove beneficial to her, " said Miss Belinda eagerly. "The companionship of well-trained and refined young people cannot failto be of use to her. Such a companion as Lucia would be, if you wouldkindly permit her to spend an evening with us now and then, wouldcertainly improve and modify her greatly. Mr. Francis Barold is--is, Ithink, of the same opinion; at least, I fancied I gathered as much from afew words he let fall. "

"Francis Barold?" repeated Lady Theobald. "And what did Francis Baroldsay?"

"Of course it was but very little, " hesitated Miss Belinda; "but--but Icould not help seeing that he was drawing comparisons, as it were. Octavia was teaching Mr. Poppleton to play croquet; and she was ratherexhilarated, and perhaps exhibited more--freedom of manner, in aninnocent way, --quite in an innocent, thoughtless way, --than is exactlycustomary; and I saw Mr. Barold glance from her to Lucia, who stood near;and when I said, 'You are thinking of the contrast between them, ' heanswered, 'Yes, they differ very greatly, it is true;' and of course Iknew that my poor Octavia could not have the advantage in his eyes. Shefeels this herself, I know. She shocked me the other day, beyondexpression, by telling me that she had asked him if he thought she wasreally fast, and that she was sure he did. Poor child! she evidently didnot comprehend the dreadful significance of such terms. "

"A man like Francis Barold does understand their significance, " said LadyTheobald; "and it is to be deplored that your niece cannot be taught whather position in society will be if such a reputation attaches itself toher. The men of the present day fight shy of such characters. "

This dread clause so impressed poor Miss Belinda by its solemnity, thatshe could not forbear repeating it to Octavia afterward, though it is tobe regretted that it did not produce the effect she had hoped. 

"Well, I must say, " she observed, "that if some men fought a little shyerthan they do, I shouldn't mind it. You always _do_ have about half adozen dangling around, who only bore you, and who will keep asking you togo to places, and sending you bouquets, and asking you to dance when theycan't dance at all, and only tear your dress, and stand on your feet. Ifthey would 'fight shy, ' it would be splendid. "

To Miss Belinda, who certainly had never been guilty of the indecorum ofhaving any member of the stronger sex "dangling about" at all, this wasvery trying. 

"My dear, " she said, "don't say 'you always have;' it--it really seems tomake it so personal. "

Octavia turned around, and fixed her eyes wonderingly upon her blushingcountenance. For a moment she made no remark, a marvellous thoughtshaping itself slowly in her mind. 

"Aunt Belinda, " she said at length, "did nobody ever"--

"Ah, no, my dear! No, no, I assure you!" cried Miss Belinda, in thegreatest possible trepidation. "Ah, dear, no! Such--such thingsrarely--very rarely happen in--Slowbridge; and, besides, I couldn'tpossibly have thought of it. I couldn't, indeed!"

She was so overwhelmed with maidenly confusion at the appalling thought, that she did not recover herself for half an hour at least. Octavia, feeling that it would not be safe to pursue the subject, only uttered oneword of comment, --

"Gracious!"

CHAPTER XIX. 

AN EXPERIMENT. 

Much to her own astonishment, Lucia found herself allowed new liberty. She was permitted to spend the afternoon frequently with Octavia; and onseveral occasions that young lady and Miss Bassett were invited topartake of tea at Oldclough in company with no other guest than FrancisBarold. 

"I don't know what it means, and I think it must mean something, " saidLucia to Octavia; "but it is very pleasant. I never was allowed to be sointimate with any one before. "

"Perhaps, " suggested Octavia sagely, "she thinks, that, if you see meoften enough, you will get sick of me, and it will be a lesson to you. "

"The more I see of you, " answered Lucia with a serious little air, "thefonder I am of you. I understand you better. You are not at all like whatI thought you at first, Octavia. "

"But I don't know that there's much to understand in me. "

"There is a great deal to understand in you, " she replied. "You are apuzzle to me often. You seem so frank, and yet one knows so little aboutyou after all. For instance, " Lucia went on, "who would imagine that youare so affectionate?"

"Am I affectionate?" she asked. 

"Yes, " answered Lucia: "I am sure you are very affectionate. I have foundit out gradually. You would suffer things for any one you loved. "

Octavia thought the matter over. 

"Yes, " she said at length, "I would. "

"You are very fond of Miss Bassett, " proceeded Lucia, as if arraigningher at the bar of justice. "You are _very_ fond of your father; and I amsure there are other people you are very fond of--_very_ fond of indeed. "

Octavia pondered seriously again. 

"Yes, there are, " she remarked; "but no one would care about them here, and so I'm not going to make a fuss. You don't want to make a fuss overpeople you l-like. "

"_You_ don't, " said Lucia. "You are like Francis Barold in one way, butyou are altogether different in another. Francis Barold does not wish toshow emotion; and he is so determined to hedge himself around, that onecan't help suspecting that he is always guarding himself against one. Heseems always to be resenting any interference; but you do not appear tocare at all, and so it is not natural that one should suspect you. I didnot suspect you. "

"What do you suspect me of now?"

"Of thinking a great deal, " answered Lucia affectionately. "And of beingvery clever and very good. "

Octavia was silent for a few moments. 

"I think, " she said after the pause, --"I think you'll find out that it'sa mistake. "

"No, I shall not, " returned Lucia, quite glowing with enthusiasm. "And Iknow I shall learn a great deal from you. "

This was such a startling proposition that Octavia felt decidedlyuncomfortable. She flushed rosy red. 

"I'm the one who ought to learn things, I think, " she said. "I'm alwaysdoing things that frighten aunt Belinda, and you know how the restregard me. "

"Octavia, " said Lucia, very naively indeed, "suppose we try to help eachother. If you will tell me when I am wrong, I will try to--to have thecourage to tell you. That will be good practice for me. What I want mostis courage and frankness, and I am sure it will take courage to make upmy mind to tell you of your--of your mistakes. "

Octavia regarded her with mingled admiration and respect. 

"I think that's a splendid idea, " she said. 

"Are you sure, " faltered Lucia, "are you sure you won't mind thethings I may have to say? Really, they are quite little things inthemselves--hardly worth mentioning"--

"Tell me one of them, right now, " said Octavia, point-blank. 

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Lucia, starting. "I'd rather not--just now. "

"Well, " commented Octavia, "that sounds as if they must be prettyunpleasant. Why don't you want to? They will be quite as bad to-morrow. And to refuse to tell me one is a bad beginning. It looks as if you werefrightened; and it isn't good practice for you to be frightened at such alittle thing. "

Lucia felt convicted. She made an effort to regain her composure. 

"No, it is not, " she said. "But that is always the way. I am continuallytelling myself that I _will_ be courageous and candid; and, the firsttime any thing happens, I fail. I _will_ tell you one thing. "

She stopped short here, and looked at Octavia guiltily. 

"It is something--I think I would do if--if I were in your place, " Luciastammered. "A very little thing indeed. "

"Well?" remarked Octavia anxiously. 

Lucia lost her breath, caught it again, and proceeded cautiously, andwith blushes at her own daring. 

"If I were in your place, " she said, "I think--that, perhaps--onlyperhaps, you know--I would not wear--my hair--_quite_ so low down--overmy forehead. "

Octavia sprang from her seat, and ran to the pier-glass over the mantle. She glanced at the reflection of her own startled, pretty face, andthen, putting her hand up to the soft blonde "bang" which met her brows, turned to Lucia. 

"Isn't it becoming?" she asked breathlessly. 

"Oh, yes!" Lucia answered. "Very. "

Octavia started. 

"Then, why wouldn't you wear it?" she cried. "What do you mean?"

Lucia felt her position truly a delicate one. She locked her hands, andbraced herself; but she blushed vividly. 

"It may sound rather silly when I tell you why, Octavia, " she said; "butI really do think it is a sort of reason. You know, in those absurdpictures of actresses, bangs always seem to be the principal feature. Isaw some in the shop-windows when I went to Harriford with grandmamma. And they were such dreadful women, --some of them, --and had so very fewclothes on, that I can't help thinking I shouldn't like to look likethem, and"--

"Does it make me look like them?"

"Oh, very little!" answered Lucia; "very little indeed, of course; but"--

"But it's the same thing after all, " put in Octavia. "That's what youmean. "

"It is so very little, " faltered Lucia, "that--that perhaps it isn'ta reason. "

Octavia looked at herself in the glass again. 

"It isn't a very good reason, " she remarked, "but I suppose it will do. "

She paused, and looked Lucia in the face. 

"I don't think that's a little thing, " she said. "To be told you looklike an _opéra bouffe_ actress. "

"I did not mean to say so, " cried Lucia, filled with the most poignantdistress. "I beg your pardon, indeed--I--oh, dear! I was afraid youwouldn't like it. I felt that it was taking a great liberty. "

"I don't like it, " answered Octavia; "but that can't be helped. I didn'texactly suppose I should. But I wasn't going to say any thing about_your_ hair when _I_ began, " glancing at poor Lucia's coiffure, "though Isuppose I might. "

"You might say a thousand things about it!" cried Lucia piteously. "Iknow that mine is not only in bad taste, but it is ugly and unbecoming. ""Yes, " said Octavia cruelly, "it is. "

"And yours is neither the one nor the other, " protested Lucia. "You knowI told you it was pretty, Octavia. "

Octavia walked over to the table, upon which stood Miss Belinda'swork-basket, and took therefrom a small and gleaming pair of scissors, returning to the mantle-glass with them. 

"How short shall I cut it?" she demanded. 

"Oh!" exclaimed Lucia, "don't, don't!"

For answer, Octavia raised the scissors, and gave a snip. It was a savagesnip, and half the length and width of her love-locks fell on the mantle;then she gave another snip, and the other half fell. 

Lucia scarcely dared to breathe. 

For a moment Octavia stood gazing at herself, with pale face and dilatedeyes. Then suddenly the folly of the deed she had done seemed to revealitself to her. 

"Oh!" she cried out. "Oh, how diabolical it looks!"

She turned upon Lucia. 

"Why did you make me do it?" she exclaimed. "It's all your fault--everybit of it;" and, flinging the scissors to the other end of the room, shethrew herself into a chair, and burst into tears. 

Lucia's anguish of mind was almost more than she could bear. For at leastthree minutes she felt herself a criminal of the deepest dye; after thethree minutes had elapsed, however, she began to reason, and called tomind the fact that she was failing as usual under her crisis. 

"This is being a coward again, " she said to herself. "It is worse than tohave said nothing. It is true that she will look more refined, now onecan see a little of her forehead; and it is cowardly to be afraid tostand firm when I really think so. I--yes, I will say something to her. "

"Octavia, " she began aloud, "I am sure you are making a mistake again. "This as decidedly as possible, which was not very decidedly. "You--youlook very much--nicer. "

"I look _ghastly_!" said Octavia, who began to feel rather absurd. 

"You do not. Your forehead--you have the prettiest forehead I ever saw, Octavia, " said Lucia eagerly; "and your eyebrows are perfect. I--wish youwould look at yourself again. "

Rather to her surprise, Octavia began to laugh under cover of herhandkerchief: reaction had set in, and, though the laugh was a triflehysterical, it was still a laugh. Next she gave her eyes a final littledab, and rose to go to the glass again. She looked at herself, touched upthe short, waving fringe left on her forehead, and turned to Lucia, witha resigned expression. 

"Do you think that any one who was used to seeing it the other waywould--would think I looked horrid?" she inquired anxiously. 

"They would think you prettier, --a great deal, " Lucia answered earnestly. "Don't you know, Octavia, that nothing could be really unbecoming to you?You have that kind of face. "

For a few seconds Octavia seemed to lose herself in thought of aspeculative nature. 

"Jack always said so, " she remarked at length. 

"Jack!" repeated Lucia timidly. 

Octavia roused herself, and smiled with candid sweetness. 

"He is some one I knew in Nevada, " she explained. "He worked in father'smine once. "

"You must have known him very well, " suggested Lucia, somewhat awed. 

"I did, " she replied calmly. "Very well. "

She tucked away her pocket-handkerchief in the jaunty pocket at the backof her basque, and returned to her chair. Then she turned again to Lucia. 

"Well, " she said, "I think you have found out that you _were_ mistaken, haven't you, dear? Suppose you tell me of something else. "

Lucia colored. 

"No, " she answered: "that is enough for to-day. "

CHAPTER XX. 

PECULIAR TO NEVADA. 

Whether, or not, Lucia was right in accusing Octavia Bassett of beingclever, and thinking a great deal, is a riddle which those who areinterested in her must unravel as they read; but, whether the surmise wascorrect or incorrect, it seemed possible that she had thought a littleafter the interview. When Barold saw her next, he was struck by a slightbut distinctly definable change he recognized in her dress and coiffure. Her pretty hair had a rather less "professional" appearance: he had thepleasure of observing, for the first time, how very white her foreheadwas, and how delicate the arch of her eyebrows; her dress had a novel airof simplicity, and the diamond rings were nowhere to be seen. 

"She's better dressed than usual, " he said to himself. "And she's alwayswell dressed, --rather too well dressed, fact is, for a place like this. This sort of thing is in better form, under the circumstances. " It wasso much "better form, " and he so far approved of it, that he quitethawed, and was very amiable and very entertaining indeed. 

Octavia was entertaining too. She asked several most interestingquestions. 

"Do you think, " she inquired, "that it is bad taste to wear diamonds?"

"My mother wears them--occasionally. "

"Have you any sisters?"

"No. "

"Any cousins--as young as I am?"

"Ya-as. "

"Do they wear them?"

"I must admit, " he replied, "that they don't. In the first place, youknow, they haven't any; and, in the second, I am under the impressionthat Lady Beauchamp--their mamma, you know--wouldn't permit it if theyhad. "

"Wouldn't permit it!" said Octavia. "I suppose they always do as shetells them?"

He smiled a little. 

"They would be very courageous young women if they didn't, " he remarked. 

"What would she do if they tried it?" she inquired. "She couldn't beatthem. "

"They will never try it, " he answered dryly. "And though I have neverseen her beat them, or heard their lamentations under chastisement, Ishould not like to say that Lady Beauchamp could not do any thing. She isa very determined person--for a gentlewoman. "

Octavia laughed. 

"You are joking, " she said. 

"Lady Beauchamp is a serious subject for jokes, " he responded. "Mycousins think so, at least. "

"I wonder if she is as bad as Lady Theobald, " Octavia reflected aloud. "She says I have no right to wear diamonds at all until I am married. ButI don't mind Lady Theobald, " she added, as a cheerful afterthought. "I amnot fond enough of her to care about what she says. "

"Are you fond of any one?" Barold inquired, speaking with a languid air, but at the same time glancing at her with some slight interest from underhis eyelids. 

"Lucia says I am, " she returned, with the calmness of a young person whowished to regard the matter from an unembarrassed point of view. "Luciasays I am affectionate. "

"Ah!" deliberately. "Are you?"

She turned, and looked at him serenely. 

"Should _you_ think so?" she asked. 

This was making such a personal matter of the question, that he did notexactly enjoy it. It was certainly not "good form" to pull a man up insuch cool style. 

"Really, " he replied, "I--ah--have had no opportunity of judging. "

He had not the slightest intention of being amusing, but to his infinitedisgust he discovered as soon as he spoke that she was amused. Shelaughed outright, and evidently only checked herself because he looked sofurious. In consideration for his feelings she assumed an air of mild butpreternatural seriousness. 

"No, " she remarked, "that is true: you haven't, of course. "

He was silent. He did not enjoy being amusing at all, and he made nopretence of appearing to submit to the indignity calmly. 

She bent forward a little. 

"Ah!" she exclaimed, "you are mad again--I mean, you are vexed. I amalways vexing you. "

There was a hint of appeal in her voice, which rather pleased him; but hehad no intention of relenting at once. 

"I confess I am at a loss to know why you laughed, " he said. 

"Are you, " she asked, "really?" letting her eyes rest upon him anxiouslyfor a moment. Then she actually gave vent to a little sigh. "We look atthings so differently, that's it, " she said. 

"I suppose it is, " he responded, still chillingly. 

In spite of this, she suddenly assumed a comparatively cheerful aspect. Ahappy thought occurred to her. 

"Lucia would beg your pardon, " she said. "I am learning good manners fromLucia. Suppose I beg your pardon. "

"It is quite unnecessary, " he replied. 

"Lucia wouldn't think so, " she said. "And why shouldn't I be aswell-behaved as Lucia? I beg your pardon. "

He felt rather absurd, and yet somewhat mollified. She had a way oflooking at him, sometimes, when she had been unpleasant, which rathersoothed him. In fact, he had found of late, a little to his privateannoyance, that it was very easy for her either to soothe or disturb him. 

And now, just as Octavia had settled down into one of the prettiest andleast difficult of her moods, there came a knock at the front door, which, being answered by Mary Anne, was found to announce the curate ofSt. James. 

Enter, consequently, the Rev. Arthur Poppleton, --blushing, a trifletimorous perhaps, but happy beyond measure to find himself in MissBelinda's parlor again, with Miss Belinda's niece. 

Perhaps the least possible shade of his joyousness died out when hecaught sight of Mr. Francis Barold, and certainly Mr. Francis Barold wasnot at all delighted to see him. 

"What does the fellow want?" that gentleman was saying inwardly. "Whatdoes he come simpering and turning pink here for? Why doesn't he go andsee some of his old women, and read tracts to them? That's _his_business. " Octavia's manner toward her visitor formed a freshgrievance for Barold. She treated the curate very well indeed. Sheseemed glad to see him, she was wholly at her ease with him, she made notrying remarks to him, she never stopped to fix her eyes upon him inthat inexplicable style, and she did not laugh when there seemed nothingto laugh at. She was so gay and good-humored that the Rev. ArthurPoppleton beamed and flourished under her treatment, and forgot tochange color, and even ventured to talk a good deal, and make diversquite presentable little jokes. 

"I should like to know, " thought Barold, growing sulkier as the othersgrew merrier, --"I should like to know what she finds so interesting inhim, and why she chooses to treat him better than she treats me; for shecertainly does treat him better. "

It was hardly fair, however, that he should complain; for, at times, hewas treated extremely well, and his intimacy with Octavia progressedquite rapidly. Perhaps, if the truth were told, it was always himself whowas the first means of checking it, by some suddenly prudent instinctwhich led him to feel that perhaps he was in rather a delicate position, and had better not indulge in too much of a good thing. He had not beenan eligible and unimpeachable desirable _parti_ for ten years withoutacquiring some of that discretion which is said to be the better part ofvalor. The matter-of-fact air with which Octavia accepted his attentionscaused him to pull himself up sometimes. If he had been Brown, or Jones, or even Robinson, she could not have appeared to regard them as moreentirely natural. When--he had gone so far, once or twice--he had deignedto make a more than usually agreeable speech to her, it was received withnone of that charming sensitive tremor to which he was accustomed. Octavia neither blushed, nor dropped her eyes. 

It did not add to Barold's satisfaction to find her as cheerful and readyto be amused by a mild little curate, who blushed and stammered, and wasneither brilliant, graceful, nor distinguished. Could not Octavia see thewide difference between the two? Regarding the matter in this light, andwatching Octavia as she encouraged her visitor, and laughed at his jokes, and never once tripped him up by asking him a startling question, didnot, as already has been said, improve Mr. Francis Barold's temper; and, by the time his visit was over, he had lapsed into his coldest and mosthaughty manner. As soon as Miss Belinda entered, and engaged Mr. Poppleton for a moment, he rose, and crossed the little room to Octavia'sside. 

"I must bid you good-afternoon, " he said. 

Octavia did not rise. 

"Sit down a minute, while aunt Belinda is talking about red-flannelnightcaps and lumbago, " she said. "I wanted to ask you something. By theway, what _is_ lumbago?"

"Is that what you wished to ask me?" he inquired stiffly. 

"No. I just thought of that. Have you ever had it? and what is it like?All the old people in Slowbridge have it, and they tell you all about itwhen you go to see them. Aunt Belinda says so. What I wanted to ask youwas different"--

"Possibly Miss Bassett might be able to tell you, " he remarked. 

"About the lumbago? Well, perhaps she might. I'll ask her. Do you thinkit bad taste in _me_ to wear diamonds?"

She said this with the most delightful seriousness, fixing her eyes uponhim with her very prettiest look of candid appeal, as if it were the mostnatural thing in the world that she should apply to him for information. He felt himself faltering again. How white that bit of forehead was! Howsoft that blonde, waving fringe of hair! What a lovely shape her eyeswere, and how large and clear as she raised them!

"Why do you ask _me_?" he inquired. 

"Because I think you are an unprejudiced person. Lady Theobald is not. Ihave confidence in you. Tell me. "

There was a slight pause. 

"Really, " he said, after it, "I can scarcely believe that my opinion canbe of any value in your eyes. I am--can only tell you that it is hardlycustomary in--an--in England for young people to wear a profusion ofornament. "

"I wonder if I wear a profusion. "

"You don't need any, " he condescended. "You are too young, and--all thatsort of thing. "

She glanced down at her slim, unringed hands for a moment, her expressionquite thoughtful. 

"Lucia and I almost quarrelled the other day, " she said--"at least, Ialmost quarrelled. It isn't so nice to be told of things, after all. Imust say I don't like it as much as I thought I should. "

He kept his seat longer than, he had intended; and, when he rose to go, the Rev. Arthur Poppleton was shaking hands with Miss Belinda, and so itfell out that they left the house together. 

"You know Miss Octavia Bassett well, I suppose, " remarked Barold, withcondescension, as they passed through the gate. "You clergymen arefortunate fellows. "

"I wish that others knew her as well, sir, " said the little gentleman, kindling. "I wish they knew her--her generosity and kindness of heart andready sympathy with misfortune!"

"Ah!" commented Mr. Barold, twisting his mustache with somewhat of anincredulous air. This was not at all the sort of thing he had expected tohear. For his own part, it would not have occurred to him to suspect herof the possession of such desirable and orthodox qualities. 

"There are those who--misunderstand her, " cried the curate, warming withhis subject, "who misunderstand, and--yes, and apply harsh terms to herinnocent gayety and freedom of speech: if they knew her as I do, theywould cease to do so. "

"I should scarcely have thought"--began Barold. 

"There are many who scarcely think it, --if you will pardon myinterrupting you, " said the curate. "I think they would scarcely believeit if I felt at liberty to tell them, which I regret to say I do not. Iam almost breaking my word in saying what I cannot help saying toyourself. The poor under my care are better off since she came, and thereare some who have seen her more than once, though she did not go as ateacher or to reprove them for faults; and her way of doing what she didwas new to them, and perhaps much less serious than they were accustomedto, and they liked it all the better. "

"Ah!" commented Barold again. "Flannel under-garments, and--that sortof thing. "

"No, " with much spirit, "not at all, sir; but what, as I said, they likedmuch better. It is not often they meet a beautiful creature who comesamong them with open hands, and the natural, ungrudging way of givingwhich she has. Sometimes they are at a loss to understand, as well as therest. They have been used to what is narrower and more--more exacting. "

"They have been used to Lady Theobald, " observed Barold, with a faintsmile. 

"It would not become me to--to mention Lady Theobald in any disparagingmanner, " replied the curate: "but the best and most charitable among usdo not always carry out our good intentions in the best way. I dare sayLady Theobald would consider Miss Octavia Bassett too readily influencedand too lavish. "

"She is as generous with her money as with her diamonds perhaps, " saidBarold. "Possibly the quality is peculiar to Nevada. We part here, Mr. Poppleton, I believe. Good-morning. "

CHAPTER XXI. 

LORD LANSDOWNE. 

One morning in the following week Mrs. Burnham attired herself in hersecond-best black silk, and, leaving the Misses Burnham practisingdiligently, turned her steps toward Oldclough Hall. Arriving there, shewas ushered into the blue drawing-room by Dobson, in his character offootman; and in a few minutes Lucia appeared. 

When Mrs. Burnham saw her, she assumed a slight air of surprise. 

"Why, my dear, " she said, as she shook hands, "I should scarcely haveknown you. "

And, though this was something of an exaggeration, there was some excusefor the exclamation. Lucia was looking very charming, and several changesmight be noted in her attire and appearance. The ugly twist haddisappeared from her delicate head; and in its place were soft, loosewaves and light puffs; she had even ventured on allowing a few ringedlocks to stray on to her forehead; her white morning-dress no longer worethe trade-mark of Miss Chickie, but had been remodelled by some one ofmore taste. 

"What a pretty gown, my dear!" said Mrs. Burnham, glancing at itcuriously. "A Watteau plait down the back--isn't it a Watteau plait?--andlittle ruffles down the front, and pale pink bows. It is quite like someof Miss Octavia Bassett's dresses, only not so over-trimmed. "

"I do not think Octavia's dresses would seem over-trimmed if she worethem in London or Paris, " said Lucia bravely. "It is only because we areso very quiet, and dress so little in Slowbridge, that they seem so. "

"And your hair!" remarked Mrs. Burnham. "You drew your idea of that fromsome style of hers, I suppose. Very becoming, indeed. Well, well! And howdoes Lady Theobald like all this, my dear?"

"I am not sure that"--Lucia was beginning, when her ladyship interruptedher by entering. 

"My dear Lady Theobald, " cried her visitor, rising, "I hope you are well. I have just been complimenting Lucia upon her pretty dress, and her newstyle of dressing her hair. Miss Octavia Bassett has been giving her thebenefit of her experience, it appears. We have not been doing herjustice. Who would have believed that she had come from Nevada to improveus?"

"Miss Octavia Bassett, " said my lady sonorously, "has come from Nevada toteach our young people a great many things, --new fashions in duty, anddemeanor, and respect for their elders. Let us hope they will bebenefited. "

"If you will excuse me, grandmamma, " said Lucia, speaking in a soft, steady voice, "I will go and write the letters you wished written. "

"Go, " said my lady with majesty; and, having bidden Mrs. Burnhamgood-morning, Lucia went. 

If Mrs. Burnham had expected any explanation of her ladyship's evidentdispleasure, she was doomed to disappointment. That excellent andrigorous gentlewoman had a stern sense of dignity, which forbade hercondescending to the confidential weakness of mere ordinary mortals. Instead of referring to Lucia, she broached a more commonplace topic. 

"I hope your rheumatism does not threaten you again, Mrs. Burnham, "she remarked. 

"I am very well, thank you, my dear, " said Mrs. Burnham; "so well, that Iam thinking quite seriously of taking the dear girls to the garden-party, when it comes off. "

"To the garden-party!" repeated her ladyship. "May I ask who thinks ofgiving a garden-party in Slowbridge?"

"It is no one in Slowbridge, " replied this lady cheerfully. "Some one wholives a little out of Slowbridge, --Mr. Burmistone, my dear Lady Theobald, at his new place. "

"Mr. Burmistone!"

"Yes, my dear; and a most charming affair it is to be, if we are tobelieve all we hear. Surely you have heard something of it from Mr. Barold. "

"Mr. Barold has not been to Oldclough for several days. "

"Then, he will tell you when he comes; for I suppose he has as much to dowith it as Mr. Burmistone. "

"I have heard before, " announced my lady, "of men of Mr. Burmistone'sclass securing the services of persons of established position in societywhen they wished to spend their money upon entertainments; but I shouldscarcely have imagined that Francis Barold would have allowed himself tobe made a party to such a transaction. "

"But, " put in Mrs. Burnham rather eagerly, "it appears that Mr. Burmistone is not such an obscure person, after all. He is an Oxford man, and came off with honors: he is quite a well-born man, and gives thisentertainment in honor of his friend and relation, Lord Lansdowne. "

"Lord Lansdowne!" echoed her ladyship, sternly. 

"Son of the Marquis of Lauderdale, whose wife was Lady Honora Erroll. "

"Did Mr. Burmistone give you this information?" asked Lady Theobald withironic calmness. 

Mrs. Burnham colored never so faintly. 

"I--that is to say--there is a sort of acquaintance between one of mymaids and the butler at the Burmistone place; and, when the girl wasdoing Lydia's hair, she told her the story. Lord Lansdowne and his fatherare quite fond of Mr. Burmistone, it is said. "

"It seems rather singular to my mind that we should not have known ofthis before. "

"But how should we learn? We none of us know Lord Lansdowne, or even themarquis. I think he is only a second or third cousin. We are alittle--just a little _set_ in Slowbridge, you know, my dear: at least, Ihave thought so sometimes lately. "

"I must confess, " remarked my lady, "that _I_ have not regarded thematter in that light. "

"That is because you have a better right to--to be a little set than therest of us, " was the amiable response. 

Lady Theobald did not disclaim the privilege. She felt the sentiment anextremely correct one. But she was not very warm in her manner during theremainder of the call; and, incongruous as such a statement may appear, it must be confessed that she felt that Miss Octavia Bassett must havesomething to do with, these defections on all sides, and thatgarden-parties, and all such swervings from established Slowbridgecustom, were the natural result of Nevada frivolity and freedom ofmanners. It may be that she felt remotely that even Lord Lansdowne andthe Marquis of Lauderdale were to be referred to the same reprehensiblecause, and that, but for Octavia Bassett, Mr. Burmistone would not havebeen educated at Oxford and have come off with honors, and have turnedout to be related to respectable people, but would have remained inappropriate obscurity. 

"I suppose, " she said afterward to Lucia, "that your friend Miss OctaviaBassett is in Mr. Burmistone's confidence, if no one else has beenpermitted to have that honor. I have no doubt _she_ has known of thisapproaching entertainment for some weeks. "

"I do not know, grandmamma, " replied Lucia, putting her letters together, and gaining color as she bent over them. She was wondering, with inwardtrepidation, what her ladyship would say if she knew the whole truth, --ifshe knew that it was her granddaughter, and not Octavia Bassett, whoenjoyed Mr. Burmistone's confidence. 

"Ah!" she thought, "how could I ever dare to tell her?"

The same day Francis Barold sauntered up to pay them a visit; and then, as Mrs. Burnham had prophesied, Lady Theobald heard all she wished tohear, and, indeed, a great deal more. 

"What is this I am told of Mr. Burmistone, Francis?" she inquired. "That he intends to give a garden-party, and that Lord Lansdowne is tobe one of the guests, and that he has caused it to be circulated thatthey are cousins. "

"That Lansdowne has caused it to be circulated--or Burmistone?"

"It is scarcely likely that Lord Lansdowne"--

"Beg pardon, " he interrupted, fixing his single glass dexterously in hisright eye, and gazing at her ladyship through it. "Can't see whyLansdowne should object. Fact is, he is a great deal fonder of Burmistonethan relations usually are of each other. Now, I often find that kind ofthing a bore; but Lansdowne doesn't seem to. They were at schooltogether, it seems, and at Oxford too; and Burmistone is supposed to havebehaved pretty well towards Lansdowne at one time, when he was rather awild fellow--so the father and mother say. As to Burmistone 'causing itto be circulated, ' that sort of thing is rather absurd. The man isn't acad, you know. "

"Pray don't say 'you know, ' Francis, " said her ladyship. "I know verylittle but what I have chanced to see, and I must confess I have notbeen prepossessed in Mr. Burmistone's favor. Why did he not choose toinform us"--

"That he was Lord Lansdowne's second cousin, and knew the Marquis ofLauderdale, grandmamma?" broke in Lucia, with very pretty spirit. "Wouldthat have prepossessed you in his favor? Would you have forgiven him forbuilding the mills, on Lord Lansdowne's account? I--I wish I was relatedto a marquis, " which was very bold indeed. 

"May I ask, " said her ladyship, in her most monumental manner, "when_you_ became Mr. Burmistone's champion?"

CHAPTER XXII. 

"YOU HAVE MADE IT LIVELIER. "

When she had become Mr. Burmistone's champion, indeed! She could scarcelyhave told when, unless, perhaps, she had fixed the date at the first timeshe had heard his name introduced at a high tea, with every politelyopprobrious epithet affixed. She had defended him in her own mind then, and felt sure that he deserved very little that was said against him, andvery likely nothing at all. And, the first time she had seen and spokento him, she had been convinced that she had not made a mistake, and thathe had been treated with cruel injustice. How kind he was, how manly, howclever, and how well he bore himself under the popular adverse criticism!She only wondered that anybody could be so blind and stupid and wilful asto assail him. 

And if this had been the case in those early days, imagine what she feltnow, when--ah, well!--when her friendship had had time and opportunity tobecome a much deeper sentiment. Must it be confessed that she had seenMr. Burmistone even oftener than Octavia and Miss Belinda knew of? Ofcourse it had all been quite accidental; but it had happened that now andthen, when she had been taking a quiet walk in the lanes about Oldclough, she had encountered a gentleman, who had dismounted, and led his horse bythe bridle, as he sauntered by her side. She had always been very timidat such times, and had felt rather like a criminal; but Mr. Burmistonehad not been timid at all, and would, indeed, as soon have met LadyTheobald as not, for which courage his companion admired him more thanever. It was not very long before to be with this hero re-assured her, and made her feel stronger and more self-reliant. She was never afraid toopen her soft little heart to him, and show him innocently all itsgoodness, and ignorance of worldliness. She warmed and brightened underhis kindly influence, and was often surprised in secret at her own simplereadiness of wit and speech. 

"It is odd that I am such a different girl when--when I am with you, " shesaid to him one day. "I even make little jokes. I never should think ofmaking even the tiniest joke before grandmamma. Somehow, she never seemsquite to understand jokes. She never laughs at them. You always laugh, and I am sure it is very kind of you to encourage me so; but you must notencourage me too much, or I might forget, and make a little joke atdinner, and I think, if I did, she would choke over her soup. "

Perhaps, when she dressed her hair, and adorned herself with pale pinkbows and like appurtenances, this artful young person had privately inmind other beholders than Mrs. Burnham, and other commendation than thatto be bestowed by that most excellent matron. 

"Do you mind my telling you that you have put on an enchanted garment?"said Mr. Burmistone, the first time they met when she wore one of theold-new gowns. "I thought I knew before how"--

"I don't mind it at all, " said Lucia, blushing brilliantly. "I ratherlike it. It rewards me for my industry. My hair is dressed in a new way. I hope you like that too. Grandmamma does not. "

It had been Lady Theobald's habit to treat Lucia severely from a sense ofduty. Her manner toward her had always rather the tone of implying thatshe was naturally at fault, and yet her ladyship could not have toldwherein she wished the girl changed. In the good old school in which mylady had been trained, it was customary to regard young people as weak, foolish, and, if left to their own desires, frequently sinful. Lucia hadnot been left to her own desires. She had been taught to view herself asrather a bad case, and to feel that she was far from being what herrelatives had a right to expect. To be thrown with a person who did notfind her silly or dull or commonplace, was a new experience. 

"If I had been clever, " Lucia said once to Mr. Burmistone, --"if I hadbeen clever, perhaps grandmamma would have been more satisfied with me. Ihave often wished I had been clever. "

"If you had been a boy, " replied Mr. Burmistone rather grimly, "and hadsquandered her money, and run into debt, and bullied her, you would havebeen her idol, and she would have pinched and starved herself to supplyyour highness's extravagance. "

When the garden-party rumor began to take definite form, and there was nodoubt as to Mr. Burmistone's intentions, a discussion arose at once, andwent on in every genteel parlor. Would Lady Theobald allow Lucia to go?and, if she did not allow her, would not such a course appear verypointed indeed? It was universally decided that it would appear pointed, but that Lady Theobald would not mind that in the least, and perhapswould rather enjoy it than otherwise; and it was thought Lucia would notgo. And it is very likely that Lucia would have remained at home, if ithad not been for the influence of Mr. Francis Barold. 

Making a call at Oldclough, he found his august relative in a verymajestic mood, and she applied to him again for information. 

"Perhaps, " she said, "you may be able to tell me whether it is true thatBelinda Bassett--_Belinda Bassett_, " with emphasis, "has been invited byMr. Burmistone to assist him to receive his guests. "

"Yes, it is true, " was the reply: "I think I advised it myself. Burmistone is fond of her. They are great friends. Man needs a woman atsuch times. "

"And he chose Belinda Bassett?"

"In the first place, he is on friendly terms with her, as I said before, "replied Barold; "in the second, she's just what he wants--well-bred, kind-hearted, not likely to make rows, _et caetera_. " There was a slightpause before he finished, adding quietly, "He's not the man to submit tobeing refused--Burmistone. "

Lady Theobald did not reply, or raise her eyes from her work: she knew hewas looking at her with calm fixedness, through the glass he held in itsplace so cleverly; and she detested this more than any thing else, perhaps because she was invariably quelled by it, and found she hadnothing to say. 

He did not address her again immediately, but turned to Lucia, droppingthe eyeglass, and resuming his normal condition. 

"You will go, of course?" he said. 

Lucia glanced across at my lady. 

"I--do not know. Grandmamma"--

"Oh!" interposed Barold, "you must go. There is no reason for yourrefusing the invitation, unless you wish to imply somethingunpleasant--which is, of course, out of the question. "

"But there may be reasons"--began her ladyship. 

"Burmistone is my friend, " put in Barold, in his coolest tone; "and I amyour relative, which would make my position in his house a delicate one, if he has offended you. "

When Lucia saw Octavia again, she was able to tell her that they hadreceived invitations to the _fête_, and that Lady Theobald had acceptedthem. 

"She has not spoken a word to me about it, but she has accepted them, "said Lucia. "I don't quite understand her lately, Octavia. She must bevery fond of Francis Barold. He never gives way to her in the least, andshe always seems to submit to him. I know she would not have let me go, if he had not insisted on it, in that taking-it-for-granted way of his. "

Naturally Mr. Burmistone's _fête_ caused great excitement. Miss Chickiewas never so busy in her life, and there were rumors that her feelingshad been outraged by the discovery that Mrs. Burnham had sent toHarriford for costumes for her daughters. 

"Slowbridge is changing, mem, " said Miss Chickie. With brilliant sarcasm. "Our ladies is led in their fashions by a Nevada young person. We'reimproving most rapid--more rapid than I'd ever have dared to hope. Do youprefer a frill, or a flounce, mem?"

Octavia was in great good spirits at the prospect of the gayeties inquestion. She had been in remarkably good spirits for some weeks. She hadreceived letters from Nevada, containing good news she said. Shares hadgone up again; and her father had almost settled his affairs, and itwould not be long before he would come to England. She looked soexhilarated over the matter, that Lucia felt a little aggrieved. "Willyou be so glad to leave us, Octavia?" she asked. "We shall not be so gladto let you go. We have grown very fond of you. "

"I shall be sorry to leave you, and aunt Belinda is going with us. Youdon't expect me to be very fond of Slowbridge, do you, and to be sorry Ican't take Mrs. Burnham--and the rest?"

Barold was present when she made this speech, and it rather rankled. 

"Am I one of 'the rest'?" he inquired, the first time he found himselfalone with her. He was sufficiently piqued to forget his usual _hauteur_and discretion. 

"Would you like to be?" she said. 

"Oh! Very much--very much--naturally, " he replied severely. 

They were standing near a rose-bush in the garden; and she plucked arose, and regarded it with deep interest. 

"Well, " she said, next, "I must say I think I shouldn't have had such agood time if you hadn't been here. You have made it livelier. "

"Tha-anks, " he remarked. "You are most kind. "

"Oh!" she answered, "it's true. If it wasn't, I shouldn't say it. You andMr. Burmistone and Mr. Poppleton have certainly made it livelier. "

He went home in such a bad humor that his host, who was rather happierthan usual, commented upon his grave aspect at dinner. 

"You look as if you had heard ill news, old fellow, " he said. "What'sup?"

"Oh, nothing!" he was answered sardonically; "nothing whatever--unlessthat I have been rather snubbed by a young lady from Nevada. "

"Ah!" with great seriousness: "that's rather cool, isn't it?"

"It's her little way, " said Barold. "It seems to be one of the customsof Nevada. "

In fact, he was very savage indeed. He felt that he had condescended agood deal lately. He seldom bestowed his time on women; and when he didso, at rare intervals, he chose those who would do the most honor to histaste at the least cost of trouble. And he was obliged to confess tohimself that he had broken his rule in this case. Upon analyzing hismotives and necessities, he found, that, after all, he must have extendedhis visit simply because he chose to see more of this young woman fromNevada, and that really, upon the whole, he had borne a good deal fromher. Sometimes he had been much pleased with her, and very wellentertained; but often enough--in fact, rather too often--she had madehim exceedingly uncomfortable. Her manners were not what he wasaccustomed to: she did not consider that all men were not to be regardedfrom the same point of view. Perhaps he did not put into definite wordsthe noble and patriotic sentiment that an Englishman was not to beregarded from the same point of view as an American, and that, though allthis sort of thing might do with fellows in New York, it was scarcelywhat an Englishman would stand. Perhaps, as I say, he had not put thissentiment into words; but it is quite certain that it had been uppermostin his mind upon more occasions than one. As he thought theiracquaintance over, this evening, he was rather severe upon Octavia. Heeven was roused so far as to condescend to talk her over with Burmistone. 

"If she had been well brought up, " he said, "she would have been adifferent creature. "

"Very different, I have no doubt, " said Burmistone thoughtfully. "Whenyou say well brought up, by the way, do you mean brought up like yourcousin, Miss Gaston?"

"There is a medium, " said Barold loftily. "I regret to say Lady Theobaldhas not hit upon it. "

"Well, as you say, " commented Mr. Burmistone, "I suppose there is amedium. "

"A charming wife she would make, for a man with a position to maintain, "remarked Barold, with a short and somewhat savage laugh. 

"Octavia Bassett?" queried Burmistone. "That's true. But I am afraid shewouldn't enjoy it--if you are supposing the man to be an Englishman, brought up in the regulation groove. "

"Ah!" exclaimed Barold impatiently: "I was not looking at it from herpoint of view, but from his. "

Mr. Burmistone slipped his hands in his pockets, and jingled his keysslightly, as he did once before in an earlier part of this narrative. 

"Ah! from his, " he repeated. "Not from hers. His point of view woulddiffer from hers--naturally. "

Barold flashed a little, and took his cigar from his mouth to knock offthe ashes. 

"A man is not necessarily a snob, " he said, "because he is cool enoughnot to lose his head where a woman is concerned. You can't marry a womanwho will make mistakes, and attract universal attention by her conduct. "

"Has it struck you that Octavia Bassett would?" inquired Burmistone. 

"She would do as she chose, " said Barold petulantly. "She would do thingswhich were unusual; but I was not referring to her in particular. Whyshould I?"

"Ah!" said Burmistone. "I only thought of her because it did not strikeme that one would ever feel she had exactly blundered. She is not easilyembarrassed. There is a _sang-froid_ about her which carries things off. "

"Ah!" deigned Barold: "she has _sang-froid_ enough and to spare. "

He was silent for some time afterward, and sat smoking later than usual. When he was about to leave the room for the night, he made anannouncement for which his host was not altogether prepared. 

"When the _fête_ is over, my dear fellow, " he said, "I must go back toLondon, and I shall be deucedly sorry to do it. "

"Look here!" said Burmistone, "that's a new idea, isn't it?"

"No, an old one; but I have been putting the thing off from day to day. By Jove! I did not think it likely that I should put it off, the day Ilanded here. "

And he laughed rather uneasily. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

"MAY I GO?"

The very day after this, Octavia opened the fourth trunk. She had had itbrought down from the garret, when there came a summons on the door, andLucia Gaston appeared. 

Lucia was very pale; and her large, soft eyes wore a decidedly frightenedlook. She seemed to have walked fast, and was out of breath. Evidentlysomething had happened. 

"Octavia, " she said, "Mr. Dugald Binnie is at Oldclough. "

"Who is he?"

"He is my grand-uncle, " explained Lucia tremulously. "He has a great dealof money. Grandmamma"--She stopped short, and colored, and drew herslight figure up. "I do not quite understand grandmamma, Octavia, " shesaid. "Last night she came to my room to talk to me; and this morning shecame again, and--oh!" she broke out indignantly, "how could she speak tome in such a manner!"

"What did she say?" inquired Octavia. 

"She said a great many things, " with great spirit. "It took her a longtime to say them, and I do not wonder at it. It would have taken me ahundred years, if I had been in her place. I--I was wrong to say I didnot understand her: I did--before she had finished. "

"What did you understand?"

"She was afraid to tell me in plain words. --I never saw her afraidbefore, but she was afraid. She has been arranging my future for me, andit does not occur to her that I dare object. That is because she knows Iam a coward, and despises me for it--and it is what I deserve. If I makethe marriage she chooses, she thinks Mr. Binnie will leave me his money. I am to run after a man who does not care for me, and make myselfattractive, in the hope that he will condescend to marry me because Mr. Binnie may leave me his money. Do you wonder that it took even LadyTheobald a long time to say that?"

"Well, " remarked Octavia, "you won't do it, I suppose. I wouldn't worry. She wants you to marry Mr. Barold, I suppose. "

Lucia started. 

"How did you guess?" she exclaimed. 

"Oh! I always knew it. I didn't guess. " And she smiled ever so faintly. "That is one of the reasons why she loathes me so, " she added. 

Lucia thought deeply for a moment: she recognized, all at once, severalthings she had been mystified by before. 

"Oh, it is! It is!" she said. "And she has thought of it all the time, when I never suspected her. "

Octavia smiled a little again. Lucia sat thinking, her hands claspedtightly. 

"I am glad I came here, " she said, at length. "I _am_ angry now, and Isee things more clearly. If she had only thought of it because Mr. Binniecame, I could have forgiven her more easily; but she has been makingcoarse plans all the time, and treating me with contempt. Octavia, " sheadded, turning upon her, with flushing cheeks and sparkling eyes, "Ithink that, for the first time in my life, I am in a passion, --a realpassion. I think I shall never be afraid of her any more. " Her delicatenostrils were dilated, she held her head up, her breath came fast. Therewas a hint of exultation in her tone. "Yes, " she said, "I am in apassion. And I am not afraid of her at all. I will go home and tell herwhat I think. "

And it is quite probable that she would have done so, but for a triflingincident which occurred before she reached her ladyship. 

She walked very fast, after she left the house. She wanted to reachOldclough before one whit of her anger cooled down; though, somehow, shefelt quite sure, that, even when her anger died out, her courage wouldnot take flight with it. Mr. Dugald Binnie had not proved to be a veryfascinating person. He was an acrid, dictatorial old man: he contradictedLady Theobald flatly every five minutes, and bullied his man-servant. Butit was not against him that Lucia's indignation was aroused. She feltthat Lady Theobald was quite capable of suggesting to him that FrancisBarold would be a good match for her; and, if she had done so, it wasscarcely his fault if he had accepted the idea. She understood now whyshe had been allowed to visit Octavia, and why divers other things hadhappened. She had been sent to walk with Francis Barold; he had beenalmost reproached when he had not called; perhaps her ladyship had beengood enough to suggest to him that it was his duty to further her plans. She was as capable of that as of any thing else which would assist her togain her point. The girl's cheeks grew hotter and hotter, her eyesbrighter, at every step, because every step brought some new thought: herhands trembled, and her heart beat. 

"I shall never be afraid of her again, " she said, as she turned thecorner into the road. "Never! never!"

And at that very moment a gentleman stepped out of the wood at her right, and stopped before her. 

She started back, with a cry. 

"Mr. Burmistone!" she said: "Mr. Burmistone!"

She wondered if he had heard her last words: she fancied he had. He tookhold of her shaking little hand, and looked down at her excited face. 

"I am glad I waited for you, " he said, in the quietest possible tone. "Something is the matter. "

She knew there would be no use in trying to conceal the truth, and shewas not in the mood to make the effort. She scarcely knew herself. 

She gave quite a fierce little laugh. 

"I am angry!" she said. "You have never seen me angry before. I am on myway to my--to Lady Theobald. "

He held her hand as calmly as before. He understood a great deal morethan she could have imagined. 

"What are you going to say to her?" he asked. She laughed again. 

"I am going to ask her what she means. I am going to tell her she hasmade a mistake. I am going to prove to her that I am not such a coward, after all. I am going to tell her that I dare disobey her, --_that_ iswhat I am going to say to her, " she concluded decisively. 

He held her hand rather closer. 

"Let us take a stroll in the copse, and talk it over, " he said. "It isdeliciously cool there. "

"I don't want to be cool, " she said. But he drew her gently with him; anda few steps took them into the shade of the young oaks and pines, andthere he paused. 

"She has made you very angry?" he said. 

And then, almost before she knew what she was doing, she was pouringforth the whole of her story, even more of it than she had told Octavia. She had not at all intended to do it; but she did it, nevertheless. 

"I am to marry Mr. Francis Barold, if he will take me, " she said, with abitter little smile, --"Mr. Francis Barold, who is so much in love withme, as you know. His mother approves of the match, and sent him here tomake love to me, which he has done, as you have seen. I have no money ofmy own; but, if I make a marriage which pleases him, Dugald Binnie willprobably leave me his--which it is thought will be an inducement to mycousin, who needs one. If I marry him, or rather he marries me, LadyTheobald thinks Mr. Binnie will be pleased. It does not even matterwhether Francis is pleased or not, and of course I am out of thequestion; but it is hoped that it will please Mr. Binnie. The two ladieshave talked it over, and decided the matter. I dare say they have offeredme to Francis, who has very likely refused me, though perhaps he may bepersuaded to relent in time, --if I am very humble, and he is shown theadvantage of having Mr. Binnie's money added to his own, --but I have nodoubt I shall have to be very humble indeed. That is what I learned fromLady Theobald last night, and it is what I am going to talk to her about. Is it enough to make one angry, do you think? Is it enough?"

He did not tell her whether he thought it enough, or not. He looked ather with steady eyes. 

"Lucia, " he said, "I wish you would let me go and talk with LadyTheobald. "

"You?" she said with a little start. 

"Yes, " he answered. "Let me go to her. Let me tell her, that, instead ofmarrying Francis Barold, you will marry _me_. If you will say yes tothat, I think I can promise that you need never be afraid of her anymore. " The fierce color died out of her cheeks, and the tears rushed toher eyes. She raised her face with a pathetic look. 

"Oh!" she whispered, "you must be very sorry for me. I think you havebeen sorry for me from the first. "

"I am desperately in love with you, " he answered, in his quietest way. "Ihave been desperately in love with you from the first. May I go?"

She looked at him for a moment, incredulously. Then she faltered, --

"Yes. "

She still looked up at him; and then, in spite of her happiness, orperhaps because of it, she suddenly began to cry softly, and forgot shehad been angry at all, as he took her into his strong, kind arms. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE GARDEN-PARTY. 

The morning of the garden-party arose bright and clear, and Slowbridgeawakened in a great state of excitement. Miss Chickie, having workeduntil midnight that all her orders might be completed, was so overpoweredby her labors as to have to take her tea and toast in bed. 

At Oldclough varied sentiments prevailed. Lady Theobald's manner waschiefly distinguished by an implacable rigidity. She had chosen, as anappropriate festal costume, a funereal-black _moire antique_, enlivenedby massive fringes and ornaments of jet; her jewelry being chains andmanacles of the latter, which rattled as she moved, with a sound somewhatsuggestive of bones. 

Mr. Dugald Binnie, who had received an invitation, had as yet amiablyforborne to say whether he would accept it, or not. He had been out whenMr. Burmistone called, and had not seen him. 

When Lady Theobald descended to breakfast, she found him growling overhis newspaper; and he glanced up at her with a polite scowl. 

"Going to a funeral?" he demanded. 

"I accompany my granddaughter to this--this entertainment, " her ladyshipresponded. "It is scarcely a joyous occasion, to my mind. "

"No need to dress yourself like that, if it isn't, " ejaculated Mr. Binnie. "Why don't you stay at home, if you don't want to go? Man's allright, isn't he? Once knew a man by the name of Burmistone, myself. Oneof the few decent fellows I've met. If I were sure this was the same man, I'd go myself. When I find a fellow who's neither knave nor fool, I stickto him. Believe I'll send to find out. Where's Lucia?"

What his opinion of Lucia was, it was difficult to discover. He had anagreeable habit of staring at her over the top of his paper, and over hisdinner. The only time he had made any comment upon her, was the firsttime he saw her in the dress she had copied from Octavia's. "Nice gownthat, " he blurted out: "didn't get it here, I'll wager. "

"It's an old dress I remodelled, " answered Lucia somewhat alarmed. "Imade it myself. "

"Doesn't look like it, " he said gruffly. 

Lucia had touched up another dress, and was very happy in the prospect ofwearing it at the garden-party. 

"Don't call on grandmamma until after Wednesday, " she had said to Mr. Burmistone: "perhaps she wouldn't let me go. She will be very angry, I am sure. "

"And you are not afraid?"

"No, " she answered: "I am not afraid at all. I shall not be afraidagain. "

In fact, she had perfectly confounded her ladyship by her demeanor. Shebore her fiercest glance without quailing in the least, or making anyeffort to evade it: under her most scathing comments she was composed andunmoved. On the first occasion of my lady's referring to her plans forher future, she received a blow which fairly stunned her. The girl rosefrom her chair, and looked her straight in the face unflinchingly, andwith a suggestion of _hauteur_ not easy to confront. 

"I beg you will not speak to me of that again, " she said: "I will notlisten. " And turning about, she walked out of the room. 

"This, " her ladyship had said in sepulchral tones, when she recovered herbreath, "this is one of the results of Miss Octavia Bassett. " And nothingmore had been said on the subject since. 

No one in Slowbridge was in more brilliant spirits than Octavia herselfon the morning of the _fête_. Before breakfast Miss Belinda was startledby the arrival of another telegram, which ran as follows:--

"Arrived to-day, per 'Russia. ' Be with you tomorrow evening. Friend withme. 

"MARTIN BASSETT. "

On reading this communication, Miss Belinda burst into floods ofdelighted tears. 

"Dear, dear Martin, " she wept; "to think that we should meet again! _Why_didn't he let us know he was on the way? I should have been so anxiousthat I should not have slept at all. "

"Well, " remarked Octavia, "I suppose that would have been an advantage. "

Suddenly she approached Miss Belinda, kissed her, and disappeared out ofthe room as if by magic, not returning for a quarter of an hour, lookingrather soft and moist and brilliant about the eyes when she did return. 

Octavia was a marked figure upon the grounds at that garden-party. 

"Another dress, my dear, " remarked Mrs. Burnham. "And what a charmingcolor she has, I declare! She is usually paler. Perhaps we owe this toLord Lansdowne. "

"Her dress is becoming, at all events, " privately remarked Miss LydiaBurnham, whose tastes had not been consulted about her own. 

"It is she who is becoming, " said her sister: "it is not the dress somuch, though her clothes always have a _look_, some way. She's prettierthan ever to-day, and is enjoying herself. "

She was enjoying herself. Mr. Francis Barold observed it rather gloomilyas he stood apart. She was enjoying herself so much, that she did notseem to notice that he had avoided her, instead of going up to claim herattention. Half a dozen men were standing about her, and makingthemselves agreeable; and she was apparently quite equal to theemergencies of the occasion. The young men from Broadoaks had at onceattached themselves to her train. 

"I say, Barold, " they had said to him, "why didn't you tell us aboutthis? Jolly good fellow you are, to come mooning here for a couple ofmonths, and keep it all to yourself. "

And then had come Lord Lansdowne, who, in crossing the lawn to shakehands with his host, had been observed to keep his eye fixed upon oneparticular point. 

"Burmistone, " he said, after having spoken his first words, "who is thattall girl in white?"

And in ten minutes Lady Theobald, Mrs. Burnham, Mr. Barold, and diversothers too numerous to mention, saw him standing at Octavia's side, evidently with no intention of leaving it. 

Not long after this Francis Barold found his way to Miss Belinda, who wasvery busy and rather nervous. 

"Your niece is evidently enjoying herself, " he remarked. 

"Octavia is most happy to-day, " answered Miss Belinda. "Her father willreach Slowbridge this evening. She has been looking forward to his comingwith great anxiety. "

"Ah!" commented Barold. 

"Very few people understand Octavia, " said Miss Belinda. "I'm not surethat I follow all her moods myself. She is more affectionate than peoplefancy. She--she has very pretty ways. I am very fond of her. She is notas frivolous as she appears to those who don't know her well. "

Barold stood gnawing his mustache, and made no reply. He was not verycomfortable. He felt himself ill-used by Fate, and rather wished he hadreturned to London from Broadoaks, instead of loitering in Slowbridge. Hehad amused himself at first, but in time he had been surprised to findhis amusement lose something of its zest. He glowered across the lawn atthe group under a certain beech-tree; and, as he did so, Octavia turnedher face a little and saw him. She stood waving her fan slowly, andsmiling at him in a calm way, which reminded him very much of the time hehad first caught sight of her at Lady Theobald's high tea. 

He condescended to saunter over the grass to where she stood. Once there, he proceeded to make himself as disagreeable as possible, in a silent andlofty way. He felt it only due to himself that he should. He did notapprove at all of the manner in which Lansdowne kept by her. 

"It's deucedly bad form on his part, " he said mentally. "What does hemean by it?"

Octavia, on the contrary, did not ask what he meant by it. She chose toseem rather well entertained, and did not notice that she was beingfrowned down. There was no reason why she should not find Lord Lansdowneentertaining: he was an agreeable young fellow, with an inexhaustiblefund of good spirits, and no nonsense about him. 

He was fond of all pleasant novelty, and Octavia was a pleasant novelty. He had been thinking of paying a visit to America; and he askedinnumerable questions concerning that country, all of which Octaviaanswered. 

"I know half a dozen fellows who have been there, " he said. "And they allenjoyed it tremendously. "

"If you go to Nevada, you must visit the mines at Bloody Gulch, " shesaid. 

"Where?" he ejaculated. "I say, what a name! Don't deride my youth andignorance, Miss Bassett. "

"You can call it L'Argentville, if you would rather, " she replied. 

"I would rather try the other, thank you, " he laughed. "It has a morehilarious sound. Will they despise me at Bloody Gulch, Miss Bassett? Inever killed a man in my life. "

Barold turned, and walked away, angry, and more melancholy than he couldhave believed. 

"It is time I went back to London, " he chose to put it. "The place beginsto be deucedly dull. "

"Mr. Francis Barold seems rather out of spirits, " said Mrs. Burnham toLady Theobald. "Lord Lansdowne interferes with his pleasure. "

"I had not observed it, " answered her ladyship. "And it is scarcelylikely that Mr. Francis Barold would permit his pleasure to be interferedwith, even by the son of the Marquis of Lauderdale. "

But she glared at Barold as he passed, and beckoned to him. 

"Where is Lucia?" she demanded. --

"I saw her with Burmistone half an hour ago, " he answered coldly. "Haveyou any message for my mother? I shall return to London to-morrow, leaving here early. "

She turned quite pale. She had not counted upon this at all, and it wasextremely inopportune. 

"What has happened?" she asked rigidly. 

He looked slightly surprised. 

"Nothing whatever, " he replied. "I have remained here longer than Iintended. "

She began to move the manacles on her right wrist. He made not thesmallest profession of reluctance to go. She said, at last, "If you willfind Lucia, you will oblige me. " She was almost uncivil to Miss Pilcher, who chanced to join her after he was gone. She had not the slightestintention of allowing her plans to be frustrated, and was only roused tofresh obstinacy by encountering indifference on one side and rebellion onthe other. She had not brought Lucia up under her own eye for nothing. She had been disturbed of late, but by no means considered herselfbaffled. With the assistance of Mr. Dugald Binnie, she could certainlysubdue Lucia, though Mr. Dugald Binnie had been of no great help so far. She would do her duty unflinchingly. In fact, she chose to persuadeherself, that, if Lucia was brought to a proper frame of mind, therecould be no real trouble with Francis Barold. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

"SOMEBODY ELSE. "

But Barold did not make any very ardent search for Lucia. He stopped towatch a game of lawn-tennis, in which Octavia and Lord Lansdowne hadjoined, and finally forgot Lady Theobald's errand altogether. 

For some time Octavia did not see him. She was playing with great spirit, and Lord Lansdowne was following her delightedly. 

Finally a chance of the game bringing her to him, she turned suddenly, and found Barold's eyes fixed upon her. 

"How long have you been there?" she asked. 

"Some time, " he answered. "When you are at liberty, I wish to speak toyou. "

"Do you?" she said. 

She seemed a little unprepared for the repressed energy of his manner, which, he strove to cover by a greater amount of coldness than usual. 

"Well, " she said, after thinking a moment, "the game will soon be ended. I am going through the conservatories with Lord Lansdowne in course oftime; but I dare say he can wait. "

She went back, and finished her game, apparently enjoying it as much asever. When it was over, Barold made his way to her. 

He had resented her remaining oblivious of his presence when he stoodnear her, and he had resented her enjoyment of her surroundings; and now, as he led her away, leaving Lord Lansdowne rather disconsolate, heresented the fact that she did not seem nervous, or at all impressed byhis silence. 

"What do you want to say to me?" she asked. "Let us go and sit down inone of the arbors. I believe I am a little tired--not that I mind it, though. I've been having a lovely time. "

Then she began to talk about Lord Lansdowne. 

"I like him ever so much, " she said. "Do you think he will really go toAmerica? I wish he would; but if he does, I hope it won't be for a yearor so--I mean, until we go back from Europe. Still, it's rather uncertainwhen we _shall_ go back. Did I tell you I had persuaded aunt Belinda totravel with us? She's horribly frightened, but I mean to make her go. She'll get over being frightened after a little while. "

Suddenly she turned, and looked at him. 

"Why don't you say something?" she demanded. "What's the matter?"

"It is not necessary for me to say any thing. "

She laughed. 

"Do you mean because I am saying every thing myself? Well, I suppose Iam. I am--awfully happy to-day, and can't help talking. It seems to makethe time go. "

Her face had lighted up curiously. There was a delighted excitement inher eyes, puzzling him. 

"Are you so fond of your father as all that?"

She laughed again, --a clear, exultant laugh. 

"Yes, " she answered, "of course I am as fond of him as all that. It'squite natural, isn't it?"

"I haven't observed the same degree of enthusiasm in all the young ladiesof my acquaintance, " he returned dryly. 

He thought such rapture disproportionate to the cause, and regarded itgrudgingly. 

They turned into an arbor; and Octavia sat down, and leaned forward onthe rustic table. Then she turned her face up to look at the vinescovering the roof. 

"It looks rather spidery, doesn't it?" she remarked. "I hope it isn't;don't you?"

The light fell bewitchingly on her round little chin and white throat;and a bar of sunlight struck on her upturned eyes, and the blonde ringson her forehead. 

"There is nothing I hate more than spiders, " she said, with a littleshiver, "unless, " seriously, "it's caterpillars--and caterpillars Iloathe. "

Then she lowered her gaze, and gave her hat--a large white Rubens, allsoft, curling feathers and satin bows--a charming tip over her eyes. 

"The brim is broad, " she said. "If any thing drops, I hope it will dropon it, instead of on me. Now, what did you want to say?" He had not satdown, but stood leaning against the rustic wood-work. He looked pale, andwas evidently trying to be cooler than usual. 

"I brought you here to ask you a question. "

"Well, " she remarked, "I hope it's an important one. You look seriousenough. "

"It is important, --rather, " he responded, with a tone of sarcasm. "Youwill probably go away soon?"

"That isn't exactly a question, " she commented, "and it's not asimportant to you as to me. "

He paused a moment, annoyed because he found it difficult to go on;annoyed because she waited with such undisturbed serenity. But at lengthhe managed to begin again. 

"I do not think you are expecting the question I am going to ask, " hesaid. "I--do not think I expected to ask it myself, --until to-day. I donot know why--why I should ask it so awkwardly, and feel--at such adisadvantage. I brought you here to ask you--to marry me. "

He had scarcely spoken four words before all her airy manner had takenflight, and she had settled herself down to listen. He had noticed this, and had felt it quite natural. When he stopped, she was looking straightinto his face. Her eyes were singularly large and bright and clear. 

"You did not expect to ask me to marry you?" she said. "Why didn't you?"

It was not at all what he had expected. He did not understand her mannerat all. 

"I--must confess, " he said stiffly, "that I felt at first that therewere--obstacles in the way of my doing so. "

"What were the obstacles?"

He flushed, and drew himself up. 

"I have been unfortunate in my mode of expressing myself, " he said. "Itold you I was conscious of my own awkwardness. "

"Yes, " she said quietly: "you have been unfortunate. That is a good wayof putting it. "

Then she let her eyes rest on the table a few seconds, and thought alittle. 

"After all, " she said, "I have the consolation of knowing that you musthave been very much in love with me. If you had not been very much inlove with me, you would never have asked me to marry you. You would haveconsidered the obstacles. "

"I am very much in love with you, " he said vehemently, his feelingsgetting the better of his pride for once. "However badly I may haveexpressed myself, I am very much in love with you. I have been wretchedfor days. "

"Was it because you felt obliged to ask me to marry you?" she inquired. 

The delicate touch of spirit in her tone and words fired him to freshadmiration, strange to say. It suggested to him possibilities he had notsuspected hitherto. He drew nearer to her. 

"Don't be too severe on me, " he said--quite humbly, considering allthings. 

And he stretched out his hand, as if to take hers. 

But she drew it back, smiling ever so faintly. 

"Do you think I don't know what the obstacles are?" she said. "I willtell you. "

"My affection was strong enough to sweep them away, " he said, "or Ishould not be here. "

She smiled slightly again. 

"I know all about them, as well as you do, " she said. "I rather laughedat them at first, but I don't now. I suppose I'm 'impressed by theirseriousness, ' as aunt Belinda says. I suppose they _are_ prettyserious--to you. "

"Nothing would be so serious to me as that you should let them interferewith my happiness, " he answered, thrown back upon himself, and bewilderedby her logical manner. "Let us forget them. I was a fool to speak as Idid. Won't you answer my question?"

She paused a second, and then answered, --

"You didn't expect to ask me to marry you, " she said. "And I didn'texpect you to"--

"But now"--he broke in impatiently. 

"Now--I wish you hadn't done it. "

"You wish"--

"You don't want _me_, " she said. "You want somebody meeker, --somebodywho would respect you very much, and obey you. I'm not used to obeyingpeople. "

"Do you mean also that you would not respect me?" he inquired bitterly. 

"Oh, " she replied, "you haven't respected me much!"

"Excuse me"--he began, in his loftiest manner. 

"You didn't respect me enough to think me worth marrying, " she said. "Iwas not the kind of girl you would have chosen of your own will. "

"You are treating me unfairly!" he cried. 

"You were going to give me a great deal, I suppose--looking at it in yourway, " she went on; "but, if I _wasn't_ exactly what you wanted, I hadsomething to give too. I'm young enough to have a good many years tolive; and I should have to live them with you, if I married you. That'ssomething, you know. "

He rose from his seat pale with wrath and wounded feeling. 

"Does this mean that you refuse me?" he demanded, "that your answer is'no'?"

She rose, too--not exultant, not confused, neither pale nor flushed. Hehad never seen her prettier, more charming, or more natural. 

"It would have been 'no, ' even if there hadn't been any obstacle, "she answered. 

"Then, " he said, "I need say no more. I see that I have--humiliatedmyself in vain; and it is rather bitter, I must confess. "

"It wasn't my fault, " she remarked. 

He stepped back, with a haughty wave of the hand, signifying that sheshould pass out of the arbor before him. 

She did so; but just as she reached the entrance, she turned, and stoodfor a second, framed in by the swinging vines and their blossoms. 

"There's another reason why it should be 'no, '" she said. "I suppose Imay as well tell you of it. I'm engaged to somebody else. "

CHAPTER XXVI. 

"JACK. "

The first person they saw, when they reached the lawn, was Mr. DugaldBinnie, who had deigned to present himself, and was talking to Mr. Burmistone, Lucia, and Miss Belinda. 

"I'll go to them, " said Octavia. "Aunt Belinda will wonder where I havebeen. "

But, before they reached the group, they were intercepted by LordLansdowne; and Barold had the pleasure of surrendering his charge, andwatching her, with some rather sharp pangs, as she was borne off to theconservatories. 

"What is the matter with Mr. Barold?" exclaimed Miss Pilcher. "Praylook at him. "

"He has been talking to Miss Octavia Bassett, in one of the arbors, " putin Miss Lydia Burnham. "Emily and I passed them a few minutes ago, andthey were so absorbed that they did not see us. There is no knowing whathas happened. "

"Lydia!" exclaimed Mrs. Burnham, in stern reproof of such flippancy. 

But, the next moment, she exchanged a glance with Miss Pilcher. 

"Do you think"--she suggested. "Is it possible"--

"It really looks very like it, " said Miss Pilcher; "though it is scarcelyto be credited. See how pale and angry he looks. "

Mrs. Burnham glanced toward him, and then a slight smile illuminated hercountenance. 

"How furious, " she remarked cheerfully, "how furious Lady Theobald willbe!"

Naturally, it was not very long before the attention of numerous otherladies was directed to Mr. Francis Barold. It was observed that he tookno share in the festivities, that he did not regain his natural air ofenviable indifference to his surroundings, --that he did not approachOctavia Bassett until all was over, and she was on the point of goinghome. What he said to her then, no one heard. 

"I am going to London to-morrow. Good-by. "

"Good-by, " she answered, holding out her hand to him. Then she addedquickly, in an under-tone, "You oughtn't to think badly of me. You won't, after a while. "

As they drove homeward, she was rather silent, and Miss Belinda remarkedit. 

"I am afraid you are tired, Octavia, " she said. "It is a pity that Martinshould come, and find you tired. "

"Oh! I'm not tired. I was only--thinking. It has been a queer day. "

"A queer day, my dear!" ejaculated Miss Belinda. "I thought it a charmingday. "

"So it has been, " said Octavia, which Miss Belinda thought ratherinconsistent. 

Both of them grew rather restless as they neared the house. 

"To think, " said Miss Belinda, "of my seeing poor Martin again!"

"Suppose, " said Octavia nervously, as they drew up, "suppose they arehere--already. "

"They?" exclaimed Miss Belinda. "Who"--but she got no farther. A cryburst from Octavia, --a queer, soft little cry. "They are here, " shesaid: "they are! Jack--Jack!"

And she was out of the carriage; and Miss Belinda, following herclosely, was horrified to see her caught at once in the embrace of atall, bronzed young man, who, a moment after, drew her into the littleparlor, and shut the door. 

Mr. Martin Bassett, who was big and sunburned, and prosperous-looking, stood in the passage, smiling triumphantly. 

"M--M--Martin!" gasped Miss Belinda. "What--oh, what does this mean?"

Martin Bassett led her to a seat, and smiled more triumphantly still. 

"Never mind, Belinda, " he said. "Don't be frightened. It's JackBelasys, and he's the finest fellow in the West. And she hasn't seenhim for two years. "

"Martin, " Miss Belinda fluttered, "it is not proper--it really isn't. "

"Yes, it is, " answered Mr. Bassett; "for he's going to marry her beforewe go abroad. "

It was an eventful day for all parties concerned. At its close LadyTheobald found herself in an utterly bewildered and thunderstruckcondition. And to Mr. Dugald Binnie, more than to any one else, herdemoralization was due. That gentleman got into the carriage, in rather abetter humor than usual. 

"Same man I used to know, " he remarked. "Glad to see him. I knew him assoon as I set eyes on him. "

"Do you allude to Mr. Burmistone?"

"Yes. Had a long talk with him. He's coming to see you to-morrow. Toldhim he might come, myself. Appears he's taken a fancy to Lucia. Wants totalk it over. Suits me exactly, and suppose it suits her. Looks as if itdoes. Glad she hasn't taken a fancy to some haw-haw fellow, like thatfool Barold. Girls generally do. Burmistone's worth ten of him. "

Lucia, who had been looking steadily out of the carriage-window, turned, with an amazed expression. Lady Theobald had received a shock which madeall her manacles rattle. She could scarcely support herself under it. 

"Do I"--she said. "Am I to understand that Mr. Francis Barold does notmeet with your approval?" Mr. Binnie struck his stick sharply upon thefloor of the carriage. 

"Yes, by George!" he said. "I'll have nothing to do with chaps like that. If she'd taken up with him, she'd never have heard from _me_ again. Makesure of that. "

When they reached Oldclough, her ladyship followed Lucia to her room. Shestood before her, arranging the manacles on her wrists nervously. 

"I begin to understand now, " she said. "I find I was mistaken in myimpressions of Mr. Dugald Binnie's tastes--and in my impressions of_you_. You are to marry Mr. Burmistone. My rule is over. Permit me tocongratulate you. "

The tears rose to Lucia's eyes. 

"Grandmamma, " she said, her voice soft and broken, "I think I should havebeen more frank, if--if you had been kinder sometimes. "

"I have done my duty by you, " said my lady. 

Lucia looked at her pathetically. 

"I have been ashamed to keep things from you, " she hesitated. "And I haveoften told myself that--that it was sly to do it--but I could not helpit. "

"I trust, " said my lady, "that you will be more candid with Mr. Burmistone. "

Lucia blushed guiltily. 

"I--think I shall, grandmamma, " she said. 

It was the Rev. Alfred Poppleton who assisted the rector of St. James tomarry Jack Belasys and Octavia Bassett; and it was observed that he wasalmost as pale as his surplice. 

Slowbridge had never seen such a wedding, or such a bride as Octavia. Itwas even admitted that Jack Belasys was a singularly handsome fellow, andhad a dashing, adventurous air, which carried all before it. There was arumor that he owned silver-mines himself, and had even done something indiamonds, in Brazil, where he had spent the last two years. At allevents, it was ascertained beyond doubt, that, being at last a marriedwoman, and entitled to splendors of the kind, Octavia would not lackthem. Her present to Lucia, who was one of her bridesmaids, dazzled allbeholders. When she was borne away by the train, with her father andhusband, and Miss Belinda, whose bonnet-strings were bedewed with tears, the Rev. Alfred Poppleton was the last man who shook hands with her. Heheld in his hand a large bouquet, which Octavia herself had given him outof her abundance. "Slowbridge will miss you, Miss--Mrs. Belasys, " hefaltered. "I--I shall miss you. Perhaps we--may even meet again. I havethought that, perhaps, I should like to go to America. "

And, as the train puffed out of the station and disappeared, he stoodmotionless for several seconds; and a large and brilliant drop ofmoisture appeared on the calyx of the lily which formed the centre-pieceof his bouquet.